The Magic of Christmas

The year was 1910, and it was a cold winter’s night. Arthur sat before the fire, rocking and smoking his pipe as he listened to the giggles of excitement that came from the next room where eight of his ten children slept. The youngest two, twins, were already asleep in he and his wife’s bedroom. His wife, Anna, was with the eight older children, attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to calm them so that he could begin his annual Santa Claus masquerade. He shook his head. She certainly had her work cut out for her. What child wouldn’t be filled with excitement on Christmas Eve? She might have to threaten them within an inch of their lives to achieve such an endeavor. Arthur laughed softly under his breath at the thought.

The farmhouse was not a large one, but it was comfortable in its simplicity. Candles flickered throughout as they created dancing shadows on the room’s four walls. In the corner was a pine tree covered in homemade paper ornaments and strands of berries and popcorn. It was simple but quite charming nonetheless due to the creative attentions of so many children. There were ten stockings hung from the rugged mantle, one for each child. A hand sewn quilt lay draped on his wife’s rocking chair directly across from him, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she joined him and helped to set tonight’s plan in motion. His two oldest children had grown suspicious, but the younger ones were still quite eager to believe in the magic of Santa Claus.

Arthur heard the pitter patter of small feet approaching and looked up to find Sarah Lois with her younger sister by her side, her tiny hand firmly encased in her older sister’s larger one. They stopped just short of the rug that lay before the hearth. He could see small toes peeking from beneath the hemlines of their nightgowns. Sarah Lois was nearly eleven, but she often thought she was as mature as her older siblings. Still, it was Christmas, and she was willing to be the little girl for a while longer, especially if it meant getting presents. Her younger sister, Maybelle, was just shy of three years, and her eyes were large round saucers as she expectantly looked around the room, unsure as to what she might see.

“Daddy,” Sarah Lois began. “Bertie says there’s no Santa. Is that true, Daddy?”

Arthur pushed his spectacles more firmly in place as he looked at the two girls, rising from his rocking chair. He walked to the far side of the room and removed a small notebook from a locked cabinet. Before opening it, he looked at the girls and shook his head. “Well, now, I don’t know – maybe Bertie’s right and maybe Bertie’s wrong. I guess the only thing we can do is look and see what this special book says about it all.”

The two girls inched closer to their Daddy as he pretended to read. Ignoring the numbers on the pages, he read as if the book was rich in text.

“It says in this here book that you two girls have been pretty good this year, listening to your Momma and doing your chores. Is that right, Sarah Lois? Maybelle?” He eyed the two girls questioningly. They responded by eagerly shaking their heads affirmatively. Arthur continued. “And your brothers and sisters, well, it says they’ve been pretty good, too. So it looks like Santa should be on his way, and Bertie is dead wrong.”

He glanced up to see surprise etched across the girls’ faces. Smiling to himself, he continued, “But it also says that Santa won’t likely be stopping by here if you children don’t hurry up and get to sleep.”

Not waiting another moment, Maybelle took off running back to her bed and crawling between two sisters as she pulled the covers to her chin and squeezed her little blue eyes shut. She was determined to go to sleep so that Santa wouldn’t miss her house. She was looking forward to an orange and whatever else he saw fit to leave in her stocking.

Sarah Lois, a bit more reluctant but a firm believer that anything her Daddy said was true, nodded and followed behind her little sister, heading back to the crowded bed. “Move over, Levy. You, too, Bertie,” she said, pushing her way under the covers and seeking a bit of extra blanket to ward off the chill.

“Sarah Lois, what did Daddy say?” a little voice whispered excitedly from the corner. “Did he say there really was a Santa Claus?” It was Albert, who was all of five years old. He desperately wanted to believe that what Bertie had told them was not true and that there was a Santa Claus.

“Daddy says you better get to sleep or Santa won’t be stopping here,” Sarah Lois retorted quickly.

“Well, I don’t believe it,” piped Jack from where he lay next to Albert. He was ten, but since he was the eldest boy of the family, he thought that his opinion counted. “I believe Bertie.”

“Oh shush up, Jack! Or Santa will bring everyone but you and Bertie something in those stockings,” Sarah Lois quipped. “And you should know by now that if Daddy says it’s true, it’s true,” she added with conviction.

Sarah Lois smiled to herself as she deliberately elbowed Levy to make more room in the bed. She liked to think that she was her Daddy’s favorite, so she was absolutely sure that he would never lie about something as important as Santa.

From the doorway, although extremely tired from the long day of preparations, their mother smiled. “Sarah Lois is right. Go to sleep children - Santa won’t come if you’re awake.” She turned and headed into the other room where, sighing, she sat down at last in her rocking chair.

Looking at her husband, Anna smiled. “It won’t be long now. Do you have everything ready outside in the barn?”

