She had agreed to go caroling this Saturday, nine days before Christmas. She loved to sing and she’d promised Louise that she’d take Celeste Chalfonte’s old sleigh out so that they could sing to people farther from town. Along the way they would give out turkeys to needy people designated by St. Rose of Lima’s.
Ever since Juts had egged Nickel into the plastic-vomit caper she’d tried to make it up to St. Rose’s. Even Pastor Neely encouraged her to do penance. She countered that having Louise for a sister was penance enough. Still, she perfrmed good deeds. Unfortunately, she couldn’t help but call attention to them, which only meant she had to perform more. It wasn’t right to put a shine on yourself when serving the Lord.
Juts, upstairs, pulled out warm clothes, a blanket, gloves, and scarves for her and for Nickel. Chester and Pearlie wouldn’t accompany them because they were at the firehouse, getting it ready for the Christmas open house after the caroling the following night.
Nickel, downstairs, sat on the floor with a brand-new box of
crayons Wheezie had given her. Julia’s checkbook proved a unique coloring book.
“Nickel, are you ready?”
Nickel hastily put the checkbook back in Juts’s purse. “Yes.”
Juts tromped downstairs, arms full of coats and clothes. She dumped them on the sofa. “Damn, I forgot a hot-water bottle.” She ran back upstairs and Nickel put on a sweater, a coat, and her gloves. The inside of her jeans had flannel lining. She pulled on her paddock boots.
Juts returned, the red-hot water bottle filled. “This will keep our feet warm.” She studied the paddock boots. “Nicky, how many pairs of socks do you have on?”
“One.”
“Your feet will get cold. Here, put this thin pair on, then your heavier pair over them. It will work for a while.”
They drove out to Celeste’s stables. O.B. had hitched Minnie and Monza to the beautiful sleigh, deep blue with gold pinstriping. He had also tacked up a Percheron named Lillian Russell since both Rambunctious and General Pershing were too much horse for a little girl on a long ride. Of course, Nicky didn’t know that. She thought she could ride anything. Huge though Lillian was, she was kind.
Juts and Nicky had decorated the stable the day before with boughs, ribbons, and sheaves of barley, which the horses especially enjoyed. Ramelle, bundled in her sable coat, had watched them prepare.
“Isn’t this great?” Julia beamed.
“It’s too cold,” Louise griped.
“You should be grateful. They say cold tightens the pores and when you age your pores get bigger.”
“Shut up. Do you know what Pearlie’s getting me for Christmas?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’d tell you if I knew what Chester bought you.”
“Not until you extracted a bribe out of me, like hanging wallpaper in the upstairs bathroom.”
“Juts, I did that years ago. You wouldn’t let me off the roof unless I gave you my Easter hat—so there.”
“Well, he’s not getting you any more slips. You have enough to start a lingerie store.” She checked her watch. “Twenty-three skiddoo. Ramelle, there’s room in this sleigh for one more.”
“No. I wanted to see you all off. I love to hear the jingle bells.”
“Me, too.” Juts hopped up and took the reins.
“Who said you could drive?”
“Louise, you don’t even like horses.”
“That’s not true.” Wheezie watched as O.B. lifted Nicky up on Lillian’s broad back. “Nicky, you look like the dogs got at you under the porch. Don’t you have something better to wear—like a skirt?”
“I hate skirts. Milk of magnesia.” Nothing could be worse than milk of magnesia.
“Men like to look at pretty legs,” said Juts, who had a knockout pair.
“Don’t care.”
“Someday you will,” Louise chided her. “She’s warmer this way, Wheezie, and I don’t have snow pants and a snow top to match for her. Anyway, no one will care.”
“I care.”
Juts put her hand to her head as though she were going to swoon. Louise elbowed her hard in the ribs.
“Ouch!”
Minnie and Monza, named for Minnie Maddern Fiske and Monza Alverta Algood, two famous actresses at the turn of the century, turned their beautiful bay heads just enough to see the passengers in the sleigh.
“They’re ready.” O.B. smiled at Nickel.
“Me, too,” she happily said.
O.B. pushed back the big double stable doors, Juts clicked to the girls, and with a scrape or two they slid out onto the snow.
Louise wore a tight-fitting powder-blue coat with frogging and an astrakhan collar, an astrakhan muff, and high boots with soft black gloves to match.
“You told me you didn’t have a thing to wear.”
“Oh, this?” Louise’s voice rose.
