The Nativity

Chapter One

On the Mantel

It was the day before Christmas Eve at Beth’s house. Snow was falling thick outside, but inside was warm and cozy. The smell of gingerbread and cinnamon hung in the air as Christmas carols were playing in the background. In the living room, a soft glow came from the mingled lights on the Christmas tree.

Beth watched as Mom put the Christmas bins on the floor. “Okay, Beth,” said Mom, opening the nearest and rifling through it. “Let’s get the nativity set up first thing.” She pulled out a big box with a picture of a nativity scene on the front. “You clear the mantelpiece while I look through the pieces and see if there’s anything broken.” Beth began taking books off the shelf and stacking them up while Mom went through the nativity set.

The stable was all right; a little dusty, but in one piece. The Joseph figure was okay, too, with nothing worse than maybe some chipped paint here and there. Mom went through the figures one by one, checking each carefully. Almost all of them were still in pretty good condition, but there were a couple of characters that were not so lucky; the third Wiseman had lost one of his hands, thankfully not the one holding his gift. The box in had probably been kicked around the attic a good deal in the past year by the feet of children at play. “Well, we can make do,” Mom thought to herself, setting the Wiseman next to his brothers.

The Mary figurine was nothing short of a disaster. The poor woman’s body was so chipped and cracked that tiny shards of porcelain dusted the bottom of her pocket. When Mom picked her up, she saw the head had completely broken off and was still lying in the cubby, forlornly looking up at her.

Mom sighed, but it was only to be expected. The set was getting old; it had been a present to her parents on their wedding. Thankfully, though, she knew the perfect place for situations like this. The little shop on the corner sold separate nativity figurines; just the thing when you needed new ones for a set.

Mom put the old Mary in a plastic bag and put her carefully back in the box; she at least wouldn’t throw it away. “Hurry, Beth,” she called to her daughter, who was running a dust rag over the space for the nativity scene. “It’s almost six and I want to do some shopping.” She helped Beth set up the nativity they had so far; then, Beth put on her coat, Mom picked up her purse and slipped on her jacket, and they went through the front door and out of the house.

For a few minutes after they left, nothing stirred in the house. The lights on the tree lit the room up with its soft glow and the snow continued to fall. Then, all of a sudden, one of the nativity characters moved slightly. It was Joseph. He stretched and rubbed his arms, swinging them once or twice to get the feeling back in them. Beside him, the donkey’s ear twitched and the smaller of the two sheep blinked. Then, all the figures were moving, stretching their limbs and shaking the dust out of their eyes.

“All right, everyone,” Joseph called to the others. “Inspection time. How does everybody look? Any damage anywhere?”

The pieces shuffled around to examine themselves and each other. The Angel turned her head to look down the backs of her wings. There were calls of “I’m good,” and “All’s well here.” Aside from the occasional scratch here and there, everyone seemed okay. The Camel wrinkled his snout and muttered, “Something’s tickling inside my nose.”

The Wiseman with Myrrh noticed the stump of his missing hand. “Well, it’s only to be expected,” he sighed. “On the bright side, I’ve still got the myrrh.” He held it up a little higher, trying to catch the small box in the pretty light.

“Anything?” Joseph called again.

“One of the Wisemen is missing a hand,” the Shepherd told him, “but it’s not the gift one, and, other than that, that seems about it.”

“Well, it’s sure to be worse,” said a flat voice from the back. It was the Lamb, who was anxiously examining her left hoof in front of her face. “I’m almost certain everyone’s got at least three of those tiny, narrow chips one never notices until they get full of dust and start to itch.” She licked her foot. “I think I have one now.”

“Oh, hush,” said the Wiseman with Gold. “Don’t be such a downer. You always look at the worse side of things.”

“Is there anything else to look at?” the Lamb snipped. “I don’t see you being wary or cautious about important things at all.”

“If that’s all there is to tell,” announced Joseph, trying to put a stop to the argument before it began, “I suppose we can do the roll call. Donkey?”

The Camel suddenly let out a tremendous sneeze, something black and hairy shooting out of his nose and falling onto the mantelpiece. The spider, small but still not amused at the abrupt disturbance, scuttled off quickly towards the crowd of figurines. All jumped back, but the Angel raised her foot and kicked the spider off the shelf with a generous thwack! The spider went whizzing off the mantelpiece to the floor, catching itself just in time with a silver thread before skittering off under the bookshelf. In the rather stunned silence that followed, several characters gave the Camel withering looks.

The Donkey twitched an ear and cleared his throat. “I can take it from here, Joseph,” he said importantly. “All right, everyone, roll call. Is the Shepherd here?”

“I’m here,” the Shepherd called.

“And the Flock?”

“Present!” sang the Sheep while the Lamb mumbled, “Right here.”

“Camel?”

“I’m here,” said the Camel, who was standing right next to the Donkey. “I should think you would have known that already.”

The Donkey ignored him and went on. “What about the Wisemen; Wiseman with Gold?”

“Here,” said the Wiseman with Gold, drawing himself up importantly.

“Wiseman with Frankincense?”

“Here!”

“Wiseman with Myrrh?”

“Present and accounted for!” came the Wiseman with Myrrh’s jubilant reply.

“Angel?”

This was met with a pause. After waiting a moment, the Donkey called again, “Angel!”

The Angel, who had been busy cleaning; or, at least, trying to clean; the backs of her wings by rubbing against the cover of a nearby book, hastily straightened up. “Hey,” she said, running her finger down the feathered edge of her wings one last time, just to be sure.

“And, of course, Mary,” said the Donkey.

There was no answer.

“I saw her,” said the Lamb gravely, who, when she had real bad news to tell, was taken seriously. “The Woman put her back in the box. Her head was gone.”

There was a very long silence. Everyone took a respectful moment of silence for their fallen friend.

At last, the Donkey said, “She was a good Mary. She served her part well.”

“But we can’t be a Nativity set without Mary!” the Wiseman with Gold burst out.

“Well,” said Joseph, trying to sound cheerful, “I think that is why the Woman left. I heard something about a little shopping she was going to do. Perhaps she’ll bring us a new Mary.”

There was dead silence. Then, suddenly, everyone began to speak at once.

“We can’t have a new Mary!” the Shepherd cried. “The old one’s been in this stable for years!”

“What if she doesn’t like us?” hollered the Wiseman with Frankincense.

“It wouldn’t be right to replace her,” said the Camel, trying to appear wise and knowing. “It wouldn’t be a respectful thing to do.”

“It’s just what I suspected would happen!” cried the Lamb. “Something like this was bound to happen all along! We’re all going to fall apart!” No one took any notice of her.

The babble was so loud, Joseph couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. “All right, quiet, please!” he called, but no one could hear him. “Quiet, please! Everyone, I have something—”

“QUIET!” the Angel screamed at the top of her lungs. There was silence in an instant. “Joseph wants to tell us something,” the Angel told them, using her “inside voice” again and pointing at Joseph.

“She may be an Angel,” the Shepherd muttered to the others, “but sometimes I think there must be a devil in there somewhere.” Most of the figurines agreed that the Angel did have a tendency to speak with a rather harsh tone, even when she was being nice; she could also be a bit melodramatic at times.

Her voice does come in handy, Joseph thought. Trying not to smile, he cleared his throat. “I know what you’re probably thinking: you don’t want another Mary. Well, it isn’t exactly up to us, is it? It’s the Human’s choice of what gets replaced around here; the least we can do for them is not complain about it, all right?”

“I think a new Mary may be rather exciting,” said the Wiseman with Myrrh. “Think of how much we’ll get to show her! We can show her around the Stable and teach her how to take care of the Baby and—”

“She’ll already know that,” the Camel retorted. “She’s Mary; she’s bound to know her part.”

“I agree with the Wiseman with Myrrh,” said Joseph firmly. “Since she’s new here, we’ll have much to show her. And I’m expecting all of you to be hospitable, so I want to hear no more about it.”

There was a murmur of consent from some of the characters, but others had different opinions. “I still don’t like it much,” the Shepherd whispered to the Wiseman with Gold, who nodded in agreement.

The front door of the house opened and Beth and her mother walked in. Mom had a small bag in one hand. On the mantel, everything was perfectly still; there was no sign of movement from the characters.

“Can you open up the new Mary and set it with the other figures, Beth?” asked Mom.

“Oh, yes!” Beth cried eagerly, taking the bag and rushing with it into the living room. Out of the bag she took a small box. Once she had worked that open, she withdrew a small, sleek, new Mary figurine. Beth’s eyes glowed; it was clear she thought very highly of this figure. It looked much different than the other Mary, who had worn a pink dress, a blue head covering over blonde hair, and was on her knees with her arms raised over her head. This one had dark hair, a sky blue dress, and a white head covering, with her hands folded in her lap as she looked down lovingly. Beth thought this Mary was prettier than the other one; she looked shy, polite, and more serious than the last.

Beth put the Mary up next to Joseph in the stable and stood back to look at the display. Now, they were almost ready for Christmas.

Almost ready. Or, was something else missing……?

“Mom,” Beth called to her mother. “Where’s the Baby Jesus?”

“It must be still in the attic,” Mom replied unconcernedly. “I guess it just didn’t get back in the box last time. If you want, you can go up and look for it for a while before bed.”

“Can we do it together?” Beth asked, clutching her mother’s hand. “We’ll cover more ground together. Besides,” she added in a whisper, “it’s dark up there!”

Mom smiled. “All right, sweetie; I’ll come.” Together, she and Beth made their way up the stairs.

The figurines in the living room were still for a moment longer, until the thump of feet going up the stairs had subsided. When all was quiet again, the Wiseman with Frankincense said, “Well, here she is. Now what?”

Chapter Two

The New Girl

The Mary character was moving. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes opened wide. Joseph saw that they were brown, like his; the old Mary’s had been blue.

The girl surveyed her new surroundings. Joseph smiled encouragingly at her. Mary turned and stared at the other characters, who, in turn, stared back. Several of them were eyeing her with none-too-friendly, suspicious looks.

“Well, say something,” snapped the Camel, making Mary jump. “Or does your tongue have a crack in it?”

Mary swallowed and asked, “Where am I?”

“Welcome to the Mantelpiece,” said Joseph. “I hope you’ll like it here. We welcome you.”

Mary blinked. Some of the other faces did not look very welcoming. “Well, thank you for having me with you,” she said shyly. “I hope it’s not inconvenient.”

By the looks on some of the faces around her, she felt it was inconvenient, but she didn’t know what else to say. Her whole life had been inside a box on a shelf at the store. She didn’t know anything except the purpose she’d been made for; who she was, who the rest of the figures were, her own role in the Christmas story, as well as the other characters’ roles; but she didn’t know what she was supposed to do now.

Luckily, Joseph understood perfectly well what was going on in her head; he was that sort of guy. “It’s no inconvenience at all,” he said gently, helping her to her feet. Mary swayed a little; she hadn’t really stood up that much at the store. But Joseph let her lean on him until she got her balance. “Welcome to our Stable.” He swept his arm out at the nativity. Mary smiled and curtsied; even if they didn’t like her, she would at least be polite.

“All right, now,” said Joseph to the other characters, “we need to get started on our dusting.”

“It’s just something we do here to keep from being bored,” the Donkey told Mary, answering her surprised look. “And it also helps the Humans. They don’t like dusty shelves, either.”

“Mary, why don’t you look around and explore your new home?” Joseph whispered to her. She nodded and set off across the shelf while the other characters started dusting.

She walked over to the books lined up along the shelf. She smeared her porcelain hand over the binding. It wasn’t too dusty; the leather was smooth and hard. She twisted her head sideways and read the title. She was able to read, of course, because people would walk by, reading the labels aloud to themselves as they passed. This book’s cover read “Machines of the Modern World” in big letters. Mary guessed it wasn’t something she would be too interested in.

She walked on and saw the Shepherd, the Sheep, and the Wiseman with Gold cleaning one of the bookends. The Shepherd was trying to grab a couple of dust bunnies with his staff while talking to the Wiseman and the Sheep.

