A Hillbilly Christmas
By S.L. Kliever
The sky was clear blue. Snow lay
on the ground in big fluffy white mounds. The airport was loud with many voices
and loud speakers announcing flights and the sound of overhead jets.
Slim Jones, tall business man in
his late twenties, hurried along with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder
and suitcase rolling along behind. His overcoat was open and with his free hand
he searched for his cell phone. In seconds it was dialling the number he wanted.
“Hello Grandma.” He was a nice
looking fellow, the kind you would expect to care about his grandma.
“Slim!” the gentle old quivering
voice was like music to his ears. “It’s so good to hear your voice. Are you on
your way?”
“Almost Grandma. I’m at the
airport now. I’ll be renting a car and be on my way.”
“It’s a ten hour drive,” she
reminded him.
“Yah I know, but I’ll be there
in plenty of time tonight.”
She laughed, “Of course, I was mainly
warning you it’s a long drive.”
He half grinned. “I’ll be fine
Grandma, I can take care of myself. Nothing will happen to me.”
She didn’t respond to that.
“Grandma, are you still there?”
“I’m still here. Your phone
crackled a bit.”
“Yah, well I’ll see you tonight,
ok?”
“Ok.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
* * *
Grandma Jones hung up her phone.
From her big front window of her mansion home, she looked out at the snow.
“Lord, I ask only one thing this Christmas, bring Slim back to Yourself.”
* * *
Slim exited the airport with the
keys to an Impala in his hand. He walked over to the parking lot where the
rented cars were parked.
The attendant was a tall man in
blue coveralls with a silky tie protruding from the top. He looked like he
belonged in an office, not a mechanic’s greasy coveralls. He smiled at Slim and
his eyes seemed to twinkle. “Come to pick up a car?”
“Yah, an Impala,” Slim handed
him the papers.
“Mr. Jones, I got your car right
over here, but if you’ll be patient a few moments, I have to check it over.”
“Ok,” Slim shrugged. This was
different from all the other times he’d rented a car, but maybe they’d changed
their policy here. “Mind if I put my things in the back seat?”
“Not at all, go right ahead.”
“Thanks,” Slim opened the back
passenger door and dumped his suitcase and laptop inside. The attendant was
checking something under the hood. In a few moment he slammed it down.
“I just have to check the pressure
in the tires; won’t take but a moment.”
Slim waved his hand. He wasn’t
going to be in hurry. He was a nice guy, a good business man that was the
reason for his success, he was nice to everyone, and he cared for his
grandmother by giving her a home.
The attendant emerged from the
other side of the car. He smiled with satisfaction. “Everything’s in order.”
“Thank you Mr....”
“Tom,” the man put out his hand.
“Thank you Tom.”
“Drive safe, you’ll need to,”
Tom said, a slight warning in his voice.
Slim was turning away, but he
looked back at the man and raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a storm coming,” Tom
explained.
“Oh,” Slim nodded and looked
around at the clear blue sky. “Well thanks again.”
“Just doing my job,” the man
said.
Slim nodded and got in behind
the wheel. He started the engine and backed the car out. The car attendant was
gone.
* * *
The warning about a storm wasn’t
a joke. Once Slim got out on the highway in the foothills of the mountains, the
blue sky turned grey. In another hour a light snow was falling. He passed the village of Hudsonville, which was little more than
a gas station, a few stores and several streets of houses. It passed by his
windows and disappeared and the only scenery was evergreens.
Suddenly, without warning, the
car spun out of control, or nearly. A glance out the side mirror showed rubber
flying and blue smoke. At the same time as Slim fought to slow the car and move
it to the side of the road, a BANG came from the engine and it died. In a
matter of seconds the car came to a stop at the side of the road. All was still
and quiet. Around him snow fell. Then the awful smell of burnt rubber and the
realization of what had just happened hit him. He let out a groan and pounded
the steering wheel in frustration.
His next move was to get out of
the car to assess the damage. The back passenger side tire was blown. Under the
hood, he wasn’t sure what was wrong, he knew nothing about engines. It looked
fine to him.
Pulling out his cell phone he
figured he could get help from the town he had just passed. “We are sorry; you
have traveled outside the service range.”
Slim groaned again. “Why does
this have to happen to me?” What were the chances of two things happening to
one car at the same time? He kicked the front tire. Now his only option was to
walk back down the road for help. How many miles would that be?
Just then a black car appeared
coming towards him. Chances were, it wouldn’t stop. He contemplated trying to
wave it down, but figured if it were him, he wouldn’t stop for some maniac on
the side of the road. However to his amazement, the car slowed and stopped on
the other side of the road. The man inside opened his door and got out. He was
dressed in a fancy blue suit with a silky tie, polished shoes, a hat that
looked like it was from the forties or fifties, and a nice black overcoat. His
eyes were friendly and an ever present smiled played on his lips. Slim thought
perhaps he had seen the man somewhere before, but couldn’t think where.
“Can I help you?” the stranger
asked.
“Yes, I need a ride black to the
town down the road.” Slim didn’t think he should ask anything else. The man
didn’t appear to be the type to know anything about cars, not with that suit.
“I would be glad to oblige. Grab
your things out of your car and I’ll give you a ride. Pop McCoy has a garage
and tow-truck.”
Slim hesitated a moment. From
where the stranger stood, he knew he couldn’t see what was in the back seat.
Shrugging off his apprehension, he nodded. “You familiar with this garage? Do
they do good work?”
“I know Pop McCoy well. He’s the
best in these parts.”
Slim was glad to hear that. He
fetched his things from the rented car and in a few moments he was sitting in
the strangers car and they were headed back to Hudsonville.
“Uh… nice car,” Slim
complemented.
“Thank you.”
He had thought the new car he
had been driving was nice, but this stranger’s car was expensive! Leather seats
and interior. The car looked different
from any he had ever seen and nowhere could he see the logo or name of it’s
manufacturer or make.
“Is this new?”
“No.”
Slim shifted nervously. This man
didn’t seem to be the conversational type. “I don’t think I’ve seen a car like this
before. What year is it?”
“There isn’t another like it;
custom made.”
“Really?” Slim was impressed.
This man must be loaded.
“I’m not rich in money. Don’t
let the car fool you. It’s a company car.”
“What business are you in?” Slim
asked out of curiosity, being a business man himself.
“Ah, here we are, Pop McCoy’s
Garage. Pop will be busy working, but don’t worry, he makes it his job to help
those in need.” The stranger pulled the car up and stopped it just out front.
He got out the minute he put it in park.
Slim hurried to get out and
catch-up to the stranger.
“Pop, how are you?” the stranger
was saying to an older man with white hair who stepped out of the garage.
“Ah, Thomas. It’s been a while
since we’ve seen you. Who did you bring this time?”
“Slim Jones; His car stopped
five miles up the road. Will you help him?”
“Of course,” Pop McCoy nodded.
He limped over to Slim to shake hands. “Welcome to Hudsonville Mr. Jones.”
Slim was a little taken back. He
couldn’t remember if he had introduced himself to the stranger named Thomas, or
not. He was sure he hadn’t. “Nice to meet you Mr. McCoy.”
“Just call me Pop. Everyone does,”
he smiled with a toothy grin. Turning back to the garage, he hollered loud.
“Hey Dusty, pull out the tow-truck.’
