Last week, Reverend Tamrin was resolved to take the future into his own hands. Let us now see what that no-good Brian Higley has in store within his wicked plans...
Chapter
16: The Gifts of Christmas
The path of the man named
Brian Higley was not as straight as it was determined. The man was on a
mission. A mission believed by him and his cruel mother-dear that would save
his manhood, but more to that blighter and his woes later.
On this day the house and
business of Mr. Dawning was hardly quiet or still. No matter how much Mrs.
Dawning protested, Mr. Dawning insisted that the shop door remain open on
Christmas Eve lest someone forgot a vital element of their holiday. But Ms.
Grace who stood looking out the window in the shop was in need of nothing well,
nothing that the store carried. She was here because she thought she would
enjoy the company of a friend today. Allison had decided to stay around until
the holidays ended, much to the delight of her parents, the Dawnings.
“I could order a pair if
you’d like, Ms. Grace,” Mr. Dawning offered his daughter’s dear friend as the
three of them looked over a thin catalog. The catalog was produced by a
business the size of Providence in a city in the east – they were the main
suppliers of Mr. Dawning’s shop. However, the item of inquiry was far too
expensive for Ms. Grace’s budget for the next year, so she certainly was not
about to order something she knew she could not afford.
“No, no thank you, Mr.
Dawning,” Ms. Grace said, kindly dismissing the thought with a wave of her
hand. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been this way for several years, so I can continue to
do without.”
“But, Gracie,” Allison
protested, “Sweetie, how are you ever going to teach again if you can barely
read anymore? You need those
spectacles. We’ll get them for you. Consider it a gift.”
The offer was made from a
genuine heart and Mr. Dawning stood behind the offer, but Ms. Grace found a way
to wriggle out of so great a gift. She laughed ironically at herself then said,
“But what the devil would I need to read if I haven’t even a schoolhouse with
pupils to teach?” The remark was cruel to herself, but she sparsely cared. Ms.
Grace knew full well that her schoolhouse would resume once the checks from
Mrs. Higley came through, but she had not told a soul beside the reverend of
the deal struck.
Business continued as usual
for Mr. Dawning while Allison and Ms. Grace remained in the front of the shop.
And then it seemed like pure
happenstance that the young Mr. Winford would arrive shortly after Ms. Grace
made her comment about the schoolhouse.
“Ms. Grace!” the boy
shouted, announcing his presence more loudly than the bell ringing above the
door. It had been a long time since the boy saw the beloved school teacher. He
gave her a wonderful hug.
The action nearly broke Ms.
Grace’s heart. She missed her students dreadfully. She held onto the boy for a
long while until he pulled away to give her a proper-Providence style greeting.
“Hallo, ma’am,” he said with a bow of his head.
“Hello, Mr. Winford,” Ms.
Grace returned. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for service tonight?” she said
the first thing that came to her mind to keep herself from losing her composure,
for this was hardly the place to burst into tears.
Allison stood from behind
the counter. She had been organizing the shelves that she deemed to be too
messy for her fastidious toleration. The young Mr. Winford greeted her as well
before he answered Ms. Grace, “Yes, ma’am, but my dad sent me here to buy candles
and sweets. He said that I should buy sum for m’ self, but I know that he’ll
take a few too.”
“He would,” Allison
sprightly said as she hopped up onto the counter to use it as a seat.
Mr. Dawning reentered the
shop from the door in the back that led to the storage room and the rest of his
home. “Why, young Mr. Winford, what can I get for you today, sir?” Mr. Dawning
dutifully inquired. He ignored the fact that his daughter was swinging her legs
merrily from her seat on the counter, something he knew his wife would not
condone. The gentleman took the boy’s order for the candles his father requested,
which were stored in the back and he asked his daughter to dole out a Christmas-appropriate
amount of sweets.
While Allison broke up a
couple of generous sized pieces of peanut brittle, the young Mr. Winford had a
couple of questions to keep Ms. Grace busy: “Ms Grace,” he asked, “D’ you think
that you could teach in the church? I asked Reverend Tamrin today already and
he said that if I’m good and if I wish hard enough today and tomorrow that
school’ll open again. Is that true?”
The young imploring face of
Mr. Winford officially broke her heart. Ms. Grace put the bit of rope that she
was fiddling with on the counter on which Allison was breaking the candy. Ms.