“…and I’m not saying Joseph is wrong or anything,” he was telling them, “but honestly, if that girl gives us any more trouble than we’ve already got, I’ll have to ask Joseph to send her to the other side of these books!” The Shepherd pulled one of the dust bunnies off the bookend. The dust ball fell to the ground, but the Shepherd’s staff caught in one of the iron rings that decorated the edge of the bookend. “Aw, rats!” grunted the Shepherd, trying to pull his staff free without chipping it.

“Oh, here, let me help,” Mary offered, seizing her chance to prove herself useful. She took a step toward the Shepherd, but he waved her away.

“I don’t need your help!” he snapped, turning to face her. The moment his back was turned, his staff came free. He stumbled backward, tried to catch himself with his staff, and fell flat on his seat. The other two figures laughed at him.

Full of fear, Mary rushed forward to help him and make sure he wasn’t chipped anywhere, but again, he waved her off. “I told you, I don’t need your help!” he growled, heaving himself up. “If it hadn’t been for you distracting me, I wouldn’t have nearly smashed myself into a thousand pieces!”

Mary was stunned at his anger for a little accident like that. The other two figurines were looking at her reproachfully. “I didn’t mean for him to fall,” she said, her cheeks growing hot.

“Of course you didn’t,” said the Sheep. “No one means for accidents to happen, but the best way to prevent it from happening again is to see that it doesn’t have another opportunity.” She licked a streak of dust off her back and blew it into the air, as if there was nothing more to be said. Mary took a step back, pretending not to mind so much.

“Not too helpful, is she?” the Wiseman with Gold muttered to the Sheep.

“Certainly not,” the Sheep whispered back. “Just ignore her and maybe she’ll leave us in peace.”

Mary turned away from them, swallowing hard. She tried to brush away her sudden tears before anyone noticed.

“Excuse me!” came a harsh voice. Everybody whirled around. The Angel stood not far away, arms crossed, her wings beating so hard that they knocked together with a sharp clack, clack, clack! The dark look in her face told Mary that she was obviously not happy about something.

“What is going on here?” she snapped. “Why aren’t you three doing your job?”

The Shepherd looked away, anger on his face. “Oh, nothing,” said the Sheep, her voice full of false sweetness. “It’s just that Mary’s a little confused on where she’s supposed to be right now.” She gave Mary a sharp glance. Mary sniffed and turned her head, hoping she looked unconcerned. A tear escaped down one cheek; quickly, she brushed it away, pretending she was only scratching.

The Angel was not amused by any of this. “Well, quit horsing around! We have work to do!” In a surprisingly few strides, she had reached Mary’s side and grabbed her hand in a gentle but firm grip. “Meanwhile, if you think it isn’t worth your while, I’ll take Mary with me.” Before Mary had time to protest, she was half led, half dragged around to the other side of the stable, where the other figures were out of sight.

Everything had happened and ended so quickly, Mary was a little too surprised to speak. Finally, in her search for a proper question to ask, she managed to stammer out, “Um, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the Angel said in a much less harsh tone, glancing quickly around. “This way.” She pulled Mary toward the edge of the shelf, just behind the Stable. Here, the Wiseman with Myrrh and the Lamb were at work, polishing the edge of the shelf near the Christmas tree.

Mary had never seen a Christmas tree before; she stared in awe at it. There were gold, silver, red, blue, and green balls hanging all over it, with strings of colored lights wound all over it, and at the very top was a glittering star. The lights seemed to make the tree warm; the sweet, dusty odor of pine wafted around them.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” said the Wiseman with Myrrh, smiling pleasantly as he looked up at the tree.

“Yes,” Mary whispered, reaching out a hand and letting the pine needles tickle the tips of her fingers.

“I imagine this is your first one you’ve seen up close,” the Wiseman with Myrrh commented. “You know, the light from the tree lights up your hair stunningly.”

Mary was surprised he would say such a thing. She turned to see a silver ball, dangling almost right in front of her, and saw her own reflection for the first time in her life. She was a little surprised at first, but realized that the Wiseman with Myrrh was right. Her hair and face were highlighted with pink, blue and gold light; it did look quite beautiful.

“Well, thank you,” she murmured, not quite sure what to say. The Wiseman with Myrrh simply smiled.

As Mary gazed at the tree, the Lamb hobbled up and sniffed at the hem of her skirt. “Typical,” she huffed. “It’s just as I suspected; it isn’t real porcelain; just that cheap modern stuff they call porcelain. I shouldn’t wonder if it wears away faster than the old stuff. You’d best be careful, Mary; if you aren’t, you might chip something.”

This made Mary uncomfortable, but the Wiseman with Myrrh said calmly, “It’s quite all right, Mary, you needn’t worry about a thing. She’s a bit on the moody side of things,” he added when the Lamb was out of earshot.

“I see,” Mary whispered back. Now that she was more comfortable with her surroundings, she decided to get started. “Well, what do I have to do?”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said the Angel, kicking a dust bunny off the shelf. “You just dust a bit here and there and if you find any dust bunnies, just chuck them off the shelf. The vacuum will pick those up later.” She used her wings to blow another dust bunny off the shelf. She flapped her wings, shaking the loose dust from them. A cloud of it rose in the air around her.

Mary smiled the first real, happy smile she’d smiled since she first arrived. At last, she’d found real friends.

Chapter Three

Discoveries and Problems

Mary took the Angel’s advice and dusted for a while. She quite enjoyed it because it gave her a chance to explore her new home, but she stayed clear of the other characters, apart from the Angel, Wiseman with Myrrh, and the Lamb. Whenever one of the others looked at her, she often saw resent in their stare. Often she looked at her husband, Joseph, but he was usually talking with the Donkey and didn’t often look her way, though once or twice gave her an encouraging smile. She smiled back and went on with her work.

When she couldn’t find anything else to be dusted, she milled around, exploring more thoroughly. During her dust run, she had discovered several interesting places between the books. There was one spot where a book leaned against another, making a perfect shelter, but still giving her a good view of the Christmas tree. She also found that she could clamber up on top of one of the bookends, giving her a spectacular view of the entire shelf.

Finally, she came to the other end of the shelf, where there were no more books; only empty space. Mary peered carefully over the edge to see a long, dizzying drop to the floor. The height made her head swim and she pulled back, breathing heavily. She decided to look up instead.

She saw the ceiling, coated by a few dusty cobwebs with a spider sitting in the middle. What kind of spider? Mary wondered; she couldn’t tell whether it was brown or black. She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to try and see better—and suddenly lost her footing, leaned the wrong way, and found herself tumbling into empty space. But before she fell, something grabbed her hand and hauled her back over the edge.

Mary stood shaking a little, her breath quite lost in all the excitement. She turned to see Joseph standing beside her, looking alarmed. “Are you all right?” he asked, checking her over for any signs of breakage.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Mary told him. “I’m sorry; I didn’t realize how far out I had gone. I should have been more careful.”

“Well, nothing bad happened,” Joseph assured her. “It’s all right now. Come on, we should be getting back.” He took her hand and led her back along the shelf. As they walked, he asked, “So, how do you like the Mantel?”

“It’s very nice,” Mary replied. “I really like it.”

“It’s not much,” Joseph admitted, “but it’s home. I’m glad you like it.”

Mary smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for him that wasn’t just for the recent rescue.

Back behind the Stable, the Wiseman with Myrrh, the Lamb, and the Angel were waiting by the tree. The Wiseman with Myrrh smiled as they approached. “Well, have you had an interesting time?”

Mary smiled and nodded.

“How’s everything going?” Joseph asked, looking at the four of them.

“Just great,” the Wiseman with Myrrh replied cheerfully.

“As well as can be expected,” the Lamb grumbled in her usual, melancholy tone.

“In other words, all’s well,” said the Angel, giving the thumbs up.

“Well, if you need us, we’ll all be over here,” said the Wiseman. “Come on, you two,” he murmured to the Angel and the Lamb. “I think Joseph and Mary need a moment to themselves.” He slid the Angel a sidelong wink, she taking the point at once, and they hustled along to the other side of the stable, the Lamb looking at them in confusion. In another moment, Joseph and Mary were alone beside the tree.

“Well, I hope you like your new home,” Joseph began after a rather awkward pause.

“Oh, yes, it’s lovely,” said Mary. She turned to gaze at the tree, thinking.

“You are happy here, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Of course,” she told him.

“And the others…?” he questioned.

“Oh, they’re all right,” she said, faltering. Her hesitation gave her away.

“I know they’re all a bit up tight,” Joseph sighed, turning to look at the tree. “They’re not really that happy with this whole scenario, but I’m sure they’ll get used to it in time.”

“Oh, they’re all very nice,” Mary reassured him. “I’ve met the Wiseman with Myrrh, the Lamb, and the Angel; they’re all very nice.” She didn’t mention the Shepherd.

“Oh, those three are all right,” Joseph told her. “That Wiseman always tries to look on the brighter side and the Angel’s quite a loyal friend and, well, the Lamb is usually miserable about everything, but she’s not bad in a pinch.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Mary laughed. They were silent again for a while. After a few seconds, Mary ventured, “Was she nice?”

“Who?” Joseph asked.

“Mary,” she told him. “The first one, I mean.”

“Oh.” Joseph hesitated. “Well… yes. She was very nice.”

“Was she… pretty?” Mary asked in a whisper.

Slowly, Joseph nodded. “She didn’t really look like you. She could sing; the Woman keeps a hymnal up here and Mary learned a lot of the songs because the Woman played them on the piano.” He swallowed, then asked, “Can you sing?”

“I don’t know,” Mary admitted, turning to look into his face. “I’ve never done it before.”

His deep, brown, porcelain eyes gazed into her own. The lights from the tree shone around them as his hand slipped into hers. He was very close; they were almost touching—

“Joseph!” called the Donkey, sticking his head around the corner of the Stable. Joseph and Mary jumped at least an inch; which is quite a bit, if you’re only four inches tall. “We’re about to hold Evening Counsel,” said the Donkey. “You coming?”

“Yes, yes; hold on, we’ll be right there,” huffed Joseph, reluctantly letting go of Mary’s hand. She stood for a minute longer, watching him disappear on the other side of the wall. She heaved a sigh, then followed behind.

The characters were clustered around the front of the Stable, murmuring nervously to each other. Joseph and the Donkey were in a hushed conversation, looking grave.

Mary came to stand by the Angel, Lamb, and Wiseman with Myrrh. “What’s happening?” she whispered to the Angel.

“It’s the Baby,” she murmured back. “The Baby Jesus. He’s not here.”

Mary gasped. The Baby Jesus was her Baby; her son. More than that, Baby Jesus was the most important part of the whole nativity scene; without Him, their whole existence was pointless. If they tried to go through a Christmas without Him…

Finally, Joseph raised his voice. “Listen, this is shocking news, but don’t give up hope. I think the Humans went to the attic to find Him earlier. They know He’s sure to be around somewhere. He isn’t gone forever.”

“Are they going to replace Him too?” muttered the Shepherd.

“The Humans will find Him,” said Joseph firmly. “I know they will. They’ll find a way, you’ll see.”

At that moment, footsteps were heard overhead as Beth and Mom came down from their search in the attic.

Beth was near frantic.

“Mom, we’ve looked everywhere!” she implored, clutching her mother’s hand. “We haven’t found the Baby yet and it’s already the day before Christmas Eve!”

“Now, Beth, honey,” Mom soothed gently, “we can find Him tomorrow, all right? It’ll be okay; I promise.” She kissed Beth’s hand. “Now, off to bed with you. We’ll look more tomorrow. Now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Beth mumbled, giving her mom a quick peck on the cheek. Then, she hurried away to her bedroom. For a while after that, Mom did a few Nightly Mom things; then, she, too, went upstairs.

Finally, the Wiseman with Frankincense stated heavily, “Well, that’s that. They’re not going to look for Him till tomorrow and tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”

There was a heavy silence.

“What will we do?” the Sheep groaned.