“Sure Pop!” a young voice yelled
back.
“I’ll be on my way,” Thomas
said, edging back to his car.
“We’ll be seeing you Thomas,”
Pop waved him on.
Slim quickly followed Thomas
back to the car to retrieve his things. “Thanks again,” he nodded to the
strange man.
“Don’t thank me, thank God I
came along when I did.”
“Yahhhh…” Slim averted his eyes.
That was the last thing he wanted to hear. His Grandma was bad enough.
Thomas got in his car and was gone.
About the same time the tow-truck rumbled around the corner of the building.
“Good old Thomas,” Pop was
saying. “Comes by every once in a while. Always seems to find some poor soul
who needs help. Well, Dusty has the truck running. Come on out with us and
we’ll bring your car in.”
“Sure,” Slim smiled. He liked
the old man.
“Hey mister, climb in!” Dusty
hollered a welcome as he and Pop got in the passenger door.
Slim was squashed in the middle
of the small tow-truck cab, but the others didn’t seem to mind, so he ignored
the discomfort as well.
“This is my grandson Dusty.
Dusty, meet Slim Jones.”
“Howdy,” Dusty reached over with
his left hand to give Slim an awkward handshake. “I see Thomas brought us
another one,” he grinned. He was a teen about 16, Slim thought, a nice kid with
short chopped hair and dressed like Pop, in Wrangler jeans and wool lined blue
jean coats with wool caps. To Slim, Dusty looked like a young cowpoke, but of
course Slim had only seen cowboys on T.V.
“Who is this Thomas fellow
anyway?” Slim asked as the truck jerked forward and headed out down the road.
“Don’t rightly know,” Pop said.
“He’s often passing through these parts and we bump into him every time he
brings in someone who needs help.” It didn’t seem to matter to Pop if he didn’t
know who Thomas was. He was a country man and his pace of life was different
from Slim’s and different from anyone Slim had ever met. Never before had Slim
met people who would talk to you, a perfect stranger, as if you were a long
lost friend. He felt a little strange sitting between the grandpa and his
grandson. They seemed like people from another class of life entirely.
“Where’s your car?” Dusty asked.
“Five miles up the road,” Slim
answered, remembering what Thomas had said.
“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Dusty
said. The windshield wipers worked faster to keep up with the falling snow.
“Beautiful day,” Pop chimed out.
Slim couldn’t see what was so
beautiful about it. His car was stopped at the side of the road and he was
stranded. What was so beautiful about that?
“Oh, there it is,” Pop pointed
ahead. Soon they were stopped and in a short while, the car was loaded and they
got turned around and heading back to Hudsonville.
Slim was quiet during the work.
His mind raced to figured out what he was going to do and how soon he could get
back on the road.
“Well Mr. Jones,” Pop said as he
drove them back to the garage. “I never seen anything like it. That fuel pump
is finished. Can’t rightly figure it; a brand new car and the fuel pump goes,” Pop
shook his head. “They certainly don’t make things like they use to.”
“You can say that again,” Dusty
agreed. “The tire, that’ll be easy to fix, but that fuel pump…” he shook his head.
“Is it that bad?” Slim asked.
“Oh… it’s not too bad. We can
fix it,” Pop was confident.
“Fix it so I can get back on the
road by this afternoon?”
“We’ll try for it, yes sir,” Pop
nodded.
“Well I would really appreciate
it. I’m trying to get to my Grandma’s for Christmas.”
“Of course,” Pop assured him,
“We’ll do our best.”
Back at the garage, Pop and
Dusty took the car in to start work while Slim waited in the little convenience
store with his luggage. Christmas music played in the background on the radio.
A man named Hiram worked the till and Slim bought a soda pop to drink as he
paced the floor. It was half an hour before Pop came through the door, wiping
his hands on a rag.
“Well sir, we got to order us a new fuel pump. Can’t
figure out what happened to the one in the car, but it’s a goner. Kaput.”
“Do anything, just get me back
on the road,” Slim urged.
Pop help up his hand to assure
his customer he was doing his best. He stepped behind the counter to where
Hiram sat chewing gum and reading the newspaper. Pop picked up the phone and
dialed. “Howdy Jed, Merry Christmas! - Oh yep, yep, doing fine. How’s the
family? - That’s good, that’s good. - I did at that. You got a fuel pump in
stock? - No it’s for one of them fancy new cars, an Impala. - Yah, poor fellow
got himself stranded.”
Slim watched and listened. He
was agitated. These people’s slow pace of life was almost driving him up the
wall. It boggled his mind how a man of business like Pop could visit with an
old buddy while placing an order. It seemed out of place. He felt like he had
stepped back in time to a place where everyone’s lives ran slower. But looking
around the convenience store told him he was in the 21st century. The
place had refrigerators and a pinball machine lining one wall and a shelf with
chips and other snacks stood in the middle of the floor with a newspaper rack
on the end. Behind the counter with the cash register, was a computer.
“Well the fellow is anxious to
get back on the road. Could you get it up here tonight?” Pop was asking. “Oh I
see. - Is the storm bad? - Well it hasn’t hit here yet, only snowing. -
Tomorrow evening?- Ok then, take care. - Yep and Merry Christmas to your
family. Bye.” Pop hung up. “Well Mr. Jones, it seems the snow storm is pretty
bad down the road. Jed can’t get the part up here till tomorrow evening at the
latest.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.” Slim
had been dreading this. He put his hands to his head as if to shield out the
bad news. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked with desperation at
the ceiling. “Why is this happening to me?!”
“Sorry Mr. Jones, I know you’re
trying to get to your grandmother. Perhaps you can still get there by
Christmas.”
An idea came to mind and Slim
leaned on the counter, a dim hope in his eyes. “I could catch a bus.”
Pop slowly shook his head. “No
buses come by here anymore. Even if they did, this snow storm would keep them
here. I’m sorry Mr. Jones, but you’ll just have to spend the night.”
“What about taxis?” Slim asked,
still trying to find some way.
“Nope,” Pop shook his head.
Slim pounded the counter with
the palm of his hand and scowled in frustration. Why did this have to happen to
him? Why did he have to get stuck in the middle of nowhere?
“You could phone your grandmother,”
Hiram suggested, speaking around his gum. He pointed to a pay phone in the
corner.
“I didn’t know they still had
pay phones,” Slim muttered.
“Cell phones don’t got no, what
do they call it?” Hiram searched for the right word.
“Reception,” Slim growled.
“That’s it!” Hiram snapped his
fingers. “Yah, they don’t got no reception way out here. But it’s good for
business.”
“I found that out,” Slim
muttered. “Well ok, I’d better give her a call.” The coins seemed to sound loud
as he pushed them into the slot. The phone rang for a few times and then the
frail voice of his grandmother answered. He quickly explained what had happened
and that he would be delayed. She told him she was praying for him, and then
they both hung up.
Slim returned to the counter and
looked at the two dingy dressed old men. “Well, where’s the Hotel in town? I’ll
pay you well to take me there.”
“You can pay us to take you
there, but it won’t do you no good,” Hiram said between chewing his gum.
“Why?” Slim frowned. Was this
more bad news?
“What he’s trying to say is, the
Hotel is closed for the holidays,” Pop informed him.
“Closed for the holidays?” Slim
had never heard anything like it before. Wasn’t the holidays the best time for
business?
