To keep things moving, I didn’t stop to check the take in between the businesses. I just dumped one jar or can into the next, combining them as I went along. By the end of the first day all the change was packed in two large jars, and I carried them up to my room. I saw a few bills through the glass—not too many— but I wasn’t actually nervous until I emptied the contents onto my floor and saw that the change consisted primarily of pennies. Though there weren’t nearly as many slugs or paper clips as I’d thought there might be, I was still disheartened when I counted up the money. There was $20.32. Even in 1958 that wasn’t a lot of money, especially when divided among thirty kids.
I didn’t get discouraged, though. Thinking that it was a mistake, I went out the next day, hauled a few dozen boxes, and chatted with another twenty proprietors while I collected cans and jars. The take: $23.89.
The third day was even worse. After counting up the money, even I couldn’t believe it. There was only $11.52. Those were from the businesses down by the waterfront, where the tourists and teenagers like me hung out. We were really something, I couldn’t help but think.
Seeing how little had been collected in all— $55.73—made me feel awful, especially considering that the jars had been out for almost a whole year and that I myself had seen them countless times. That night I was supposed to call Jamie to tell her the amount I’d collected, but I just couldn’t do it. She’d told me how she’d wanted something extra special this year, and this wasn’t going to do it—even I knew that. Instead I lied to her and told her that I wasn’t going to count the total until the two of us could do it together, because it was her project, not mine. It was just too depressing. I promised to bring over the money the following afternoon, after school let out. The next day was December 21, the shortest day of the year. Christmas was only four days away.
“Landon,” she said to me after counting it up, “this is a miracle!”
“How much is there?” I asked. I knew exactly how much it was.
“There’s almost two hundred and forty-seven dollars here!” She was absolutely joyous as she looked up at me. Since Hegbert was home, I was allowed to sit in the living room, and that’s where Jamie had counted the money. It was stacked in neat little piles all over the floor, almost all quarters and dimes. Hegbert was in the kitchen at the table, writing his sermon, and even he turned his head when he heard the sound of her voice.
“Do you think that’s enough?” I asked innocently.
Little tears were coming down her cheeks as she looked around the room, still not believing what she was seeing right in front of her. Even after the play, she hadn’t been nearly this happy. She looked right at me.
“It’s . . . wonderful,” she said, smiling. There was more emotion than I’d ever heard in her voice before. “Last year, I only collected seventy dollars.”
“I’m glad it worked out better this year,” I said through the lump that had formed in my throat. “If you hadn’t placed those jars out so early in the year, you might not have collected nearly as much.”
I know I was lying, but I didn’t care. For once, it was the right thing to do.
I didn’t help Jamie pick out the toys—I figured she’d know better what the kids would want anyway—but she’d insisted that I go with her to the orphanage on Christmas Eve so that I could be there when the children opened their gifts. “Please, Landon,” she’d said, and with her being so excited and all, I just didn’t have the heart to turn her down.
So three days later, while my father and mother were at a party at the mayor’s house, I dressed in a houndstooth jacket and my best tie and walked to my mom’s car with Jamie’s present beneath my arm. I’d spent my last few dollars on a nice sweater because that was all I could think to get her. She wasn’t exactly the easiest person to shop for.
I was supposed to be at the orphanage at seven, but the bridge was up near the More head City port, and I had to wait until an outbound freighter slowly made its way down the channel. As a result, I arrived a few minutes late. The front door was already locked by that time, and I had to pound on it until Mr. Jenkins finally heard me. He fiddled through his set of keys until he found the right one, and a moment later he opened the door. I stepped inside, patting my arms to ward off the chill.
“Ah . . . you’re here,” he said happily. “We’ve been waiting for you. C’mon, I’ll take you to where everyone is.”
He led me down the hall to the rec room, the same place I’d been before. I paused for just a moment to exhale deeply before finally heading in.
It was even better than I’d imagined.
