Hi guys! Brette here, with Chapter 4. I read some of it out loud to my cousins, ten and twelve, respectively, and got a positive response; plus you guys have been just fabulous with your comments! I will do everything possible to have this completed by Christmas. Comments give me a little "rush" … THANKS so much!
* There is some 'dialogue-lifting' from Miracle on 34th Street intermixed in this Chapter, simply because the screenwriters of the 1947 film said things better than I possibly could - I still am aiming to tell a completely different story, as it relates to our heroes *
4.
It was ten o'clock Sunday morning when Wade's mother came down to the breakfast table and asked, just as nice as you please, if he and Ella were ready to go to the social over at the Episcopal Church.
Ella glanced over at Rhett, who was seated at the head of the table, and asked, "Are you coming too, Uncle Rhett?"
Wade thought he observed a glance exchanged between his mother and Uncle Rhett, who said after a minute, "Sure." Just like he didn't mind at all.
Wade had it on good authority that he did mind, although he had never understood why exactly Uncle Rhett disliked social events in town so much. He thought the problem might have started when Bonnie died, and Uncle Rhett didn't really want to be around anyone, including him. Aunt Melly had died next, and Uncle Rhett had left, first for a month, then back for a week, then gone another three months, back one, then gone six. He had made his appearance as much as was needed, he had said once to Wade. Sometimes he had taken him and Ella for ice cream, and once to Savannah for the weekend. His mother hadn't come with them on that trip. It had been the highlight of Wade's summer, spending lazy hours with his Uncle Rhett on his sailboat, discussing important things that were happening in the world, things that Ella and Beau didn't understand and his mother didn't have the time to worry about. But Uncle Rhett never talked about Bonnie. His mother never did, either. And Wade had a hunch that the fact that they did not may have started the problems between them in the first place. Now, although Uncle Rhett never missed the really important social events in Atlanta, Wade figured that he probably resented them all the same. Because the last time they had all been out together, Uncle Rhett had left early and had gone to stay with his lady friend, a woman whose name was unmentionable in their house … or in polite company, his mother said.
But he was back, Wade reassured himself. Maybe it was as his mother had said, to keep up an appearance, or maybe, as Wade believed in his own heart, Uncle Rhett really and truly missed them and was tired of living on his own without them. But that didn't make sense. After all, Uncle Rhett wouldn't really stay. He had avoided the issue entirely since he had arrived. And Wade didn't want to push his luck by asking. He'd been given a week; he'd not be selfish and ask for more.
"Make sure you lock the door, Pork," his mother ordered the valet as he handed them up into the carriage. The old man nodded his head in understanding, and Wade noticed for the first time that the servants had all gathered in the drive, presumably heading off to a church service of their own. He'd never noticed before; he'd just assumed that they were Catholics, as he was. But it had been so long since they had been to Mass, he hardly recalled what it had felt like.
At St. Philip's, the Episcopal Church where Beau and Uncle Ashley attended, Wade touched his mother's shoulder and pointed toward the entrance to the churchyard and cemetery as their carriage pulled to a stop.
"Aunt Melly said that all the Hamilton's were buried there before her Papa bought plots for his family at Oakwood."
"Wade Hampton," his mother snapped, "don't tell me anything else today about what Aunt Melly said."
"Is Beau coming?" Ella piped up from her seat next to Rhett, who had remained silent throughout the short carriage ride.
"I suppose so," Scarlett replied. "I didn't have a chance to speak to your Uncle Ashley yesterday, so I'm not sure …"
Wade thought that Uncle Rhett's jaw seemed to harden.
"Well, I asked Mr. Kringle to start back on Monday," she quickly changed the subject. "The toys are simply flying off of the shelves, so I had the clerks move them all up front."
"Really?" Rhett said, as though the matter was one of supreme indifference to him. "Not that you're seeking my advice, Scarlett, but toys are hardly impulse items."
"What are you talking about?"
"What I mean is that people are coming in specifically to buy a certain toy for their child. Why not use the front space for something like … oh I don't know … how about hats? You know that a woman sees a pretty new bonnet and she just ups and buys it spur of the moment."
"Oh fiddle-dee-dee. In this economy? No one's buying bonnets these days."
Wade recognized a flicker of emotion in Rhett's eyes, something akin to hurt. Perhaps his mother was supposed to pick up on a deeper meaning to something he'd said? Whatever it was, Uncle Rhett was stone silent the rest of the ride.
