Chapter 3
A/N: the book Polar Express doesn't belong to me. It belongs completely to Chris Van Allsburg.
"Uncle Gil, will you read me this book?" Lindsey asked Gil after she got settled in bed. She held up a brown book with a silver bell on the cover for him, happy when he took it.
"You're how old, Lindsey?" he joked.
"I'm thirteen, Uncle Gil. You know that. Will you please read it to me? Mom reads it to me every year."
"Then why aren't you asking her to read it?"
"Because I want you to."
His heart fluttered with joy when she said that. "well, in that case, I would love to read it to you, Lindsey."
She pulled his down to sit next to her. She scooted closer to him when he settled over the covers.
"The Polar Express…" he began. "By Chris Van Allsburg.
"On Christmas eve, many years ago, I lay quietly in my bed. I did not rustle the sheets. I breathed slowly and silently. I was listening for a sound—a sound a friend had told me I'd never hear—the ringing bells of Santa's sleigh.
"There is no Santa," my friend had insisted, but I knew he was wrong.
Late that night I did hear sounds, though not of ringing bells. From outside came the sounds of hissing steam and squeaking metal. I looked through my window and saw a train standing perfectly still in front of my house.
"It was wrapped in an apron of steam. Snowflakes fell lightly around it. A conductor stood at the open door of one of the cars. He took a large pocket watch from his vest, then looked up at my window. I put on my slippers and robe. I tiptoed downstairs and out the door.
"All aboard," the conductor cried out. I ran up to him.
"Well," he said, "are you coming?"
"Where?" I asked.
"Why, to the North Pole of course," was his answer. "This is the Polar express." I took his outstretched hand and he pulled me aboard.
"The train was filled with other children, all in their pajamas and nightgowns. We sang Christmas carols and ate candies with nougat centers as white as snow. We drank hot cocoa as thick and rich as melted chocolate bars. Outside, the lights of towns and villages flickered in the distance as the Polar Express raced northward.
"Soon there were no more lights to be seen. We traveled through cold, dark forests, where lean wolves roamed and white-tailed rabbits hid from our train as it thundered through the quiet wilderness.
"We climbed mountains so high it seemed as if we would scrape the moon. But the Polar Express never slowed down. Faster and faster we ran along, rolling over peaks and through valleys like a car on a roller coaster.
"The mountains turned into hills, the hills to snow-covered plains. We crossed a barren desert of ice – The Great Polar Ice Cap. Lights appeared in the distance. They looked like lights of a strange ocean liner sailing a frozen sea.
"There," said the conductor, "is the North Pole."
"The North Pole. It was a huge city standing alone at the top of the world, filled with factories where every Christmas toy was made.
At first we saw no elves.
"They are gathering at the center of the city," the conductor told us. "That is where Santa will give the first gift of Christmas."
"Who receives the first gift?" we all asked.
The conductor answered, "He will choose one of you."
"Look," shouted one of the children, "the elves." Outside we saw hundred of elves. As our train drew closer to the center of the North Pole, we slowed to a crawl, so crowded were the streets with Santa's helpers. When the Polar Express could go no further, we stopped and the conductor led us outside.
"We pressed through the crowd to the edge of a large, open circle. In front of us stood Santa's sleigh. The reindeer were excited. They pranced, ringing the silver sleigh bells that hung from their harness. It was a magical sound, like nothing I'd ever heard. Across the circle, the elves moved apart and Santa Claus appeared. The elves cheered wildly.
He marched over to us and, pointing to me, said, "Let's have this fellow here." He jumped into his sleigh. The conductor handed me up. I sat on Santa's knee and he asked, "Now, what would you like for Christmas?"
"I knew that I could have any gift I could imagine. But the thing I wanted most for Christmas was not inside Santa's giant bag. What I wanted more than anything was one silver bell from Santa's sleigh. When I asked, Santa smiled. Then he gave me a hug and told an elf to cut a bell from a reindeer's harness. The elf tossed it up to Santa. He stood, holding the bell high above him, and called out, "The first gift of Christmas!"