In the center of the room I saw a giant tree, decorated with tinsel and colored lights and a hundred different handmade ornaments. Beneath the tree, spread in all directions, were wrapped gifts of every size and shape. They were piled high, and the children were on the floor, sitting close together in a large semicircle. They were dressed in their best clothes, I assumed—the boys wore navy blue slacks and white collared shirts, while the girls had on navy skirts and longsleeved blouses. They all looked as if they’d cleaned up before the big event, and most of the boys had had their hair cut.
On the table beside the door, there was a bowl of punch and platters of cookies, shaped like Christmas trees and sprinkled with green sugar. I could see some adults sitting with the children; a few of the smaller kids were sitting on the adults’ laps, their faces rapt with attention as they listened to “ ’Twas the Night Before Christmas.”
I didn’t see Jamie, though, at least not right off the bat. It was her voice that I recognized first. She was the one reading the story, and I finally located her. She was sitting on the floor in front of the tree with her legs bent beneath her.
To my surprise, I saw that tonight her hair hung loosely, just as it had the night of the play. Instead of the old brown cardigan I’d seen so many times, she was wearing a red V-neck sweater that somehow accentuated the color of her light blue eyes. Even without sparkles in her hair or a long white flowing dress, the sight of her was arresting. Without even noticing it, I’d been holding my breath, and I could see Mr. Jenkins smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. I exhaled and smiled, trying to regain control.
Jamie paused only once to look up from the story. She noticed me standing in the door-way, then went back to reading to the children. It took her another minute or so to finish, and when she did, she stood up and smoothed her skirt, then walked around the children to make her way toward me. Not knowing where she wanted me to go, I stayed where I was.
By then Mr. Jenkins had slipped away.
“I’m sorry we started without you,” she said when she finally reached me, “but the kids were just so excited.”
“It’s okay,” I said, smiling, thinking how nice she looked.
“I’m so glad you could come.”
“So am I.”
Jamie smiled and reached for my hand to lead the way. “C’mon with me,” she said. “Help me hand out the gifts.”
We spent the next hour doing just that, and we watched as the children opened them one by one. Jamie had shopped all over town, picking up a few things for each child in the room, individual gifts that they’d never received before. The gifts that Jamie bought weren’t the only ones the children received, however— both the orphanage and the people who worked there had bought some things as well. As paper was tossed around the room in excited frenzy, there were squeals of delight everywhere. To me, at least, it seemed that all of the children had received far more than they’d expected, and they kept thanking Jamie over and over.
By the time the dust had finally settled and all the children’s gifts were opened, the atmosphere began to calm down. The room was tidied up by Mr. Jenkins and a woman I’d never met, and some of the smaller children were beginning to fall asleep beneath the tree. Some of the older ones had already gone back to their rooms with their gifts, and they’d dimmed the overhead lights on the way out the door. The tree lights cast an ethereal glow as “Silent Night” played softly on a phonograph that had been set up in the corner. I was still sitting on the floor next to Jamie, who was holding a young girl who’d fallen asleep in her lap. Because of all the commotion, we hadn’t really had a chance to talk, not that either of us had minded. We were both gazing up at the lights on the tree, and I wondered what Jamie was thinking. If truth be told, I didn’t know, but she had a tender look about her. I thought—no,
I knew
—she was pleased with how the evening had gone, and deep down, so was I. To this point it was the best Christmas Eve I’d ever spent.
I glanced at her. With the lights glowing on her face, she looked as pretty as anyone I’d ever seen.
“I bought you something,” I finally said to her. “A gift, I mean.” I spoke softly so I wouldn’t wake the little girl, and I hoped it would hide the nervousness in my voice.
She turned from the tree to face me, smiling softly. “You didn’t have to do that.” She kept her voice low, too, and it sounded almost musical.
“I know,” I said. “But I wanted to.” I’d kept the gift off to one side, and I reached for it, handing the gift-wrapped package to her.
“Could you open it for me? My hands are kind of full right now.” She looked down at the little girl, then back to me.
“You don’t have to open it now, if you’d rather not,” I said, shrugging, “it’s really not that big of a deal.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I would only open it in front of you.”