“Yeah, that. If I’d have known you were going to dress like a movie star I’d have fussed up more.”
“You look fine.” Louise inhaled the crisp air. “It’s Nicky who looks ratty.”
Juts wore a red sweater, red skirt, black pearls, and a soft pair of boots with the tops rolled over like a cavalier’s boots. She threw a deep green coat over this with a Christmas-tree pin on the lapel. It was a pretty outfit.
“You girls watch out for the black ice,” O.B. warned as he lit the lanterns on each side of the sleigh.
“We will.” Juts clucked again and off they went, sleigh bells jingling.
Lillian Russell walked along, puffs of air condensing in clouds from her big nostrils.
People waved as they headed out of town on Baltimore Street. Their first audience was Mrs. Abel, called Hardly Abel by Juts. Her son, a single, unsavory specimen, was called Un. They stopped at the slovenly frame house, sang “The First Noel,” and gave Mrs. Abel a turkey. She thanked them and shut the door promptly, for the temperature was plunging.
Juts opened a small flask, enjoying a sip. She offered a swig to Louise.
“No, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“Just a nip. Wards off the cold.”
Five turkey drops later a light snow kicked up. Juts had turned down a side lane to pick up a road west to the Mundis house.
They circled around Runnymede, the ground getting higher as they moved west.
Finally they came to Mrs. Mundis’s driveway; her new house sat on a ridge. Gorgeous hickory trees stood like silent sentinels against the sky. Harry had had the presence of mind to build on an old house site so the trees and shrubs were mature. Big elms dotted the pastures, and massive oaks and walnuts shone like tarnished silver against the snow.
Every window of the house flickered with golden light. Mary Miles Mundis didn’t need a turkey, but she was giving her traditional Christmas party and the Hunsenmeirs agreed to make this their last stop. They were glad to reach the house if for no other reason than that Juts could warm up the hot-water bottle.
“Julia, don’t sing with such tremolo—and don’t drink any more.”
The huge polished door with brass handles flew open. Mrs. Mundis appeared in the doorway. “Merry Christmas.”
Timmy Kleindienst led Minnie and Monza to the stable. He and a groom threw blankets over them after unhitching them. Timmy and O.B. were the best stablemen around.
Once inside Mary Miles’s house, Juts, Wheezie, and Nicky admired the fragrant garlands entwined with oranges, apples, grapes, pinecones, holly sprigs, and sprayed-silver oak leaves. Twists of gold ribbon were placed here and there and a big plaid ribbon snaked through the garlands from end to end.
The towering tree, pure white, sported only shiny red balls. Green velvet ribbons tied on the edges of the branches, gold garlands circling the tree, and a star of Bethlehem topped off the decorating.
Louise, after stuffing herself and moaning about every calorie, sat down at the Steinway. She played “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” “Adeste Fideles,” “We Three Kings,” and “It Came upon a Midnight Clear.”
Juts liberally sampled the eggnog, declaring it the most
delicious she had ever drunk in her entire life. Age jokes followed that, then the talk turned to the lawsuit an insurance company was bringing against the Rife family for setting fire to the meatpacking plant to collect insurance. The investigation by the insurance company was snail slow, but they’d gathered enough evidence to strike.
The snow thickened outside. Juts peered out the window. Louise joined her. “I’m having such a good time, I hate to go.”
“We’d better leave.” Juts didn’t want to either.
Harry called down to the stable. Tim Kleindienst said he’d have the horses ready in fifteen minutes and he’d bring them straight up to the house.
This gave Juts time for another eggnog.
Once in the sleigh, Juts realized more snow had fallen than she’d thought. Nickel, riding on top of Lillian Russell rather than in the sleigh, thought everything was beautiful. Her eyelashes blinked off snow and it tickled.
“Juts, how many eggnogs did you have?”
“Not enough.”
“Perhaps I should drive.”
“I’m fine.” Juts liked having the reins in her hands.
“I had an eggnog,” Nickel called out.
“Oh?” Louise’s eyebrows arched in disbelief.
“Momma gave me one.”
“Julia, how could you?”
“Half an eggnog is not going to turn my child into a raving dipsomaniac. Keep your shirt on, Louise. You’re always jumping to conclusions.”
“Forcing alcohol down a child’s throat is no laughing matter.”
“I didn’t laugh,” Nickel forthrightly said.
“You have a tendency toward these things,” Louise warned. “You drank punch at my birthday party.” She turned to Juts. “You’d better watch that kid.”
