Christmas Visitor by Linda Byler Read Free Book Online Page A

she was alright.
    Mamie was a treasure, asking her to go Christmas shopping with the others. Should Ruth have been honest with her? So far, she had no clue how they would celebrate Christmas — with gifts, anyway. Perhaps this year she would tell the children they would receive gifts from their grandparents and the teacher at school, but since their dat was no longer here, they wouldn’t have Christmas gifts at home.
    How could she manage?
    Elmer and Esther would understand. She pictured Elmer with his shoulders held too high and his hands in his pockets, the “little man” stance he’d developed in the past five months. Ruth ached with love for her eldest son.
    How could she — if she had a chance — replace Ben? How did one go about procuring a replacement for a husband? She guessed she couldn’t. At least not outwardly.
    There came a time, though, when she had to wonder what God had in store. Did He think it was best to stay alone? Was there anyone who would even consider taking the wild leap into the chaotic lives of six children and their mother?
    She remembered the emotion her sister, Verna, had shown. But that Vern was something else — slightly unstable. Ruth thought of the wrinkled, yellowing handkerchief, knowing it wasn’t laundered properly and had never seen an iron.
    None of the sisters knew why Verna was that way. Verna herself claimed she was adopted. She didn’t care one whit about her yard or garden or housework. She bought all her canned goods at B. B.’s Store in Quarryville, saying she could buy them cheaper than she could can them herself.
    She pieced quilts and bought Little Debbies for her children, or Nutter Butters or Chips Ahoy. Her oldest, named Ellen — Mam had a fit about that fancy name — did the washing just as fast as she could without paying much attention to the outcome.
    The thought of her sister and her questionable laundry was the deciding factor between sleep and more tumbling thoughts of worry. Ruth barely had time to pull Lillian’s softly breathing form against her own before giving into asleep.

Ruth walked toward the house, leafing through her mail as the October wind caught her skirt and whipped it around her knees. The gas bill, a few cards from folks in the community who remembered to send lines of encouragement — sometimes containing crisp twenty dollar bills — some junk mail, an offer for a credit card, which was tempting.
    Hmm.
    A letter with no stamp? Without her full address? She struggled to pull the storm door completely shut and then laid the mail on the kitchen table before hanging her black sweater on the row of hooks by the wringer washer.
    Shivering, she sat down to open her mail. She found nothing unusual, but she was grateful for the cards with the usual verses, a token of care sent by people she did not know.
    She saved the one without a stamp for last, somehow savoring the mystery of it. She blinked and caught her breath. The envelope contained a plain sheet of notebook paper from an ordinary composition book with the loose fragments of paper still hanging from the holes where it had been torn from the notebook.
    One, two, three….She almost stopped counting as her heart started beating wildly in her chest. Ten. There were ten one hundred dollar bills. There was no greeting and no name.
    She hadn’t planned on crying. It just happened, starting with her nostrils burning and a huge lump in her throat that was relieved only when the splash of tears began. She folded her arms on top of the mail on the oak table and let the wonder of this generous gift overtake her.
    â€œMam?”
    Elmer’s concern forced her to lift her head. She felt guilty now to be indulging in these senseless tears.
    â€œI’m sorry, Elmer.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    Silently she handed the money to him and watched through blurred vision as he counted, then whistled softly.
    â€œWe’re