Amazing Grace Page 11

“Good boy, Spot.” I cuddled him a whopper of a hug. To make sure he knew I was proud of him, I kissed his nose, and then we sat down for a chat. “Spot, why do you think Daddy quit writing letters?”

  Spot looked at me with his big brown eyes, unblinking.

  “Do you think he’s hurt?”

  Spot never made a whimper.

  “It’s not like Daddy to go five months and not write. Do you think he’ll ever come home?”

  Spot stared at me. I guess he didn’t know the answers either.

  When I went back into the house, I still had Daddy on my mind. I tried to remember how he felt when he danced me around the room. I tried to remember how he smelled when he dressed up and splashed on Old Spice. I remembered the dance, but I couldn’t remember the smell of Old Spice. I walked into Mom’s room. A picture of Daddy stood tall on the dresser. Beside the picture, his bottle of aftershave rested next to Mom’s Evening in Paris dusting powder. I picked up the bottle of Old Spice and sniffed. Ahhhh, I remembered what Daddy smelled like. Then I snagged my bottom lip between my teeth and blinked back tears. I blinked again and wondered if…

  Chapter 24

  The Christmas Play

  Since I couldn’t talk to Daddy right there, right then, I talked to him another way—in a letter:

  Dear Daddy,

  I ride my bicycle up and down the paths all around Grandma’s house. Johnny rides on the bar behind my seat. Saturday, we bundled up in coats, mittens and toboggans and pedaled through spitting snow to the post office. When the postmaster said we didn’t have a letter, we rode over to Wilson’s Grocery. I helped Mom dust the shelves, and Mr. Wilson gave me a quarter when I finished. I bought peanuts for Johnny and me and put fifteen cents in my memory box for a savings bond stamp.

  On the way home, the snowflakes plumped up, ready for business. I pedaled harder and blew a cloud with each breath. Johnny squealed, squirmed and stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes. As big as his mouth is, he probably caught a whole snowman’s worth. By the time we reached Grandma’s, the ground had turned white. I whacked Johnny with a snowball. He whacked me back. We whizzed and whacked snowballs until Mom came home. Early Sunday morning, we jumped out of bed ready for round two, but the snow had melted during the night.

  Guess who is going to be an angel in the Christmas play at school? If you guessed me, your Gracie Girl, you’re whistling Dixie. I’m going to wear a fancy dress and drift across the stage. Guess who is going to be a lamb? Yep, Johnny. We practice each day at school. Johnny can baaaaaa with the best of them. Everyone in Ashland is coming to see us, almost everyone. The program is on Christmas Eve at school. Mrs. Howard said that most years the school has a program and the church has a different program, but since the church needs some repairs, there will be only one program this year. I’ll be an angel for real at seven o’clock, and Johnny will be baaaaaaing like no lamb I’ve ever heard. I hope you can be there.

  You should see our dazzling Christmas tree. Mr. Wick brought it to us. Johnny and I strung a popcorn garland and wrapped it around the branches from the tip on down. We had to pop extra popcorn, because someone, who Santa has been watching all year long, crammed more in his mouth than he strung. Grandma snapped a picture of the tree with her camera so you can see how beautiful it is.

  Spot said RUFF, RUFF! That’s dog talk for “We miss you.”

  I love you,

  Gracie Girl

  Every time I asked Mom when she thought we would hear from Daddy, she said to think positive.

  “Be brave,” Grandma always said. “We have to keep our spirits up. We have to have gumption.”

  Thinking positive was hard to do when we didn’t know where Daddy was or why he didn’t write to us anymore. Uh oh! Mom and Grandma would say that’s not a positive thought. Back up and start over. I decided it was time for a little chat with Spot.

  “We will hear from Daddy soon,” I told Spot as we sat on the steps. A pumpkin moon hung high in the sky and glowed, showing off on the naked branches of a maple tree.

  Spot wagged his tail. That’s dog talk for “You’re right, we’ll get a letter soon.”

  Spot believed me. I wondered how I could make myself believe it.

  I kissed Spot goodnight and walked back into the house.

  “Gracie Girl,” Mom said. “We need to talk about your angel dress.”

  “I’ll look like a real angel, Mom,” I said, “in my fancy, frilly dress.”