No one said anything. Joseph hung his head.

Fortunately, someone had been thinking very hard for a long time about many things all at once, and about one thing in particular.

Finally, the Angel spoke up in a slow, hesitant voice. “We could look for Him ourselves.”

Everyone turned to stare at her in amazement. The Angel’s halo glowed vibrant orange-red; that was what happened when she was blushing.

The Shepherd scoffed. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I ever heard! Firstly, we would have to get up to the attic; how are we supposed to do that? If we tried to climb the stairs, the Humans would see us, not to mention we might fall about a thousand inches and smash to pieces at the bottom.”

The Angel glared at him. “What if I told you I knew a way to get up there without leaving the shelf?”

There was a tremendous gasp.

“Why didn’t you speak of this before now?” asked Joseph.

“There wasn’t any need,” the Angel replied. “I’ll show you.”

She led the way to the back corner of the shelf, next to the tree, where the wall was mostly covered from view by the Stable. The Angel set her weight against one of the bricks and pushed with all her might. Nothing happened at first, but then, the brick gave way and swung inward, a dark hole opening where it had seemed tightly fitted. Through the hole, a sort of tunnel sloped up the chimney and out of sight.

“I’ve been through this a couple times,” the Angel explained. “It goes right up to the attic. If one or two of us went up through here, we’d be able to get into the attic and search for Jesus.”

“This is an excellent idea,” said Joseph. “Now, who will volunteer to go up to the attic?”

There was silence. Then…

“I’ll go,” said Mary.

Everyone stared at her. “Absolutely not!” cried Joseph. “It’ll be dangerous. What if you get hurt?”

“But He’s my Baby,” Mary insisted. “Our son.” She clutched Joseph’s hands. “I’ll be careful.”

Joseph winced. “You’re not going alone. I’ll go, too.”

“But Joseph, you can’t,” protested the Donkey, “We need you here. She’ll be okay.”

“He’s right, Joseph,” said Mary. “You’re needed here.” She looked down sadly. “I’m not.”

“But she can’t go alone!” Joseph urged.

“She won’t go alone,” declared the Wiseman with Myrrh, stepping forward. “I’m going with her.”

“Count me in,” said the Angel. “I know my way around up there. You’ll need a guide.”

“We’re all going to die,” muttered the Lamb, but she too stepped forward.

Joseph looked around. “All right,” he finally relented. “You all can go. But just promise me you’ll be careful, okay?”

“We promise,” they said.

“Come on,” said the Angel. “I’ll go first, since I know the way.” Stooping, she folded her wings about her and crawled into the hole. The Lamb followed rather awkwardly and scrambled up after her.

“I’ll bring up the rear,” the Wiseman with Myrrh told Mary, waiting beside the tunnel entrance for her.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” Mary told Joseph, giving his hand a squeeze. Then, she stooped and went into the tunnel, followed by the Wiseman with Myrrh.

Joseph watched them go. “Be careful,” he whispered.

Chapter Four

The Attic

The tunnel was very narrow, sloping steeply upward. Mary stumbled along, barely able to see the Lamb’s shaggy form in front of her. Behind her, she could hear the Wiseman scraping along. Farther up ahead, she could see a faint glimmer that was the Angel’s halo. “This way,” the Angel called, squeezing through the narrow passage. The others followed her.

Out of the four of them, Mary probably had the easiest time. Even though the Angel knew where she was going, she still had her wings to watch out for, making sure she didn’t chip them on the brick walls. The Lamb, though small in size, couldn’t kneel down the same way as the others, and had to shamble along at an awkward pace. The Wiseman with Myrrh only had one hand to use, and that was the one holding his gift. But Mary had the free use of both hands and could easily feel her way about, even though she could hardly see.

Every so often, a chink of light fell in through small holes in the walls. It was growing dark outside, so instead of making it lighter, it just made it cold. Mary’s porcelain fingers soon grew numb, and her hands were black with soot from the chimney. The steady glow of the Angel’s halo in the front and the shuffling, panting, and scraping of porcelain on brick before and behind her was the only sign she had that she was not alone.

“We’re almost there,” the Angel called back. “Not much farther now. Just a little bit more; then we’ll be out.”

The “little bit more” took nearly ten minutes to do. By that time, Mary had lost all feeling in her nose, fingers, and toes and was wondering if the journey would ever end. Finally, she saw up ahead a faint glimmer of light other than the Angel’s halo. She knew it wasn’t the halo because the halo was orange-yellow; this light was a dark grayish-blue. At last, Mary saw the Angel disappear in front of them, then the Lamb, and before she knew it she herself was scrambling out of a dark, sooty hole in a brick wall into a place where the grayish-blue light was all around her.

Mary gasped at the shock of cold air that now blasted her full in the face. It was freezing, far colder than it was in the tunnel. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the Wiseman with Myrrh and the Lamb, both blinking and shivering, standing close to her. The Angel was a little ways farther on, looking up and agitatedly tapping her foot. The other three trotted over beside her to see what she was looking at, and got rather a shock. A very tall, very steep, very smooth cardboard cliff rose up before them and all around them, surrounding the hole where they had come out. They were literally boxed in.

“Well, that’s just perfect,” the Lamb huffed. “How on earth are we getting past that?”

“I don’t suppose we could push them?” the Wiseman with Myrrh offered.

The Angel shook her head. “No good; already tried that.”

“Will we have to go back?” Mary asked, shivering. She did not want to go back just to see the smug satisfaction on the Shepherd’s face, or, even worse, the disappointment on Joseph’s.

“No, I think our best bet is to try to get over somehow,” said the Angel decidedly.

“How?” the Lamb asked stiffly. “The only way up is to fly. I don’t suppose you could fly us over, could you?”

The Angel snorted. “What, do you think just because I have wings I can fly? We’re made of glass! But I think you might have a point, Lamb.” She looked thoughtfully at a smaller box nearby. “If you just give me a sec…” She wandered over to the little box, looking cautiously round it, then disappeared behind it.

Mary looked at the Wiseman, who shrugged. They waited for a few seconds, wondering what the Angel was doing. After a few moments of silence, Mary called out, “Angel? Are you okay?”

The air was suddenly split by a piercing, ear-racking “SQUEEEEEEAAAK!!!” Something monstrously huge and black flew out from behind the box, zoomed floppily up and hovered near the ceiling before diving down in a great spiral, then shot upwards again, down and up in a dizzying, jerky kind of dance. Mary had never seen a bat before, so it is only to be expected that she gave a scream and covered her head with her arms. As the thing made another turn and flipped in the air overhead, she glimpsed a whitish figure on its back.

“Yeeee-haw!” yelled the Angel, letting go with one hand and waving it around. “Woohoo!”

“Angel, what are you doing!?” the Wiseman hollered over her whoops and the bat’s frantic, shrill squeaks. “Get off that thing; you’ll be killed!”

“It’s okay!” the Angel shouted back. “I got this! Oof!”

The “oof” was added because the bat, thrown off balance by the extra weight, had just flown head-on straight into the wall. The Angel kept her seat and maneuvered the bat away, but a large chunk of crumbled brick fell in an avalanche from the wall, completely covering the entrance to the passageway.

“No!” Mary rushed forward, trying to dig through, but it was no use. There was no getting back that way.

Disoriented by its collision, the bat fell out of the air and hit the floor with a dull smack. In the few seconds it wobbled dizzily around, trying to regain its senses, the Angel yelled, “Hurry, grab on!” The Wiseman with Myrrh seized Mary and lifted her up onto the bat’s back. Mary grabbed the Angel’s outstretched hand while the Wiseman hoisted the Lamb up, ignoring her shrill squawks of protest. At last, the Wiseman scrambled up; just in time, for the bat was now aware of the increased load. With another ear-splitting screech, it took off once more into the air.

The flight, however brief, was certainly no fun for Mary, the Wiseman, or the Lamb. Mary clung desperately to the Angel’s wings as they soared, flipped, turned, spiraled, plummeted, and jerked in the bat’s twitchy flight. Mary was vaguely aware of the Angel’s excited whoops mingling with terrified shrieks from the Lamb, clutched beneath the arm of the Wiseman, whose other arm was secured around Mary’s waist. The bat squeaked again and did a corkscrew dive toward the floor. Mary’s stomach was lifted into her throat, then was sent to her feet as the bat rose again towards the ceiling. Finally, as they soared across the attic in a great loop, the Angel pointed to the floor and shouted, “Down there! That’s our target!”

Mary just managed to catch a glimpse of a large box open on the floor, full to the brim with packing peanuts. It would provide for an excellent landing.

“Hang on!” the Angel cried, grabbing the bat’s back-fur in her porcelain fists and yanking on it to steer them over the box. “When I say ‘jump,’ we jump. Ready?”

“No!” screamed the Lamb.

“Jump!”

They leapt off the bat and into empty space. In the three half seconds it took to fall, a million thoughts flew through Mary’s head. Had she jumped too soon or too late? Would she miss the box? If she hit the floor she would smash, and then what would Joseph do? Would they ever find Baby Jesus?

Pliff! She fell straight into the box of peanuts. Several other pliffs told her that the others soon arrived. The bat’s squeaks of terror and frantic flapping soon ended. It had flown up to the ceiling and hidden among the rafters, still terrified from its horrific ordeal.

For a long time, Mary lay breathless. The Styrofoam peanuts surrounded her, pressing against her ears and blocking out noise. When she finally stopped shaking, she sat up and looked around. She was surrounded by steep walls of cardboard, peanuts piled high around her. Movement was coming from somewhere nearby, and eventually the Wiseman sat up, bits of Styrofoam sticking to his face. A little father off, the Lamb surfaced shakily, her eyes wide. She gulped several times, then spit out half a peanut. At last the Angel struggled out of the sea of Styrofoam, her halo glowing a bright energetic yellow.

“Wow! What a ride!” She struggled through the peanuts to help the Wiseman stand up. “That’ll be something to tell the others about!”

The Wiseman waded over to the Lamb and pulled her to her feet while the Angel helped Mary up. Then the Wiseman said what they were all thinking: “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Of course not,” the Angel told him calmly. “That was a one-time drastic measure. Only to be attempted once. Extremely dangerous otherwise.”

“Extremely dangerous anyway!” cried the Wiseman. “You could have fallen off and died!”

“But I didn’t,” the Angel replied. “No harm done, see? So stop worrying.”

“I’m going to fall to pieces if I move,” the Lamb croaked. “I just know it.”

“Well,” Mary interrupted, “how do we get out of this box?”

“Perhaps we could be of assistance,” said a voice underneath the packing peanuts. The Wiseman jumped, Mary gave a cry of alarm, and the Lamb fell over as several colorful, oddly-shaped heads poked out of the peanuts. The largest one, orange with triangle eyes, looked like some sort of weird, plastic fruit.

“Hello, there,” it said jovially. “You are currently in a box of Halloween decorations. I’m Jack, the jack-o-lantern. That’s Puss,” he nodded at a black-cat cardboard cutout, “that’s Spook,” at a cotton-ball ghost puppet, “and that there’s Drake.” This last person looked normal enough, but when he smiled, to Mary’s horror, he revealed two pointed fangs.

“Good evening,” Drake greeted in a deep, booming voice. Mary shuddered, and the Lamb, who had just managed to pick herself up, fell over again.

“Now, who might you all be?” asked Spook. “You’re not Halloween decorations.”

“No, we’re not,” Mary told them. “We’re Christmas decorations.”

“Christmas decorations?” Puss mused, skeptically eyeing the newcomers. “What on earth would Christmas decorations be doing in the Halloween box?”

“We didn’t mean to come here on purpose,” the Wiseman explained. “We were just trying to get into the attic. We fell off a bat and—”

“A bat?” Spook exclaimed. “You mean a real live bat? The animal kind?”

“The only bats we know of are the ones on the garland,” purred the cat, flicking her tail in the direction of a large bag sticking out of the Styrofoam peanuts. At her words, several tiny, plastic bats all strung together on a black thread fluttered up from the bag.