Arthur nodded. “Santa is primed and ready to fly!”

A short while later, Arthur quietly rose and winked at his wife. “I’ll be back shortly, dear,” he said as she helped him don his winter coat and heavy boots. He’d best do this thing before the littler ones were fast asleep.

As Arthur headed to the barn, he looked out across the pond bordering his farmstead. It was a very cold Christmas this year and the pond had frozen solid. It was beautiful as the moonlight gleamed off the solid ice. He reached the barn and found a ladder, carrying it to the far side of the house furthest away from the children’s bedroom window. He returned to the barn and walked to the back where he opened an old trunk and removed a rope with several bells attached. Carefully, lest he make a sound, he made his way back to the ladder and climbed to the roof. Once on the rooftop, he began to walk across the length of it, deliberately and with force ensuring every booted step made a huge thud. As he did so, he shook the belled rope he carried, the light sound of bells ringing in the still of the night. Beneath him, he could hear the shrills and laughter of his children. He knew they were crowding and peering out of their bedroom window in hopes of seeing Santa and his nine reindeer. He laughed, thoroughly enjoying the annual masquerade and delighted by the laughter of his children coming from below. It would be something he knew his children would fondly remember and talk about for years to come.

After a brief time of retracing his footsteps while ringing the bells, Arthur hurriedly climbed down the ladder, picked it up, and made his way back to the barn, intending to return the rope to the hidden depths of the trunk. As he did so, however, his hand brushed against a small box wrapped in brown paper that he was sure had not been there only minutes earlier. Where had it come from?

Looking about but seeing no one, Arthur picked up the package and quickly walked back toward the house. He’d have to wait to open it after he was back inside. He wanted to see his children first so that he could assure them he’d heard the same proof of Santa on their rooftop.

As he quietly entered the farmhouse, he discarded his boots and coat, leaving them by the door as he placed the package on the kitchen table before quickly making his way to the children’s bedroom. They were all pushing against each other repeatedly in an attempt to see out the window while hoping to catch sight of Santa.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice full of surprise as he walked into the room. “I’m pretty sure I just heard Santa and his reindeer on our roof! Quick! You had best get back into bed!”

The children shrieked, giggling as they eagerly climbed over one another while seeking the warmth of their beds.

Arthur turned to leave, a huge smile on his face. “Momma and I are headed to bed, too. Goodnight. We love you. Merry Christmas!”

“Night, Daddy!” they all screamed in unison. “Merry Christmas!”

Heading into the adjoining room, Arthur found his wife still seated in her rocking chair, a smile upon her tired face. “The children get so excited each year, Arthur. It’s such a special thing that you do.”

“I love surprising them,” he said before he walked over to the table and reached for the brown paper wrapped package. He took his seat across from his wife. The fire felt good after the cold wind outside.

“What’s that?” Anna asked.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur answered, explaining to Anna that he’d found the package in the trunk but didn’t remember putting it there or seeing it earlier.

He began to open the package. Nestled inside he found a black bag with a note lying atop it. He handed the note to his wife to read as he began opening the bag. “Looks like we have a present too,” he said.

Anna took the note, squinting in concentration. Her blue eyes widened as she looked at her husband. “What in the world!” she exclaimed.

Arthur was about to open the bag, but one glance at his wife stopped him. “What is it?” he asked.

Anna just stared at him, her amazement evident. “Well, dear, I’m confused,” she said, her voice nearly trembling with apparent excitement.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked again. “What does the note say?”

Anna was not sure how to proceed. Finally, she cleared her throat and began to read: “To Arthur and Anna. Thank you for keeping me alive in the hearts of children. Merry Christmas!”

Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What? Who’s that note from?” he asked, confused as well.

“Well, it’s signed ‘Santa Claus’,” Anna said, laughing and ignoring Arthur’s snort of disbelief. “Open the bag, Arthur. Let’s see what Santa Claus brought us,” she teased.

“What in tarnation….” Arthur said as he opened the bag. Several pieces of currency spilled out. Speechless, he quickly counted the money. There were forty $5.00 bills. He needed his wife’s help to make sure he had counted correctly, but if he had, there was a total of $200.00 in the bag.

He held up a few of the bills. “Santa Claus?” he asked incredulously, his voice raspy and only above a whisper. “There’s two hundred dollars here!”

Anna’s disbelief and surprise were evident as well. She suddenly broke into a huge smile that was the biggest one Arthur had ever seen. “And you thought Santa Claus didn’t exist,” she chided him.

Still confused and surprised, Arthur returned Anna’s smile with an even larger one. “Who me? Not believe in Santa Claus? Never! And you can bet that I’ll be a believer until I’m planted in the ground – and then some!”