a Chrismas Story
beat when she doesn't answer. "Maggie? Maggie, where are you?" Trying not to sound
frantic, I ask everyone around me, "Excuse me, have you seen a little girl, five years old,
brown hair, pigtails, pink coveralls." Everyone shakes their head. I wander around trying
to see past all the people. I start shouting, "Maggie? Maggie? Please answer me. Where
are you?"
"Ma'am, I think I saw her over in Toys -- that way," a stock boy says.
Halfway to the toy department, I realize I didn't even says thank you. "Maggie? Maggie?
Where are you?"
"Here I am, Mommy."
"Maggie, I told you to stay with me. Remember how you got lost last year? Remember
how scared you were? Now come on, we have to finish, it's almost dinner time and we
won't have many more times to go shopping, Christmas is only eight days away."
"But, I wasn't lost. I was looking at the dolls."
"I know, sweetheart, but there's too many people for you to wander off and we don't have
time to be looking at dolls now."
"But look at her, she's soooo beee-yooo-ti-ful."
I look at the shelf filled with an assortment of dolls. "Who is, sweetie?"
"She is. Look at her." She points to a three-foot doll in a red and white lace dress.
"My, but she is pretty."
"What's her name?"
I pick up the box and read. "Her name is Kissing Katie. It says, 'Just squeeze my hands
together and I'll give you a kiss. Will you kiss me, too?'"
"Oh Mommy, can I have her? Can I? Can I, pleeeease?"
I put the box back on the shelf. "You know I can't get that for you now."
"But . . . but . . . "
"Come on, it's late. Besides, this nice lady is going to buy her, and there doesn't seem to
be any more left."
A blond woman in wire rimmed glasses picks up Katie. Heartbroken, Maggie cries out,
"Oh, no! Are you really going to buy her?"
"I'm not sure. What do you think? Would you love her and give her lots of kisses?"
"Forever."
"Really? Forever?"
"Uh-huh."
She asks me, "Are you sure you're not going to buy her?"
Reluctantly, I answer, "I'm afraid she's too expensive."
"Well then, I am going to buy her. For a very special little girl."
Biting her lip, Maggie waves forlornly. "Goodbye, Kissing Katie."
I pick her up and head back to find my cart, vowing to do my Christmas shopping early
next year. From somewhere far away I hear, "I see you found her."
I look up at the voice and see the stock boy. Grateful, I reply, "Yes. Thank you. Thank you
very much -- and Merry Christmas."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"But, Steve, you should have seen her face when that woman walked away with that doll."
"I don't care, Janet. We can't afford it. Wait til you see her face when she goes to bed
hungry because there's nothing to eat."
"Well, we wouldn't have a problem, if . . . "
"If what? Go on say it. If only I . . . "
"Mommy, Mommy," Maggie cries out from her bedroom.
"There now, are you happy? You woke her up." Giving Steve a heartfelt dirty look, I call
out, "Everything's OK, sweetheart," and go to tuck her in. I sit on the edge of her bed and
whisper, "What's the matter honey?"
"Mommy, I really didn't like that doll. Honest. I don't want it. Please don't fight with Daddy."
I brush her forehead with my lips and whisper, "It's OK, honey, go back to sleep."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"Christmas is only four days away," Steve says. I sit down beside him as he continues, "I
don't know where else to look. Since I got my Christmas bonus, we've been to every store
within 30 miles looking for a Kissing Katie. No one has it. Isn't there another doll that she
wants?"
"I wish there was. She may have said she didn't want it the other night, but I know she
does. By the way, did I ever tell you I was sorry for that night. I know how hard you work.
And with that unexpected bonus, we should have a nice Christmas this year."
"The bonus might make it nicer, but it won't mean a thing if we don't see her face light up
on Christmas morning."
"Maybe we'll find it in time for her birthday."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"Mommy, is this long enough?"
"My, that's a pretty necklace. Who is it for?"
