Brown Paper Packages Tied Up with String

The door to the small cottage opened with a blast of cold air that caused the fire to flare. The baby in the cradle pulled close to it cried, the loud wail of a young baby, unafraid to voice their unhappiness.

Rebecca came in from the other room, her hair in disarray around her face, a face of dismay and guilt.

“Frederick,” she scolded. “You woke Genevieve.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I am not certain how else to enter the house than by the door. If you have any ideas, please let me know.” He started to set down the pile of brown paper packages on the table.

Rebecca huffed as she scooped up the small baby, crying softer now, and cradled her against her chest. “Well, you might have let me know you were here,” she chided.

Frederick glanced at her askance as he unbuttoned his coat. “You are saying that you wished I had knocked on my own door?” he asked. “And then waited for you to move the baby out of the front room? I had no way of knowing that you had her in the front room, Rebecca.” He hung his coat on the hook by the door, then turned to sort the packages, making smaller piles of them.

She sighed and looked down at the baby, who had calmed considerably now that she was warm again and being held against her mother’s breast. “It is a small house, and the back room does not stay very warm. I try to keep the children in here. I laid her down in the cradle, then took James in to change after lunch, when he spilled an entire bowl of soup on himself. I laid him down for a nap and laid down with him and must have fallen asleep myself. To be honest, I am not sure how long I was in there.”

“Well, she does not appear to be any the worse for your absence,” Frederick commented, looking at the tiny baby with affection. “Clearly you needed some rest. If you want to go back to sleep, I can tend to her.”

Rebecca shook her head, and settled down in the chair by the fire, yawning and adjusting her hold on the baby. “No, I am awake now. I may as well stay up. It will soon be time to prepare dinner.” She eyed the piles of packages on the table. “What are all of those?”

Frederick smiled. “I was wondering how long it would be before you asked. These are for Christmas.”

She looked surprised. “Christmas. Is it already that time?”

He nodded. “In a few days.”

She leaned forward and looked at the parcels curiously. “Surely not all of those are presents.”

“No, not all,” he admitted. “A few are books and things that I ordered for my pupils, and a few are things we need. Our Christmas will be, admittedly, smaller than the last two.”

She shook her head. “I do not care about that at all, you know that. I only care that we are all together and safe. Show me what you have.”

Frederick smiled and sat down in a chair near her, opening the packages one at a time, eagerly showing her the purchases he had made. She exclaimed over the books, reaching out with her free hand to trace her fingers over the gilt lettering on the covers. There were wooden toys for the children, knitting supplies to make new stockings, cloth for household items. Finally, there was just one package left, and Frederick took that and set it in the corner beside the fireplace. Rebecca looked at it with surprise.

“You are not going to open that one?”

“Not tonight.” He reached for the baby, taking her from her mother’s arms. She opened her eyes momentarily, then closed them again and remained asleep.

Rebecca stared at him, waiting for more explanation, but when none was forthcoming, she pressed further. “Well, whyever not?”

“Because it is a Christmas gift. For you.”

She sat back in her chair. “What is it?”

Frederick laughed. “You will have to wait until Christmas to find out. If I told you, it would not be a surprise.”

She turned and looked at the package suspiciously. “Are you sure it will be safe sitting there?”

“I will move it before James gets to it,” he assured her.

“Does it need to be kept warm? Or cold?” she asked curiously.

Frederick gave her an enigmatic smile. “It will do quite well in the house wherever I put it, do not worry.”

She studied it, leaning forward and craning her neck to get a better look at it in the shadows of the dancing flames.

“Dearest,” Frederick laughed. “Perhaps you should begin dinner. James will wake soon and be hungry.”

Rebecca huffed, but pushed herself up from the chair and moved towards the stove to check on the stew that had been bubbling most of the afternoon.

By the time she was ready to put dinner on the table, Frederick had put everything away. The toys for the children were hidden in a high cupboard, the items for his pupils were packed in his satchel to take to them the next day, the other items put in their places. But the brown parcel she was so curious about was hidden somewhere in the small house. And Frederick was giving her no clues as to where it was. He was keeping the children preoccupied while she ladled the rich stew into bowls and carried them to the table.

Genevieve needed to eat before she could, so she sat in the chair by the fire to nurse her baby while Frederick and James ate, listening to their conversation as she looked around the room for where Frederick might have put the parcel.

It wasn’t a large room, and the parcel could only have gone so many places. There were very few cabinets, and she hadn’t heard him go into the other room. She would do more investigating in the morning after he’d left.