"I've been meaning to tell you both, children, if Uncle Henry or Aunt Pitty ask you what you want for Christmas, you're to tell them nothing, you understand?"
"But why, Mother?" Ella asked, a stunned look on her face. Aunt Pitty always bought her something pretty to wear for Christmas.
She didn't answer immediately, but glared at Rhett as if he was responsible for her bad humor. "Because you don't need anything else. Aunt Pitty can barely afford to feed herself and shouldn't be bothered with buying the two of you presents. And the only thing Uncle Henry ever gets for you is money, and you certainly don't need that."
"Yes, Mother," they answered together.
After a brief period of quiet, Rhett said calmly, "But suppose that Miss Pittypat likes to buy them Christmas presents? Suppose it gives her joy?"
"She buys them because she feels that she has to. And it's gone on for far too long. Wade's too old to play with toys and he certainly doesn't need clothes and Ella, well she and Pitty aren't even blood kin!"
"Miss Pitty loved Frank," Rhett said softly.
Wade could feel the air go out of the carriage. No one dared say anything, especially Ella. Neither of them had ever known their fathers, his having died before he was even born and hers when she was just a baby. But he had had Aunt Melly and Uncle Ashley and Uncle Henry and Aunt Pittypat and Uncle Peter to tell him what sort of man his father been. They'd described his heroism and love for his mother with such extensive and glorious detail, he had always felt as if he had known Charles Hamilton. Ella had enjoyed no such luxury. Their mother's marriage to Mr. Kennedy, Ella's father, had been so brief and so blurred within Wade's mind that he could scarcely recall it. He knew that his mother hadn't been happy then, and he remembered vaguely the night that Mr. Kennedy was killed. But no one told him what happened, nor did he want to know.
Luckily, the carriage had come to a halt at the steps in front of the church, a vast, welcoming building painted the whitest white, with stained glass windows that glittered in the winter sunlight. It was a pretty church, Wade thought. It would have been nice to have grown up attending here. As it was, he had only been a handful of times, and only then with either Aunt Melly and Uncle Ashley. Once he had gone with Uncle Rhett, but only once and he had been very small at the time.
Before they reached the steps, they were greeted at the door by Doctor and Mrs. Meade, the rector, and Aunt Pitty herself. She turned to shout over her shoulder in her high-pitched shrill, "Mrs. Meriwether! Maybelle! They're here! Scarlett and Captain Butler."
"We can see that, Miss Pittypat," Doctor Meade chortled.
Henry Hamilton was present too, looking as potbellied and gruff as he had the last time Wade had seen him, but clean-shaven.
"Wade Hampton - you've grown since I saw you last. Look at you! Already a young man," he said, shaking Wade's hand.
Aunt Pitty hugged and kissed him and Ella, then allowed Rhett to kiss her hand before fluttering off in the opposite direction as her brother Henry, whom she never had managed to get along with, even after the multitude of tragedies within their family over the years which, conceivably, should have rendered the two siblings closer.
Wade and Ella stuck together as they extricated themselves from the receiving line, and Wade whispered quietly to his sister, "Are you alright?"
She shook her head. "Mother doesn't … Mother doesn't mean to do it … No she doesn't…"
"What do you mean?"
"S-s-she's mad at Uncle Rhett. For taking us to see Santa Claus. She told me last night that she's always been completely honest with you and I and that she's not been the best but that s-s-she loves us and just wants to tell us the truth."
"Ella-"
"I'm not gonna cry. I'm not gonna. Not here."
"Ella-"
"I don't want Uncle Rhett to go. I know he has to, but I don't want him to go away. If Bonnie was still here he wouldn't go. I want him to love us like he loved Bonnie."
"He does love us, Ella."
She looked at her brother sadly. "But not enough. Not enough to stay."
Wade glanced over at their mother and Uncle Rhett, who were standing next to each other but each speaking to a different person, Rhett to his Uncle Henry and his mother to two women he didn't recognize right away. He heard Aunt Pitty's voice again and knew immediately that it had to be Uncle Ashley and Beau. Beau ran in first, then immediately joined his circle of friends at the dessert table, although Wade and Ella had very clearly heard Mrs. Meriwether bellow that they were not to touch the desserts until everyone had been served the hot food first. There were four long tables set up in the reception hall of the church, each covered in fine damask cloth and set with good flatware. The adults' places had been designated by crystal glasses.