“Maybe where you come from they
stay open,” Pop said, “But around here we don’t get many visitors during the
Christmas season and we all like to be with our families, so Betsy always
closes it down.”
“Tell her I’ll pay double for a
room,” Slim offered, hoping money would entice them.
Pop shook his head. “Betsy’s
away visiting relatives.”
“Well is there a Bed and
Breakfast in town?” Slim couldn’t take this any more. These backward people
surely had some civilization.
“Bed and what?” Hiram squinted
his eyes at him. “Breakfast you say? Of course we sleep in beds and eat
breakfast in the mornings. Don’t everybody?”
“That’s a good idea,” Pop
nodded. “I was going to suggest you stay with us, but no charge of course.
After all it isn’t your fault we can’t get the flue pump for your car. You can
have a bed and meals on us.”
“No,” Slim shook his head. He
had too much pride to accept from poor folks like these. He paid his way always. “I wouldn’t think of it. That’s
not what I meant.”
“Well whatever you meant, you
need a place to stay, and you can stay with us,” Pop insisted. And by the tone
of voice, Slim knew it would be hard to argue with him. “Dusty!” he hollered
through the door to the garage.
“Yah Pop?”
“You done with that tire yet?”
“Sure thing Pop, just got it
done.”
“Good. Run up to the house and
tell Liz we got company coming for supper.”
“Yippee! Is it Mr. Jones?”
“Sure is, he’ll be staying with
us.”
“Swell. I’ll run home.”
Pop closed the door. “Well, we
better close up for the night.”
“I really don’t want to put
anyone out,” Slim insisted.
“Nonsense,” Pop waved his hand
at him.
“I’ll be headed on home,” Hiram
said, pulling on his coat.
“See you tomorrow, Hiram,” Pop
waved. “Come on Mr. Jones, my car’s out back.”
“Look, Mr. McCoy, I’ll really…”
“Pop, everyone calls me Pop. Mr.
McCoy is too formal.”
“Pop,” Slim was losing his patience. “I really don’t want to put
anyone out. I would rather stay in a Hotel.”
“Well it’s like I said, Jones,
(can I call you Jones?)” He picked up Slims luggage and headed out the door.
Slim had no choice but to follow.
“Slim, is better.”
“Ok Slim, well see it was like I
was saying, Betsy, she heads out every Christmas to California to visit relatives. She ain’t got
many, only a great uncle. Uncle Herbert is his name, and then there are her
cousins. I think she’s got ten cousins. Like I said, it’s a small family and
she doesn’t’ see them often.”
Slim didn’t want Betsy’s
(whoever she was) full family history. He only wanted a nice quiet hotel room
were he could sleep and do a little work on his laptop. His whole day was
turned upside down, but now it was being shaken around.
“So you see, she naturally can’t
leave the Hotel open, especially when she doesn’t get any customers this time
of year.”
“You don’t say,” Slim grunted.
“Here’s the car, climb in,” Pop
said, dumping Silm’s things in the back seat. “We’re real proud of this new
car. Has more room for the family, you know?” Pop said as he got in behind the
wheel. The car was a 1995 Sable Station wagon. Nothing new about it, but slim
noticed it ran like it had a good engine under the hood.
“What about your grandson?” Slim
asked, as they pulled away from the gas station.
“Oh he’s got his snow shoes. Has
to check the trap line on the way home. We’ll meet him there. Might even beat
us. That boy can cut country fast.”
“Really?” Slim raised an eye
brow. He wasn’t familiar with snowshoes, trap lines and cutting country. They
were strange terms to him. All he knew was computers, hard drives, accounting
books and stocks.
“There’s the place up ahead. It
ain’t much, but we don’t complain. We got a roof over our head, food on the
table and warm beds. What’s there to complain about?” Pop laughed.
Wasn’t much, was right. It
didn’t look like any house Slim had ever seen. It didn’t have nice vinyl
siding, shingled roof, pillared front porch or nice sidewalk. It was no more
than a log cabin, very rustic in appearance, with a tin roof and stone slabs
for the walkway up to the door. A dog barked from where he was chained up at
the red barn door. Pop stopped the car in front of a lean-to that served as the
car garage.
“Howdy Mr. Jones,” Dusty
appeared around the side of the house. Strapped to his boots were snowshoes and
slung over his shoulders were a few empty traps.
Slim nodded politely to the boy
as he got out of the car.
“Hey Pop, I tied Shotgun up in
the barn,” Dusty turned to Slim with apologetic smile. “He don’t take to
strangers.”
“Welcome here, Slim,” Pop said,
taking his suitcase and computer bag out of the back seat. “Come on in.”
“I can carry my stuff,” Slim
tried to take the suitcase from Pop, but the older man refused.
“Nothing doing, you’re company,”
Pop told him. “Dusty, you get those traps put away and then come in and wash up
for dinner.”
“Yes sir,” Dusty sang out and
disappeared around the cabin again.
Slim was hesitant to set foot in
the `rickety’ old cabin, but Pop opened the door and showed him inside. “Come
on in, have a seat.”
The inside of the cabin was neat
and clean and it didn’t have a dirt floor like Slim expected. The floor was
hardwood and plain light bulbs hung from the ceiling. There was a fairly new
refrigerator and a counter with a sink and cupboards. In the middle of the room
was a big table with six chairs. A girl, about 19 or so, stood at the wood
stove stirring pots. She had long blond hair that hung in a braid down her back
past her waist. She was dressed in Wrangler jeans and a sweater with an apron
over top.
“Howdy Pop,” she smiled.
“Supper almost ready Liz?” Pop
asked.
“Sure thing. As soon as you sit
in.”
“Bobby! Timmy!” Pop hollered.
“Coming Pop!” echoed from
further back in the cabin. Two boys ages 12 and 8 skidded around the corner.
“Is that guy here?” the youngest asked.
“Boys,” Pop looked at them
sharply as though to help them remember their manners. “This is Mr. Slim Jones.
Slim, these are my grandkids, Liz, Bobby and Little Timmy.”
“Howdy,” the boys grinned at
him. They were dressed in Wranglers and flannel shirts.
Slim felt out of place. His life
consisted of suburban living and office work, not rustic cabins and country
life. The chair he sat on was rickety and he thought if he put his full weight
on it, the thing would fall apart. So he sat straight and stiff and nodded
politely to the boys.
“Take Slim’s bags to your room,
and put clean sheets on the bottom bunk for Slim.”
“Yes sir,” Bobby and Timmy
grabbed up the bags and hauled them off to their room. “I get to sleep on the
floor!” Timmy sang out happily.
Slim was a little horrified. He
thought if anyone had to sleep on the floor that would be cruel, but Little
Timmy acted like it was an adventure.
“Let me take your coat for you,”
Pop offered and hung Slim’s coat up on a hanger behind the door.
The next moment, Dusty came in
the door with a gust of cold air.
“Shut the door quick!” Liz
hollered, “You wasn’t’ born in a barn.”
“Sorry sis,” Dusty grunted, “The
wind kind-of caught the door. That storm’s setting in. It’s a good thing you
decided to stay with us, Mr. Slim,” he took his boots off.
“Yah,” Slim muttered. The last
place on earth he wanted to be snowed in at, was this drafty old cabin.