"A clock struck midnight as the elves roared their approval. Santa handed the bell to me and I put it in my bathrobe pocket. The conductor helped me down from the sleigh. Santa shouted out the reindeer's names and cracked his whip. His team charged forward and climbed into the air. Santa circled above us, then disappeared in the cold, dark polar sky.
"As soon as we were back inside the Polar Express, the other children asked to see the bell. I reached into my pocket, but the only thing I felt was a hole. I had lost the silver bell from Santa Claus's sleigh.
"Let's hurry outside and look for it," one of the children said. But the train gave a sudden lurch and started moving. We were on our way home.
"It broke my heart to lose the bell. When the train reached my house, I sadly left the other children. I stood at my doorway and waved good-bye. The conductor said something from the moving train, but I couldn't hear him. "What?" I yelled out.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. "MERRY CHRISTMAS," he shouted. The Polar Express let out a loud blast from its whistle and sped away.
"On Christmas morning my little sister Sarah and I opened presents. When it looked as if everything had been unwrapped, Sarah found one last small box behind the tree. It had my name on it. Inside was the silver bell! There was a note: "Found this on the seat of my sleigh. Fix that hole in your pocket." Signed, "Mr. C."
I shook the bell. It made the most beautiful sound my sister and I had ever heard.
But my mother said, "Oh, that's too bad."
"Yes," said my father, "it's broken."
When I'd shaken the bell, my parents had not heard a sound."
"At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe."
"The end," he concluded. He looked down at Lindsey, seeing her eyes drooping shut. He smiled, shutting the book, and gently climbed off the bed. He put the book on her desk and started to quietly leave the room.
"Uncle Gil?" Lindsey's voice stopped him.
"What is it, sweetheart?" he whispered, walking back over to her.
"Will you be here in the morning?" she asked, her voice tired.
Gil smiled as he brushed some hair away from her face. "I'll be here. Now go to sleep." He kissed her forehead before heading for the door.
"Love you, Uncle Gil."
"I love you, too, Butterfly." He turned off her light and shut the door quietly behind him.
"I swear, you are the sweetest and kindest man alive."
Catherine had watched from the doorway with tears in her eyes. She listened to the sound of Lindsey's laughter in the places where Gil would change tones. She listened to the rich baritone of his voice gently lulling her daughter to sleep.
Gil looked up to see a barely dressed Catherine. At least, that's how he would describe it. She had on only a man's dress shirt, blue in color, and peeking out from it was a pair of very short shorts.
"This is how you dress in the winter?" he teased.
She just smiled. "Come one, handsome. It's our time now." Her arms wrapped around his neck as she began to lead him to her bedroom. "I love it that you and Lindsey get along so well."
"She's a wonderful girl, Cath. I love her," he said, shutting her bedroom door behind him, "Almost as much as I love her mother."
Her eyed widened at his confession. Looking into his eyes, she could see the love he spoke of. She knew he could see the same in her eyes.
"I love you, too, Gil."
Her lips attacked his, causing him to step back. His arms wrapped tight around her, not wanting to let her go ever again.
When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. His eyes went to the shirt she was wearing, a sense of déjà vu coming over him.
"Not to ruin the mood, but I know I've seen that shirt before," he said, pulling away to look in her eyes.
"Stephanie's case all those years ago. All the girls were corralled outside. We were all scantily clad. You gave me this shirt because I was cold. I never got around to giving it back," she explained.
"Obviously," he muttered, an eyebrow raised.
"Shut up and take me to bed."
"Gladly."
He picked up, causing her to squeal in delight. He deposited her on the bed, causing her to bounce, and allowed her to pull his body over hers. He could see the lust in her eyes, the desire glossing over. He could also see the love.
"Will you spend tomorrow with us?" she asked, her voice taking on a whisper.
"Technically it's today. Had you asked…"
"Gil…" her tone was warning.
He kissed her slowly, taking his time. He made sure to pull away when he heard her moan.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."