"It's a Christmas present for Grace. It's pink and green, the same as her sweater. Is it
long enough?"
"You mean Mrs. Grady? I told you about calling your elders by their first name, it's not
polite."
"But that's what she wants me to call her. When we play, she calls me Peggy and I call
her Grace."
"Okay, okay, I suppose it's alright if she insists, and you only do it when you're together." I
hold the necklace around my neck. "It's perfect. Do you need help with the knot?"
"Yes, please." Steve comes in the door. "Daddy, Daddy! Look what I made for Grace, I
mean Mrs. Grady."
"It's beautiful, honey. Who's Mrs. Grady?"
"My new friend."
"Who's Mrs. Grady?" he says, kissing me on the neck.
"She's the old woman at the nursing home that we've been visiting every Tuesday
afternoon for the past few weeks."
"She's not old, mommy. She said she's five, just like me."
During dinner, Steve asks, "So how did all this come about, this Mrs. Grady?"
"One Sunday after your mother died, Mrs. Johnson . . ."
"That's my Sunday School teacher."
"That's right, honey. Maggie's Sunday School teacher suggested we visit the nursing
home. Mrs. Johnson said the old folks are lonely and the kids make them feel better, and
the kids learn a lot from them. Anyway, this Mrs. Grady and her hit it off from the start.
They're inseparable the minute we walk in the door. She has Alzheimer's."
"Why did she become so close to Maggie?" Steve asks, "Doesn't any one else come to
visit her?"
"I think she has a married daughter that visits on the weekends. And the nurse says that
Maggie probably reminds her of an old playmate named Peggy. And now she calls Maggie,
Peggy. Is that right, honey?"
"Yes, I'm Peggy and she's Grace - I mean Mrs. Grady."
"And you made the necklace for her. That's very nice."
"Tell Daddy what you learned in Sunday School last week."
"Mrs. Johnson said, 'It's better to give than receive.'"
"And who received the first Christmas present?"
"The baby Jesus."
"And who gave it to him?"
"The three old men."
Trying hard not to laugh out loud, I say, "You mean the Three Wise Men?"
"Yes, the Three Wise Men."
Steve kisses her on the head and says, "That's my girl."
I continue, "Do you know what the best present to give in the whole world is?"
She thinks a minute -- looking for an answer in the ceiling, "Uhhh -- A puppy?"
"That's nice, but there's something better. The best present you can give to someone is
yourself."
"Do we have that much wrapping paper?"
"You don't need wrapping paper. You give yourself when you love someone and let them
know you think they're special. Like when you make something for them from your heart."
"Like my necklace?"
"Exactly like your necklace. Now let's clean up the dishes and we'll find a nice box
to wrap it in. Maybe Daddy can help you make a card."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"Steve, quick, get the camera! Look at that face."
Maggie doesn't take her eyes off the tree until a few seconds after the flash goes off. In
another few seconds she dares to ask, "Can we open them now?"
I remind her, "It's only Christmas Eve. But we'll get to open some of them later, whenever
Aunt Carol says it's OK. After all, it is her house."
After dinner, Maggie and her two older cousins, Jimmy and Jason, grow impatient. They
pick up presents at random and check the tags to see which ones have their names on
them. Maggie recognizes her name and her eyes light up, "This one's mine, Mommy.
Look, it says 'M-A-G-G-I-E.' That spells Maggie, right?"
I look at the label and I know what she's thinking. The package is about the same size as
the Kissing Katie box. My heart leaps. Did my sister-in-law find the doll that we couldn't?
"Yes, sweetheart, that spells Maggie and it's from Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim."
"Can I open it, can I?"
"Whenever Aunt Carol says."
Carol looks at the kids and then at her watch, "It is getting late." She calls out to the boys,
"Okay boys, go tell Daddy and Uncle Steve that it's time to open the presents."
Maggie holds on to the box . . . anticipating.