“I know a lot of things about bats,” said Drake importantly. “It runs in my blood, you know. What, exactly, were the particular details of the bat you were on?”

“It had brown fur on its back,” the Wiseman informed, “and it was enormous.”

“Ah!” Drake exclaimed happily. “Myotis lucifugus; or, to put it more plainly, a brown bat.”

This could have led to an interesting conversation about bats, but the Angel interrupted. “Um, we’re kind of in a hurry,” she said impatiently. “We need to get out of the box, so could you please help us?”

“Of course,” Jack replied cheerily. “Always willing to help. Oy, bats!”

The bat garland fluttered and rustled, eager to aid. “Please assist these young decorations in climbing out,” Jack ordered them. The bats twittered excitedly, then flew as one up out of the box, making a nice rope-ladder to climb out by.

“There you are,” said Jack. “By the way, what exactly are you in a hurry for?”

“We’ve lost one of our most valuable characters,” explained the Wiseman. “We’re trying to relocate Him.”

“Oh, dear, how dreadful!” cried Spook. “I’d feel terribly if we lost one of our pieces!” The others nodded solemnly.

“Well, thank you for helping us,” called the Angel, already halfway up the bat-ladder. “And thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be sure to stop by sometime!” With that, she clambered over the edge of the box and out of sight.

“No problem!” Jack called. He turned to Mary. “Better hurry; you’ll want to find a place to stay for the night; it gets very cold up here in the winter.”

“Don’t worry,” Mary assured him. “And thank you so much for your help.” She turned to the end of the bat-ladder, where the Wiseman was trying to persuade the Lamb to let him carry her up.

“Absolutely not!” cried the Lamb. “I’ve been carried around too much for my lifetime.”

“But there’s no other way out,” the Wiseman told her. “Besides, we can’t just leave you here, so you’re being carried whether you like it or not.” Before the Lamb could complain any more, he scooped her up around the middle and began the ascent, ignoring the kicks and whines from his burden. Mary hurried up behind him.

“Thank you!” she called once more to the Halloween decorations, then climbed up and over the top of the box.

She had expected to come upon a sheer drop at the top, but instead found that the box flap made a smooth slope for an easy, harmless descent to the ground. She slid down and found the others waiting for her.

“Well,” said the Lamb, “we’ve made it. Now what do we do?”

“We’ve got to find a place to stay for the night,” answered the Wiseman. “I know that we’re all concerned for looking for the Baby Jesus, but we can’t search all night in the dark. We’ll have to wait for morning.”

“Where are we going to find shelter?” asked Mary, rubbing her arms.

“We’ll have to look for some,” the Angel replied. She moved off, examining every nook and cranny she came to. The others followed more warily.

Before they actually made it up to the attic, Mary had thought that once they reached it, they would immediately begin their search for Jesus. Now she saw how hard that part was going to be. The attic was huge, running the entire length of the house, with many boxes, furniture, and other oddments strewn across their path. For one only four inches high, a thorough search could take days in this mess.

Cold tears stung her eyes as she thought of the tiny porcelain Baby she’d never seen, lying cold and alone in some remote corner. She wondered if He would even recognize her as His mother, not just as a stranger He’d never met. He would know the Angel and the Wiseman and the Lamb, but would He know she was His new mother now?

The Wiseman noticed she was lagging and dropped back beside her. “You all right?”

“I’m all right,” Mary mumbled, turning her face away so he wouldn’t see the tears.

The Wiseman wasn’t fooled for an instant. “Hey,” he murmured, turning her face (rather clumsily, because of his myrrh) back and looking into her eyes. “It’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll find Him.”

Mary managed a smile. The Wiseman with Myrrh was a wonderful friend, she thought, as they walked onward, following the glow of the Angel’s halo.

Chapter Five

A Night with the Neighbors

The light was nearly gone now, and the only thing Mary could see was the Angel’s halo weaving back and forth in the gloom. She saw it stop beside two large boxes, and then the light disappeared. Mary remembered that the last time this had happened the Angel had come back riding a bat, so she called, “Angel? What are you doing?”

There was no answer. Mary and the Wiseman looked at each other, then groped their way through the dark toward the place the light had vanished.

“Oh!” Mary couldn’t see what she’d tripped over, but felt it was something large. The Wiseman caught her before she could topple to the floor. “What was that?” Mary gasped.

“Me,” came the disgruntled, sleepy reply, and the Lamb rose to her feet. “I couldn’t see anything anymore, so I lay down for a little snooze while I waited for something to happen. Now something has happened, and I’m getting up.” She wobbled and shook her head, trying to rid it of the fatigue. “Where’s Angel, anyway?”

“Ack!”

The cry had come from somewhere to their left. In the dark, Mary could see a yellow glow behind one of the boxes, waving wildly back and forth, as if someone was shaking a Glow-stick. Quickly, Mary, the Wiseman, and the Lamb all rushed over to the place and there saw the cause of the commotion.

The Angel was wrestling and writhing on the ground, covered in dirty cobwebs, and the thing she was wrestling with was the biggest, hairiest wolf spider Mary had ever seen. As a matter of fact, it was the first wolf spider she’d ever seen.

How an ordinary wolf spider was able to grow to nearly two-and-a-half inches in size is anybody’s guess, but this one had achieved just that. She had made her home in a dark, cozy passage between two boxes next to each other, and there spun her web. There she had fared well, living chiefly off moths and flies, and now, quite suddenly, she had snared the biggest catch of her life. She assumed it was some sort of moth because its wings were feathery, nothing like the little plastic-wrap things flies had.

The spider wrestled with the Angel, and upon seeing that wrapping it up was of no use, proceeded to clamp her venomous fangs on the Angel’s hand as it attempted to punch her. It accomplished nothing as far as poisoning the victim; for, of course, the hand was made of porcelain; but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt.

“OW-ch!” the Angel cried angrily, wringing her hand profusely just as the others rushed over. She glowered at the she-spider, who was also nursing its rattled pincers a safe distance away.

“Angel, why do you always have to find trouble whenever you go off alone?” the Wiseman cried in exasperation.

“I don’t,” the Angel snapped, still rubbing the fingers. “This one found me first.”

“I don’t know what you mean by my being a trouble,” said a lovely, fluty voice. “I believe the trouble came to me. Might I ask who and what are you?”

The speaker was, of course, the spider, who now approached the queer creatures cautiously. She now saw that they were not insects, and was wondering what had brought them to her home. The four characters had never talked to a spider before.

“We’re so sorry to intrude,” said Mary after an uncomfortable pause. “We’re some of the Christmas Nativity characters, and we’re on an urgent mission.”

“Your name wouldn’t happen to be Charlotte, would it?” the Angel inquired.

The spider was not amused. “Ah, no. My name happens to be Sheila.”

“No relation to Shelob, I hope,” the Angel muttered, but no one heard.

“We’re looking for a place to stay for the night,” said the Wiseman. “Do you know of any?”

Sheila thought for a moment. “I think I know a place. Follow me.” She skittered off between the boxes. Mary and the others followed quickly, the Angel’s halo lighting up their path, always catching Sheila’s legs just before they disappeared into the dark.

They wound their way along through the maze of boxes and furniture until they came to one of the walls. Here Sheila paused, then suddenly darted into a large hole in the wall and out of sight. The figurines stopped and waited for something to happen. From inside the hole came a snuffling and scuffling, and Sheila’s voice saying, “Guys, get up! We have visitors.”

“Tell them to come in, then,” said a new voice.

Mary was wondering what sort of creatures lived in a little hole when Sheila came back again, saying, “All right, come on in. These are some friends of mine you can bunk with tonight.” Then, she disappeared into the hole again.

“How are we going to fit through that?” the Lamb whined.

“It isn’t much smaller than the tunnel,” said the Wiseman. “It’ll probably get big again once we’re inside. Come on.” He stooped and crawled into the hole, then called, “I was right! It does get bigger. Come on!”

Muttering grumpily, the Lamb bent down and shuffled through after him. After a second’s hesitation, Mary followed suit.

The hole was only about a centimeter long, and once through she found she was able to stand up. It was much warmer in here, probably because there were so many people taking up the small space. Just enough light glowed from a tiny candle to light up the room and show that it contained a family of mice; ten mice, in all.

The Wiseman was gingerly placing his feet, so as not to step on a paw or tail. Standing up, Mary saw the Lamb huddled up in a corner, already sound asleep. On the low ceiling, Sheila hung gracefully by a thread.

“Do try not to clutter up the ceiling with cobwebs, dear!” one of the mice said to her. The mouse was wearing a scrap of cloth for an apron, indicating her as the woman of the house.

One of the big mice stepped forward and bowed. “How do you do? Welcome to our humble abode. I’m Ronny and this is my wife, Skip.” He pointed to the mouse in the apron, who curtsied. “We have decided to let you stay with us for the night.”

“Thank you,” replied the Wiseman. “We’re so grateful.”

Suddenly three of the small mice, one of whom had a little ribbon around one ear, sprang forward and peeked curiously at the newcomers. “Papa, who are they?” said a little roly-poly one, standing on his toes and looking at the Wiseman through his whiskers.

“Why are they staying here?” asked the one with the ribbon, snuffling at the hem of Mary’s porcelain robe.

“Are they alive?” wondered the third, rapping on the Wiseman’s arm with his knuckles. “They’re hard. Are they made of rocks?”

“What’s wrong with his hand?” the first one asked, sniffing at the Wiseman’s broken stump.

“Children!” Skip called sharply. “These are our guests. You must be polite. Don’t pester them or ask uncomfortable questions.”

“It’s all right,” the Wiseman assured her. He stooped down to the little mouse. “What’s your name?”

“Brunie,” the mouse replied. “This is my sister, Bellsie, and our cousin, Bumper.”

“And that’s my little brother, Bunyan,” said Bumper, pointing over to an elderly mouse woman on a spool-rocking-chair, holding a tiny mouse in her arms. “He’s still only a Baby, though, so he doesn’t do very much.”

“What are you doing here?” questioned Brunie.

“We’re on a mission,” the Wiseman told him. “We just need to stay here for one night. Tomorrow, we need to get back to our mission.”

“What’s the mission?” Bellsie asked.

“Is it dangerous?” asked Bumper.

“Is that how you lost your hand?” said Brunie.

“We’re on a rescue mission,” said Mary. “We’re a few characters from the nativity set, and the Baby Jesus got left up here, so we’re going to find him.”

The grownup mice looked on gravely, and the little ones stared in awe at Mary as they clustered around her feet.

“Oh, how dreadful,” murmured the old woman mouse.

“Very careless of those humans, I say,” huffed an elderly mouse, puffing on a tiny wooden pipe. “Should be more careful, like. Dreadfully ignorant of them, if you ask me.”

“No one did, Grandpa Munk!” Brunie piped up, and then quickly put both paws over his mouth, his whiskers twitching with embarrassment.

“That’s just terrible,” Skip fretted, wringing the end of her apron. “You just cannot have Christmas without Jesus. Without Him, the whole holiday’s worthless.”

Mary felt the lump come back into her throat, and her eyes were stinging.

“Oh, there now, dear,” said another woman mouse with an apron, taking Mary’s hand. “You just come right over here and have a seat, and old Auntie Fritter will fix you some piping hot cider. Charlie!” she called to another mouse with a short cane made from a bent pin. “You lend your chair to the young gentleman here, and Gramsie, you take Bunyan to the bench by the fire, so the young lady can have the rocker.” Gramsie obliged and Aunt Fritter sat Mary on the spool chair. “Now you just sit right there, darling, and I’ll get some cider for you.” She bustled off through another hole into what Mary assumed was the kitchen. Soon, a nice, sweet smell was in the air and clattering sounds could be heard.

“I don’t mean to interrupt this fine gathering,” said a sarcastic voice from the door, “but could someone please lend me their assistance?”

Everyone turned to look. The Angel was stuck in the door to the mouse hole, her wings being too bulky to fit through. Mary stifled a giggle, and the Angel gave her an annoyed glare.