Grace leaned down to Mr. Winford’s eye level and she gave a delicate answer,
“Mr. Winford, I would be more than happy to conduct class in the church, but I
am afraid it is a little more complicated than that, love,” Ms. Grace sighed
then continued, “But, um, I would believe in what the reverend says about
wishes on Christmas. If you want something as pure and as true as that, hold it
to your heart tightly and maybe it will be.” The boy smiled, which was good
enough a reaction for Ms. Grace. She stood erect as Allison handed the rather
weighty bag of sweets to Mr. Winford.
The lad thanked Allison for the incredible
amount of candy and Mr. Dawning for the candles. The man tallied up the toll
for the boy, which turned out to be a couple of pennies more than expected and
not because of the candy. The candles that were requested were on the expensive
side, for they were scented with cinnamon (it was a very rare spice in these
parts). The boy mournfully went to return the candy out of guilt even though Mr.
Dawning persistently assured that the candy was free. However, Mr. Dawning had
to be unbending on the candles, for they were a pricey item for him to order.
Ms. Grace felt bad enough
for the boy that she could not let him fail his mission on Christmas Eve. In
the small purse she kept in her pocket, Ms. Grace removed five pennies that would
cover the sweets, so no one would lose anything today. “Here, Mr. Dawning,” Ms.
Grace offered the difference.
“Don’t worry about it,
Gracie,” Allison assured, knowing that Ms. Grace was in no financial position
to be charitable. Every soul in the room knew that Mr. Winford senior could
more than easily pay for these requests and that he undoubtedly only accidently
gave the boy the wrong amount (which was true), but that did not matter to Ms.
Grace. There was a principle that she was trying to teach the boy – even when
you have little, there is always something to be shared. “Please, Mr. Dawning,
it’s Christmas,” she sweetly reminded, hoping that the adults would understand.
“Let this be my gift to the young Mr. Winford.”
The boy felt terrible for
letting a lady pay for his treats, but he made a solemn vow to tell his dad
that they now owed Ms. Grace for her unfaltering kindness.
Mr. Dawning was not
comfortable taking Ms. Grace’s money when he knew that she presently had no
income, but he did for the sake of not making her feel ashamed. The little boy
thanked Ms. Grace almost excessively then ran home to tell his father of this
gift. Once the door was shut, Ms. Grace turned to her friend and to Mr.
Dawning. “I think that I am going to head home now,” she informed.
“Will you be alright,
Gracie?” Allison asked her friend as she handed her father the box full of the
remaining peanut brittle. Allison, Hewie, Mrs. Elderbe, and J.J. were all
concerned for their friend. No one understood her reasons for deciding to marry
Mr. Higley. Their perspectives altered against the union once they realized
that Ms. Grace took their advice seriously. No one liked that she actually
chose to listen to their suggestions about Mr. Higley, but no one could
convince Gracie otherwise. They all knew her to be stubborn.
“Yes, I am fine,” Ms. Grace
lied with a convincing smile. She walked to the door and bid the Dawnings ta
for now, “I’ll see you at church later,” Ms. Grace assured, but she was not
wholly certain that she would attend. Even though it was Christmas Eve she
wanted to be alone.
However, with Mr. Higley on
the prowl to complete his mission to vilify his manhood, how could such a wish
come true?
The snow that fell a couple
of days ago was already melting. Today was indeed much warmer than normally
expected for this time of year. As she took the back route through town to get
to her house to avoid any chance conversations, Ms. Grace dreaded the musty way
her residence was sure to smell because of those pesky leaky boards. The
melting snow would surely be penetrating the ceiling as she presently carefully
walked on the compacted snow. She knew that she would have no other choice but
to wait for spring for the boards to be fixed, ‘but oh, yes, that’s right,’ Ms. Grace chuckled ironically to herself.
She carefully skipped over a particularly dark area of ice on the ground as she
remembered, ‘What difference would it
make? I’ll be living in Mr. Higley’s house before long.’
The very thought of the man
seemed to be some sort of beacon. At the precise moment the words passed
through Ms. Grace’s head, Mr. Higley appeared from around the bend.
Ms. Grace jumped from the
start. “Mr. Higley, you startled me,” she scorned, clutching to her heart.
Frightening Ms. Grace from
his sudden appearance was not a part of the blighter’s mission, but it did fit
nicely with his plot. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Ms. Grace,” he dryly
greeted. He did not await a response of any sort. The cheeky prat looped his
arm through hers then he began to drag her toward the schoolhouse.
Although she was terribly
offended by his conduct, Ms. Grace did not say anything. She decided it better
to begin to allow herself to be jaded by Mr. Higley’s queer behavior now rather
than later.