Bedlam breaks out a few minutes later when the boys reach for the biggest and best of
the packages with their names on them. Handing the camera to Steve, I nod my head to
Maggie and say, "Go on, open it."
Steve timed it perfectly. Flash -- Silence -- her face frozen -- with disappointment.
My heart sinks with hers. Trying to be cheerful, I say, "Wow, a tea set. That's super.
Look, cups, saucers, a teapot. Now we can have a tea party every day. What do you say
to Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim?"
Lips quivering, she reluctantly but politely says, "Thank you, Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"It's late sweetheart. Let's hang up the stocking for Santa while Daddy finishes the tinsel
on the tree."
"Can I put the angel on top?"
"I think if Daddy can still lift you that high you can."
Steve swoops down and swings her up onto his shoulders, "Whaddya mean - if I can still
lift her?"
I gently hand her the angel, "Be careful."
Steve puts her down. "And now -- the lights -- Voila!"
We stand mesmerized as the lights blink off and on. Maggie breaks the silence, "It's
beautiful. Can we watch it for a while?"
"Sorry, sweetheart. It's very late. You have to get to bed. It's a busy day tomorrow. We
have to go to church and then visit Mrs. Grady and then we have to . . . "
"Is Santa really coming tonight?"
"As soon as you fall asleep."
Steve goes to read her, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas'.
He comes out within a few minutes, "She didn't even make it to the eight tiny reindeer."
He reads my thoughts, "Do you think she's expecting a Kissing Katie?"
"I know she is."
"How do you explain to a five year old why she didn't get the doll she wanted?"
"I don't think it will matter, she's going to be disappointed no matter what we say."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
"Mommy! Daddy! Wake up! Santa was really here!!! Wake up! Come see!"
I pick up my head and look at the clock. "You win, Steve. It's 6:20. I was sure she'd sleep
til at least seven."
"I don't want to win, I want to sleep."
"Too bad, it's Christmas morning. Merry Christmas, everyone!"
Maggie starts singing and jumping on the bed, "We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish
you a Merry Christmas . . . "
"Maggie, go wait in the living room while Daddy and I get up. Don't open the
presents."
She sings as she leaves, ". . . and a Happy New Year!" and starts all over again on her way
down the hall.
Steve and I take turns taking pictures while we open the presents. There aren't that many
-- six for Maggie, one for Steve and one for me. We take our time, trying to make it seem
like there's more. I'm trying to set my new watch as Steve starts picking up the wrapping
paper and bows and stuffing it all in a big garbage bag. I hear Maggie whimpering. I sit
down beside her on the floor, "What's the matter, honey?"
"I'm not a good girl."
"What do you mean? Of course you're a good girl."
"Jimmy and Jason said they knew what they were getting for Christmas because Santa
always brings them what they want. Jimmy said that only bad little girls and boys don't get
what they want." Through the tears she adds, "I didn't mean to be bad Mommy, honest."
I cradle her in my arms. "Honey, you're not a bad girl. You're a wonderful, good little girl."
Steve sits down beside us. Searching for something to say, he tries, "I'm sure Santa tried
to find you a Kissing Katie."
I run with it, "That's right, honey. He didn't know how much you wanted one until they were
all gone. A lot of other good little girls must have asked him for one first. Remember, you
didn't know you wanted it until just a few days ago."
Steve adds, "Please don't cry. We'll try to find one as soon as we can, I promise."
This seems to work. She stops crying.
"That's better. No more crying," I say as I dry her tears. "Instead of thinking about what
you didn't get, let's say a prayer of thanks for all we did get."
"She bows her head and clasps her hands, "Dear Lord, thank you for all of my Christmas
presents. Thank you for my skates and the Big Box of Crayons and Giant Coloring Book
and . . . what else? My new purple dress and . . . the teddy bear and . . . My Little Pony and .
. . the story books and . . . my Tea Set from Aunt Carol and Uncle Jim. And thank you for
Mommy's watch and Daddy's tool set. Amen. And Merry Christmas!"