“She’ll never leave my sight.” The sleigh swayed a bit.
“Don’t mock me. It only takes a drop if one is so inclined. Yes, it does. Remember when old Uncle Franz, after years of not drinking, sipped a glass of champagne at your wedding? Went on a bender for a week.” Wheezie’s voice carried that important tone.
Juts hummed.
“Nicky, you promise your aunt Louise you won’t drink.”
“Yes, Aunt Louise.”
“And don’t start smoking, either. If God had wanted us to smoke he’d have put a chimney in our heads.”
“Yes, Aunt Louise,” lied Nickel, who couldn’t wait to be old enough to smoke. She thought it was glamorous.
“Where’s Maizie tonight?” Juts couldn’t bear a harangue on clean living, not when that eggnog tasted so good.
“Out with Vaughn. They went out with their gang. Vaughn keeps close with his Army buddies.”
“Maybe she’ll marry Vaughn.”
“Maybe she won’t.”
“They’d be happy.”
“You think any two people mooning over each other will share a life of bliss.”
“You should have had some eggnog. Improve your mood.”
“My mood is fine except it’s colder than a witch’s bosom.”
“Tit.”
“Bosom.” Nicky giggled.
“Tit, Louise, tit. ‘Bosom’ takes the laugh out of it.”
“I won’t talk that way.”
“Old age is making you lose your sense of humor, you know that, Wheezie? You’re becoming an old fart.”
“You’re older than I am.”
“What?”
Louise jammed her hands in her muff. “Thirty-nine.”
“Fine.” Juts lifted the reins and gently slapped them against the horses’ backs. They picked up a trot.
“Don’t go so fast.”
“I’m not, but it’s getting colder, it’s snowing harder, and I want to get home.”
“Slow down.”
“Louise, close your eyes if you’re scared.”
“If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a drunk driver.” Louise whacked her with her astrakhan muff.
To spite her, Juts asked for more trot and got it.
Lillian, broad-backed, trotted, too. Nicky’s short legs barely reached the gray mare’s sides. Nicky bounced like a jack-in-the-box.
Juts sang her own words to the tune of “Winter Wonder-land.”“Fifty years, are you listening? Fifty years, and she’s listing. To port I can vow, she looks like a cow, wrinkles—”
“Shut up.”
The bays swept their ears back and forward, reaching out with those magnificent forelegs, two trotters in unison. A nasty curve loomed ahead and from there it was a straight shot into Runnymede.
“Momma, I’m gonna fall off.”
“You’re not a rider until you fall off seven times.”
“I did that already. Slow down, Momma.” Nicky couldn’t get a grip anyway with those flannel-lined jeans.
“Don’t take her side, Nicky. I can’t stand it when you and Louise are in cahoots.”
By now, Nickel lay facedown, holding on to Lillian’s mane. Her canter was ponderous but it was a canter nonetheless.
“Grab mane,” Juts ordered.
“I am!”
“You’ll get us killed,” Louise screamed. “We’ll be a holiday statistic. We’ll be the last people in the state of Maryland killed driving a sleigh.”
“Chicken.” Juts swung around the curve too fast, hitting the black ice underneath. The sleigh bells jingled wildly.
“I’m gonna die!” Louise bellowed.
“Only the good die young.” Juts laughed as the sleigh tipped
over to one side and Louise flew into a snowdrift by the roadbank. Juts righted the sleigh by shifting her weight to the other side.
Excited, Lillian decided to take the shortcut home through the Barnharts’ field. A strong creek bordered the property. It glittered like a dark mirror. Lillian launched herself over the creek but Nickel dropped like a dead moth from a porch light. She crashed through the ice.
Juts’s shoulders ached as she brought Minnie and Monza to a halt about a hundred yards from where Louise had fallen out. The horses’ heads bobbed up and down, flecks of foam mingling with snowflakes around their mouths.
The chilling water stopped at Nickel’s waist, but she smashed through the ice with such force that the water splashed all over her. Her boots weighed her down as she tried to crawl out. Lillian’s hoofbeats faded away as she galloped across the frozen ground.
Nickel wiggled out of her sodden coat and grabbed a gnarled tree root, pulling herself out.
“You all right, Nick?”
“Momma, I’ll never catch Lillian. O.B. will kill me.”
“Come on.” Juts urged her to hurry up as Minnie and Monza were prancing around. She had her hands full.
“Isn’t anyone going to ask about me? What if my hip’s broken? What if I’m suffering a concussion?”