Gift of Grace
by
Owlcroft
"And if I ever figure out how it is that you can be such a . . . such a Scrooge, Judge," McCormick was rolling now, "I'll put it in a scientific study so that generations from now you'll be remembered as the consummate curmudgeon!"
Hardcastle reflected that Mark only called him 'Judge' these days when he was truly upset and reverted back to years previous. Maybe he'd been a little hasty and crabby when he'd said he didn't want his grandson to give him anything for Christmas?
"And now," McCormick kept right on talking, hands waving in the air, "now I've finally managed to talk him into a hummingbird feeder instead and you go all Grinch-like on me! You know what, I'm gonna write Scrooge on a piece of cardboard and hang it around your neck to warn everybody else."
"Thought you said I was a curmudgeon," grunted the judge.
Mark laid a hand on his shoulder and grinned at him derisively. "Hardcastle, you can be both."
"Aw, c'mon. I just . . . I just don't want the kid spending a lot of his allowance on me," Hardcastle grumbled. "And I don't want him giving me something that will just –" he gestured vaguely toward the windbreak at the property line, "attract birds and make a mess and stuff. Matt's got better things to spend his money on, that's all." He ran a thumb across his nose and sniffed. "So what's the big deal anyway?" He spread his hands as though he were being totally reasonable.
"He wanted to make you a birdhouse, Milt. You know, cutting up wood and nailing it together and painting it? You do remember he's only eight? I finally managed to talk him out of that and into the hummingbird feeder and then he got all excited about it. Thought he could sit with Grandpa Milt and watch the little birds with you. God knows why he wants to," he added sourly.
Hardcastle grunted again and looked at McCormick closely. "Holidays starting to get to you, too, huh?"
Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair, still dark, but beginning to show a distinguished gray in places. "I don't know. Maybe." He shook his head and sighed again. "But I'm not blowing this out of proportion. It's important to Matt; he wants to give you something that the two of you can use together. And he's old enough now to start thinking about what to give people and this is a good example of it. It's something you don't already have – okay, maybe because you don't want it or need it – but it's good for the kid to come up with ideas like that. But hey. You don't want a present at all. That's fine. But you have to tell him that." Mark stood back, arms folded over his chest and stared at the older man defiantly.
It was the judge's turn to sigh now. He scowled at the innocent Pacific Ocean for a moment, then turned and strode back into the house. "Coffee," he tossed over his shoulder. He was already pouring the second mug when McCormick entered the kitchen. "Here," he said, handing the coffee over. "Sit down for a minute and let me say something, okay?"
"Okay."
Coffee drinking ensued for well over the stipulated minute, but Mark kept quiet.
Finally, Hardcastle sighed again. "So I used to have a birdhouse. And a hummingbird feeder. Two of 'em, in fact. Nancy'd re-fill the feeders every day and trek out to the birdhouse every week to see if anything was nesting in it. Once in a while, we'd get some sparrows using it; but not often. The feeders, though – you ever hear about ten of those little guys squawking at each other? And their wings make this loud buzzing noise and they zip around and get those beaks of theirs caught in the screen door if you leave it open and they're cute as hell and you hafta watch 'em just to see what they'll do next." Hardcastle brooded over his half-full mug. "Nancy loved 'em. She'd sit out there for an hour watching 'em. And I'd sit out there with her."
A silence fell, unbroken until Mark got up to get a coffee re-fill. He gestured mutely to the judge with the pot and then poured some for him, too.
"But," Hardcastle shrugged and stared down into his mug, "I don't sit out there now and watch birds. That's something you do with someone else, right? And Aggie's not real crazy about birds. She ever tell you she was chased by an angry macaw? For almost a mile. Thing flew almost as fast as her jeep." He drank some of his rapidly-cooling coffee. "And there's the whole thing about letting Matt spend his money on me when I don't need a present. Last year he gave me those bookmarks that he colored; I still use those. All the time. They mean something to me." He sipped more coffee and thought.
McCormick stayed quiet and let him think and talk.
"So I just think it's stupid to let him save up and get me something I can't use. Or maybe don't want to use, like a bird feeder. Maybe I'm just being stubborn. Or I'm old and set in my ways." He looked at Mark finally. "Can't he just get me something little, something . . ."
"Cheap? Seriously, Milt? I know you still squeeze a nickel until the buffalo squeals, but we're trying to teach Matt to be generous. With his time and his allowance. And you know he loves giving people things." McCormick got up and rinsed his mug and put it in the dishwasher. "He already has Grandma Aggie's present –" he held up a hand at the first hint of an interruption. "No, I'm sworn to secrecy. But she's gonna love it. Why can't you be a big guy here, and let him buy you something? Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. You let him buy you a hummingbird feeder and I'll let you buy him something." He grinned at the judge then. "Like you haven't already."
Hardcastle tilted his head toward the hallway. "Already wrapped, top shelf of the closet."
"Some things never change." Mark leaned against the counter and regarded the man opposite him with deliberation. "But some things ought to. You don't sit out there and watch the hummers any more 'cause there's nobody to sit with you. Did you miss the part about Matt wanting to sit out there with you?" He raised his eyebrows in interrogation. "I mean, look, your only grandson – probably the only one you're going to get, too – wants to spend time with you and you get all Arkansas donkey cheap with me about it. Way to spread the Christmas cheer, there, Milt. Ho, ho, humbug."
"Okay! I give up! Let him spend all his money on me then. Fine!" He started picking at the fringe on the tablecloth. "I just feel bad about it. It feels . . . it feels wrong. You know what I mean – I've got all this money and he's just a kid, and he ought to be saving up for something he wants instead of some rich guy's Christmas present, is all."
McCormick sat down across the little table from him. "So you think, because you have a lot of money, that your only grandson shouldn't be able to buy you something that shows he loves you." And he leaned back and waited.
After a couple of minutes, the response was, "You always had a gift for making me feel like an idiot at times."
ooooo
The hummingbird watchers had such a good time that even Grandma Aggie was persuaded to join them and bought a hard-carved wooden plaque to hang over the feeder. It read, "Milt and Matt's Court". Matt was the only one that didn't get the joke, and he didn't care. He just liked to hear his grandpa laugh.