As the pair approached the
schoolhouse with their marked haste, Mr. Higley quietly commenced phase two of
his mission: “Ms. Grace, I have been thinking about our future together. As
much as I do like your fiery passions, I do not think that sort of behavior is
a good quality in a wife.”
Ms. Grace thought the words
to sound slightly promising, but she did not dare to hold her breath.
The pair flew passed the
steps of the schoolhouse and stopped at the base of her house’s stoop. Do not
for a moment believe that Ms. Grace was naive. She knew full well that Mr.
Higley did not walk her home simply out of the kindness of his heart.
For a moment Mr. Higley
looked this way and that. It was vital for his mission that no one saw his next
step. The man’s big, cunning eyes were squinting from the brightness of the
snow which was trapped between the plain of Providence and the thin clouds
above. Finding that there were no other souls, not even a wandering cow in the
meadow to see him, Mr. Higley cleared his throat and turned Ms. Grace to face
him directly. She stared at him indifferently to intentionally misrepresent how
aware she was of his coming actions. Her focus was so ready that it took a
minute or two for her to realize the pain growing in her upper arms from the
clutch he held on her.
“Ms. Grace,” he started
with his pretty teeth shimmering brightly behind his cunning smile. There was a
shade of malicious intent across his face that diverted Ms. Grace’s firm
concentration. “The only way that I
can ensure that you will remain faithful to the deal struck and to make sure
that you are a proper behaving wife is to do what I must do now.”
That statement did not
sound particularly pleasant to Ms. Grace and indeed, it was not.
Mr. Higley tightened his
grasp on Ms. Grace so to throw her up the stairs. In the action, Ms. Grace’s boot
slipped on the steps. She went crashing down. Her calf hit hard and awkwardly
against one of the steps’ lip. She did not want to relent to Mr. Higley’s
present ambition, but he was already pulling her back to her feet before she
could so much as make an attempt to squirm away.
Mr. Higley shoved her
shoulders against the door, knocking the wind from her lungs to keep her from
verbally protesting. Ms. Grace’s back stung sharply from the hard contact her body
made with the green brass knocker on her door.
For the briefest of moments,
Ms. Grace thought that her house actually moaned in pain for her, but there
were more pressing matters for her at hand. However, the sound was a cry from
the house as a warning to its occupant of what was soon to come.
With excessive force Mr.
Higley squished her between himself and the door.
Her back and her leg hurt
dreadfully and she could not seem to cough air back into her lungs, but she ignored
the pains. She beat and struck at Mr. Higley’s shoulder and chest as best she
could. The brat was able to dodge his face away from her pummeling fists, though
she was trying to break or damage the man’s pretty face in any way she could. She
was putting up a fairly good fight for a woman of her size. She did not want it
to go this way and she was too stubborn to give it up without a fight.
But Mr. Higley was able to
deter Ms. Grace’s strikes with one hand while with the other he fiddled with
the door’s knob that would not turn. (Ms. Grace had taken to locking the door
to keep any other teens from entering her house). Mr. Higley cursed loudly (oh!
How the buildings of Providence shivered from the course word!) From his
frustrations he commanded Ms. Grace to open the door.
Ms. Grace was hardly about
to perform that command. She had no intention of obeying this man now or ever
for that matter. As far as she was concerned, the deal was off. Nothing was
worth the abuse.
The woman made to start
screaming, for she had finally regained her breath, but Mr. Higley saw what she
was about to do. He slapped his hand over her mouth. He muzzled her to keep her
from screaming. Seeing that she was becoming too much to handle Mr. Higley did
something unconceivable for a man of Providence. Without thought he slammed Ms.
Grace against the door again to subdue his prey.
Again the brass knocker
struck her in the same spot on her back as before. The pain was dizzying. The
violent act certainly did subdue her to near complete complacency. The
distraction from her eyes focusing in and out from the pain almost caused Ms.
Grace to miss a cue that otherwise would have ended in complete disaster. She
hardly heard the house moaning twice as loudly, before she was fully able to realize
what was happening.
Running his hands wildly
through her pockets to find a key, Mr. Higley was too focused on getting the
partially limp body of Ms. Grace inside to have noticed what was happening.
While a tingling feeling
returned life to Ms. Grace’s limbs, her eyes crawled up to look at the ledge
above her. Even though the roof was slanted a good meter’s worth of melting
snow lay atop. Those leaking boards in the ceiling were saturated and weak. The
slow trickling drips coming off the gutter were hardly sufficient to alleviate
or to help evade what was imminent.
