The True Gift (3 page)

Lisa, the librarian, is happy to see us at the lilac library.

“Two whole weeks of nonstop reading, right?” she says. “I wish everyone read the way you two do.”

Liam disappears in the stacks, and I look at the shelves of books; books and books and books. Liam comes back with a nonfiction
book with the title
The Emotional Life of Cows
and checks it out.

We mail Gran's letters at the post office.

“Wait,” says Liam, stopping. He studies the notices on the bulletin board:

LOST CAT: Name is Thug.

Not lovable. Reward.

…

WANTED: Exotic chickens
for breeding.

…

WANTED: A quiet room by the
river for one person and the most
intelligent dog in the world.

Liam looks at the notices for so long, I finally tug at his coat.

“Wait,” says Liam again. “I'm having a thought. Go ahead. I'll catch up with you.”

I go outside and walk to the market. Liam comes up from behind me with a look.

“What?” I ask.

“Just thinking.”

The market has newly polished wood floors, and we wander down the aisles until we find butter for Gran.

Next door there is a new small store called Already Read Books. A sign on the door says
SECONDHAND BOOKS BOUGHT
AND SOLD
. Liam puts his face close to the window and peers in because it is closed.

“Books,” he says happily.

We go to the general store. It is filled with dishes and jewelry and toys and penny candy and kitchen gadgets and cakes and pies and muffins. Blown-glass Christmas balls hang from the ceiling; angels and stars for the top of the tree sit on shelves.

“Look,” I tell Liam. “A new coffee cup for Gran.”

I hold up a white mug with a great blue heron painted on.

Liam shakes his head. “Wait,” says Liam. “Don't buy it yet.”

“Wait for what?”

Liam doesn't answer.

I put the mug back and stare at Liam.

“We're going to have Christmas whether you want it or not, you know.”

I walk out of the store and past the post office and past the small coffee shop. Past the Already Read store. I turn up the road to Gran's. I am close to tears for the second time today. I wish Liam would not think so much. I wish White Cow could go away and not come back so I wouldn't have to think about her.

There is the sound of pounding feet behind me.

“Hey,” says Liam, panting from running.

“I don't like you,” I say, bursting into tears at last.

“I know. I don't like me either,” says Liam.

I stare at Liam and I can't help it. I start laughing and crying at the same time.

“I'm just a kid, Lily,” says Liam. “You said so yourself.”

We walk on.

“Cows cost a lot,” says Liam. “Five hundred dollars sometimes.”

“We can't afford that,” I say.

“Maybe a young cow,” Liam says.

“Called a calf,” I say, starting to laugh again.

Liam laughs too. And for a while it is
the way it used to be. The way all other Christmases at Gran and Grandpa's house have been.

Liam scoops up snow and tries to stuff it down my neck. Ice on the trees sparkles in the sunlight. We pick some red barberry branches for Gran.

But when we get home, White Cow is still there, standing by the fence, watching us with those eyes.

It is not the way it used to be.

All through dinner there is no talk of White Cow. There is talk of Christmas and the town and books.

“Do you want to make Christmas cookies tomorrow, Lily?” asks Gran.

“Sure,” I say.

Charlie sits by Grandpa's feet, watching the floor intently, waiting for Grandpa to
drop food. Emmet sleeps by the fireplace, almost
in
the fireplace.

Liam gets up and carries his plate to the kitchen and comes back for the other plates.

“Do you have a copy machine?” he asks Grandpa.

“Nope. Sorry,” says Grandpa.

“I'll keep thinking,” he says in a soft voice.

“Don't think,” I tell him just as softly.

Liam smiles.

That night we sleep with the curtains open so we can look out and see the stars across the sky. I wake in the night once and can see light under the door of
Liam's room. I sigh and turn over and count the stars until I fall back to sleep.

“Where is Liam?” I ask at breakfast the next morning.

Grandpa laughs. “You're always asking that, Lambie. He went off early. He seems to have plans.”

I pour a glass of juice. “Yes. Liam always has plans,” I say.

Gran and I make cookies all morning: Christmas trees with silver ball decorations; snowmen with red cinnamon buttons; star cookies and moon cookies; and little house cookies with frosted doors and windows.

“This is nice, Gran. Like it always is.”

“It is, Lily. Maybe you and Liam can come this summer and help cut the hayfield and plant gardens.”