  “My sweet Grace,” Mom said. “You’ll look like an angel, no matter what you wear. I don’t have any fancy, frilly fabric, and with the war shortage, I can’t buy it. You can wear your white summer dress with a white sweater. You’ll be the perfect angel.”

  I wanted to look like a real angel, a real fancy angel. My white summer dress was plain. My white sweater was plainer. Tears lobbed up in my eyes, and I swallowed hard. I knew Mom was trying her best, so I tried to think positive.

  Mom walked with me to my bed. She told Johnny and me a bedtime story, about a time when she and Daddy went horseback riding and the horse split a creek wide open, splashing them both from head to toe. I watched Mom smile as she remembered her time with Daddy. She finished the story and kissed us goodnight.

  I didn’t go to sleep right off, but Johnny did. I could tell by the sound of his even breaths. When I did finally go to sleep, I dreamed I floated across the stage in a fancy white dress that was so beautiful the audience gasped when they saw me. A little while later, I woke up and cried myself back to sleep.

  At school, Mrs. Howard hung sheets on wires in the cafeteria to block off an area for the stage. The sheets reminded me of Grandma’s clothesline. Every day, we practiced our play. I practiced my angelic glide, and Johnny baaaaaaed enough for a herd of sheep.

  We belted out five Christmas carols to start the program. Carolyn and Vickie had speaking parts in the play, but Janie and I just drifted across the stage. That suited me fine. At the end of each practice, Mrs. Howard and Miss Eversole said we performed a stage-worthy production.

  When I woke up in the night on December 23, I tiptoed through the house on my way to the kitchen to get a drink of water. As I passed Mom’s room, I heard a faint noise. At first, I thought Mom was crying. I slowed down and listened. Mom was doing something, but I couldn’t tell what. Then the cuckoo clock piped CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! What in tarnation was Mom doing up at three o’clock in the morning? I didn’t dare knock on her door and ask because she would want to know the same thing about me.

  On Christmas Eve morning, the sun climbed the sky between red clouds. The mercury in the thermometer hung at a teeth-chattering thirty-five degrees.

  “Snow weather,” Grandma declared as she peeked out between the red-and-white checked kitchen curtains. “Likely as not, we’ll have us a white Christmas.”

  Mom yawned as she added a log to the cook stove and mixed up a tasty batch of pancake batter. To show our appreciation, Johnny scarfed down five saucer-sized pancakes, and I chomped down the win with six.

  “Mrs. Howard called today’s practice a dress rehearsal,” I said to Mom. “I need to wear the outfit I’ll wear tonight.”

  “I’ve got it laid out for you in the parlor,” Mom said.

  In Grandma’s parlor, I pulled on my plain white dress and even plainer white sweater. Some angel I’ll be. Mom had made Johnny a white lamb costume out of the same material. So that’s what Mom was doing last night.

  Johnny wiggled and squirmed as Mom helped him tug on the lamb suit. He would have had it on in half the time, but he baaaaaaed with every breath.

  Mom and Grandma smiled at his antics. If they had listened to as much baaaaaing as I had, they wouldn’t have found him so funny.

  A few minutes later, Johnny and I headed out to school for one last practice before the big performance tonight. Mom walked with us as far as Wilson’s Grocery.

  At school, I swayed across the stage as we sang Christmas carols. Mrs. Howard told me that I made all my entrances at the right time. She a
nd Miss Eversole bragged on everyone, even Johnny.

  On the way home, we stopped at Wilson’s Grocery. Mr. Wilson handed Johnny and me taffy bars and wished us a Merry Christmas. I ran over to the post office and checked on the mail. No letter.

  Johnny and I walked on home. I spent the afternoon reading Mary Poppins. Johnny played with his toy truck.

  As soon as Mom came home, we ate supper. I washed the dishes and Johnny dried them, baaaaaing with each swipe of the dish towel. Mom walked into the kitchen and said, “Kiddos, it’s showtime. Get fancied up in your costumes.”

  I walked into our bedroom to the chifferobe where had I hung my plain white dress and even plainer sweater after play practice today. As I reached to open the cabinet door, Mom called out, “Grace, your dress is in the parlor.”

  I hustled back through Grandma’s house. I entered the parlor, and my mouth dropped open. A fancy dress, all frilly and white, was draped across the settee, pretty as you please. I reached out and touched the fancy garment to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Where did this come from? I wondered. Then I remembered Mom’s late-night work in her bedroom, and I recognized the lace from Mom’s wedding gown.

