The Christmas Hope(43)

At five o’clock we loaded into the car to go see the living Nativity. We picked Mom and Dad up and they were wearing matching red turtlenecks with green cardigans. They looked like a singing Christmas duo that might perform at nursing homes. Mom’s sweater had a big Santa pin that said “ho, ho, ho” when you pulled his feet. Mark drove up the winding drive that led to Longworth Farm and noticed the man signaling him at the end of the field that had become the parking lot. The field was full of cars. Emily took Mark’s hand and then mine and pulled us forward toward the entrance. I’d never seen a child so excited to see a few animals. Mom and Dad ran behind us to keep up. Emily dragged us past a man selling sugarcoated pecans and roasted cashews and a woman selling hot chocolate and cider. The barns on the property had enormous lit stars on each roof and swags of spruce that hovered above the barn’s opening. Carolers dressed in Victorian costumes sang at the entrance of one barn while another was filled with a small petting zoo that included sheep, goats, ponies, and calves, each wearing a red Christmas ribbon and bell around its neck. Emily ran from one animal to another stroking its nose or patting its side. Mom snapped pictures of her with each animal, taking so many pictures that she had to change film.

We walked out of the barn and saw lines of people waiting for the horse-drawn sleigh rides. “This is just like a winter wonderland,” Mom said, gasping at the sight of the sleighs gliding over the snowy meadow. I pulled Emily’s hood over her head and zipped her coat as we waited our turn but she didn’t seem to mind the chilly breeze. When our turn arrived, Mark and Emily and I sat in the front seat of the sleigh and Mom and Dad sat behind us. The driver clacked his tongue and the two black horses pulling our sleigh headed across the meadow, the bells around their necks jingling as they ran. Emily squealed and grabbed for my hand and Mark’s, holding our hands in her lap. She was beside herself when the horses pulled us through the woods.

“We’re going into the forest like Snow White,” she said, looking wide-eyed around her. We passed a large gingerbread house with a waving gingerbread man out front and she popped up out of the seat. “Look,” she said, pointing. “We could eat that!” She put her hands up to her mouth and pretended to bite and make chewing sounds. Mark laughed and eased her back down. She clapped and stomped her feet and Mom snapped one picture after another. The ride was over much too soon. Mark helped Emily out of the sleigh and then offered his hand to me. I accepted it and he helped me to the ground. I know Mom and Dad saw us but they pretended not to notice. They’d gotten just as good at pretending as Mark and I had.

We heard the music of a small orchestra and walked toward the largest barn in the distance where the Nativity was held. Large pine trees were decorated with white lights and an enormous star, bigger than those on the other barns, lit up the tin roof. “Wow,” Emily said, stopping us. From where we were standing we couldn’t see Mary or Joseph or any of the animals inside the barn because of the crowd in front of us. I noticed a spot opening up and moved toward it.

“Come up here,” I said, leading the way.

Emily turned toward Mark, and without asking, Mark knew that she wanted to be lifted onto his shoulders. Bright lights shone on shepherds and a small shepherd boy who wandered about with some sheep and lots of donkeys, cows, goats, and even a camel. When the menagerie moved out of the way we could see Joseph and Mary and the little Baby Jesus. The music was soft now, a lullaby. I pointed to Mary holding a wriggling baby and Emily smiled. She hadn’t expected to see such a small baby in the manger. Then the sky lit up and we looked to see five glowing angels hovering over the barn. The angel in front had long brown hair and a flowing crimson robe with delicate ribbons of gold. Music swelled as the angels opened their arms to the scene below them.

“There she is!” Emily shouted, pointing to the angel. “That’s her!” Mark and I exchanged glances. Emily couldn’t take her eyes off the angel. Three wise men dressed in elaborate costumes rode through the center of the crowd on camels and made their way to the barn but Emily didn’t pay attention to them. “Look at her! Look how beautiful she is!”

“She is beautiful,” I said.

Emily looked at Mom and Dad and pointed to the angel for them to see. “I couldn’t see her because it was dark in my room. All I could feel was her hand.” Mark looked at me and we knew she was talking about the night her mother died. He put Emily down and I knelt in front of her.

“An angel held your hand, Emily?”