To clear my mind, I looked at the gift and started opening it, picking at the tape so that it wouldn’t make much noise, then unwrapping the paper until I reached the box. After setting the paper off to the side, I lifted the cover and pulled out the sweater, holding it up to show her. It was brown, like the ones she usually wore. But I figured she could use a new one.
Compared with the joy I’d seen earlier, I didn’t expect much of a reaction.
“See, that’s all. I told you it wasn’t much,” I said. I hoped she wasn’t disappointed in it.
“It’s beautiful, Landon,” she said earnestly. “I’ll wear it the next time I see you. Thank you.”
We sat quietly for a moment, and once again I began to look at the lights.
“I brought you something, too,” Jamie finally whispered. She looked toward the tree, and my eyes followed her gaze. Her gift was still beneath the tree, partially hidden by the stand, and I reached for it. It was rectangular, flexible, and a little heavy. I brought it to my lap and held it there without even trying to open it.
“Open it,” she said, looking right at me.
“You can’t give this to me,” I said breathlessly. I already knew what was inside, and I couldn’t believe what she had done. My hands began to tremble.
“Please,” she said to me with the kindest voice I’d ever heard, “open it. I want you to have it.”
Reluctantly I slowly unwrapped the package. When it was finally free of the paper, I held it gently, afraid to damage it. I stared at it, mesmerized, and slowly ran my hand over the top, brushing my fingers over the well-worn leather as tears filled my eyes. Jamie reached out and rested her hand on mine. It was warm and soft.
I glanced at her, not knowing what to say.
Jamie had given me her Bible.
“Thank you for doing what you did,” she whispered to me. “It was the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
I turned away without responding and reached off to the side where I’d set my glass of punch. The chorus of “Silent Night” was still playing, and the music filled the room. I took a sip of the punch, trying to soothe the sudden dryness in my throat. As I drank, all the times I’d spent with Jamie came flooding into my mind. I thought about the homecoming dance and what she’d done for me that night. I thought about the play and how angelic she’d looked. I thought about the times I’d walked her home and how I’d helped collect jars and cans filled with pennies for the orphans.
As these images were going through my head, my breathing suddenly went still. I looked at Jamie, then up to the ceiling and around the room, doing my best to keep my composure, then back to Jamie again. She smiled at me and I smiled at her and all I could do was wonder how I’d ever fallen in love with a girl like Jamie Sullivan.
I
drove Jamie home from the orphanage later that night. At first I wasn’t sure whether I should pull the old yawn move and put my arm around her shoulder, but to be honest, I didn’t know exactly how she was feeling about me. Granted, she’d given me the most wonderful gift I’d ever received, and even though I’d probably never open it and read it like she did, I knew it was like giving a piece of herself away. But Jamie was the type of person who would donate a kidney to a stranger she met walking down the street, if he really needed one. So I wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it.
Jamie had told me once that she wasn’t a dimwit, and I guess I finally came to the conclusion that she wasn’t. She may have been . . . well, different . . . but she’d figured out what I’d done for the orphans, and looking back, I think she knew even as we were sitting on the floor of her living room. When she’d called it a miracle, I guess she was talking specifically about me.
Hegbert, I remembered, came into the room as Jamie and I were talking about it, but he really didn’t have much to say. Old Hegbert hadn’t been himself lately, at least as far as I could tell. Oh, his sermons were still on the money, and he still talked about the fornicators, but lately his sermons were shorter than usual, and occasionally he’d pause right in the middle of one and this strange look would come over him, kind of like he was thinking of something else, something sad.
I didn’t know what to make of it, being that I really didn’t know him that well. And Jamie, when she talked about him, seemed to describe someone else entirely. I could no more imagine Hegbert with a sense of humor than I could imagine two moons in the sky.
So anyway, he came into the room while we counted the money, and Jamie stood up with those tears in her eyes, and Hegbert didn’t even seem to realize I was there. He told her that he was proud of her and that he loved her, but then he shuffled back to the kitchen to continue working on his sermon. He didn’t even say hello. Now, I knew I hadn’t exactly been the most spiritual kid in the congregation, but I still found his behavior sort of odd.