“Who’s that?” asked Bellsie, hurrying over and sniffing the Angel’s sleeve curiously.

“Why is she so fat?” Brunie puzzled, skeptically looking the Angel over, while the Angel surveyed him just as skeptically.

“Is she with you guys?” Bumper asked the Wiseman, who was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Yes,” he choked out. “I’m not sure she can get in that way. Is there another door somewhere, a bigger one?” he asked Ronny.

“Unfortunately not,” Ronny replied, twirling his whiskers between his fingers.

“Mightn’t we be able to gnaw through the plaster to make the hole bigger?” Skip suggested.

“Hmm, no, that wouldn’t do,” said Ronny. “It would let in a terrible draft.”

“Couldn’t we just leave her in the door?” suggested Bellsie. “She’s blocking out the cold, so it’s nice and warm in here.”

“Yeah, real funny,” the Angel grunted, twisting and turning.

“Here.” The Wiseman crossed over and looked the Angel over. “See if you can stretch your wings farther out behind you, so they don’t bunch so much at the top.”

“I’ll try.” The Angel strained and pulled, then opened her wings and folded them backwards. The Wiseman grabbled her under the arms and pulled, and she pushed herself forward through the door, her wings sliding stiffly in at last. And there she was, smudged and out of breath, but standing triumphantly inside the room. The mouse children clapped and cheered, and the Angel’s halo glimmered. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bet all that hard work has made you thirsty,” commented Auntie Fritter, bringing up a tray with several mugs of steaming cider. “Have a seat, won’t you? The couch should be large enough, now then.” She handed the Angel a mug, then gave one to Mary and another to the Wiseman. “I suppose your young friend wouldn’t want any at the moment?” She looked in the direction of the Lamb, who was still sleeping on a pile of shreds of fabric in the corner.

“She’ll be all right for now,” answered the Wiseman. “She’s probably better off asleep, anyhow.”

“Well, then, I’ll just give this to Sheila,” affirmed Auntie Fritter, bustling over to the corner.

Mary sipped at the cider; it was wonderful, tasting of apples and cinnamon, and warmed her right down to her feet. “You are all so very kind; I only wish we could do something for you in return.”

“Think nothing of it, dearie,” Skip assured her. “Goodness gracious!” she exclaimed a moment later, for she had glanced at the clock on the wall; a small, old pocket-watch, but still in good condition, and fully functional. The hands now read 11:25 pm. “Now is most certainly the time for little mice to be in bed.”

The three young mice groaned. “Can’t we have five more minutes?” Bellsie begged, clinging to her mother’s apron and bouncing on her toes.

“Just two more minutes, please?” pleaded Brunie, wringing the end of his tail earnestly, till he winced and let go.

“No, darlings,” said Skip firmly. “it’s off to bed for all of you. You do know what tomorrow is?”

“Christmas Eve,” the three mice chorused.

“That’s right,” said Skip, gathering the children to her. “We have a lot to do tomorrow before Christmas, so you need to get plenty of rest. Come along, then; and if you’re good, I’ll read you a bedtime story.” With that, she ushered the little ones off through another door in the wall.

Mary yawned, trying to stay awake. Her eyes felt heavy, and she was suddenly aware of Auntie Fritter standing nearby. “You must be dreadfully tired after your trip up here. If you want to get some sleep, just lay right here on the loveseat, that’s right.” She led Mary over to a smaller couch beside the one the Angel was sitting on. Mary sat down gratefully, and Auntie Fritter gave her a small cushion to lay her head on. “I suppose the gentleman and the young Angel are comfortable enough where they already are?”

“Really, it’s quite all right,” the Wiseman assured her. “We’ll sleep just fine here; you don’t have to give us any of the beds. We’ll be fine.”

“All right, then,” said Auntie Fritter. “If you’ll pardon me just one minute, I’ll be back with some blankets for you all.” She hustled into a third room across from the kitchen.

Mary sighed. She was so tired she was only dimly aware when she felt Auntie Fritter covering her with an afghan, saying, “There you are, darling, now you can get some sleep; you’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Just before she drifted off, Mary heard Skip reading the children their bedtime story:

“But I heard him exclaim, ere he rose out of sight,

‘Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.’”

Chapter Six

A Day of Searching

Deep in the middle of the night, Mary had a curious dream. She dreamed she was back on the mantelpiece by the Stable. She realized that none of the other characters were there. She looked around to find them, but all was dark and silent.

She got to her feet and walked to the other side of the shelf where the Christmas tree was, and there was a man; at least, it looked like a man. He was only a bit taller than she was, but he was not like the other nativity characters. It may just have been the lights from the tree, but it seemed that he glowed with a shimmering radiance all around him. Cautiously she approached him; when she drew near, the man spoke.

“Greetings,” he said, bowing slightly, “you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Mary stopped, puzzled. What did that mean?

A sudden revelation hit her: this man must have come from God! Her knees went weak at the thought, and she had a sudden urge to sit down; or, at least, be on the ground.

But the man continued: “Don’t be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord will give him of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end.”

By now Mary was on her hands and knees; even though the man had told her not to be afraid, she was shaking all over. “How can this be,” she asked, not looking up, “since I am a virgin?”

“The Holy Spirit will come upon you,” the man answered, “and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. For nothing is impossible with God.”

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary murmured, keeping her face to the ground. “May it be as you have said.” She finally raised her head only to see that the man was gone and the scene had changed.

She was now back in the attic, climbing through the piles of dusty boxes and objects. It was night, and distantly, but very clear, she could hear the sound of a baby crying. It had to be Baby Jesus.

Mary quickly headed for the source of the sound, but it seemed to come from all around her, and she didn’t know which way to go. Frantically she spun around, trying to make out the direction the sound was coming from, but she just couldn’t pick it out. Then, from up above, she saw a glimmer of light. She looked up and saw a star, right there in the attic, shining brightly in the darkness. She made towards it, and after a little while came through a ring of boxes into a sort of clearing, where there was nothing except a dust-covered sock… and a small, squalling shape beside the wall.

Joyfully, Mary hurried towards it. It was indeed a porcelain manger, with a little white bundle inside it. She picked up the manger (since it was all one piece) and looked at the tiny, squirming bundle. It was a baby all right, but the face was all wrong; it was the head of a mouse. What was wrong with Baby Jesus?

“Mary.”

Mary didn’t know where the voice had come from, but she ignored it. The baby had started crying again when she picked it up, and now it was starting to scream. “Hush, little one, hush!” she tried to soothe it, but the mouse-headed infant only wailed louder.

“Mary!”

The voice came again, more persistent. Mary clutched at the baby’s hand, trying to calm it down, only to discover she was holding a furry little paw. The baby cried louder and louder, and Mary was beginning to panic. She cuddled the baby to her, but it started screaming and thrashing louder than ever.

“Mary, wake up!”

This time the voice shouted right in her ear. Mary jerked upright, and her forehead made contact with something hard.

“Ow!” The Wiseman sat back, rubbing his nose. Mary realized she was back on the couch again, covered in the afghan Auntie Fritter had left for her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she cried shakily to the Wiseman, who was still rubbing his nose. “Is it chipped? You didn’t break anywhere, did you?”

“No, it’s fine,” the Wiseman mumbled. “What was wrong? You were whimpering and moving around in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare or something?”

Mary didn’t want to say what she had dreamed, so she said only, “It was nothing, really; just a dream. I’m fine now.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes, then realized there were tears on her cheeks. Quickly she averted her face from the Wiseman and looked about her.

A cold, grayish light was coming in through the hole in the wall, illuminating the tiny room. The Lamb was still snoring soundly in the corner, and Mary saw a mound of porcelain feathers on the couch, showing where the Angel now slept.

“We should be starting off soon,” said the Wiseman. “I’ll wake the others.” He crossed to the Lamb and nudged her gently. “Lamb, get up, we’ve got to go soon.”

The Lamb groaned, then stretched and yawned. “Twenty more minutes. It isn’t morning yet.”

“It’s nearly eight thirty,” said the Wiseman. He tried to pet her head, but she turned away, nuzzling deeper into her blankets.

“That’s not morning by my standards,” she grunted, and promptly rolled over onto her back, kicking her hooves in the air.

The pile of feathers on the couch stirred, opening to reveal the Angel turn and give a tremendous yawn. “S’ happening?” she garbled blearily, rubbing her eyes.

“We’re getting up,” the Wiseman told her. “We’ve got to go soon, so hurry up.”

Suddenly Ronny appeared in one of the doorways, stifling a huge yawn behind his paw. “You’re leaving, then?”

“Soon, yes,” replied the Wiseman. “We need an early start.” He went back to the Lamb, still nestled in a heap, and tried to arouse her again. The Lamb muttered something unintelligible and rolled away from him.

The Angel yawned again, stretched, and stood up. She crossed over to the Wiseman, hands on hips, tapping her foot. Then she bent down and picked up the Lamb by the feet, holding her upside-down.

With a loud squawk the Lamb awoke fully. “Hey!” she protested, flailing and struggling to get away from her captor. “Put me down, you idiot! I’m perfectly capable of getting up myself!”

“Then you probably should have done that,” said the Angel, flipping the Lamb over and setting her on her feet. She stumbled and swayed a little, then stood erect, giving the Angel a haughty glare before stalking off to a different part of the room.

Up in the corner of the ceiling, a dark bundle stirred, then yawned. “What’s going on?” sighed Sheila, letting herself down on a silver strand.

“We’ve got to get moving soon,” the Wiseman told her. “We’ve got to search the whole attic, so we’ll need to start early.”

“Surely you won’t leave before some sort of breakfast?” asked Auntie Fritter, coming out of the kitchen with a tray laden with four bowls of steaming corn porridge.

The breakfast was excellent, and in a few minutes everyone was waiting by the door of the mouse hole, ready to begin their expedition.

“Thank you so much for your kindness,” Mary said to the mice, who had all woken and gathered to see them off. “I don’t know what we can do to repay you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, darling,” said Skip. “It’s perfectly fine.”

“Are you going to come back?” Bumper asked.

The Wiseman smiled and patted the mouseling’s head. “Maybe we will someday. After the holidays are over, we’ll all get put back up here. We’ll be sure to come and visit.”

Bumper grinned widely; a funny picture for a mouse; then scurried back to stand beside Gramsie. Then, the four travelers wiggled their way out of the mouse hole (this time without the Angel getting stuck) and headed off across the frigid attic floor. The mice could be seen waving in the door of the hole, Sheila a little, black, button-like form in front, before all of them scurried out of sight.

A ways up ahead, the Wiseman and the Angel were having a discussion.

“I don’t know if we should tell the others, since it may discourage them,” the Wiseman murmured, “but I don’t suppose you know exactly what we should do first?”

The Angel thought for a minute, absent-mindedly tweaking her halo. “I suppose the first thing we should do would be to get to a place higher up, so we have a better view of the attic, and a better idea of where to look. Once we get the general picture, we could split up and take different sections, and move on from there.”

“Great idea,” the Wiseman agreed. “Now, where’s a good high place we can get to?”

They both looked around, checking for any large furniture that might prove the ideal location. Then, the Wiseman cried, “There!” and pointed to his right. Standing against the attic wall was a tall dresser, the kind with a cupboard to hang things in, and one of the drawers near the top was open a little. Close beside this was a dusty sofa, and on top of the dresser sat a small lamp, its cord dangling over the side.

“That’s perfect!” said the Angel, punching her fist in the air. “If one of us can climb up to that drawer, they would get a clear view of the attic.” She immediately charged off to tell the other two the new plan.

Mary wholeheartedly agreed. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“There is absolutely no possible way we are getting up there,” said the Lamb firmly. “It’s far too risky. We’re almost certain to fall off and smash to pieces.”

“Well, it’s the only way we’re going to get a clearer view,” said the Angel. “Come on, people, enough dilly-dallying. Let’s hop to it!”

They crossed the dusty floor to the foot of the huge dresser. They climbed up onto the couch, and then the Wiseman hoisted them up onto the arm. The dresser rose straight up, the cord of the lamp hanging down to the floor. The dresser had a lovely frame going all around the side, with vines, leaves and flowers graven into the wood.