“Maybe you’d like to get washed
up, Slim?” Pop asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but turned to Dusty. “Show
Slim to the washroom and get cleaned up yourself. I’ll help Liz get the supper on.”
“Yes sir,” Dusty nodded as he
took off his coat and hat and hung them on a peg.
Slim followed the boy into the
living room then around the corner to the bathroom. The living room fireplace
was made of stone and set in the wall between the living room and two bed rooms
in the back. Another bedroom was behind the kitchen next to the bathroom.
To Slim’s horror and disgust,
deer heads and elk and even a bear rug, hung on the cabin walls. He had never
seen anything like them before and it almost turned his stomach to see those
beady eyes staring right through him. Another shock was the furniture; all
homemade of thin logs, the couch, chairs and a bench were all cushioned, but
also had grey furs hung over the backs of them. A big black fur rug lay on the
middle of the floor. Off to the side of the crackling fire place, stood a big
pine, that reached to the log cabin’s ceiling. A string of light bulbs circled it
as well as a popcorn string and other Christmas tree ornaments, most of them
wood carvings of animals.
In another corner of the room
stood a roll top desk with an `ancient’ looking computer, maybe window’s ’98.
Nearby was a table with a radio and record player. On the opposite wall stood
three bookshelves, all lined with books.
“You’re lucky you came this year
instead of seven years ago. We only had an outhouse then and for baths we had
to heat our water on the stove,” Dusty was saying, “Now we not only have indoor
plumbing but a water heater too.”
Slim raised an eyebrow. What
kind of people were they? Didn’t everyone live with the comforts of
civilization? He was surprised at the lack of electric plug-ins around the
cabin. He only had seen three since entering the house, (all had been on inside
walls) and he wondered where he might plug in his computer. He was sure they
didn’t have internet access from the look of their own computer and he noticed
right away that they didn’t have a T.V. How was he going to survive his stay?
After washing up, he and Dusty
returned to the kitchen where they sat in at the table. What Slim saw was a big
meal of mashed potatoes, corn and beef steak.
“You didn’t have to put a big
meal on for me,” Slim said.
Liz looked taken back. “We
always eat like this.”
Now it was Slim’s turn to be
surprised. He looked around at the boys and Pop. None looked over weight or
like they ate big meals everyday. He wondered how poor these people really
were. Where was the store-bought bread or pastas?
“Work so hard we come in like
hungry bears,” Dusty said reaching for the potato pot.
Pop cleared his throat and Dusty
withdrew his hand. They all bowed their heads and folded their hands Slim
imitated them, feeling quite out of place.
“Father in Heaven, We thank Thee
for Thy blessings; for this food; for work and play and for guests to share our
blessings with. Also we pray for the unfortunate who are not rich like we are
and who don’t have food to put on the table; be with them and supply their
needs. Help us remember the real meaning of this Christmas season, In Jesus
name Amen.”
“Amen!” echoed round the table
as heads came up.
If these people weren’t poor,
then what was poor?
“Well, Slim,” Pop turned to him,
“Guests first. Help yourself.”
Feeling awkward, he dished up
his food and then passed it on to the next person. He was surprised at the
kid’s manners. They were all polite.
“Saw your computer in the living
room there,” he commented.
“That belongs to Dusty,” Pop said.
“Got it for a bargain. Only ten
bucks,” Dusty sounded proud of himself. Slim raised an eyebrow, the computer
was useless and outdated as far as he was concerned.
“I have office work to do; think
I could use your internet connection with my laptop?” He was hopeful and
doubtful at the same time, if that is possible.
“Internet connection is slow and
my computer only works half the time with it,” Dusty informed him.
“You have a laptop?” Bobby’s
eyes lit up. “Can we see it?”
“Hush Bobby,” Pop scolded, “That
ain’t something you should be asking.”
“Sorry Pop,” Bobby nodded.
“Sure you can use the
connection, if it will work,” Pop told him. “I don’t understand all these
gizmos myself,” he chuckled.
After supper while Liz and the
younger two boys washed up the dishes, Dusty showed Slim the phone jack. To
Slim’s dismay, the dial-up connection was so slow, his computer wouldn’t
connect. After ten minutes, he gave up trying. Bobby and Timmy peeked in the
living room every few minutes to get a look at the lap top.
“If you don’t have T.V, how do
you stay on top of the news?” Slim asked, itching to sit down and watch.
“The radio of course,” Dusty
answered patting the stereo. Dusty disappeared into the kitchen to play a game
of checkers with Pop. The other two boys were playing Snakes and Ladders with
Liz.
Slim didn’t understand how
people could stand such a slow pace life. He turned the radio on, but the local
station only aired old time radio shows from the 30’es to the 50’es, and local
news every other hour. He tried to find another station, but all he got was static.
“Are you sure you won’t join
us?” Pop invited him to a game of checkers, but Slim shook his head stating he
preferred to watch. He sat in the corner of the kitchen pretending to read a
newspaper but watching them play their games. They seemed too happy in their
simple life.
When Pop announced it was time
to go to bed, the younger boys groaned, but the games were put away and the
family Bible pulled out. Slim quickly excused himself, saying he needed to use
the facilities. Slim quickly got ready for bed. Clearly he was feeling sorry
for himself. Out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be him who
got stuck in a shack in the woods with some 21st century hillbillies?
When he opened the bathroom
door, Timmy was standing outside dressed in flannel pajamas. “You get to sleep
in my bed, can I show you?” He grabbed Slim’s hand and pulled him along to the
boy’s bed room. There was a bunk bed, obviously homemade, and a cot.
“My bed is the softest in the
whole house, except for Liz’s, “Timmy showed him the bottom bunk.
“Look kid, it’s nice of you to
give me your bed and all, but I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” Slim
said eyeing the fur rug on the boy’s floor. It had a wolf’s head and the wolf
looked mean and snarling.
“Well, Dusty said I couldn’t,
`cause it’s too cold this time of year. If it was summer I could, I have to
share the cot with Bobby,” he said rather sadly. It was a big disappointment to
the boy.
“What do you want for
Christmas?” Timmy asked.
“Uh…” Slim wasn’t sure what to
do with this boy and all the attention he was giving him.
“To bed, Timmy,” Pop stuck his
head in the bedroom door.
“Yes sir,” Timmy turned and got
into the cot.
“I hope you have a good sleep,
Slim,” Pop said.
“Thank you,” Slim nodded and Pop
left. Slim quickly turned out the light and climbed into bed. Timmy was right,
it was soft, the softest bed he’d ever slept on.
Moments later the two other boys
crept in the room and climbed into their beds.
“Is he asleep?” Bobby whispered.
Slim kept his eyes half shut,
the firelight from the living room giving enough glow for him to see the
outline of the boys.
Dusty hung down from the top
bunk and looked at him up-side-down. “Yep.”
“He sure is nice,” Timmy
whispered. “He didn’t want me to sleep on the floor. I wish I could, ’cause I’d
just sleep on wolf; he’s warm.” Timmy hung out of the cot to pet the ugly wolf
head.
Slim shuddered.
“Get back in bed, Timmy,” Dusty
ordered.
“Yah, move over,” Bobby pushed
his brother over so he could have more room.
All was quiet for about two
minutes.
“What do you think we’re getting
for Christmas?” Bobby wanted to know. “Liz always gets us new PJ’s every year; I
wish she’d get us something else.”
