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Authors: Madeleine L'engle

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BOOK: The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas
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Daddy changed the subject. He's very good about knowing when to do that. “I heard you saying your angel lines, Vicky. We're going to be very proud of you on Christmas Eve.”
When we got home, Mother and John and Suzy were in the kitchen, stuffing dates. John shouted, “Vicky! There's snow forecast for tomorrow!”
On the fourteenth day of December three snowflakes fell. Exactly three. I counted them.
They fell while we were out in the woods picking berries and ground pine for Christmas decorations,
On the fifteenth day of December Daddy and John got out
the ladder, and Mother and Suzy and I untangled the long strings of outdoor lights and we trimmed the big Norway spruce.
“We're going to do quite a few things early this year,” Daddy explained, “because of not knowing just when the baby is going to decide to be born.” I didn't want to think about that.
At night the spruce shone so brightly that it could be seen all the way from the main road at the bottom of the hill.
And that afternoon Mother came to pick me up after rehearsal and the director said, just as though I couldn't hear, “I must admit to you, Mrs. Austin, that I was a little unsure of Vicky for the first few rehearsals. She's the youngest angel we've ever chosen and I had grave doubts as to whether or not she could do it. But now I think she's going to be the very best we've ever had, and she knows her lines perfectly.”
One part of me blazed with happiness. Another part thought sadly—It won't be Christmas if Mother isn't home.
As we drove away from the church and turned
down the main road, Mother pointed to the hilltop where our big white house perches, and I could see a little triangle of light that was the outdoor Christmas tree. And another awful thought struck me. “Mother! If you're in the hospital, you won't be able to see me being the angel!”
“That's true.”
“But I
want
you to see me!”
“I want to see you, too.”
“In the olden days people didn't have to go to hospitals to have babies. They had them at home.”
“So they did,” Mother agreed. “But even if I had the baby at home, I couldn't come see you being the angel.
“Why not?”
“Brand-new babies need a lot of attention,” Mother said, “and they can't be taken out in the cold. I was pretty tied down at Christmastime the year you were born.”
“But I was
born
!” I cried. “And you were home for Christmas. You didn't go off and leave John and Suzy alone. Oh, I forgot. Suzy wasn't born. Anyhow,
Mother, please could you ask the baby to wait till after Christmas?”
“I can ask,” Mother said, “but I wouldn't count on it. What shall we do today for our Special Thing?”
“Let's make the wreath for the front door.”
“Good idea. We've got lots of ground pine and berries left over, and I saved all the pine cones we gilded and silvered last year. When we get home you can run up to the attic and get them.”
On the sixteenth day of December John listened to the weather forecast before breakfast, and snow was predicted again. The sky had the white look that means it is heavy with snow. John and I were so pleased we ran almost the whole of the mile down the hill to wait for the school bus. A cold raw wind was blowing and we huddled into our parkas.
After school I had rehearsal. So did John, because he's singing in the choir, and this is the first time that the cast of the Pageant and the choir have worked together.
I tried hard to walk the way I did with the
Shu
to
Sub
encyclopedia on my head, and to move my arms as though they were the graceful arms of a tree in spring and not the bare brittle branches of a tree in December. I remembered all my lines in my heart as well as my mind, and Mother had worked with me to make each word ring out clear and pure as a bell. Everybody seemed pleased, and John pounded me on the back and told me I was a whiz. The choir director congratulated me, just as though I were a grown-up, and told me that everybody was going to miss Mother in the choir, and I was forced once again to remember that Mother might not be home for Christmas. John asked the choir director if he thought it would snow, but he shook his head. “It's turned too cold for snow.”
Mr. Irving, the choir director, drove us home and stopped in for a cup of tea. A big box of holly and mistletoe had arrived from our cousins on the West Coast, so John and Daddy hung the mistletoe on one of the beams in the living room.
After Mr. Irving had left, we opened the day's Christmas cards the way we always do, taking turns, so that each card can be looked at and admired and appreciated.
John remarked, “Some people just rip open their cards in the post office. I bet the kids never see them at all. I'm glad we don't do it that way.”
“Everybody's different, John,” Mother said. “That's what makes people interesting.”
“Well, nobody else I know does something every day during Advent the way we do. What's our Special Thing for today?”
“Oh, I think the holly and the mistletoe's plenty. Start setting the table, Vic. It's nearly time to eat.”
The days toward Christmas flew by, and still there was no snow. And no baby. And rehearsals went well and I was happy about the way being the angel was going, and so was the director.
On the seventeenth of December we hung our collection of
angels all over the house, and on the eighteenth we put the Christmas candle in the big kitchen window. On the nineteenth we made Christmas cards, with colored paper and sparkle and cutouts from last year's Christmas cards.
On the twentieth day we put up the crèche. This is one of the most special of all the special things that happen before Christmas. Over the kitchen counter is a cubbyhole with two shelves. Usually mugs are kept in the bottom shelf, and the egg cups and the pitcher that is shaped like a cow on the top shelf. But for Christmas, Mother makes places for these in one of the kitchen cabinets. On the top shelf goes the wooden stable and the shepherds. Tiny wax angels fly over the stable. A dove sits on the roof. The ox and the ass and all the barnyard animals are put in, one by one, everybody taking turns. There is even a tiny pink pig with three
little piglets, from a barnyard set John got one year for his birthday. There is a sheepdog and a setting hen and a grey elephant the size of the pig. Some people might think the elephant doesn't belong, but the year I was born Daddy gave him to John, and he's been part of the crèche ever since, along with two monkeys and a giraffe and a polar bear. Mary and Joseph will be put in on the morning of Christmas Eve, and then, when we get home from Church on Christmas Eve night, Daddy puts in the baby Jesus, and reads the nativity story from Saint Luke.
BOOK: The Twenty-four Days Before Christmas
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