And tomorrow came…! I can't thank you all enough for your kind words. Seriously, I am so glad that this story seems to be resonating with so many - it makes my Christmas! (wickedwms: If you get a chance, PLEASE watch Miracle on 34th Street, the inspiration behind this story … the 1947 one is my favorite of the 2 theatrical versions, and it is one of my all-time favorite holiday films of all time!)
As for me, I promise to keep updating (daily, if at all possible) - Christmas deadline is looming, but it's still my goal. Your comments really are driving this story and are so very encouraging, so … THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart!
…and Merry Christmas!
* Repeat Disclaimer: Themes/dialogue/characters, etc… are all the property of their respective copyright holders.
I'm just borrowing them. *
7.
The next morning, Wade waited until he heard the sound of his mother's voice in the hallway before getting out of bed. Uncle Rhett was still there … at least, he had been when they had gotten home the night before. He had said hello to him and Ella as they had walked in, then they had kissed their mother and been sent on to bed. Wade had left his bedroom door ever so slightly ajar, just in case Uncle Rhett decided to leave. From within the safety of his room he had strained his ears for sounds underneath. The creak of a chair? A footstep? Voices?
Suddenly, the door to the downstairs parlor was swung open and he heard the tiniest snippets of their conversation.
"…and I assumed you would have been there. He has to be there, I kept telling myself. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye."
"Well, I assured you that I'd be back, didn't I?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Please …" Wade could see the shadows of his mother and Uncle Rhett on the landing. The Rhett-shaped form appeared to hold out a palm. "I am very sorry to have to do this on a holiday. I should have waited for a more opportune moment."
"Oh, no. I'm resolved to it. But I'm not ready, Rhett, not yet."
"Then I'll wait until you are."
Then, at exactly eleven-fifteen, the yellow ribbon of light from underneath his mother's door went off. He didn't hear another sound the rest of the night.
"Good morning, Wade Hampton," said his mother. "Morning to you too, sleepyhead," she addressed Ella, who was peeking out the crack of her bedroom door as well. Clearly she had had the same idea as Wade.
His mother, for her part, looked neither pleasantly or unpleasantly surprised to see the two of them still abed. She didn't look any way at all except neutral. The sash of her cranberry-colored housedress was tied in a bow, and her long, black hair fell in obedient waves down her back. She looked immaculate, but then again, his mother always looked like that.
He yawned a smile and then fought back another yawn as he dropped into his chair at the breakfast table. Uncle Rhett was already seated at the table's head, the seat in which his mother normally sat.
"Good morning, Mrs. Butler," he said. "Good morning, children."
"Good morning, sir," Wade responded before glancing over at his mother. Her face was registering first surprise, then pleasure. Maybe whatever they had discussed hadn't been so bad after all …?
Pansy promptly set down a platter of fresh smoked sausage and hot griddle cakes in front of Wade, whose mouth was watering. Ella waited patiently for the fresh biscuits, presumably the next course.
"Would you like some oatmeal, Wade?" his mother passed the piping hot bowl. "Be careful. Don't spill when you dip it out. Ella, hand me your plate, honey."
"Hard boiled eggs, Mist' Wade?" Pansy inquired as she made her way back from the kitchen.
"Yes, please," he replied, still holding his breath.
Rhett cleared his throat, startling Wade mid-way through a bite of griddlecake. "Wade, Ella, your mother and I have something very important which we would like to discuss with you."
Wade could feel the insides of his stomach start swirling around, and the hot foot suddenly tasted like ash in his mouth.
His mother blotted her lips with her napkin. "Ella, biscuit? Wade?"
Wade shook his head No, keeping his eyes focused on Uncle Rhett.
Spotting the Atlanta Journal-Constitution on the table, Wade caught a glimpse of the biggest blackest headline he'd seen since the article about Mr. Kringle appearing in his mother's store. Indeed, he thought that he could make out the name …
"What's that say, Uncle Rhett?" he blurted out without thinking.
Rhett glanced over at the paper and skimmed the headline. "What the ..?"
"What is that?" Wade's mother snapped. "Let me see that -"
"Kringle arrested, charged with …assault?"
"What?" Wade jumped to his feet, sending his chair to the floor with a crash and earning a look of reprove from his mother.
"Mr. Kringle?" Ella whimpered. "Not our Mr. Kringle?"
"Now settle down, children, there must be some mistake," their mother said. "Mr. Kringle was with you last night, right, at Uncle Ashley's?"
"Yes, ma'am," they chorused together.
Wade moved to the other side of Uncle Rhett to read the corner of the paper. He could make out the headline: SANTA CLAUS JAILED FOR ASSAULTING MAYOR'S SON.
"Mayor's son? Angier's boy?"
Wade grimaced and his mother explained for Uncle Rhett's benefit the reason why.
"Wade Hampton doesn't get along with Nolan Angier. He really is a nasty thing, a bullheaded pig about what, Wade, sixteen?"