“She only gets them ’cause we
need ’em,” Dusty told him, “Don’t be so picky.”
“What do you think Pop will get
us?” Bobby asked. “I hope we get some more story books.”
“I want a new nativity set for under
the Christmas tree,” Timmy said.
“Maybe he’ll get us another
game,” Dusty said.
“I want a harmonica,” Timmy
sighed.
“New snow gloves would be nice,”
Bobby said wishfully.
“A new sled,” Timmy added to his
list.
Slim turned over so he faced the
wall. The room grew quiet again when the boys heard their guest moving around.
“I think we’re waking him up. We
should go to sleep now,” Dusty suggested. The room fell quiet again.
Slim again was struck by their
simple happy lives. They didn’t want electronic toys or Nintendo games, just
simple things. What made them all so happy?
When
Slim Jones was sure it was the middle of the night, he heard the boys getting
up and getting dressed. He kept his eyes shut, wanted to go back to sleep. They
whispered to each other and then left the room. The whole cabin felt colder and
Slim shivered under his covers. How could anyone live in a drafty place like
this?
He checked the time on his watch.
5:14 a.m. The blue light faded and Slim wanted to groan. Who in the world got
up that early? He drifted back to sleep, but it wasn’t very restful. He heard
the outside door bang several times and the crackling from the fire place as
Pop got the fire going again. Then there were the smells. Liz was baking
something. Once in a while he heard loud whispers, but on the whole, they tried
to be quiet.
Sleep had set in again, when the
door to the bed room banged against the wall and the most horrible sound, Slim
had ever heard, reached his ears. It was still dark and he couldn’t make out or
distinguish what animal it came from, but he was sure it was a bird from the
flapping wings and the “Gobble, gobble” sound it made.
“Get that thing out of my house
and don’t let it back in until it’s good and dead!” Liz hissed.
“Now Liz, it was an accident,”
Pop spoke quietly.
“Timmy, where’d he go?” Dusty
whispered loudly.
“In our bed room,” Timmy spoke
from the bedroom doorway. “I got him cornered.”
“Don’t let him get away!” Bobby
spoke hoarsely.
“Be quiet or you’ll wake up Mr.
Jones,” Liz whispered loudly.
Slim was wide awake. Who could
sleep with an unknown beast in the house? He saw two beady eyes looking right
at him and then a hard peck hit his shoulders through the covers.
“Ouch!” Slim hollered.
“Grab him Timmy!”
There was a thump and squawking,
wing flapping and shouting and then the rebel turkey was hauled out of the boys’
room and Slim heard the boys going out the cabin door.
“You all right Mr. Jones?” Pop
poked his head in the room.
“Yah… yah, just peachy.”
“Sorry if we woke you,” Pop
apologized. “That was our rebel turkey. I guess he objects to this holiday
season,” the old man chuckled.
Slim gulped and sat up in bed in
a hurry. That turkey was going to be dinner? WHAK! His head hit the wood on the
top bunk. Stars flashed across his vision.
He let out a groan. “Don’t worry, Pop, I’m awake now.”
“Here’s a cup of coffee. Perhaps
you’d like to shave while Lizy gets breakfast ready.”
That sounded very welcoming, so
Jones accepted the cup of coffee and got up and dressed. Finding his electric
razor, he closed the bathroom door, plugged it in and started shaving. Suddenly
the lights in the bathroom went out and his shaver died.
“What the…?” Slim was surprised
and a little annoyed.
The bathroom door opened and
Dusty stuck his head in. “You blew the breaker,” he informed him as a matter a
fact.
“Blew the breaker!” Slim
couldn’t quite comprehend that.
“Yah see, you can’t shave with
an electric razor when the refrigerator cuts in. That’s why Pop just uses a
regular razor. I’ll see if you can borrow his. It’s there in the cabinet with
the brush and shaving cream.”
“If it’s that bad, why don’t you
get it fixed.”
“Get what fixed? There’s nothing
wrong with it, we just can’t plug in anything
here when the refrigerator cuts in,” Dusty tried his best to explain. He
couldn’t understand what Slim’s problem was.
The bathroom lights came back
on. Pop’s head came around the corner beside Dusty’s. “Help yourself to my
razor and cream, Slim,” Pop waved his hand to the cabinet. “Oh, and sorry about
the power there, see it’s them electric razors; when the refrigerator cuts in…”
“The breaker blows,” Slim
nodded; he hid his irritation. “Dusty was just telling me.”
“Yep, well sorry about that, but
like I said, help yourself…”
“To your razor and shaving
cream; Thank you,” Slim took a deep breath and tried to control himself.
“Happy shaving,” Pop said
merrily and closed the door.
“Happy shaving,” Slim grumbled.
He rinsed the brush, then busied himself buttering up the cream and putting it
on his face; the half that wasn’t done. It took him longer, but when he
finished, he turned the water on to rinse his face and let out a holler. The
water was ice cold!
The door opened and Bobby stuck
his head in, “Pop said to check and see if something was wrong.”
Slim cringed. “No, nothing
wrong, just the fact that the waters too cold to rinse my face.” His patience
was wearing thin.
“Oh, that’s cause Liz had her bubble
bath this morning. She used all the hot water and the water heater is slow in
catching up.”
“Oh,” Slim muttered.
“Yah, I don’t know why girls
have to have bubble baths, but you know, we’re guys. Hey I can heat up some
water on the stove for ya. Hang on and I’ll be right back with some.”
It took fifteen minutes for
Bobby to return, which gave time for Slim to `cool’ off. The cream that was
left on his face had begun to dry and make his skin feel sticky. Bobby poured
the water in the sink, and the stream rose. It was boiling hot!
When Slim finally got out of the
bathroom, breakfast was on. The McCoy’s had graciously waited for him. After
Pop prayed, he began dishing up the hot steaming…
“What is that?” Slim questioned,
swallowing hard. It looked like watered down mashed potatoes, but it wasn’t the
right color and it was lumpy.
“Porridge of course,” Bobby
informed him, like Slim should know.
There were no cereal boxes on
the table, no energy bars, only a pot of porridge, a large glass jar of
homemade granola and a pitcher of milk. He watched Timmy fill his bowl of
granola, and followed the boy’s example. He checked the milk before pouring it
over his bowl. The milk looked normal enough. After ten spoonfuls, Slim knew
he’d made a mistake. He was full. Across the table, Timmy ate like he was
starved.
Not knowing what they would
think if he didn’t finish it, he forced it down.
“You should head for your bath
now, Timmy,” Liz told her young brother.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Come on out for a tour of the
place,” Pop offered. He got up and slapped Slim on the back. With an over
stuffed stomach, he rose and followed Pop outside, pulling his coat on as he
went.
“Oh just a minute,” Pop stuck
his head back in the house. “Dusty, you better take care of that turkey, and
pronto.”
“Yes sir.”
Slim shivered at the cold
morning air and wondered what taking care of the turkey meant. He didn’t have
to wait long to find out. Dusty followed them out, dressed in his winter
clothes and carrying a hatchet.
“Better sharpen it,” Pop
advised.
“Yes sir,” Dusty nodded and
grinned. He waved at Slim with the hatchet as he headed off for the barn. “I
sure hope you get to stay for turkey dinner tomorrow.”
Slim’s stomach turned.