“Well, here we are,” said the Wiseman at last. “So how do we get up to that drawer?”

“Well,” said Mary, “I think maybe if one of us were to climb that frame there while holding onto the cord, they could get up okay.”

“We still need to decide who’s going,” the Wiseman pointed out. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t really have any hands to speak of, save one, and that’s full.”

“I probably couldn’t, either,” said the Angel. “I’ve got my wings; they could overbalance me.”

Mary remembered her first close encounter with heights. “I’m too klutzy to accomplish anything,” she said aloud, without meaning to. “But I suppose I’m the only one who will be able to climb that.”

“Of course you’re not klutzy,” retorted the Wiseman. “But I do think you’re probably the only one who would be able to climb up easily. You have both hands, and you’re lighter than me or the Angel.”

“Are you sure about this?” asked the Angel, looking anxiously up at the dresser. “What if you did fall? We really can’t risk another Mary lost right after the first one.”

“I’ll be careful,” Mary promised. “I can steady my feet against the frame as I go.”

“Very well,” said the Wiseman. “If that’s all decided, then, I suppose you’d better get started.” He reached over and pulled on the cord of the lamp, placing the end in Mary’s hands.

“Do us all a favor and don’t fall,” the Angel told her.

The Lamb, meanwhile, was gazing thoughtfully up at the top of the dresser. With a suddenness that startled them all, she cried, “You’ll never be able to do it!”

“I beg your pardon?” said Mary. “Why not?”

The Lamb thought a second more, then replied, “It’s like they said; if you did fall, you’d smash, and that would be a terrible loss to the Stable. We can’t risk losing another Mary.”

“I said I’d be careful,” Mary reminded. “I know there’s a risk, but there’s just no other way. Neither the Angel or the Wiseman can do it, and you certainly don’t intend to, do you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Lamb said curtly. “Of course I intend to try. For one thing, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a sheep. I’m practically bred for this climbing work. For another, I’m the lightest one of us. And also,” she added, more serious, “you have another sheep downstairs. If I break, I’m not as much of a loss to the Stable.”

“Don’t be silly!” the Wiseman protested. “You’re as valuable as any one of us. We’re all needed here.”

“Please, Lamb, you don’t have to do this,” begged Mary.

“There’s nothing you can say or do to change my mind,” said the Lamb, firmly tapping her porcelain foot. “I’m going.” With that, she turned and latched onto the cord with her teeth and began to climb.

“Don’t come back in a dustpan!” The Angel’s parting advice was mingled with Mary’s call of “For goodness sake, be careful, Lamb!”

There was a tense silence for the next few minutes as Mary prayed and prayed the Lamb would climb down in one piece. The Lamb was not at all very fast, mostly because she had to hang on with her teeth; but, bit by bit, she made visible progress. Once one foot slipped, and she slid down a little ways and had to regain the few inches she’d lost. But at last, she reached the edge and scrambled onto the top of the dresser. Mary could see her small, white head weaving back and forth in surveillance.

“See anything?” called the Wiseman.

There was no reply at first; only a small sneeze.

“Lamb, what do you see?” Mary tried after waiting.

A thin, wavering voice replied, “Lots and lots of dust.” Then came another sneeze, followed by, “There’s a lot of boxes. Over to the right is a really big door; I suppose that leads downstairs. To the left is the chimney; that’s where we came out from; and all across the floor are stacks of big boxes labeled things.”

“Are any of them labeled ‘Christmas’?” hollered the Angel.

“Not that I can see,” the Lamb called back. “I can see, ‘4th of July,’ ‘Halloween’ and ‘Easter,’ but nothing labeled ‘Christmas.’”

Suddenly Mary’s dream came back to her, so she asked, “Are there any cleared places near the walls, where there aren’t any boxes?”

“I can’t really tell from here,” answered the Lamb. There was a slight pause, and then: “Wait, I think there is something of the like over near the wall opposite us. But it’s quite a ways away; there are ever so many things in front of it. Why do you want to know?”

“Oh—no reason,” said Mary hastily. “Can you get down all right?”

“That’s the easy part.” In another second her head appeared, peering over the dresser. “I’ll just slide down the cord to the bottom.” She picked up the cord again. “I just don’t want to go too fast,” she mumbled through her teeth, worming her way around so she could brace her feet against the frame.

It was then that something bad did happen.

Before the climb, while they were all discussing who should be the one to climb up, the Lamb was very carefully observing something the others hadn’t noticed. The lamp wasn’t directly in the middle of top of the dresser; its cord was actually draped on top of the shade, and the one dangling down the side was a different cord. It also helped explain why that cord was bright yellow, while the lamp was pink. The Lamb realized that it must be an extension cord, and if anyone else attempted to climb it, their weight would pull it off. Quickly accessing the danger, she immediately took this mission upon herself, simply because she was the lightest and it was convenient.

Little by little, as she had climbed, the cord had slowly slid along until the plug was right on the edge. All it needed was one more little tug before it gave completely.

And that is exactly what it got now.

The Lamb’s foot slipped. She scrabbled wildly, then dropped. The cord slid rapidly off the dresser and coiled into a pile. The Lamb fell on top of it with a hard thunk!

All three of the other figures let out a gasp of fear before quickly jumping off the couch and raced to the spot where the Lamb was lying in a heap, her eyes shut.

“Lamb? Lamb, are you okay?” The Wiseman gently shook the Lamb’s shoulder.

The Lamb’s eyes fluttered, then slowly opened. “That… was a bit too fast.”

Mary realized she’d been holding her breath, and let it out in a sigh of relief. “We’re just glad you’re okay. Can you stand up?”

“I think so,” the Lamb mumbled, rising to her feet, swaying slightly. “That is, if my legs aren’t shattered to bits.” She took a small step forward and nearly toppled into the Wiseman, who held her steady. “I shouldn’t be surprised if they fell off right about now.” She took another wobbly step, then stood erect, her expression grim and defiant, as though she’d recovered from some grave illness. “Well, we aren’t getting anything done hanging around here,” she declared. “Let’s go find Baby Jesus.” With that, she set off across the floor, the other three at her heels.

Chapter Seven

Follow the Star

“My sense of direction was a little muddled with the fall,” the Lamb told them as they journeyed across the floor, “but I’ve still got a pretty good idea of the general picture of the attic.”

“Do you have any idea where we should be heading?” asked the Wiseman. “Maybe if we split up, we’d cover more ground.”

“Better hurry,” said the Angel, noting the light from the window at the back wall. “It’s already getting late in the morning.”

“Should we split up into pairs or go singly?” asked the Lamb.

“No one should go alone,” answered the Wiseman. “We’d need at least one other person around to help if someone got into trouble.”

“Okay, how about if two of us head towards the far wall, and the other two bear more towards the door?” suggested the Angel.

“Sounds like a good plan,” agreed the Wiseman. “Any objections?”

“I’m good with that,” said Mary.

“I don’t see why not,” said the Lamb.

“It’s decided, then,” said the Angel. “Let’s hop to it!”

So the four characters set out, scanning the attic heavily. Mary and the Lamb went off towards the door, and the Angel and the Wiseman went off in the opposite direction towards the window. Outside the sun rose higher and higher, marking the time of their search.

Walking with the Lamb, Mary was unfortunately at a bit of a loss, for she had no notion whatsoever of what Baby Jesus was supposed to look like. As she understood the full meaning of that, tears filled her eyes; here she was; Mary, of all people; not knowing what her own Baby looked like. He probably looked like His original mother; blonde and blue eyed; but she secretly half-hoped He looked at least a little like herself. But that was ridiculous, of course.

“I suppose I should have thought to ask before,” she told the Lamb as they passed through a narrow alley formed by two boxes, “but what exactly does the Baby look like?”

The Lamb gave her a look. “He’s wrapped up in a white cloth, and the manger is typically like any other manger you’d see in a Nativity.” With this, she walked off to examine a nook between two boxes, leaving Mary to continue wondering.

The sun climbed high into the sky outside. It was nearly ten o’clock.

Then eleven.

Then twelve.

And still the search went on.

Mary’s heart sank. How could she have thought it was possible to find Baby Jesus in one day? It was just too big a job, and time was running out!

By three o’clock, Mary and the Lamb had made it to one end of the room without finding anything. On the other side, the Angel and the Wiseman had found Beth’s old, blue dollhouse. This they’d searched, but found nothing but cobwebs and a couple of tiny spiders that skittered away.

“Any luck?” the Angel asked after thorough investigation.

“No,” replied the Wiseman. “You?”

The Angel shook her head, sighing heavily, and sat down on the plastic porch swing. “I knew this would be a humongous job, but I didn’t think it would be that hard. Now I’m not so sure.”

The Wiseman stared at her. “You’re not quitting, are you?”

“Of course not; I’m just tired. I just didn’t think there was so little chance of finding Him today. Now that I look at it, this may take days, maybe weeks.”

“Aw, cheer up,” said the Wiseman, patting her wing with his stump. “Look on the bright side: everywhere we’ve looked up till now is one more place checked off the list. We still have a few hours ahead of us; we’re bound to find at least something by then. See, we’ve already made it to the far wall.” He went off towards it. With another sigh, the Angel rose and followed. When they reached the window, she climbed up the shades drawstring to the sill.

“See anything?” the Wiseman called up.

The Angel squinted carefully around, her eyes adjusting to the light. From up here, she should get a relatively good view of the attic, but the afternoon sun behind her made it hard to discern anything. “Not much.”

She turned, ready to climb back down. Suddenly her foot skidded on a patch of ice that had formed along the inside of the window. For a moment, she wavered on the brink, but with one deft movement she grabbed the drawstring as she went down, pulling up the shades and slowing her fall. Her left wing got caught in the string in her descent, which tangled itself around the rest of her, and so lowered her to the floor in a tangled mess of string and wings.

The Wiseman couldn’t help laughing. “I keep warning you to be more careful,” he said, helping the Angel disentangle herself. “You know, one of these days you’re going to get seriously hurt.”

The Angel rolled her eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Lamb.” She turned and bounded off. The Wiseman shook his head, grinning, and followed after.

By seven o’clock that night, the four met back up in the middle of the room by the dresser again with no success.

“Will we ever find Him?” choked Mary, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“We’ve been searching for hours, and still no sign of Him,” moaned the Lamb, kneeling down. “My hooves are killing me. This is the worst Christmas ever!”

“Don’t give up yet,” said the Wiseman. “There’s still a few hours before Christmas to find Him. We can’t just quit so easily.”

“And who says it’s been easy?” argued the Lamb. “We’ve been through cold, dust, fatigue, falling off a bat…”

Mary looked up at the window. Outside, a beautiful purple dusk was falling around the house. The sky was clear, the sun just disappearing under the horizon. A few stars were beginning to come into view, looking timid against the glory of their backdrop. Mary had thought that the Christmas tree was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in the world, but now she changed her mind. Even through her trauma over their predicament, somehow this scene reassured her, filling her with a new hope.

As she gazed at the window, the corner of her eye caught of a faint glimmer off to her right. Turning, she noticed a bright speck of white glowing through the deepening gloom. On closer examination, she saw it was a little hole in the attic wall, and through it she could see the biggest, brightest star in the sky, shining brilliantly into the attic. It seemed as if the star was really right there in the attic itself.

Instantly her dream flooded back into her mind. She suddenly realized what it meant, and what they must now do. “Look! Guys, look!” she cried, pointing to the light. “Look up there!”

The other three figurines stopped talking and looked in the direction Mary was pointing. “Where?” asked the Angel.

The Wiseman squinted through the dark, then saw the gleam of light. “A star! Just like the one over Bethlehem!”

“So it is,” said the Lamb. “I don’t see how that helps us.”

“I had a weird dream last night,” Mary explained quickly. “I was in the attic, and I saw a star just like that, and so I followed it, and it led me to Baby Jesus!”