Wade nodded.
"I would have assumed that they would have been friendly. Along with the Bart's children…?"
Wade's mother stood over him, hands on her hips. "He has not associated with them in over a year. Something else you've missed, while you've been away."
Wade felt his heart thudding in his chest as he waited, waited for the inevitable clash of two iron wills. But there was none.
"My mistake," Rhett said, looking into his wife's face. "I suppose our main concern should be poor Mr. Kringle. I have to hand it to you, Scarlett … I never assumed that the old fool would be dangerous."
"Great balls of fire - have you seen the size of Nolan Angier? He's twice Wade's size and meaner than a hornet. If anything, he must have provoked Kris! Why look here, Rhett, 'Kringle stated that the youth provoked the assault, although the sheriff refuses to comment further on the situation…' Oh it's ridiculous!"
Rhett's frown began to melt into a smile, showing his perfect set of white teeth. "Am I to understand that you're more concerned about the man himself rather than the negative publicity the store might receive as a result?"
Scarlett straightened up and continued to read aloud from the paper. "The centerpiece of Kennedy's Emporium … no comment from Kennedy's … this is just..! It's not to be borne."
"I suppose your competitors are having the last laugh."
"Oh bother the store. It isn't about that. It's about this poor old man who's sitting in jail over a misunderstanding."
"But -"
"He's innocent, Rhett, I'm sure of it. I know that he is. I believe what he says."
"Well Scarlett, I'm afraid that the mayor's son says differently."
"We have to do something, Rhett! It's Christmas."
"He's already been tried in the court of public opinion. And there's not a soul in Atlanta that hasn't experienced his, to use your words, delusion, firsthand."
"And here I thought that you were encouraging the children to believe in him."
"And I recall your reference to him as a, what was it, a crazy old man?"
"He may very well be a crazy old man, but he's not dangerous! Ashley says .. -"
"Oh, yes, if Ashley says it, then it must be so!"
"Rhett, can't you just…?"
"I'm not sure what you think yourself capable of, Scarlett, but you can't just sweep this incident under the rug."
"Well," she fixed him with a stare. "I intend to walk down to that courthouse and try. You can do what you like."
And without so much as a by-your-leave, she marched off toward the staircase. As Ella tearfully asked to be excused, Wade attempted to speak to his Uncle Rhett, but he wasn't in too much of a mood to converse with him.
"Uncle Rhett, why are you mad at Mother?"
"Mad at her? Why Wade, I'm not mad at her. Or you or Ella or anyone else. I'm frustrated about a good number of things. But that certainly isn't indicative of anger on my part."
"I bet Mother can fix things for Mr. Kringle," Wade said enthusiastically. "'Cause everybody says she's just a born saleslady and I bet she can get him out of trouble. She will, won't she, Uncle Rhett?"
A slow smile spread across Rhett's lips. But his eyes weren't smiling.
"A born saleslady. That's about right."
"Oh, Uncle Rhett, Mr. Kringle has to be okay. He will, you'll see. Nolan Angier's nothing but a dirty liar and a bully. Why, one day, he smacked me upside the head so hard my ear started to bleed and I -"
"He hit you?"
"Yes, sir. After school. And Dilcey's boy, Joel, well, Nolan had it bad out for him too. He was fierce mad on account of Joel taking reading lessons with Beau. He called him an uppity nigger and Joel said back that he wasn't uppity at all, and that he was Beau's friend. Well, Nolan and his friends didn't like that, so they tried to spook him by drawing nooses all over his books."
"What did your mother say when you came home bleeding?"
Wade felt embarrassed by the way the conversation had turned. The last thing he wanted in the world was for Uncle Rhett to think of him as weak … but he felt compelled to restate what his mother had said, exactly. "Well, she said to me, 'Wade Hampton, don't you know that Nolan Angier and his friends are nothing but white trash? Do you know that? And I don't want you to associate with them any more, understand?'"
Rhett laughed. Surely not at him, Wade thought.
"But that's not all, Uncle Rhett. She won't even wait on Mrs. Angier in the store. Nor Mamie Bart or any of those other white trash women."
He was still laughing. He brought out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed at his eyes. "Oh Wade. I have lived to witness a miracle. Lord, what a contradiction!"
"What do you mean, sir?" Wade inquired, confused.
"I mean that your mother has changed a great deal. More than I had given her credit for."
That sounded suspiciously like …praise …for his mother?
"If you think so," Wade said, trying to frame his statement, "then why can't you believe that she wants to help Mr. Kringle?"
His stepfather offered no answer, but his arm dropped across Wade's shoulders in a sudden hugging motion. "I hear you, Wade. I hear you. Tell you what, while your mother tries to work her magic down at the jail, why don't we take a drive down to your Uncle Henry's and see if he has any legal advice for our friend Mr. Kringle, eh?"