disappeared into the office and re-emerged a few minutes
later with food and cider.
Johanna thanked her and
dug in. She found life to be either “feast or famine,” and she knew
she should feast before famine inevitably returned.
“ Do you have plans for the
holidays?” the librarian asked, making conversation.
“ Thanks to you, I plan on
curling up with a good book.”
“ No big holiday dinner
plans?”
“ No … but this,” Johanna
pointed to the plate of food the librarian had given her, “more
than makes up for it.”
A woman and her daughter
rang the bell on the circulation date. “I’d better get that,” the
librarian said, turning.
Johanna nodded as the
librarian rushed away. “Thank you,” she called out.
Ten minutes later, Johanna
hobbled home with a bag of books tied to her crutch and a belly
filled with food.
By Christmas Eve, Johanna
had finished reading all her library books and boredom returned.
She felt cooped up and isolated and a little depressed that she had
no one to celebrate the holidays with. She consoled herself with
the fact that she wouldn’t have to spend extra money that she
didn’t really have on gifts and decorations.
If the weather had been
unseasonably cold just before Christmas, it turned unusually mild
for Christmas Eve. It beckoned her outside, and she grabbed her
crutches and slowly made her way up to the strip mall. At the
corner, she rested by a temporary Christmas tree lot. It wasn’t as
crowded as she thought it would be on Christmas Eve, and she said
as much to the young man selling trees.
“ Everyone who wants a
tree, pretty much has one by now. I’m here for the holdouts—you
know—the parents who want their kids to think Santa put up the
tree. They’re the Type-A variety who drink designer coffee and run
on adrenaline and nicotine.”
Johanna pointed to a
scrawny tree that was barely t wo-and-a-half feet tall. “What will
happen to trees like that one?”
“ We’ll feed it to the
chipper and sell the mulch in the spring.”
“ Oh.” She didn’t mean for
it to sound like a gasp, but she felt sad about the tiny tree’s
fate.
“ Where’d you get your
tree?” he asked.
“ I don’t have
one.”
“ I’m guessing you couldn’t
wrestle one home with that broken leg.”
“ No. At least not a big
one.” She looked at the little tree longingly. “How much is that
one?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. She could see
her landlady with her hand out for the rent and hear Derrick’s
veiled suggestions about how she could repay him in lieu of cash.
She couldn’t afford to splurge money on a dead bush.
He looked her over. She
was kind of cute, even on crutches. “No one should go treeless at
Christmas, and that little guy won’t make much mulch, so if you
want him, you can have him. Free. But how are you going to get him
home? I’d help you, but I have to stay here for last minute
buyers.”
Johanna’s face brightened.
“Maybe you could tie it to my crutch.”
“ I could do that.” And so
he did, and Johanna limped home with a smile on her face
because she would
have a tree for Christmas.
“ Merry Christmas,” he
called out as she limped away.
“ Merry Christmas,” she
replied.
As Johanna turned the
corner to her cottage, she saw a delivery truck pull away from the
curb. On her top step lay a package wrapped in brown paper. She
slowly climbed the two steps to her door, being careful not to
knock off any tree needles. She’d lost a few during her trek home,
and she didn’t want to sacrifice any more. The tricky part would be
picking up the parcel. But saving the tree was more important to
her. She slipped her key in the lock and went inside but left the
door open to make sure no one swiped her package.
She grabbed a knife from
the kitchen drawer, so she could cut the string binding the tree to
her crutch, and placed the little tree on her table. Returning to
the front door, she leaned her crutches
later with food and cider.
Johanna thanked her and
dug in. She found life to be either “feast or famine,” and she knew
she should feast before famine inevitably returned.
“ Do you have plans for the
holidays?” the librarian asked, making conversation.
“ Thanks to you, I plan on
curling up with a good book.”
“ No big holiday dinner
plans?”
“ No … but this,” Johanna
pointed to the plate of food the librarian had given her, “more
than makes up for it.”
A woman and her daughter
rang the bell on the circulation date. “I’d better get that,” the
librarian said, turning.
Johanna nodded as the
librarian rushed away. “Thank you,” she called out.
Ten minutes later, Johanna
hobbled home with a bag of books tied to her crutch and a belly
filled with food.
By Christmas Eve, Johanna
had finished reading all her library books and boredom returned.
She felt cooped up and isolated and a little depressed that she had
no one to celebrate the holidays with. She consoled herself with
the fact that she wouldn’t have to spend extra money that she
didn’t really have on gifts and decorations.
If the weather had been
unseasonably cold just before Christmas, it turned unusually mild
for Christmas Eve. It beckoned her outside, and she grabbed her
crutches and slowly made her way up to the strip mall. At the
corner, she rested by a temporary Christmas tree lot. It wasn’t as
crowded as she thought it would be on Christmas Eve, and she said
as much to the young man selling trees.
“ Everyone who wants a
tree, pretty much has one by now. I’m here for the holdouts—you
know—the parents who want their kids to think Santa put up the
tree. They’re the Type-A variety who drink designer coffee and run
on adrenaline and nicotine.”
Johanna pointed to a
scrawny tree that was barely t wo-and-a-half feet tall. “What will
happen to trees like that one?”
“ We’ll feed it to the
chipper and sell the mulch in the spring.”
“ Oh.” She didn’t mean for
it to sound like a gasp, but she felt sad about the tiny tree’s
fate.
“ Where’d you get your
tree?” he asked.
“ I don’t have
one.”
“ I’m guessing you couldn’t
wrestle one home with that broken leg.”
“ No. At least not a big
one.” She looked at the little tree longingly. “How much is that
one?” As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t. She could see
her landlady with her hand out for the rent and hear Derrick’s
veiled suggestions about how she could repay him in lieu of cash.
She couldn’t afford to splurge money on a dead bush.
He looked her over. She
was kind of cute, even on crutches. “No one should go treeless at
Christmas, and that little guy won’t make much mulch, so if you
want him, you can have him. Free. But how are you going to get him
home? I’d help you, but I have to stay here for last minute
buyers.”
Johanna’s face brightened.
“Maybe you could tie it to my crutch.”
“ I could do that.” And so
he did, and Johanna limped home with a smile on her face
because she would
have a tree for Christmas.
“ Merry Christmas,” he
called out as she limped away.
“ Merry Christmas,” she
replied.
As Johanna turned the
corner to her cottage, she saw a delivery truck pull away from the
curb. On her top step lay a package wrapped in brown paper. She
slowly climbed the two steps to her door, being careful not to
knock off any tree needles. She’d lost a few during her trek home,
and she didn’t want to sacrifice any more. The tricky part would be
picking up the parcel. But saving the tree was more important to
her. She slipped her key in the lock and went inside but left the
door open to make sure no one swiped her package.
She grabbed a knife from
the kitchen drawer, so she could cut the string binding the tree to
her crutch, and placed the little tree on her table. Returning to
the front door, she leaned her crutches
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