Harlan's Christmas Wish

Barry Tan, pexels.com

Harlan was closing the barn for the night when he heard the bells. He looked up at the bright stars punching through the velvety purple-blue sky, but didn’t see anything unusual. He’d come out to check on the animals one last time. It being Christmas Eve, he’d put it off. The snow was too deep and the fire too inviting.

Stalls were tidy. Kitty and Shorty got fresh bedding. Lita the cow stood staring at him, steadily chewing. He had milked earlier. Given everyone extra hay. The temperature was dropping. The chickens, full of extra scratch, were tucked in for the night with full crops. The horses munched on Christmas apples and carrots.

His own belly was full. Mary made her apple cake for their dessert this time of year, and he lingered with her over his evening coffee making sure she ate every last bite. She seemed better, but her cheekbones still looked too sharp to him, her collarbones written plainly under her sweaters. He pulled his stocking cap back down over his ears and headed toward the house.

He made his way, cursing his old knees and watching his steps into the sparkling crust of snow, when he glanced toward the cleared field through the trees. He stopped and looked again. A number of deer harnessed to a large sleigh, glossy in the moonlight, stood at its edge. Harlan blinked. A man squatted next to them with his hand on one of the animal’s legs. Harlan couldn’t help himself. He glanced back toward the house but veered off through the trees.

The closer he got to the odd grouping, the more his mind fought the sight. Reindeer. A sleigh. A man in a red and white suit. He called out to the man before he got too close.

“You okay, sir?” Harlan’s voice almost cracked. “You need a flashlight? Some help?”

The man stood quickly, his movement in contrast with his size and age. “Well, Harlan James, how are you, young man?”

Harlan choked on a laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. Everything all right?” There was no mistaking who this man looked like.

“Well,” the man tugged on his full, white beard. “Donner’s leg is injured. She must have caught it on some flashing on that last house. I'm not sure I have what she needs on board.”

“Let me see. I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“I would be grateful. We still have a lot of work to do tonight. Lots of kids depending on us.” The bearded man pushed the fur pompom on his red hat out of his face and pointed to the leg of a reindeer to Harlan’s right. Harlan pulled out his maglite and squatted down.

He shined the light and could see the cut. It was a ragged red tear through the animal’s fur, but didn’t look very deep. “It looks pretty superficial..Santa.” A part of him was still denying what was right in front of him. Donner snorted as Harlan pressed on the cut’s edges, but she didn’t move away. A hurt animal is a hurt animal, thought Harlan. You have to help it. “Let me go grab some things and we’ll get her fixed up.” He patted Donner as he rose, causing the harness to jingle again and the other deer shifted back and forth. Tonight was a night for movement. Harlan could sense how the moon was calling them. They needed to fly.

Harlan walked back to the barn, pulling open the door. Shorty nickered at him and Harlan murmured and cooed, calming him. He grabbed a bucket and some clean blue shop towels. Got some water from the interior hose bib. Dug around in the old chest of drawers where he kept the animal supplies, nodding as he found what he needed and filled his coat pockets.

He could see Santa talking to his team as he approached and smiled as it looked as if they understood what he was saying. A couple of the reindeer even seemed to be nodding. Harlan moved as quickly as he could through the snow, kneeling next to Donner. He looked up at Santa for the go-ahead.

“Go on, Harlan. Just talk to her and tell her what you’re doing. She’ll stand.”

Harlan nodded. It was no different than when he spoke to Shorty and Kitty as they were worked. “Okay, girl, I’m going clean this off and put some medicine on your leg. He pulled out a fresh bandage roll. “Then I’m going to wrap it up so it stays clean until you get back home. They’ll fix you real good once you’re done for tonight.”

He swiftly washed the cut, poured water down her leg to rinse it, gently dried it and put salve on the bare places and along the edges. He pulled the edges together with cloth tape. Layered a gauze pad over the area and wrapped it firmly with vet wrap, taping the ends. “Good job, Donner. Good girl,” he said, patting the twitching shoulder. “You did great.” He couldn’t help himself and reached out, touching the beam of Donner’s antlers.

He glanced over and asked, “Can I get you anything, sir? Mary made some apple cake you might like, though I know you have a fondness for the cookies.”