Wade was about to suggest that they say hello to Beau when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around quickly, and was quite surprised when Ella exclaimed in a pleased voice: "Mr. Kringle!"
Looking smart in a tweed jacket and freshly pressed trousers, the old gentleman's smile seemed to stretch the distance of his round face.
"Hello there, Ella!" the elder said jovially, "Good to see you again. And your brother as well."
"It's nice to see you too." Ella returned his kindly smile.
"And how are you, young man? I was sorry that I wasn't able to say hello to you yesterday at the store."
"I'm very well, thank you," Wade replied.
In a flash, his mother had appeared behind them, and put her arm around Ella. "Hello there, Mr. Kringle. I'm very glad you were able to come this afternoon."
"Indeed, Mrs. Butler. I was very touched by the note that Mrs. Meade sent over this morning, and I was only too happy to accept."
"And do you live … far away, sir?" Ella inquired, exchanging a glance with Rhett, who took his place next to Wade.
"Not at all, my dear Ella. Just over the hill, at the rest home run by the good nuns."
"Ah, by Immaculate Conception. Just round the corner," Scarlett said triumphantly.
Wade turned his head to see what his Uncle Rhett thought of that. But he seemed to be too absorbed in watching Wade's mother to hear. As for his mother, she was only interested in one thing: proving her point.
"Well as long as you're here, Mr. Kringle, perhaps you can straighten something out for us."
"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Butler. How might I be of assistance?"
"Would you please tell Ella here that you're not really Santa Claus? And that there actually is no such person …?"
"Well, I'm very sorry to disagree with you, Mrs. Butler. Not only is there such a person, but here I am to prove it."
Scarlett's brows wrinkled. "No, no. Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. I want you to tell her the truth."
"Well, I recognize the intelligence of both your children, Mrs. Butler. Why, both of them are just radiating it. You must be very proud of them."
Wade wondered if his mother had heard Mr. Kringle at all, and he almost came right out and asked her. But she was steaming, and he could see it.
"I bet that you're around eight years old, Ella, am I right?" Mr. Kringle inquired.
"Eight years and two months."
"A splendid age. And you, my boy?"
Wade answered. "Twelve."
"But he'll be thirteen the third of February," Ella reminded him.
"Mr. Kringle," Scarlett interrupted sharply. "There is no need to pretend around my children. They are certainly old enough to recognize the truth for what it is and I'd like them to hear it from you."
"Mrs. Butler, I always tell the absolute truth. In all things."
Her mouth formed a thin line. Wade was holding his breath, waiting for his mother to let the poor old gentleman have it.
From deep within his throat Rhett chuckled.
"Thank you, Mr. Kringle. You've been most helpful."
"My pleasure, sir. Your pardon, please, I don't think we've been properly introduced."
"Rhett Butler," Rhett extended his hand and shook the elder's. "The pleasure is all mine."
"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Kringle," Scarlett muttered, grabbing Ella's hand and pulling her along as she headed in the direction of Ashley, who Wade saw had been observing the unfolding scene with interest. "Come Wade Hampton - you haven't even said hello to Beau yet."
Wade wondered if this was one of those moments that Uncle Rhett had meant for him to say No to his mother. But Rhett just looked at him and nodded his head as if he knew what to do about it. "Goodbye, Mr. Kringle."
"Goodbye, Wade and Ella. It was very nice to see you both again. Goodbye, Mrs. Butler!"
Rhett let out another chuckle as Scarlett marched over to Ashley and began conversing with him and Dr. Meade. "Nonbelievers. By all means, keep trying. Unfortunately sir, I believe your attempts are going to fall on deaf ears."
"I will keep trying!" Mr. Kringle said emphatically. "At least you believe, Mr. Butler. That gives me reason to hope, at least."
"I believe that children should be children, Mr. Kringle. And Scarlett seems bound and determined that they should have it all over and done with. Some of that's my fault I suppose …"
The man's eyes were clouded with concern. "Something is … amiss … between you and Mrs. Butler, am I right, sir?"
Rhett half-smiled. "That's a nice way to put it."
"Forgive my intrusion, sir, but I get the distinct impression that both children are missing something very much … or someone."
"Yes. I'm not always able to be with them, unfortunately."
"I gathered as much. And you must miss them, surely?"
"Of course. I've known both of them since they were infants, held them in my arms when they …"
"But you and Mrs. Butler have no children?"
