by Cat Vibert
“Meet me down by the well tonight. Since it’s Christmas, I have something to ask you.”
That was the last thing he said to her before he disappeared that Christmas Eve 60 long years ago. As children, they had played together in the nearby woods and fished in the creeks and streams. Discovering love in their teens, they were always together. Inseparable. She was certain he was going to ask her to marry him that night when they met at the well. But he didn’t met her that night. He was never seen again. No one ever knew what became of him. Aggie waited for him for many years before she finally gave him up for dead.
She stared out the window at the snow swirling around the well.
“C’mon mom, let’s go, it’s time for dinner.” Aggie’s daughter held out an arm to help her up.
“I don’t need help Joan, but thank you.” Aggie used strength she didn’t know she had to avoid being helped. She pushed herself out of her chair and balanced herself on her walker and began taking tiny steps toward the dining room, maneuvering through her grandchildren’s toys and several cats. She got to the table and took her seat at the head. Her daughter and son, both divorced, and her four grandchildren were seated at the table. The kids, feverish with expectation and wanting to hurry through dinner to get to opening presents. She looked at them and frowned.
“Well, I’m not big on prayer but since it’s Christmas Eve I’m going to say a few things,” Aggie began. “First, let me say a prayer for Johnny, your father.”
“Mom, Johnny isn’t our father. Johnny disappeared when you were kids.” Joan looked at her brother, their eyes widened.
The kids started to serve themselves, unconcerned. Aggie felt confused and stared at her plate.
“I’m sorry mom, finish the prayer. Kids, put the food down, we’re saying Grace!”
“That’s not Grace mom, she should just bless the food so we can eat.”
Aggie stared at her oldest grandson. A young boy of about 11 that she didn’t recognize.
“Meow.” Aggie looked behind her at the speaking cat.
“There, there Mr. Stripe, you’ll have food in a minute I’m sure,” Aggie said to the cat. She turned toward her grandson again.
“You say Grace, dear,” she directed.
“Praise be to the newborn son, let’s eat!”
There was a knock at the door.
“Who would that be in this blizzard?” Aggie’s son Mark asked. He got up to answer the door. An old man bundled up in a peacoat and fur cap was holding a small jewelry box in his shaky hand. He stared at Mark, his gaze hollow and haunted.
“May I help you?”
“Is Agatha here?”
“May I tell her your name?”
“John. My name is John.”
Aggie stood straight up out of her chair as if her legs were sixteen again. She grabbed the walker and raced to the door. Her heart pounded. She rounded the door and looked at his face.
“I don’t know him,” she turned and started taking tiny steps back toward the table.
“I’m sorry, my mother’s a little confused these days, would you like to come in out of the blizzard?”
The man walked in. Mark took his coat and hat and hung it on the coat tree by the door.
“We were just sitting down to eat Christmas dinner, have you had a meal, will you join us?” Mark asked him.
“I would like that, I have a story to tell. Are you Agatha’s children?”
Mark nodded. “I’m Mark and this is my sister Joan. The kids are Billy, Tommy, Tammy and Julia.”
“Aggie’s family…” John shook his head acknowledging an ancient regret. “Where is your father?”
“He died 15 years ago. Heart attack. Here, sit down, join us.”
John sat down and Joan served him some food. Aggie was staring at him suspiciously.
“May I tell you my story?” John asked her. A cat rubbed up against his leg and meowed, as if to say ‘go ahead.’ Aggie stared at him, her face uninviting.
“Aggie, 60 years ago on this night I was going to meet you at the well, do you remember?”
She stared.
“My mother had taken me and my sisters to church to organize food delivery for the hungry. I probably should have stayed there but decided to go out for a walk by the river. I was nervous and excited about meeting you later. Remember the log that crossed the river? We used to play on it as kids. It’s gone now, but do you remember?”
Aggie stared. She nodded her head a little, the suspicion dropped from her expression.
“I slipped on some ice that was on that log and fell into the river, hitting my head on a rock. They found me several miles down the river, alive, barely, but with no memory of who I was.”
Aggie stared. Tears were welling up in her eyes.
“Johnny?”
“It’s me Aggie. It wasn’t until decades later that I began to regain my memory and tried to seek the ties to my former life. By the time I knew who they were, my parents had passed away. I looked you up and saw that you were married and… I didn’t want to interfere. I…”
Aggie stared. Tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Johnny, what was it you wanted to ask me?” she blurted.
He handed her the box.
“Aggie, will you marry me? Will you be my Christmas bride and spend your life with me?”
Aggie opened the box and stared at the sparkles in the ring, the sparkles became ice crystals that slapped the window hard.
“C’mon mom, have you been crying again? Let’s get up, it’s time for Christmas dinner,” Joan leaned down and offered an arm to help her up.
Aggie took her daughter’s arm, glancing out the window as she rose. The well was buried in the snow. A cat jumped onto the window sill and into Aggie’s chair, snuggling into the warm places. Aggie smiled. She took tiny steps using her walker and sat at the head of the table. She looked around the table at her children and grandchildren and smiled.
“Do you want to say Grace?” Aggie asked the young man whose name she couldn’t remember.
“No you say it grandma.”
“Alright then, I will.”
The family joined hands.
Aggie spoke, her voice finding an inner strength.
“Father, on this Christmas Eve night, we remember the holy miracle and birth of your son Jesus and the reason he was here on Earth, to spread peace and good will for all people. We are grateful for all that we have, and for the warmth of the fire and family on this snowy night. Bless those who don’t have warmth or food tonight, and bless those who have lost dear ones and are missing them tonight. We remember those who have died whom we have loved and know they are with you in heaven, safe and warm. Bless this food, and Merry Christmas. In your holy name we pray, Amen.”
“Amen!” The family chimed in, then started digging in to the food.
“That was nice mom,” Joan said. “It made me think of father.”
Aggie stared, confused. “Johnny?”
“No mom, Daniel is our father.”
“Oh. Well bless him then too.”
Dedicated to those suffering from Alzheimer’s, and the families who take care of them.
©2009 Catherine Vibert
It is difficult to think, in this season, of anything but the dismal gray of politics and the economy. Wouldn’t it be nice if instead our thoughts danced on about how good the grass tastes when it is wet, and how the mountains look with a light mist shroud? I’d like to set my mind alight with those kinds of things…
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