“It would be nice if you could
stay, we don’t get company often, let alone at Christmas time, but this being
Christmas Eve and all, I do hope that part gets here so we can send you on your
way.”
“I’m sure Grandma is anxious,”
Slim responded, fighting to get his mind off the turkey that was about to lose
his life, for Christmas dinner.
They walked a bit and then Pop
started pointing things out. “That trail there leads off to Dusty’s trap line.
Furs expensive these days, so they bring a fair price.”
Slim was beginning to understand
what trap-line meant.
“During the summer we have our
garden patch over that way,” Pop pointed off in a different direction. “And
this is the barn.”
Shotgun started barking with a
low growl. “Hush up!” Pop commanded. “We won’t go in because of Shotgun. He
doesn’t have manners yet when it comes to strangers.”
Slim nodded, grateful not to be
near the dog. From the sound of his growl, he didn’t want to meet him anywhere.
“There’s Betsy, she’s our milk
cow,” Pop pointed to the pen behind the barn. “This building here is the
chicken coop and that building there is the trapping shack.
The door to the shack was open
as they passed, and Slim looked in with curiosity. What he saw, turned his
stomach. “Howdy Mr. Slim,” Dusty grinned from ear to ear. A dead turkey sat in
a pail between his legs and half the bird had no feathers. “Just getting Rebel
ready for tomorrow.”
Slim quickly turned away,
holding his stomach.
Dusty frowned with puzzlement.
“Something look wrong with Rebel?”
“Mr. Jones?” Pop questioned, a
little worried. “Are you alright.”
“Yah, yah, I’m just fine…” Slim
began to hurry back towards the cabin.
“I think maybe he ain’t use to
seeing dead turkeys,” Pop told Dusty.
“Can’t be that Pop,” Dusty shook
his head. “I mean, what do them city folks think the turkeys in the store are?”
Back in the cabin, Slim took off
his coat and boots and warmed up by the stove. He couldn’t understand how
people could live every day of their lives like this. He watched Liz near by
placing gingerbread on cookie sheets. Timmy helped her, when he wasn’t licking
his fingers.
Bobby appeared around the corner
with wet hair. “Finished Lizy. Can I help now?”
“You sure can,” Liz smiled at
him.
Pop waved his hand at Slim,
“Perhaps you’d like a shower while there’s still hot water. We’ll be heading
into town later.”
“Yes, I think I would like
that,” Slim readily agreed. A hot shower sounded good. He could warm up and he
wanted to be clean before heading into town.
Pop handed him a clean towel but
as he headed for the bathroom, Bobby called after him, “Don’t shower too long.”
Remembering the icy cold water from that morning, he took the boys warning
seriously, but what he didn’t know was how long was too long. Five minutes into his shower he found out and let out a
holler.
“Hey Mr. Slim?” Bobby was at the
bathroom door, “Liz just started doing dishes.”
“I noticed,” Slim grumbled back.
When
it was time to leave for town, Slim was more than grateful to get away from the
place. The boys put his bags in the trunk, then they all piled into the station
wagon. The boys sat in the back seat, while Pop, Liz and Slim took the front.
“We left Christmas gift shopping
till the last minute this year; had to pay the bills first. You warm back there
boys?”
“Sure Pop,” Dusty told him.
“Course Gibson’s Christmas stock
was late coming up this year,” Pop chattered on.
Slim didn’t respond much. He
practically hugged the door. He couldn’t wait until his car was fixed and he
was back on the road and headed for civilization.
Hudsonville was tiny with only a
few stores, one café, post office, Hotel (that was closed for the holidays),
town hall, school and church. There were many other boarded up buildings and
homes in town. It looked like a dying community. Gibson’s store served as a
grocery store as well as clothes, farm supply, toys, etc… It was a modern
General store. Slim had never seen the like before. He was used to shopping
malls and gigantic stores.
A small hand slipped into his
and he looked down Timmy grinned up at him. “You better stick with me, Mr.
Slim; Don’t want to get lost.”
Slim had to grin. Chances of him
getting lost in a place like this were very small. He wondered what Timmy would
say if he ever set foot in a huge mall.
“Tell me something, kid,” Slim
said as he watched the others going about their Christmas shopping. “How come
you kids live with your grandpa?”
“Mommy and Daddy were
missionaries and they died,” Timmy told him. “I don’t remember them,” he added
sadly.
Slim swallowed hard. He
understood all too well. His Grandmother had raised him through his high school
years, which was the reason he wished to get home for Christmas. His
Grandmother meant a lot to him, considering he didn’t speak with his father
anymore; she was the only family he had. What Slim couldn’t understand was why
the McCoy children were so happy. It made no sense now. They had lost their
parents, they lived in a shack and didn’t own the latest toys, gizmos or
clothes. How could they be so happy with so little? And rich Slim Jones felt
nothing but emptiness in his busy hectic life.
“Slim?”
Pop pulled him aside at lunch, “The fuel pump hasn’t come yet. It should be
here this afternoon. Join us for lunch at the café. Old Ma Perkins is facing a
tough year, so we try to give her business when we’re in town.”
The afternoon went by slowly. By
supper time the fuel pump still hadn’t come and according to Pop, the highway
was closed because it hadn’t been cleared yet. They had supper at the café, and
then invited Slim to the Christmas Eve service at the church. Since he had
nothing to do and because the kids begged him to come watch them in the
program, Slim agreed.
He hadn’t been in a church for
years. As he stepped into the little white church, he heard the organ playing
Silent Night and a flood of memories from Christmases past rushed through his
mind. He sat with Pop and Liz and watched the Christmas story unfold on the
stage. Little Timmy was a sheep and wore a wool lined jacket inside out. Bobby
was the shepherd and Dusty, Joseph and Mary’s donkey. Other children played the
other parts.
All around him, Slim was
surrounded by country folks. Some were farmers, others ranchers and some town
folks. Slim couldn’t figure it out. Everyone was, to his standard, `poor’, yet
they were all happy.
“For God so loved the world,
that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him, should not
perish, but have everlasting life.” (John3:16) Timmy quoted. Each child had a
verse to say before they sang `O Little Town of Bethlehem.’
Slim quietly got up and walked
out. The air was cold and the night was coming on. He could see his breath in
the light from the church windows. Looking up at the stars he tried to sort out
his thoughts.
“Mr. Jones?” Pop came out the
church doors and stood beside him. “Is something wrong?”
Slim turned to face the old man
with the white hair. “I don’t get it. You people have nothing. You’re poor by
my standard; the kids lost their parents, and yet you’re still all happy. I
have it all; I have a good business, I’m rich, live in a fancy hotel, support
my Grandma and I feel like the Christmas Monster.”
Pop was quiet for a few minutes
before he answered. “Maybe you’re missing something, Slim.”
“Yah, well I’d like to know what
it is, because I don’t get how you can say, God is love and be so happy when
four kids don’t have parents?”
Pop was quiet again. “Even Timmy
could answer your question, Slim. You see, his parents are in heaven now.
They’re with Jesus. Sure the kids miss their folks, but they know without a shadow
of a doubt, that God is, and will always take care of them. They know
they can trust Him to provide for all their needs, even if they don’t
understand everything that He allows into their lives.”
Pop left Slim and went back
inside. After a few minutes, Slim returned and sat down beside Pop. He figured
the kids would notice he’d left and ask questions later, which he was not ready
to answer.