A deep crease appeared on the side of Rhett's mouth. "One daughter. She's …she was… She's gone."
"I'm very sorry."
"It's not your concern."
"Oh but it is, Mr. Butler. I appreciate grief very much. I feel it very keenly myself."
"I very much doubt you could understand, sir. Unless you yourself have lost a child."
"I've lost many children."
"Ah."
"I lose them each and every year, Mr. Butler. I'm very concerned about Christmas, you see. And it seems to be getting worse and worse each year. The retailers are so busy trying to best the other fellow, make things go faster, look shinier, cost less. And as for me …Christmas and I are lost in the shuffle. I fear that some day in the not so distant future, I might be just another selling point."
Rhett clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "No need to worry about that. Christmas will still be Christmas, after all."
"Not at all, Mr. Butler. Christmas isn't just a day, you know. It's much more than that. It's a frame of mind …and that's just what's changing. That's why I'm so very glad that I'm here. Perhaps I can do something about it. And now that I've met you and your family, sir, perhaps I can do something that will help you."
Rhett's head fell back as he laughed hollowly. "There's no helping me, sir. Just help the children. I'd be content with that."
"Well sir, without convincing their mother, there is no possible way to convince either child. Both of them want very much to believe in me, I can tell. But they value the good opinion of their mother far more."
"They love her," Rhett said, shaking his head.
"And you, sir?"
"Pardon me?"
"You share that love. For their mother, I mean."
Rhett's chin lifted as though it had been struck by an uppercut. "Not for some time now. That's all finished."
Mr. Kringle turned his gaze from Rhett to the raven-haired lady standing across the room. "Yes, yes. I'm very glad I'm here indeed. Your family is a most excellent test case for me."
"Are we?"
"Indeed. And I hope very much that I can help your stepchildren. Perhaps I can even help you and your wife as well …?" At Rhett's lack of response, the elder continued. "If I can win you all over, there might be some hope for me."
Rhett sighed. "And if not?"
"Well then, I suppose I'm finished, then. But sir, I warn you - I do not give up easily."
"I wish you the best of luck, sir," said Rhett, "But I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be addressing my wife by a royal title come Christmas morning."
Mr. Kringle let out a warm laugh at that. "Well, at least that counts for something, Mr. Butler. And now I know what you want for Christmas, that's good."
Rhett shook his head in bemusement. "A very good afternoon to you, sir."
"And you, Mr. Butler. Will you not stay for the rest of the social?"
"No. I promised my daughter that I would go to visit her and I've not done so."
At that moment of absolute quiet between them, Mr. Kringle whispered, "I will pray for you, sir. For your peace. Good afternoon."
Across the room, Scarlett was deep in conversation with both Ashley and Dr. Meade, carefully out of earshot of Beau, who had prevailed upon Wade and Ella to join him and his group of friends.
"I just don't agree with you, Scarlett," Dr. Meade was saying, "…folks are institutionalized because they are a danger to themselves or others. Now I know that this man is unusual, but there doesn't seem to be anything remotely dangerous about him!"
"That's what I feel too, Scarlett, really," Ashley agreed. "Listen to me, my dear - he sought me out on the street and had drawn up a list of different, less expensive toy trains for me that Beau would like just as well as the one in your store."
"So he's driving my business down, too?"
"That's nonsense, Scarlett, and you know it!" Dr. Meade interrupted gruffly. "Your store's never been so busy. And the man's trying to be friendly and helpful. It's a welcome change."
"That's what I feel too," Ashley added.
"But he's crazy, Doctor!"
"He's not dangerous, Scarlett. So please don't spoil the day for the rest of us by suggesting otherwise."
"Well excuse me for being concerned. He is in my store, so if he does anything wrong it'll come back on me!"
"Well, Scarlett, it seems that you could monitor his behavior better if you kept an eye on him."
"What are you saying?"
"Could he stay with one of the employees, perhaps? That way he avoids walking back to the home after dark. You'd get to see for yourself his behavior and keep an eye on him, too."
"He's certainly not staying with me!"
"That would solve everything," Ashley agreed. "Steer him away from any trouble. Now let's see … Who could rent him a room?"
"You." Scarlett said simply.
"Well, I certainly don't mind. He could stay in India's old room. It's alright, Scarlett. Everything's going to be just fine."
She breathed in deep. "I hope so, Ashley. I sure do hope so."