The moaning turned
progressively louder until it happened with a snap. The force of Ms. Grace
being twice pounded against the edifice and the weight of the melting snow were
the last abuses the house could stand.
With later reflection on
the day, Ms. Grace would smile to think that her house saved her from something
horrid, but at the moment, Ms. Grace could only hope to get away quick enough
before the house did something horrid to her.
“BRIAN, MOVE!” Ms. Grace
screamed as with one tremendous push she shoved the fool completely off her.
The man lost his footing on the slippery steps and went tumbling back. The
compacted snow caught him with a crunch.
Ms. Grace leapt off her
stoop into a large mound of snow just in time.
With a roar like a bear the
entire roof of Ms. Grace’s house caved in and came down.
Crawling and kicking
herself back so that no stray wall would fall on her, Ms. Grace watched her
entire home collapse for the second time in her life.
Coughing and struggling for
air, Mr. Higley too crawled away as quickly as he could. He could care less
about the house; he was only concerned about regaining his breath and staying
away from that crumbling infrastructure.
A puff of white from the
dust and from the snow gracefully lifted itself like a halo around the walls of
Ms. Grace’s destroyed place of residence. She sat with eyes and mouth opened
wide as she stared at the pitiable disaster. The teacher managed to mechanically
scoot herself a leg’s distance more into the field as the front door fell down
the stoop as if out of spite. In her shock, she chuckled at the thought, “There you are, Mr. Higley; the door shan’t
be an issue for you anymore,” but that was all she would be able to clearly
think for the rest of the day.
Mr. Higley’s thoughts were
slow to develop. He was presently only able to realize how close he came to
being at the bottom of those boards, bricks and snow, which might have served
him right for what he was about to do to Ms. Grace. It was ironic that he was
spared because of the presence of Ms. Grace. She certainly did not deserve to
go out in so odd yet ordinary a fashion. No, her fate was destined to be far nobler
than that.
In Ms. Grace’s and Mr.
Higley’s incapacity to return to normalcy, the sound of the unforeseen destruction
called many a member of Providence to come running out from their homes.
“What happened?!”
“What was that?!”
“Where did it come from?!”
The neighbors asked one
another as they all popped out onto their porches, wrapping their coats around
their bodies already dressed for church. It was not long at all before most of
Providence was stationed on their porches to see what could possibly have
happened to make such a ghastly noise. The people did not have to wonder long
where the direction of the hullabaloo commenced, for the cloud of dust had now
risen above the rooftops. Nearly everyone’s heart stopped when they realized from
where the sound was produced.
Mrs. Huff was the first to
step off her porch to say, “Oh, my God. Ms. Grace!”
Providence did not waste a
breath – they all went tearing off to the school teacher’s rescue.
But Ms. Grace’s savior had
already arrived at her side. He swept in like a wingèd guardian. Ms. Grace did
not hear him approach, but she knew from the second he kneeled beside her to
gently scoop her from the ground that her heart was here. She could hear its
tick.
Mr. Tamrin wrapped his
cloak around Ms. Grace’s shoulders. The poor dear was shaking uncontrollably
from her shock. He asked her if she was injured, if she was alright, but his
and everyone else’s voice was muzzled in her ears. It was the shock. From what
the reverend could visibly discern Ms. Grace did seem to be all in one piece,
but Mr. Higley on the other hand completely fell apart. The fool started
screaming like an infant, but before he could be interrogated or even asked if
he was alright, the boy went limping home to his mother. His mission had failed
and his manhood hurt something terrible from when Ms. Grace kneed him to get
him off her.
The next couple of hours
Ms. Grace would later hardly remember. As the afternoon slipped away into
twilight, Ms. Grace heard, but did not absorb any of the words from the people
of Providence who were selflessly giving her generous gifts: she was to receive
several dresses and trunks in which to store them; many quilts were coming her
way from many different women; pens and parchment and loads of Christmas
decorations were coming to her from the Winfords; a lifetime of tea was
promised to her from her old ward Mrs. Huff; countless shoulders to cry on any
time were also proclaimed and also came an incalculable slew of promises that
everything would be alright.
Christmas Eve mass was
postponed until tomorrow on Ms. Grace’s behalf. The story of the golden spiders
could wait. Actually, after consideration the people of Providence unanimously decided
to henceforth combine the Christmas Eve mass and the Christmas day mass to make
things easier on everyone.
~*~*~
The tables are turning at last for Ms. Grace and Mr. Tamrin. Tune in next week to see what happens next!
Your humble author,
S. Faxon
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