The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas (5 page)

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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

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And then I thought—Blizzards can stop pageants, but they can't stop babies, and if the baby starts coming, she'll have to go to the hospital anyhow …
“You're a good girl to be so philosophical,” Mother said.
But I didn't really think I was being philosophical.
John said, “Anyhow, it looks as though the baby's going to wait till after Christmas.”
Mother answered, “Let's hope so.”
John pressed his nose against the window until the pane steamed up. “How's Daddy going to get home?”
It seemed to me that Mother looked anxious as she said, “I must admit I'm wondering about that myself.”
“But it's Christmas Eve!” John said. “He
has
to get home!”
All Mother said was, “He'll do the best he can. At least I'm the only maternity case on his list right now.”
In all my worrying about Mother not being home for Christmas, it had never occurred to me that Daddy mightn't be. Even when he's been called off on an emergency, he's always been around for most of the time. But if the blizzard was bad enough to call off
church, it was maybe bad enough so Daddy couldn't get up the long steep hill that led to the village.
When it began to get dark, Suzy woke up, all pink from sleep, and hurried downstairs. She was very cross when Mother told her that the Pageant and the Christmas Eve service had been called off. “I needn't have slept so long after all! And I wanted to see Vicky be the angel!”
Mother answered, “We all did, Suzy.”
Suzy stamped. “I'm
mad
at the old blizzard.”
Mother laughed. “That's not going to stop the snow. And remember, you've been looking for snow every day. Now you've got it. With a vengeance. This is the worst blizzard I remember in years.”
John lit the candle in the window and flicked the switch that turns on the outdoor Christmas tree and the light over the garage door. Then we all looked out the windows. The only way you could tell where the road used to be is by the five little pines at the edge of the lawn, and by the birches across the road. The outdoor Christmas tree was laden with snow, and the lights shone through and dropped small pools of color
on the white ground. The great flakes of snow were still falling as heavily as ever, soft and starry against the darkness.
“I guess Daddy'll have to spend the night at the hospital,” John said.
Mother came to the window and looked over our heads. “No car can possibly get up that road.”
Suzy asked, “What're we going to have for dinner?”
Mother turned from the window. “I think I'll just take hamburger out of the refrigerator …” I thought she looked worried.
I stayed by the window.—Please let Daddy get home. Please let Daddy get home.
But I knew Mother was right, and a car couldn't possibly make it up the road, even with new snow tires and chains.
—Please, God, I'm not bargaining, I'm not bribing or anything, I'm just asking, Please let Daddy get home. If I knew how to offer my whole self I would, but I don't know how, so please let Daddy get home, please let …
Then, just as the words began to jumble themselves up in my mind, I saw something in the wide expanse of snow, somewhere near where the curve of the road ought to be. A light. “Mother! John! Suzy!” They all came running to the window.
“It's a flashlight,” John said.
“Snowshoes!” Mother cried. “John, run to the garage and see if Daddy took his snowshoes!”
John hurried to the kitchen door and in a minute came back, grinning happily. “They're gone.”
The light came closer and closer and soon we could see Daddy, his head and shoulders covered with snow. His snowshoes moved steadily and regularly over the white ground. We ran tumbling out to the garage and flung our arms around him, and the dogs jumped up on him and barked in greeting.
“Whoa!” he said. “Let me get my snowshoes off!” He handed the snowshoes to John, who hung them up. Then he stamped his feet and shook, and snow tumbled off him. The dogs dashed out into the snow, came whirling back into the garage, and shook off even
more snow. “Come along,” Daddy said. “Let's get in out of the cold.”
When we got indoors Daddy kissed Mother. She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I was afraid you wouldn't be able to get home.”
Daddy said, “You didn't think I'd leave you now, did you?”
And Mother said, “I've been having contractions off and on all day. Oh, I am so glad you're home!”
Daddy put another log on the fire. Outdoors the snow was still falling. Indoors it was warm and cozy. The star lit up the little stable, and Daddy went to the white cardboard box and took out the tiny wax figure of the baby. “I think we can put him in the manger now.”
Mother said, “We might as well have the reading now, too, because this is all the Christmas Eve service we're going to get.”