Over the next days, she searched and searched, whenever the children weren’t taking her attention, but she never found the package. She looked in every cabinet, emptying them out completely. She searched under the bed. She looked behind the stove. She was tempted to let the fire go out and climb inside the fireplace to look up inside the chimney. She was beginning to wonder if she had dreamed the whole thing, except she found everything else Frederick had bought. Maybe she had only dreamed the mysterious package.

The day before Christmas, after James was asleep, Rebecca sat by the fire, frowning down at her knitting as she attempted to knit a new pair of stockings for James. He was outgrowing everything so quickly, and she wasn’t very good at this, but she was getting better. She hoped. At least he was young enough she was certain he wouldn’t mind the mistakes she was making.

“Well, dearest, should we attempt to wrap the presents?” Frederick asked in a low voice. “It appears that the children will be sleeping for a while. Now is a good time, though we do not really have the space for a tree.”

“Oh.” She looked up with surprise. “Yes, of course.” She set down her knitting and stood up, crossing the room to the cabinet where the wooden toys were hidden. “Did you save the paper?”

“I did.” Frederick opened his satchel and pulled out the folded brown paper that the parcels had been wrapped in. “I took it with me. I was worried if James found it, it would be ruined.”

“You are probably correct.” She set the toys on the table and Frederick started to wrap them carefully. She found string in another cabinet and tied them closed.

It didn’t take long, as there weren’t many presents, but soon there was a neat little pile of gifts waiting for James to find in the morning. Frederick and Rebecca stood back and smiled, pleased with their work.

“It is not much, but it is honestly come by,” Frederick said after a moment, putting his arm around Rebecca’s waist and pulling her into his side.

She looped her around his waist and looked up at him affectionately. “I think these are better than any gift he would have gotten this year otherwise,” she said, confidently.

Frederick smiled down at her, gratefully. “It is late. You can finish your stockings tomorrow.”

She smiled and nodded. “All right.” She walked over to the cradle by the fire and scooped up Genevieve, then moved into the second bedroom, leaving Frederick to bank the fire for the night.

The next morning, the two were awakened by the excited squeals of the little boy discovering the packages in the next room. Rebecca groaned and pulled the covers up, scooting the baby closer.

“Merry Christmas, dearest,” Frederick murmured, kissing the top of Genevieve’s head. “I shall go build up the fire.”

Rebecca yawned and nodded. “We will be out shortly.” The baby was already rooting, frustrated that her body had been shifted in such a way that her mother’s breast was not readily available.

When Rebecca finally emerged, she frowned in momentary confusion at the pile on the table. There were more packages on the table than there had been the night before. Then her eyes widened. The missing brown package. Her eyes went to Frederick. He grinned at her.

“Where did you hide it?”

He laughed. “You cannot possibly think I hid it here? I kept it in my satchel. I knew you would look all over the house the instant I was gone. I kept it with me always.”

She laughed, her face pink. “How well you know me,” she said, embarrassed.

“Of course.” He grinned and motioned for her to sit. “Would you like to open presents now or later?”

They both turned at the sound of ripping paper. James was opening the presents they had left on his chair, not bothering to wait for permission or even to remove the string.

Rebecca laughed again, delighted with the events of the morning. “I do not suppose we get a choice.” She sat down in her chair by the fire and watched, settling Genevieve in her lap so the baby could see.

James exclaimed excitedly over the wooden blocks and animals, running back and forth between his parents and baby sister to show everyone everything. At some point, a wooden dog got dumped into Rebecca’s lap for Genevieve to hold. She stared at it but didn’t reach for it, to his dismay. On his next pass, he took it back.

“Frederick,” Rebecca exclaimed suddenly. “I have no gift for you.”

Frederick sat down in a chair next to her. “I expect no gift, dearest. You tend to the house, you tend to the children, you tend to me. You are my gift.”

“Oh, that is nonsense. You bought me a gift. I feel as though I should have gotten you something. Or at least made you a gift.”

“Well, you have attempted to make me stockings,” he pointed out.

She sighed. “I can attempt to make you a new scarf when the travesty that is James’ new stockings are done. Will that do?”

He hid a smile and reached for Genevieve. “As I do not need nor expect any gift at all, that will do very well. Now. Would you like to open your gift, dearest?”

She was positively itching to open her gift. She’d been desperate to know what it was for days. “Yes, please.”

She stood up and retrieved the parcel, then sat back down in her chair, carefully untying the string and unfolding the paper. She opened the box inside and frowned.

“Ice skates?”

He grinned. “Ice skates. Do you know how?” She shook her head. “Then I shall teach you.”