The play ended with the `angels’
(the adult choir) singing “O Come All Ye Faithful.” Then the pastor got up for
a few closing words. “Because of man’s sin, and because God loves us, He made a
way that we could make our peace with Him, and He did that through His Son,
Jesus Christ. Romans10 verses 9 and 10 say, `That if thou shalt confess with
thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised
him from the dead, thou shalt be saved. For with the heart man believeth unto
righteousness; and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.’
“Folks it’s when we repent that
we are saved. This Christmas, let the Savior in. The Lord Himself said, `My
peace I give you.’ You want peace and happiness? Let the Lord wash you clean
from all sin, the garbage in your life, so that you can be filled with peace
and happiness.”
The service ended with everyone
singing `Joy to the World.’ Slim mouthed the words; he couldn’t find his voice
to sing. Deep down his conscience had been pricked.
“Hey Mr. Slim, how’d you like
our play?” Timmy asked, grabbing on to the man’s hand as they left the church.
“It was sure something,” Slim
answered weakly.
“Do up your coat, Timmy,” Liz
scolded him.
“Mr. Jones, I thought we’d drop
by the garage and see how Hiram’s making out. Maybe that fuel pump made it
through.” Pop had everyone pile back into the station wagon and they drove to
the edge of town were the gas station and garage stood.
Hiram was behind the counter
chewing gum and reading a newspaper when they came in. “Howdy Pop,” he looked
up as he and Slim entered. “How was the Christmas Eve service?”
“Went good. Have any customers?”
“Oh a few. Pa Carter on his way
home. Good thing we stayed open; Pa Carter was near out of gas. Fred Brown was
by too.”
“Their baby come yet?”
“Yep, a boy. Said they just got
home yesterday before the storm hit. Can’t remember the baby’s name for trying,
but I’m sure he said it.”
“Oh I expect we’ll be hearing it
all over town soon.”
“Yep,” Hiram nodded. “Smith was
by soon after Fred left. Said he already had his first calf. Wasn’t too happy
it came this early, but you know how it is.”
“What about the fuel pump?” Slim
sputtered. His patience was worn thin. He could feel his face getting hot.
Both men turned to look at him a
little surprised at his outburst. “Sorry Mr. Jones,” Pop apologized, “We
kind-of got sidetracked.” He turned to Hiram. “Did it come, Hiram?”
“’Fraid not,” Hiram shook his
head, “I’m terribly sorry Mr. Jones.”
Slim threw his hands up and
turned away discouraged.
“I’ll make a few phone calls,”
Pop told him. “Maybe we can make something happen. Hiram, could you tell the
kids to shut the car off and come in. We might be here for a little bit.”
“Sure Pop,” Hiram pulled on his
work coat and hat.
While Pop made a few phone
calls, the McCoy children filed in the door and sat on the bench in front of
the window. Liz found the old newspapers behind the counter and pulled out the
cartoons for the boys to read.
Pop hung up and turned to Slim.
“I’m sorry Slim. That fuel pump isn’t coming until after Christmas. With the
snow we got, it delayed it down the line somewhere. Why don’t you spend the
night and tomorrow maybe we can work some other way of getting you to your
grandmother’s.”
Slim wanted to kick something in
frustration, but he restrained himself. Timmy on the other hand, jumped up and
down. “Yeah! Mr. Slim gets to spend Christmas with us. This is going to be the
best Christmas ever!”
Slim cringed.
“If the highway is open
tomorrow, you could even borrow our car,” Pop offered.
The last place Slim wanted to go
was back to the McCoy cabin. But that’s where he found himself headed. Timmy
and Bobby were excited and sang `Jingle Bells,’ the whole way back to the
cabin. Slim Jones’s bad mood didn’t show until they reached the little house up
the mountain, then when Timmy saw Slim’s scowling face, the joy left his face
and he became sad.
After making a quick call to his
grandmother, he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. While he was brushing
his teeth, he heard whispers out in the living room. Timmy was upset. “How come
Mr. Slim ain’t happy?”
“I think he misses his
grandmother,” Liz told him.
“And maybe he needs the love of
Jesus to fill his heart, but he hasn’t let Jesus in to clean his heart out yet,
and so he isn’t happy,” Pop explained quietly.
“Oh,” Timmy muttered. “Well then
I’m going to pray for him right now.”
“That’s a good idea,” Pop said.
“Dear Jesus,” Timmy’s young
voice spoke clearly, “Please help Mr. Slim to open his heart to You so You can
clean it out and fill it with joy. Also, could you send the fuel pump for his
car so he can get to his grandma’s for Christmas. In Jesus name, Amen.”
If ever Slim felt miserable, it
was right then. He felt sorry for getting upset and at the same time, remorse.
These people weren’t so bad, neither was their cabin, even if it was a little
shabby outside. He decided he would like them and give the kids a little
something for Christmas, and then maybe he’d feel better and it would ease his
conscience.
The next morning Slim woke to
the smell of turkey cooking in the oven. He closed his eyes and then it felt
like he was at his grandma’s, waking up in the big bed up in his room. His
Grandmother would be down stairs getting their Christmas dinner ready. It was a
perfect dream, if he didn’t remember Rebel the turkey with his head cut off and
Dusty plucking the dead bird. His day dream was interrupted by Timmy shaking
the whole bunk bed.
“Wake up Mr. Slim, it’s
Christmas!”
Slim muttered something about
still being sleepy, but Timmy didn’t hear. He dragged Slim out of bed by first
throwing back the covers, then grabbing his legs and pulling them out and into
a pair of fur slippers. Then pulling with all his might on Slim’s arms, he
pulled the man out of bed.
“Come on Slim, you’re going to
miss out on the gifts!” Before he was yanked out of the room, Slim grabbed his
robe and pulled it on over top of his pajamas.
In the living room, the McCoy’s
had gathered around the tree. Everyone was dressed except Timmy and Slim. The
others had chores and things to do outside before the gifts could be opened.
“So glad you could join us,
Slim,” Pop looked up from his rocking chair. Soft Christmas music played on the
radio and in the hearth, the fire crackled.
Slim nodded sleepily and sank on
to the couch. Timmy plopped down beside him.
“Before we open the gifts, we
read a little of the Christmas story,” Pop said opening his Bible. “Which part
is that, Timmy?”
“The wise men!” Timmy shouted
eagerly.
“And why is that?” Pop asked
him.
“Because they gave gifts to Jesus
and that’s why we give gifts to each other.”
“Jesus gave a gift too,” Pop
reminded him. “That gift was Himself. He knew we couldn’t save ourselves from
the penalty of sin, so he came and took our place.”
“Yep,” Timmy nodded, “And that’s
why we give gifts to each other.”
“I think Timmy’s trying to
hint,” Bobby said, eager himself.
Pop chuckled. “First the story
and then the gifts.” He put his reading glasses on and then began to read in a
steady even voice. When the story was over, Timmy was squirming with
anticipation. Pop gave a nod, and the eight-year-old bolted off the couch,
making a dive for the presents under the tree.
Slim noticed all the presents
were wrapped in old newspaper. His sleepiness was finally wearing off and he
remembered he was going to give them something. “Excuse me a minute,” he got up
and quickly retreated to the boy’s room. He placed $20.00 each in envelopes for
the four kids, and added mint candy before sealing them closed. When he came
back out, Timmy was waiting with a newspaper wrapped package for him.