John went into the living room and turned on the Christmas tree lights so that there was the beauty of the Christmas tree indoors and the Christmas tree outdoors, and Daddy sat by the fire and read us the Christmas story. I looked at the angel on top of the indoor Christmas tree and I felt peaceful and happy.
When we had finished dinner and were nearly through with the dishes, Mother gave a funny little gasp and said to Daddy, “How are you going to get me to the hospital?”
Daddy laughed. “Upstairs is as far as I'm going to get you tonight.” He looked at us. “Children, I'm going to ask you to finish the dishes and clean up the kitchen.” Suddenly he sounded like a doctor, not just Daddy. “John, put on a full kettle to boil. Blizzards don't ask anybody when they should come, and neither do babies.”
He put his arm about Mother and they went upstairs.
“What about dessert?” Suzy asked. “We were going to have dessert after we'd done the dishes.”
“If you're really interested in dessert, I'll get you some ice cream out of the freezer,” John said.
After all, Suzy is a very little girl. She ate a large bowl of ice cream.
When the kitchen was all cleaned up, Daddy came downstairs. He carried the Christmas stockings and he told us to hang them carefully at the living room fireplace. “You'd be staying up late tonight anyhow, so please just be good. Vicky, keep that kettle hot for me, and feed the cats and put them down in the cellar for the night.”
The snow beat against the windows. The wind rattled the shutters. In spite of her nap Suzy got sleepy and curled up on the living room sofa. I went to the stove. “I'd better make the cocoa to put on the mantelpiece with the cookies for Santa Claus.”
“Make enough for us while you're at it,” John said.
We drank two, then three cups of cocoa. We tiptoed
out to the storeroom where we'd hidden our presents for Mother and Daddy and put them under the tree. Time seemed to stretch out and out and Daddy didn't come back downstairs. The dogs lay in front of the fire and snored. Suddenly Mr. Rochester, the Great Dane, pricked up his ears. John and I listened, but we didn't hear anything. At the top of the cellar stairs a cat meowed. Mr. Rochester sat up and raised his head; his tail thumped against the floor.
Then we did hear something, something unmistakable, loud and clear. A cry. A baby's cry.
I started to get up, but John said, “Wait.”
In a little while Daddy came bounding down the stairs. He was beaming. “You have a little brother, children!” He took the kettle and hurried back up the stairs, calling, “You can come up in a few minutes. Wait.”
The baby cried again, a lusty yell.
I went to the crèche. The light from the star shone down on the stable. The elephant and the pig and her piglets seemed to have moved in closer. The baby lay on his bed of straw.
“Listen.” John held up his hand. Across the fields came the sound of the clock in the church steeple striking midnight. “Let's wake Suzy up, and tell her.”
Suzy sleeps soundly and it took us a long time to wake her properly. By the time she realized what had happened, Daddy came back downstairs.
“You can come up now, for just a minute, children. But Mother's tired, and the baby's asleep, so be very quiet,”
We tiptoed up the stairs and into the big bedroom. Mother was lying in the big bed and smiling. In the crook of her arm was a little bundle. We tiptoed closer. The bundle was our baby brother. His face was all puckered and rosy. His eyes were closed tight. He had a wisp of dampish hair. He had a tiny bud of a mouth. One little fist was close to his cheek. We stood and stared at him. We were too excited and awed to speak.
Mother asked, “Isn't he beautiful?” and we all nodded.
Then Daddy shooed us out. “All right. Time for bed, everybody.”
John went off to his room, and Suzy and I to ours. When we had undressed and brushed our teeth and Suzy was in bed, I stood at the window. The snow had stopped. The ground was a great soft blanket of white, broken by the dark lines of trees and the gay colors of the outdoor tree. The sky was dark and clear and crusted with stars. I watched and watched and there was one star that was brighter and more sparkling than any of the others.
The Christmas star.
Mother was home. Daddy was home. Our baby brother was home. We were all together.
I whispered, “Thank you.”
And the light shone right into my heart.
The Austin Family Chronicles
Meet the Austins
The Moon by Night
The Young Unicorns
A Ring of Endless Light
Troubling a Star
Madeleine L'Engle
(1918-2007) was the author of the beloved Austin Family Chronicles, including the Newbery Honor Book
A Ring of Endless Light.
Among her many books for children and adults are
A Wrinkle in Time,
winner of the Newbery Medal, and the other four books of the Time Quintet.
 
 
Jill Weber
has designed and illustrated numerous books for children. She lives on Frajil Farms in New Hampshire.
Farrar Straus Giroux
175 Fifth Avenue
New York 10010
 
 

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