“Maybe it was a vision,” said the Wiseman. “Maybe if we follow that star, it can lead us…”

“… right to where Baby Jesus is!” everyone chorused.

“Sounds a little far-fetched,” said the Angel, “but, as it’s the only semblance of a plan we’ve got, I think it’s worth a try. Let’s go!”

Without waiting, Mary bounded off eagerly at the front. As the final rays of the sun dipped out of sight, the star sent a brilliant ray of light down into the attic. As she got closer, she thought she could hear a faint noise, almost like a baby’s cry. She quickened her pace, and the sound grew clearer.

“Mary, slow down!” The Wiseman’s call came distantly to her ears, but she was too excited to stop now. She ran faster.

A wall of boxes sprang abruptly out of the gloom in front of her, but she slid through a narrow gap between them and burst breathless onto a clear space of floor by the wall. Off to her right was a dust covered sock and, close beside it, a dark shape from which came the sound of whimpering. The beam of light from the star was pouring directly onto it.

Just as quickly as it had come, Mary’s enthusiasm suddenly departed. She stood still, gazing in awe at the little dark shape. She knew it was Baby Jesus; it had to be, that was certain; but what would happen if she just walked over and picked Him up? He might want His own mother, the other Mary. Would He start crying, as He had in her dream?

The other figures came up behind her, tired and out of breath. The golden glow from the Angel’s halo seemed to mix with the silvery light from the heavens; the scene was lit with a beautiful radiance, somehow making it more holy.

For a long time, the four stood in silence, gazing upon the Baby. Finally, the Angel whispered to Mary, “Well, what are you waiting for? He’s your Baby; you take Him.”

Slowly, Mary crept up and peered into the porcelain manger. A little white bundle was nestled in the carefully painted straw. Hands trembling, Mary bent over and picked up the manger. The bundle rolled over to reveal a tiny, rosy face with a curl of golden brown hair over the forehead. His eyes were closed, but Mary guessed they would be big, blue eyes, just like his mother. She reached out a finger and stroked the Baby’s cheek.

Baby Jesus stirred, then opened His eyes and looked at her with wide, brown eyes. His pink lips curved into a sweet smile, and He reached out a hand and clasped it around her finger.

Tears of joy flowed down her face. Baby Jesus had accepted her after all. She gently cradled her Baby against her. Baby Jesus cooed softly and put His tiny fists into her hair. The Angel, Wiseman, and Lamb looked on at a respectful distance.

Finally, Mary turned back to face her companions. “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Eight

The Return Journey

The attic was growing steadily darker as the characters made their way back to the middle of the room to form new plans for getting back to the mantelpiece.

“Since we lost the tunnel with the bat incident,” said the Wiseman, “we’ll probably have to take the long way back; through the door and downstairs.”

“Would going through the house take longer?” asked Mary. “It’s a shorter walk from here to the door, but where does it come out?”

“From what we’ve seen going back and forth every year, there’s a stairwell from here to the ground floor,” the Angel told her. “After that, there should be a hallway with other doors branching off. Ours is the third on the right, I think.”

They set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the door. The light had gone, and they were guided once again by the Angel’s halo. It was only about five yards or so to the door; however, upon reaching it, they discovered another problem.

“How do we get it open?” asked Mary.

The Angel walked over and looked up. The handle could only be identified as a dull gleam suspended nearly three feet above their heads. “That,” she said, “is an excellent question.”

“I suppose we could climb up and try to turn the knob?” suggested the Wiseman.

“There isn’t exactly a way to climb up,” the Lamb pointed out.

“We could try to build some sort of ladder,” said Mary. “If we stacked up some of these boxes, we might be able to reach the knob.”

“Not a bad idea.” The Angel looked around. “But that could take hours, and we wouldn’t be able to lift half those boxes anyway.”

“Perhaps I could be of assistance?” came a high, familiar voice. The figurines all looked up to see a dark blob floating down through the air towards the floor.

“Sheila!” cried Mary in delight.

The little spider dropped on her thread and waved. “Good to see you again, and with the Baby, I see.” She tickled Baby Jesus under the chin with one of her spindly legs. Baby Jesus gurgled and cooed, trying to grab the leg in His chubby fist.

“Nice to see you again too, Sheila,” greeted the Wiseman. “Say, we’re in something of a predicament. Do you think you can help us? Again?” he added.

Sheila laughed; a lovely, tinkly sound. “Of course. I’d be happy to assist wherever I can. What seems to be the trouble?”

“We need to get the door open,” the Wiseman told her, pointing.

“That’s all?”

“Yep.”

“That’s no problem for me,” said Sheila, “but I may need a few extra, extra hands.” She chuckled at her own joke, waving four of her legs. Then, she put two of her feet in her mouth, gave an extraordinary, piercing whistle, and shouted, “Hey, guys! Over here!”

The attic was suddenly filled with the sound of many little feet scuttling along, and presently twelve wolf spiders appeared out of several corners, along with about a hundred ordinary house spiders. Mary suppressed a shudder at the sight of their various proportions; however friendly they may be, spiders still give some people the willies.

“We’re being attacked!” cried the Lamb, darting behind the Angel’s wings.

“Relax, it’s just some friends of mine.” Sheila turned and waved her forelegs in the air. “All right, listen up!” she hollered. “Let’s get this door open! Use the heavy-duty silk! Come on!”

Without waiting for a response, she turned and charged at the door, immediately followed by a stampede of tiny legs and bodies. The characters held very still, so as not to step on anyone, and watched as the wash of spiders flowed up the door and over the knob. The spinners set to work, throwing thick cords around and around the knob until it was completely covered. Many more let down threads to the floor and held them in their pincers. Finally, the spiders stopped their spinning and awaited further instruction.

At the top of the knob, Sheila raised a leg, then brought it down. “Ready… Heave!”

The spiders on the floor began pulling their ropes as hard as they could, and the spiders on the knob braced their legs on the door and pushed, trying to turn the knob. Slowly, inch by inch, the knob turned, clicked, and finally the door swung slowly open.

Mary, the Wiseman, and the Angel cheered heartily for the spiders, and even the Lamb looked somewhat more approvingly at the swarming mass.

“Now for it!” cried the Angel, springing through the open doorway.

“Thank you!” called Mary, running after the Angel’s glowing halo.

The spiders all waved goodbye, and Sheila called, “Good luck!” Then, the door was slowly pushed shut.

“Finally,” huffed the Lamb, shaking herself, “we’re out of that dark, freezing attic!”

“But where are we now?” asked Mary.

“I’ll check.” The Angel’s halo flared as she stepped forward, looking around.

“Be careful,” warned the Wiseman. “You don’t know what could be—”

He was a bit late. The Angel took one more step forward and suddenly plunged into empty space.

Baby Jesus let out a wail that was mingled Mary’s scream and the Wiseman’s cry of despair as the Angel tumbled down the flight of stairs she had missed seeing. The others raced to the edge of the stairs, watching in horror as she reached the bottom, where she lay very still. The glow from her halo was the only indication as to where she was, but even that was now a very faint glimmer. If the floor hadn’t been carpeted, or even if there had been more stairs, she surely would have smashed.

“We have to get down there!” Grasping the manger tightly under one arm, Mary sat down on the edge of the landing and slid off onto the next step. The Wiseman quickly scooped up the Lamb, who at this moment didn’t bother to protest, and lowered her down before jumping himself. Even at a brisk pace, this was no short task, and by the time they had come down all the steps; eleven in all; the glow from the Angel’s halo had grown dimmer and dimmer.

“Angel?” said the Wiseman faintly, kneeling down beside her still form. Mary leaned in beside him while the Lamb looked on in numb silence. “Angel,” the Wiseman repeated, louder this time. “Angel, can you hear me?”

There was no response. The Angel lay still and motionless.

“Angel, please get up,” Mary choked, putting one hand gently beneath the Angel’s head and lifting it slightly. Her halo, which was only a metal ring glued decoratively around her head, fell off and rolled to the side, where the last of its glow faded and went out.

The Wiseman swallowed hard. “Don’t do this,” he whispered. “We need you.”

In Mary’s arms, Baby Jesus made a soft, cooing noise, then reached out a tiny hand and rested it on the Angel’s hair. Mary hugged Him tightly, tears streaming silently down her face.

From the place where Baby Jesus touched the Angel, something strange began to happen. Her porcelain hair suddenly began to glimmer, then the glimmer flickered and flared into a vibrant, yellow glow. The Angel’s fingers twitched, curling inward towards her palm, then her eyes slowly opened. “You may have been right,” she murmured, “about that ‘being careful’ bit.”

Mary gave a joyful sob, and the Wiseman let out a shaky laugh. “I’m just happy you’re alive. We thought you were gone.” Then, he suddenly folded the Angel in a tight embrace. The Angel blinked in surprise, then rather awkwardly returned the hug, her hair glowing a vibrant orange.

Mary smiled tearfully and looked down at her Baby. “I think you had something to do with this.”

Baby Jesus gurgled and waved His fists, and His mother kissed His forehead.

The Angel turned and saw her halo lying off to one side. Her eyes widened as she felt frantically around her head. “My halo! Then, what’s…?” She looked at her hands in astonishment, then looked helplessly around at her friends.

“Looks like it’s your hair now,” the Wiseman told her.

“I think it looks better,” Mary assured the Angel, who ran her hands along her hair, a look of confused astonishment on her face. “It gives off more light, and it’s so much more beautiful.”

The Lamb, who had remained at a distance, now approached. “As riveting as this incident has been, we should probably get going. It’s Christmas Eve, after all, and the living room is still quite a ways away.”

“She’s right, we should get going.” The Angel sat up stiffly, then heaved herself to her feet; just a bit too quickly; she swayed and staggered backward.

“Whoa, easy, there.” The Wiseman steadied her. “Just promise me you can get through the rest of the day without any more accidents.”

“So, where are we now?” asked Mary.

“If my memory serves correctly,” said the Lamb, “we should be on the ground level. There should be a door next leading to a hallway that branches off to a few other rooms. We need to find the one with a TV and a couch in it; it leads to another set of rooms, one of which is the living room where the tree is.”

The party now traveled down the hall, Mary holding on tightly to Baby Jesus. It was rather dark, but there was light coming from a couple of doorways. One of the doors they passed was shut, another open but dark inside. Mary went quickly past that door; she’d had enough of dark places as far as she liked.

They were just about to pass a third doorway, open and flooded with light, when suddenly a shadow fell across it. The figurines jumped back just in time before Beth’s mom walked past the open door. “All right, then, that’s all set up, then, now we’re all ready for tomorrow.”

Mary peeked around the doorframe to see the Woman walking to and fro, finishing off the last of her Nightly Mom checklist. Surveying the scene, Mary caught a glimpse of a wide, tiled floor, a table with four chairs, a back door leading outside, and another doorway beside the sink. The light that filled that door was a lovely, rosy pink. The Christmas tree must be in there, and if that was where the tree was, that was where the mantelpiece was. If only the Woman would hurry up!

There was a sudden scratching noise outside the back door, followed by a long, wailing noise Mary had never heard before. She could tell by the way the others cringed that it was not a good sound.

“Yes, yes; just a minute,” Mom said to the door. Mary backed up as the Woman crossed over and opened it. The noise came again. “Oh, shush. Beth’s asleep; don’t wake up the whole house.”

Mary peered around the door again in time to see a flash of movement disappear behind the legs of the chair. Beth’s mom crossed to the kitchen sink, filled a small bowl with water and set it on the floor. “I’m going to bed. Be good and get rid of all those nasty mice for us.” She bent down and rubbed her hand along something near the floor. Then, straightening, she strode to the door where the characters hid. Mary whipped around and put her back to the wall, praying the dark would shelter them. The Wiseman and Lamb shrank to her side, and the Angel pulled her wings over her head to hide her radiant hair. Beth’s mom clicked off the kitchen light and walked through the door into one of the vacant rooms, closing the door behind her. The characters crouched in the shadows until they were certain they were safe.