"Would you like to wear that new purple dress to church?"
"Yes! When are we going to see Grace? I mean Mrs. Grady. Remember the necklace?"
"Right after church, we'll all go, so Daddy can meet her, too. Let's not forgot to put the
cookies that we baked for the nurses in the car before we go."
§ § § § § § § § § § § § §
Maggie almost runs into the automatic door before it opens. She disappears around the
corner of the nurse's desk, as Steve and I walk in.
"Merry Christmas, Janet," Nurse Wald says. "And this must be your husband and I guess
that was Maggie that just zipped by, but she went the wrong way. Mrs. Grady is in the Day
Room."
"Happy Hanukkah, Nurse Wald. And yes, this is Steve."
Steve puts the tray of cookies on the counter, "And these are for everyone. Happy
Holidays. Janet and Maggie made them. The oatmeal raisin with chocolate chips are
really incredible."
I look around for Maggie, but she's nowhere in sight. I glance down the opposite hallway,
in front of the Day Room, where a blond woman is talking to a nurse. There's something
strangely familiar about her. Maggie runs past me. I call out to her, "Maggie,
don't run." But she already slipped into the Day Room. I hear her, "Grace, Grace, I was
looking for you everywhere. I have a present for you. Merry Christmas."
Walking past me down the hall, Steve says, "I'll go talk to her."
The woman's wire rimmed glasses glint in the fluorescent light as she starts walking
towards me with a confused look on her face. "Excuse me, you look familiar, have we met
before?"
"I was just thinking the same thing. What's your name?"
"Phyllis. Phyllis West. And yours?"
"Janet Mulrooney. That was my husband Steve. And my daughter Maggie almost
knocked you down a second ago."
"Janet Mulrooney? It doesn't sound familiar, yet I'm sure we met. Maybe the bank where I
work?"
Suddenly, I hear Maggie crying out, "Kissing Katie, Kissing Kate. Thank you,
Grace. Thank you." She comes running out of the Day Room, "Mommy, Mommy, look
what Grace gave me. It's Kissing Katie." Steve picks her up before she gets past him.
"Slow down, little girl." He carries her up to us.
Phyllis just looks at me and then at Maggie. "I thought you said her name was Maggie?"
"It is. This is Maggie and Steve. Steve, this is Phyllis West. We were just trying to figure
out where we know each other from."
"I don't understand, I bought Kissing Katie for Peggy."
"You bought Kissing Katie?"
"Yes. For my mother to give Peggy."
"You bought Kissing Katie? -- about eight days ago? -- in the K-Mart on Central Avenue?"
"Why, yes. Of course, that's where we met. But, who's Peggy?"
"Maggie is. Her name is Margaret. But, your mother started calling her Peggy from the
first day they met. She must remind her of someone else."
"Well, I'm glad it all worked out. I mean, at first I didn't know what to get for Peggy. Mom
hasn't stopped talking about her for weeks. Everytime I see her all she wants to talk about
is Peggy, Peggy, Peggy. And she never seemed happier. Anyway, I wanted to get
something special, but I didn't have a clue -- until I saw how much Maggie loved that doll. I
thought it would be perfect for any five year old girl," she pauses and adds, "Oh no, you
didn't buy her one, did you?"
"No, we couldn't find another one. And, until now, she was heartbroken."
I look at her in Steve's arms, holding on to the doll like she's never going to let it go. She
says, "I guess, I was a good girl after all, wasn't I, Mommy?"
"Yes, sweetheart, you always are."
Phyllis adds, "A very, very special little girl. Merry Christmas, Peggy. I mean, Maggie. I
mean . . . Merry Christmas . . . Everyone."
Maggie starts singing, "We wish you a Merry Christmas, we wish you . . . "
© 1996 Bobbie Ann Pimm
Book 1 Book 2 Book 3 Book 4 Book 5