  I tried on the most beautiful dress in the history of the world—my angel dress. I strutted across the parlor to Grandma’s braided oval rug, where I twirled and then upped it a notch to a whirl. My fancy dress swirled along with me.

  I heard Mom call, “Time to get the show on the road,” so I sashayed a few steps, strutted some and high stepped more out to the Hudson, wishing Daddy could see me now.

  Chapter 25

  Christmas Eve

  I practiced my moves—glide, glide, glide—on the school-house stage.

  Mom slipped behind the closed curtains for a second. “Grace and Johnny, break a leg,” she whispered. In theater jargon, that meant good luck.

  Johnny and I stood with the students and teachers behind the curtains as the audience gathered in the other part of the cafeteria. Johnny played his part and brought laughter from the adults. Mrs. Howard and Miss Eversole opened the curtains.

  The program began with us lifting our voices to “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” Like a gentle breeze, I wafted across the stage, angel-like, in my fancy white dress, fluttering my arms and tilting my head. I looked out at the audience. Men stood along the wall, and women and young children sat in chairs. When Grandma looked at me, her hands flew up to her mouth, and she dabbed her eyes with her hanky. Mom swiped tears, too, but her smile was wide.

  Near the end of the program, I glided over near the lambs to be near Johnny. Our performance must have pleased the audience, because the cast got a standing ovation.

  After the play, Johnny and I walked with Mom and Grandma to the tables set up with food. I munched on chocolate cake, and Johnny ate a candy cane. As I stuffed the last bite of cake into my pie hole, Santa walked through the door carrying a knapsack filled with presents. Johnny pulled the candy cane out of his mouth and squealed with joy.

  Santa handed everyone a gift. I got two. One was a box wrapped in red paper with my name written on it. I tore open the ends, and out slid a box holding a brush, comb and mirror set, all with pearl handles. I had seen a set like it at Wilson’s Grocery and told Mom I hoped Santa would bring it to me for Christmas. I loved it. The other gift, wrapped in green, had Spot’s name on it. I looked over at what was left of Johnny’s blue package. He held a train in his hands and pieces of a track. He bellowed like a train on the Chesapeake & Ohio Railway that ran through Ashland.

  I glanced toward the door when a soldier entered. Daddy! I jumped out of my chair and sprinted around groups of people. My heart thumped against my chest as I made the wild dash. I lunged at Daddy as he turned around. That’s when I realized the soldier wasn’t Daddy.

  Mom and Grandma rushed over. “I thought the soldier was…” I explained.

  “I know,” Grandma said as she pulled me close for a hug. “It’s time to go home.” She and Mom exchanged a look that said they were disappointed too.

  We piled into the Hudson. Fat snowflakes the size of nickels showered us. The Hudson slipped and slid on the snowy road all the way back to Grandma’s house.

  As we climbed the steps, covered in a three-inch blanket of the white stuff, Spot ran up to me for a sweet hug. Johnny walked through the door and said, “Gracie, let’s put my track together and watch the train chug around.”

  Then it hit me like a punch. “Mom, I left my brush set at school. And Spot’s gift. We have to go get them.”

  “Oh, my Gracie Girl,” Mom answered, “I can’t drive in this snowstorm tonight. We’ll pick them up tomorrow.”

  “But the school won’t be open tomorrow,” I explained.

  “We’ll try to get it tomorrow,” Mom said, “if the storm lets up.”

  The sound of Mom’s voice told me there was no use to argue. Besides, Mom looked tired. I knew she was as disappointed as I was that the soldier wasn’t Daddy.

  I busied myself helping Johnny put the train track together when a knock pounded on the door. A voice called out, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Johnny jerked open the door, and a hand reached through the opening with my Christmas gift and Spot’s. Johnny looked up and squealed, “Daddy!”

  I jumped up, and sure enough, there stood Daddy on a crutch, holding the missing presents.

  Daddy took turns hugging Mom and Grandma and Johnny and me. Sometimes he hugged us one at a time, sometimes all at once.

  “I tried to make it to the school in time for your play,” he said as he looked at Johnny and me. “Travel on the train was slow, what with the snowstorm and a couple of fallen trees on the railroad tracks. I got to the school before Mrs. Howard locked the door. She handed me your Christmas present, Gracie Girl. And one for Spot.”