“That was close,” whispered the Angel, cautiously peering out from between her wings. “Which way now?”

“I saw through this door,” said Mary, pointing into the kitchen, “there’s another door that I’m pretty sure leads to the living room.” The others leaned around the doorframe and noted the beautiful glow.

“That’s our way out!” said the Wiseman quietly. “Let’s go!” He sprang around the doorframe.

“MRRROOOOOOOOOWWW!!!”

The nativity characters leapt backwards, scrambling away from the enormous, furry monstrosity before them. Mary had never seen a cat before, and, this being her first encounter with one, was duly impressed. Two wide, amber eyes were fixed intently on them, and a collar hung round its neck, from which dangled a silver tag.

“Run!” cried the Wiseman, bearing for the nearest open door in sight. The others pelted after him, Mary clutching Baby Jesus to her. Behind them, Zechariah, Beth’s cat, was recovering from its fright and suddenly gave chase.

Mary chanced a glance over her shoulder to see the creature gather itself for a spring. “Look out!”

The Wiseman looked back and acknowledged the danger, then did an amazing slide, which would have been spectacular to see an athlete make, and disappeared from view. Mary blinked, then saw the hulking shape of a sofa materialize in the dark. She barely had time to think before she was on her hands and knees, dragging her Baby under its protection. The Lamb shuffled under, and the Angel crawled after them, her wings almost getting her stuck. She pulled free just in time; the cat’s paws landed heavily where they had been seconds before. The momentum from the jump carried the animal farther than he expected, sending him up onto the couch, high above his prey.

“That… was too close,” gasped the Lamb. Mary could only nod, gulping down merciful mouthfuls of air.

“Now what are we gonna do?” groaned the Angel, plunking down on the TV remote, which had been lost there some time ago. “As long as that bear is prowling around out there, we’re stuck under here!”

“Maybe one of us should act as a distraction,” the Wiseman suggested.

“Brilliant idea,” the Lamb commented. “Might I ask which of us you propose should do that?”

“I’ll go,” the Angel volunteered. “It’ll just follow my light. Then, you make a run for it, and—”

“No,” said the Wiseman firmly. “This is no time to play the hero. You just fell down the stairs!”

“And lived,” the Angel pointed out crossly.

“Well, if it isn’t the Nativity lot!” said another voice behind them. The characters whipped around to see a large, brown mouse sitting there with them.

“Ronny!” Mary would have rushed forward and hugged him, if she hadn’t been holding Baby Jesus. “What are you doing here? How did you get down here?”

“I have many holes throughout these walls,” replied Ronny. “I was just popping down to see if there were any Christmas goodies to take back to the family when I happened to notice you lot. I see that you’re in a spot of trouble with the cat. Mind if I help? I’m rather good at this sort of thing, you know.”

“That’d be wonderful,” said the Wiseman. “Just don’t get hurt, okay?”

Ronny chuckled and squeezed under the edge of the couch. “I’ve outrun old Zechariah many times before now.” Then, with a flick of his tail, he vanished into the dark.

The characters waited with baited breath, listening for any sound of conflict. Then, they heard Ronny’s voice calling, “Hey there, furball! Come and get me!”

Above them came a yowl, and Zechariah the cat landed heavily on the floor. Ronny scurried quickly outside into the hallway, a fluffy thunderstorm racing after him.

“Quick, now’s our chance!” The Wiseman slid out from under the couch, the others close behind. As they ran back into the hall, Mary caught a glimpse of a tail disappearing into one of the open doorways just before the door was pushed shut from the inside. Mary held her breath, hoping the mouse was okay. Seconds later, a brown figure squirmed underneath the door.

“That’ll hold him till morning at least,” said Ronny proudly, dusting off his paws. “I’ve locked him in the bathroom. He’ll be all right in there, and we can get moving.”

“Thank you for the help.” The Wiseman shook the mouse’s paw. “We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”

“Anytime,” answered Ronny. “Oh, I’ve got to go; it’s still Christmas Eve, after all. For a little longer,” he called over his shoulder as he scampered off into the shadows.

“We’d better get moving, too,” said the Angel, “if we want to get back in time for Christmas.”

Chapter Nine

Silent Night

As they walked into the now dimly lit kitchen, Mary looked down at her Baby. Somehow, in spite of all the commotion, Baby Jesus seemed to have dropped off to sleep. Mary caressed His cheek gently, then drew back. Her hand was all grimy and covered with soot. “Maybe now would be a good time to clean off a little,” she suggested.

The Wiseman stopped, checking himself over. “You’re right. We’re pretty grungy from wandering around in that dusty old attic.” He looked around, then spotted a row of kitchen drawers. “One sec.” He pulled open the drawers one by one, making a neat set of stairs leading up to the counter by the sink. The characters climbed up to the counter, and the Wiseman pushed one of the heavy faucets. “It may be a little chilly,” he warned. “Let’s try to be quick about it.”

Soon each of the characters was rinsed off and looking shinier. The Lamb had a bit of hesitation climbing down into the sink, whining, “I’m sure to slip and crack!” and the Angel took a little longer trying to clean her wings. Baby Jesus woke up in the middle of His shower, but finally all of them stood on the counter once again and dried off with one of the towels. Then, they climbed down their makeshift stairs, the Wiseman closing the drawers as they went down, and turned back to their destination.

“There’s water in my nose!” the Lamb complained, hanging her head and shaking out drops to prove her point.

“Come on, we’re almost there!” The Angel bounced along up ahead.

There was a new spring in Mary’s step. As they rounded the corner, she glanced up at the kitchen clock. It was 11:50. Almost Christmas. Almost home.

In the living room up on the Mantelpiece, Joseph sat awake, thinking. It was long after the other characters had, one by one, dropped off to sleep, but he sat watching, waiting for the others. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before, always wondering when they were coming back. He hoped they were okay, and wondered if they would find Baby Jesus.

From the doorway, Joseph suddenly saw four shadows stretching out from the kitchen. He blinked. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Or did those shadows look a lot like…

“We did it! We’re back!” the Angel hollered jubilantly as they entered the soft pink glow of the Christmas tree lights. Mary looked up and saw the Mantelpiece, a dark shape hovering in the gloom. On it, the Stable looked as if it were floating on a dark cloud.

Joseph sprang to his feet and stared out at the party as they crossed the floor. “They’re back!” he cried, hardly able to contain his joy. Quickly his eyes found Mary, and she smiled joyfully and held up the Manger. Baby Jesus gurgled happily.

Both the Angel and Joseph’s yells had woken the other characters, who came running to the edge of the shelf. “They did it! They’re back!” “And they have the Baby!” “Well, what do you know!” “Congratulations, guys!” “We knew you could do it!”

Mary and the others rushed to the foot of the Christmas tree and looked up. The other characters were cheering and waving and saluting to them. Mary looked for the Shepherd, and saw him standing silent and looking a little sullen. Suddenly he called out, “So, how will they get back up here?”

The cheering died down. No one had really thought of that.

“We’ll just climb up the tree,” the Wiseman suggested. He tentatively wrapped his arm around one of the prickly branches and heaved himself onto it. “Here, give me Lamb.”

The Angel promptly seized the Lamb around the middle and hoisted her up, despite her protests. “Make your way to the middle, where the trunk is,” the Wiseman instructed, taking the Lamb under his arm and swinging her onto a thick, sturdy branch. “It’ll be easier to climb from there, and it won’t knock off any ornaments.”

Mary gulped, looking down at Baby Jesus. He smiled His beautiful smile, giving her reassurance. Mary handed her Baby up to the Angel, then clambered onto the branch herself.

The going was slow, but steady. The three bigger figurines aided each other lifting and passing the two little ones, and gradually, they made their way up the trunk, growing level with the Mantelpiece. At last, after what seemed like ages, they reached the shelf.

“We made it!” cried the Wiseman triumphantly, sliding off the branch into the waiting arms of the other two Wisemen. They patted him on the back with many a “Well done, buddy!”

The Angel lifted the Lamb onto the shelf, then hopped down on her own. As the Lamb reached solid ground once again, the Sheep trotted up. “Didn’t crack anywhere, did you?”

The Lamb looked at the Sheep and surprised her with a small grin. “I think I did okay.”

Joseph came to the edge of the shelf. “Mary.”

Mary was still a ways back, clutching the manger tightly. “Give Him to me,” Joseph told her. “I’ll hold Him while you get down.”

Mary inched forward, trying hard not to look down, still unsure of herself after her last experience with heights. The branch swayed slightly under her weight, and she froze. One more step would bring her to where Joseph stood, arms outstretched, waiting to receive the Baby. Carefully, moving a millimeter at a time, she made her way to the end of the branch and held the manger out to Joseph.

The branch dipped; only slightly, but enough to make Mary loose her footing. The moment Baby Jesus left her arms, she slipped, staggered, and fell.

There were cries of horror and alarm as she seemed to fall in slow motion. Joseph put his hand over his eyes.

Down, down, down; so slowly, though it was only a moment. Strangely, Mary wasn’t afraid. She had accomplished her mission: returning Baby Jesus to His rightful place. She was only one player in a much bigger story. Wondering what heaven was like, she closed her eyes, feeling completely satisfied.

But there was no crash. No pain, no sound of splintering glass. Confused, Mary opened her eyes. She hadn’t fallen to her death after all. Instead, she was sitting in the palm of a wide, soft hand, and the owner of the hand was the strangest person she had ever seen.

It was an old man with a snowy white beard, dressed all in red, and carrying a large bag slung over his back. His cheeks were round and merry, and his mouth was turned up in a smile. Mary stared at him, her mouth wide open in astonishment. The old man laid one finger to his lips, then lifted her carefully up and set her gently on the shelf.

Joseph came to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, helping her up.

“Yes,” Mary answered breathlessly, still staring at her rescuer. “I… Thank you.”

The old man smiled again, and tapped the side of his nose. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice deep and rich. He wiggled his fingers at Baby Jesus, who smiled back and waved His tiny hands in the air. Then, the old man ducked under the shelf and out of sight. The nativity characters leaned over the edge to get another look, but he was gone.

“Who was that?” asked the Shepherd in a hoarse whisper.

Joseph shrugged, putting his arm around Mary. “We may never know, but at the moment, I’m just glad you’re all safe. And home.” He looked into Mary’s eyes, and she met his gaze. For that instant, it seemed as if they were the only two people in the world.

“Ah, lovebirds,” the Wiseman with Myrrh sighed happily.

The Angel rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

The Wiseman gave her a smirk. “Oh, what do you know? You’re just the Angel.”

“And proud of it.” The Angel grinned and drew herself up. “Who do you think I am?”

The Wiseman’s smile became genuine. “How about my best friend?”

The Angel stared at him, her hair glowing orange for a moment before it faded to a deep gold, and she smiled back.

“Joseph!” The Donkey pointed up to the clock on the wall. It was 11:59. Almost midnight. “It’s time.”

“Places, everyone,” Joseph called softly. The characters shuffled around to get in their positions. Mary brought Baby Jesus to the center of the assembly and knelt down next to Him. Joseph stood on the other side, and the Wisemen and the Camel clustered behind him. The Shepherd and sheep took their positions behind Mary, and the Donkey knelt in front of them. The Angel stood behind everyone, her wings unfurled.

Mary gazed into the Baby’s face. Baby Jesus smiled at her, then yawned and closed His eyes. Mary felt a nudge behind her and looked up to see the Shepherd. She wondered if he would say something about her, but instead, she was surprised to see a smile on his face.

“He looks just like you,” he whispered. Mary felt a sudden glow of warmth towards the Shepherd, and she returned his smile.

The clock began to strike midnight. All the characters listened, counting the chimes. Mary’s hand found Joseph’s, and their fingers entwined.

Outside, a gibbous moon was in the sky, surrounded by glittering stars. One star shone brilliantly over the land, sending its silver rays onto the snow below. The house sat still and quiet, bathed in the light of the star, and lit from inside by a soft radiance. The half-imagined sound of jingling bells played distantly in the wind as Christmas Day dawned over the world.