“This one’s for you, Slim,”
Timmy dumped it in his lap. “I wrapped it myself.”
Slim grinned. He felt good to
grin. It was hard not to like the little fellow and the package did look rather funny. It was an awkward
ball shape and it looked like he used lots of tape. “Should I guess what it is
first?”
“Na, `cause you’ll never get
it,” Timmy said confidently.
It took a long time to get
through the tape, but when he did, he found a homemade slingshot. “Uh… thank you
Timmy. This is great. I’ve never had a slingshot before.”
“You can do all sorts of things
with it. Bobby and I shoot squirrels that try to get in the granary and make a
mess of the feed.”
“Here, open mine,” Bobby begged.
His was a little more neatly wrapped, and Slim found inside…
“What is it?” He was afraid it
was a live animal. The grey and black fur was so real. Slowly he pushed it off
his lap, scared it might attack.
Timmy and Bobby laughed.
“It’s a coonskin hat, Mr. Slim.
I made it myself. Now you’ll be the only business man in your big fancy office
with a genuine fur coonskin hat.”
“Is it dead?”
The boys laughed. “Of course
it’s dead. It’s only the fur, see?” Bobby pulled it out and showed him. It
looked less threatening on Bobby’s head. “I don’t know why you’re so scared of
it. You seem to like the fur slippers well enough.”
Slim looked with horror at his
feet and then grinned at himself. No wonder they had been so warm!
“And you’re leaning on that
coyote on the back of the couch,” Timmy pointed out.
“Yah, I guess it is a little
silly of me, isn’t it?” Slim laughed at himself.
“Here’s Liz’s gift for you,”
Dusty offered him a neatly wrapped package. “She made it herself.”
Slim opened it to find a
homemade knit scarf. “Thank you Liz,” he nodded and smiled.
“Here’s mine,” Dusty gave him
another. It contained a hand razor, brush and cream. “For the next time you
visit us,” Dusty grinned at him.
“And here’s mine for you,” Pop
offered him another package. Inside he found homemade leather gloves.
“Thank you,” Slim smiled at all
of them. “This is a Christmas I’ll never forget. I have something for you kids
too.” He passed out his envelopes. “I don’t know what sorts of things you folks
like, but this way you can get whatever you want.”
“Thank you Slim!”
“Wow, twenty bucks!”
“Mr. Slim, have you asked Jesus
into your heart?” Timmy suddenly asked.
Slim was taken off guard. He had
hoped if he was `happy’ for Timmy, the little guy’s Christmas wouldn’t be
spoiled.
“Well Timmy, when I was a kid I
prayed to God, so I figure that prayer will have to do.”
“You don’t believe in God, do
you?” Timmy asked.
The room fell silent. The only
noise came from the crackling fire. Slim felt cornered. How could such a nice
kid be so annoying?
“Tell me this, kid, did God
answer your prayer to bring the car part for my car? No. Well, there you have
it.” He shifted uneasy, aware of all the eyes watching him.
Timmy watched him closely with
sad eyes. “Slim, God does everything in His own timing. He could bring that fuel
pump right now, even right to the door if He wanted. It’s not about what we get
or don’t get when we pray, but if we’re willing to trust God and have faith He
can do anything and that He knows what’s best for us.”
Slim was a little surprised. For
a little kid, he sure had confidence. It made him wish he could believe just
like Timmy.
“Pop,” Bobby’s voice broke the
awkward silence that followed Timmy’s explanation.
“What is it Bobby?”
“A car just pulled into the
yard.”
They all got up and looked out
the window. A loud knock came on the door. Pop hurried to open it. “Oh, Thomas.
This is a pleasant surprise. Will you join us?”
“No, I have urgent business and
I just dropped by to deliver a message to you and to Slim.”
Slim moved passed the kids to
stand next to Pop in the open doorway. The stranger was the same Thomas who had
picked him up. Nice blue suit and silky tie with overcoat, shiny shoes and hat.
Thomas smiled at Slim, his eyes twinkled.
“I delivered the fuel pump to
Hiram down at the garage. He should have the car running in an hour.”
“How’d you get up here in all
that snow? The radio said the highway would be closed until late this
afternoon, maybe.”
Thomas again smiled. “That is
something I can’t tell you,” and he winked at Timmy. Turning to Slim Jones, his
face became a little more serious. “Your grandmother has been praying for you,”
and with that, he turned and left.
Pop slowly closed the door.
Timmy beamed with joy. “God did it. God did it! He got the fuel pump up the
mountain to us!”
Slim Jones was very quiet.
Pop reached for his hat and
coat. “I should go give Hiram a hand. I’m sure Slim would like to be on his way
to his grandma’s as soon as possible.”
Slim stood like a statue, rooted
to the floor.
“Are you alright Mr. Slim?”
Timmy asked.
“Yah… I just need to be alone to
get some things right.” He slowly turned to the boy’s bedroom and closed the
door.
“Hallelujah!” Liz sighed.
“Amen,” Dusty added.
Pop smiled at his grandkids.
“What a beautiful beginning to Christmas day!”
“I can hear angels singing!”
Timmy announced.
“Don’t be silly,” Liz laughed,
“That’s only the radio.”
But outside on the cabin roof,
an angel did sing and his voice blended with those on the radio. Shotgun did
not bark at the stranger on the roof, but lay with his head on his paws, his
ears perked.
Pop hurried down to the garage
and in less than an hour later, returned with Slim Jones’ car.
“Well Slim,” Pop said, smiling
at the business man, “I sure do hope you can stop in again some time, since
you’re going to miss out on Liz’s turkey dinner and all.”
Slim Jones smiled. A burden had
been lifted from his heart and though he didn’t `feel’ much different, a change
had come over him. “Uh… well that’s alright, Pop,” after all he still hadn’t
forgot that the turkey was Rebel. “I better be getting to Grandma’s as quick as
I can. She’ll be having a turkey dinner ready for me there.” Somehow he didn’t
feel much like turkey though.
“You’ll come again, won’t you?”
Timmy begged, pulling on Slim’s arm.
“Of course I will. I’ll stop on
my way back and maybe next year too.” He grinned down at the eager little boy.
“Yahoo!” Timmy shouted and ran
for Bobby. He tackled his brother and they fell down in a snow drift.
“Well, thanks for everything,”
Slim said, shaking hands all around.
“Here’s some sandwiches for the
road,” Liz offered a brown paper bag.
“Thanks,” he smiled.
“Turkey sandwiches; I found a little
meat in the freezer. That’s so you don’t miss out on our turkey dinner.”
“Yah, only that ain’t Rebel,”
Timmy informed him, coming up covered in snow. “That was Mr. Santa Claws. He
didn’t make it for Christmas; we had him for Thanksgiving.”
Slim swallowed hard. “Uh… well
thank you again.” He turned to his car. Dusty put his bags in the back seat.
“Safe driving,” Pop called as
Slim started the engine.
He waved to them all as he drove
away from the little hillbilly cabin.
“Uh… Lord, thanks for not giving
up on this prodigal,” Slim spoke as he drove. “That fellow Thomas, I think he’s
one of Your angels. Thanks for sending him and uh… for the other five McCoy
`angels’ you put in my path.”
The End
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