  After we hugged, kissed, cried and hugged some more, Daddy tugged his duffle bag inside and handed us a whole bunch of letters. He had been in several battles and couldn’t get them mailed. He and another soldier were injured and barely escaped the German Nazis. Days turned to weeks and weeks to months hiding from the enemy and getting well enough to walk. When they finally found Allied troops, Daddy was sent to a hospital and then home. He had lots of time to think, and he said he thought about us at the same time we thought about him.

  “My leg is hurt,” Daddy said. “The doctor told me it would take some time to heal, but I’m on the mend already.” He reached back into his duffle bag and pulled out presents. Johnny’s face lit up when he saw a Chutes and Ladders game and a toy jeep.

  “Close your eyes, Gracie Girl,” Daddy said, “and hold out your hands.”

  When I opened my eyes, I held a Raggedy Ann doll with red hair and red-and-white striped legs. I hugged Miss Raggedy Ann and squeezed her tight to let her know that she was special. Then I noticed a gold chain with a heart pendant hanging around her neck. I unlatched the chain and put it on.

  “That necklace looked like my Gracie Girl,” Daddy said.

  “I love it,” I cried out as I ran to my bedroom to look at it in the mirror.

  When I walked back into the parlor, Daddy said, “Here is a tin of dog biscuits for someone special.” I reached for Spot’s present.

  Grandma got a shawl in her favorite color, purple.

  Daddy saved the last gift for Mom. He handed her a tiny box.

  Mom lifted the lid and whispered, “It’s beautiful.” She stuck out her arm. Daddy reached for the silver bracelet and wrapped it around Mom’s wrist.

  As I held my Raggedy Ann, I realized something. I eased over to Grandma’s window and slipped the “sons in service” flag off the hook and handed it to Grandma. Grandma wrapped the flag in tissue paper and placed it in a drawer.

  I walked over to Mom and whispered in her ear, “We don’t have a present for Daddy.”

  “Sure we do,” Mom answered. She rushed into her bedroom and brought out a gift wrapped in red and green paper with a silver bow on top.

  Daddy unwrapped the gift—a pocketknife. He said it was per
fect because he wanted to learn to carve wood while his leg healed.

  We talked late into the night. I grabbed Spot’s tin of dog biscuits and his wrapped present and walked out to his doghouse. Spot gobbled two biscuits, and I promised I’d give him two more each day. I unwrapped the green package. Inside was a new collar. I unlatched the old collar and wrapped the new one around Spot’s neck.

  “Looking good, boy.” I told him. “We’re going to stay with Grandma for a while, until Daddy’s leg heals, maybe longer.”

  Spot wagged his tail. In dog talk, that meant he was happy with the plan.

  “We may go back to Hazard to live, but we may not. Either way, you and I will be together.” Spot’s tail wagged harder. I kissed that clever mutt goodnight and hurried back inside.

  I was chilled from standing in the cold with Spot, but listening to Daddy’s laugh warmed me more than the fireplace. Daddy stood and used his crutch to walk over to the wireless. He turned the knob. The station played Christmas music. As Benny Goodman’s version of “Silent Night” began, Daddy walked back over to Mom and offered his hand. Daddy and Mom waltzed around the parlor, with Mom under one of Daddy’s arms and a crutch under the other. As they danced, Mom laughed one of those laughs that made me want to laugh too.

  “Jingle Bells” played next. Daddy grabbed Johnny and me. “My girl and guy have grown since we last danced,” Daddy said as the three of us stomped around the room, Johnny hugging Daddy’s good leg, me hugging his waist.

  When the band struck up “I’ll Be Home for Christmas,” Daddy walked over to Grandma. He reached out his hand and said, “Ma’am, may I have this dance?”

  “Son, I’ve never danced a step in my life,” Grandma said.

  “Go on, Grandma,” I said, “you’ve got to have gumption.”

  Grandma laughed and danced clear into the kitchen and back with Daddy.

  About the Author

  Nancy Kelly Allen’s route to award-winning writing has more twists and turns than a winding mountain road. She worked as a social worker, elementary school teacher and school librarian. After spending days introducing books to children, she spent nights writing books for them.