The first thing we did was talk to Miss Chloe about our plans for the orphans, and she thought it was a marvelous idea. That was her favorite word, by the way-marvelous-after she'd greeted you
with "Hellooooo." On Monday, when she realized that I knew all my lines, she said, "Marvelous!" and for the next two hours whenever I'd finish up a scene, she'd say it again. By the end of the
rehearsal, I'd heard it about four zillion times.
But Miss Chole actually went our idea one better. She told the class what we were doing, and she asked if other members of the cast would be willing to do their parts as well, so that the orphans could really enjoy the whole thing. The way she asked meant that they really didn't have a choice, and she looked around the class, waiting for someone to nod so she could make it official. No one
moved a muscle, except for Eddie. Somehow he'd inhaled a bug up his nose at that exact moment, and he sneezed violently. The bug flew out his nose, shot across his desk, and landed on the
floor right by Norma Jean's leg. She jumped out of her chair and
screamed out loud, and the people on either side of her shouted, "Eww . . . gross!" The rest of the class started looking around and craning their necks, trying to see what happened, and for the
next ten seconds there was total pandemonium in the classroom.
For Miss Chole, that was as good of an answer as she needed.
"Marvelous," she said, closing the discussion.
Amelia, meanwhile, was getting really excited about performing for the orphans. During a break in rehearsals she pulled me aside and thanked me for thinking of them. "There's no way you would know," she said almost conspiratorially, "but I've been wondering what to do for the orphanage this year. I've been praying about it
for months now because I want this Christmas to be the most
special one of all.
"Why is this Christmas so important?" I asked her, and she smiled
patiently, as if I'd asked a question that didn't really matter.
"It just is," she said simply.
The next step was to talk it over with Mr. Jenkins, the director of the orphanage. Now I'd never met Mr. Jenkins before, being that the orphanage was in Morehead City, which was across the bridge from Beaufort, and I'd never had any reason to go there. When
Amelia surprised me with the news the following day that we'd be meeting him later that evening, I was sort of worried that I wasn't dressed nice enough. I know it was an orphanage, but a guy wants
to make a good impression. Even though I wasn't as excited about it as Amelia was (no one was as excited as Amelia), I didn't want to be regarded as the Grinch who ruined Christmas for the orphans,
either.Before we went to the orphanage for our meeting, we had to walk to my house to pick up my mom's car, and while there, I planned on changing into something a little nicer. The walk took
about ten minutes or so, and Amelia didn't say much along the way, at least until we got to our neighborhood. She asked about some big houses which she never got a chance to look around.I answered her questions without
much thought, but when I opened the front door to my house, I suddenly realized how different this world was compared with her own. She had a shocked expression on her face as she looked around the living room, taking in her surroundings.No doubt it was the fanciest home she'd ever been in. A moment later I saw her eyes travel to the paintings that lined the walls. My
ancestors, so to speak. As with many southern families, my entire lineage could be traced in the dozen faces that lined the walls. She stared at them, looking for a resemblance, I think, then turned her attention to the furnishings, which still looked practically new, even after twenty years. The furniture had been handmade, assembled or carved from mahogany and cherry, and designed specifically for each room. It was nice, I had to admit, but it wasn't something I really thought about. To me, it was just a house. My favorite part of it was the window in my room that led
to the porch on the upper level. That was my escape hatch.
I showed her around, though, giving her a quick tour of the sitting
room, the library, the den, and the family room, Amelia's eyes growing wider with each new room. My mom was out on the sun porch, sipping a mint julep and reading, and heard us poking
around. She came back inside to say hello.I think I told you that every adult in town adored Amelia, and that included my mom. So they talked while I was upstairs rifling through my closet for a clean shirt and a tie.Back then boys wore ties a lot, especially when they were meeting someone in a position of authority. When I came back down the
stairs fully dressed, Amelia had already told my mom about the plan.
"It's a wonderful idea," Amelia said, beaming at me. "Landon's
really got a special heart."
My mom-after making sure she'd heard Amelia correctly-faced me with her eyebrows raised. She stared at me like I was an alien.
"So this was your idea?" my mom asked. Like everyone else in town, she knew Amelia didn't lie.
I cleared my throat, thinking of Eric and what I still wanted to do to him. It involved molasses and fire ants, by the way.
"Kind of," I said.
"Amazing." It was the only word she could get out. She didn't know the details, but she knew I must have been boxed into a corner to do something like this. Mothers always know stuff like that, and I could see her peering closely at me and trying to figure it out. To escape her inquisitive gaze, I checked my watch, feigned surprise, and casually mentioned to Amelia that we'd better be going. My mom got the car keys from her pocketbook and handed them to me, still giving me the once-over as we headed out the door. I breathed a sigh of relief, imagining that I'd somehow gotten away with something, but as I walked Amelia to the car, I heard my mother's voice again.
"Come on over anytime, Amelia!" my mom shouted. "You're always
welcome here."
Even mothers could stick it to you sometimes.
I was still shaking my head as I got in the car.
"Your mother's a wonderful lady," Amelia said.
I started the engine. "Yeah," I said, "I guess so."
"And your house is beautiful."
"Uh-huh."
"You should count your blessings."
"Oh," I said, "I do. I'm practically the luckiest guy alive."
Somehow she didn't catch the sarcastic tone of my voice.