I smile at Gran. That would be good. But there is something about Christmas here.

“There is,” says Gran. And I realize that I have said my thoughts out loud.

Gran puts the cookies on a big platter. “Beautiful,” she says.

“I'm going to look for Liam,” I tell Gran.

“There are more letters to mail on the table, Lily.”

I put on my boots and coat and walk out to the driveway.

White Cow is standing by the gate, an empty black bucket at her feet. I walk over to her.

“Did Liam give you grain?” I ask. “Sure he did,” I whisper. I smile at myself, talking to a cow.

After a moment I reach out and touch White Cow's neck. She stares at me as if she knows me.

“I'll be back,” I tell her.

And then what I say to White Cow surprises me.

“Don't worry,” I whisper. “We'll take care of you.”

And I walk off down the driveway and down the road, past houses and fields and
the stream I hear flowing. When I come into the center of town, I go to the post office to mail Gran's letters.

And there, on the bulletin board, I see the first notice. I know what Liam has been doing.

WANTED: A cow friend for a
lonely, sad cow. It is Christmas and
she needs a friend. Think how you'd
feel. I'm buying. Call Liam.

He has written Gran and Grandpa's telephone number at the bottom.

I look at the notice for a long time, then drop Gran's letters in the mail slot.

I walk across the street looking for Liam.

There, nailed to the telephone pole by the lilac library, is another notice.

ONCE UPON A TIME
THERE WAS A WHITE COW,
ALL ALONE, AT CHRISTMAS.
SHE WAS SAD AND LONELY.
SHE LIVES ON SOUTH STREET.
IF YOU HAVE A COW FRIEND
FOR HER, PLEASE CALL LIAM.

I smile a little and walk across the street.

In the market window is another notice.

I feel like I am following Liam by his notices, like following his footprints in the snow.

HELP WHITE COW.
SELL ME A FRIEND FOR
HER FOR CHRISTMAS.
CALL LIAM.
YOUR CHRISTMAS WILL
BE HAPPIER, TOO.

I find Liam, tacking up a notice on the notice board at the general store. This notice has a drawing of a white cow with a tear in her eye.

“You've been busy,” I say.

Liam nods.

I take a deep breath. “I can't believe that I'm going to say this, Liam. I'm proud of you.”

Liam smiles.

“Let's go home,” he says wearily.

He takes my hand and we walk around the corner and start up the hill that begins South Street. Little flakes of snow begin to fall. Before long there is steady snow. I look up and watch the snow come down.

“Liam?”

“What?”

“I talked to White Cow this morning.”

Liam doesn't speak for a moment. And when he does, what he says makes me smile.

“You're turning into me,” he says.

We walk all the way home and the snow grows heavier. And when we walk up the driveway to Gran and Grandpa's house, past the barn, past White Cow, Gran comes to the door and tells us there has been a telephone call for Liam.

Snow is still falling when we leave. Gran looks at us, knowing that we're not telling her things.

“Something's going on, right?” she says.

“Right,” Liam and I answer at the same time.

“Well, I'm not asking you about it right now,” she says. “Right now,” she repeats.

Liam grins at her and pulls me out the front door.

The sky has darkened and the world is full of snow.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Thomas says his father is selling their calf. He said he'd tell me about it when I get there.”

The snow is so heavy that we almost miss the West Street turn. We walk fast, and then ahead, in the dense falling snow, is a boy.

“Thomas?” calls Liam.

Thomas turns. “Yes.”

Several cows are in the meadow. One small brown calf stands by the fence.

“I'm Liam. This is Lily.”

Thomas takes a folded paper out of his pocket. It is one of Liam's notices.

“Did you write this?” asks Thomas.

“I did. We're looking for a cow.”

Thomas looks at the brown calf.

“Is that yours?” asks Liam.

“Yes, but you're too late. My father says she's sold.”

“Sold? To live where?” asks Liam.

“For the market,” says Thomas softly. “For meat.”

“For meat!” says Liam.

There is a moment of silence, no sounds at all, like when the wind suddenly stops blowing.

“For meat?” repeats Liam, trying to understand.

Thomas nods. “Papa says we need the money.”

“Liam, the calf is sold,” I say. I shiver in the cold. “I'm going home. I'm freezing.”

“Wait a minute, Lily,” says Liam. “Thomas, how much is your Papa selling the calf for?”