Santa laughed, “Oh ho no, Harlan, I thank you for the delicious offer, but we’ve got to get on our way. I have to admit I do sometimes want to wrestle the reindeer for their carrots by the time morning comes. So much sugar. Even for an old elf like me.” He held out his hand and Harlan shook the giant fur mitten, feeling the gentleness in the ancient eyes reaching through the gesture, touching his heart. He felt warm in the cold of the night.

Santa started to climb into the sleight and then stopped, turning. “What are you wanting for Christmas, Harlan?”

Harlan’s head was full. He thought about all the things he wished for each day. Good weather. Energy to do his work. A good harvest. Mary’s health to improve. So many things. But this was Santa he was talking to, not God. He shook his head, shrugging. “I have so much, Santa, I don’t know what to ask for.” He paused, thinking. “I would want something for my wife, Mary, though. The kids are supposed to come tomorrow for dinner and roads are so bad. I wish somehow, they could get here. Mary’s been so sick, and I want her to be happy.” Almost as an aside, he added, “We don’t get Christmases forever.”

Santa nodded and climbed up into his sleigh, gathering the reins. The deer stomped and shifted back and forth in their traces. “Thanks again, Harlan. Christmas is the best time for wishing.” The sleigh bucked forward, and Santa laughed loudly as, within seconds, the deer and sleigh rose into the crisp Winter air. “Merry Christmas!” Santa called. Harlan waved and watched until they were but a speck along the horizon, emptied the rest of his bucket, then tossed everything inside it and turned toward the house.

He placed the bucket and supplies next to the back door and stomped the snow off his boots before he went into the mudroom. The knees of his overalls were snow-soaked and uncomfortable, but the smile on his face stayed put. Mary was dozing by the fire and woke as he tucked her blanket around her.

“Oh, Harlan. I was dreaming of bells.” She roused herself, sitting straight. “Everything okay out there? That took awhile.”

“Yes. Everything is perfect.” He kissed her cheek. Turned to stoke the fire and add more wood.

“Time for bed?” Mary yawned, but didn’t move.

“No, I think I’m going to put on my pajamas and join you out here for a while. It’s such a cheery little fire.”

When he returned, she snuggled into him as they sat watching the flickering flames. It was a good Christmas Eve.

***

In the morning, Harlan awoke to the smell of coffee and water dripping off the eaves.

Mary was staring out the window and heard him come into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, Harlan! Look, it warmed up last night and the snow is melting.”

Harlan looked past her out to the yard and road. The plows had come through and a lot of the ice had melted. He thought about what he had mentioned to Santa and shook his head.

“What is it? Do you think the kids will be able to come?” She asked.

Harlan smiled, “Maybe. Hopefully. That would make it a wonderful day, wouldn’t it?”

Just then the phone rang. Mary quickly answered it. Her face lit with happiness. “Really Kenny? That would mean the world to us.” She was practically jumping up and down. “Kenny says the weather is supposed to be better and better all day. They are going to make it for dinner after all! Oh my gosh, I have to get busy!” She threw her arms around him. “Merry Christmas, Harlan!”

He hugged her tightly. “I’m going to go feed the animals and then I’ll come back and help,” he said. Then, under his breath, “As long as I don’t find baby Jesus out there in the feed box.”

“What’s that?” Mary called from across the kitchen.

“I said Christmas is the best time for wishing.” Harlan called back with a smile.

“Are you getting sappy on me, old man?” She winked at him, and he laughed as his heart raced. It always had when it came to Mary.

Grateful for life’s mysteries, Harlan shrugged on his barn coat and went out to feed the animals, wondering how a day could be so normal and so miraculous all at once.

---

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from Poison Ivy House!

Lyndsey

Reminder: Next Poison Ivy House post will drop January 3, 2025. (Crazy, right?) Here’s a tidbit of a draft preview of the upcoming Poison Ivy House story, Guardian. If you want to stay in the mood of Harlan’s story, save it for later:

---

Guardian

It’s been about five years since Jim talked to the old man when the phone rings. He tends to wonder when it’s going to be that phone call. He has a feeling it’s his Mama before he picks up. “Hi, Mama, what’s up? You good?”

There’s a pause then he hears her clear her throat. “Your Daddy isn’t back yet. He’s supposed to be home from camp. He’s two days late. We argued before he went. He’s too old to hunt alone. I wouldn’t have called, but his friends are either resting in the church yard or so pissed at him they won’t go check on him.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Imagine that.” He sighs. “Let me get some stuff figured out and I’ll drive up there this afternoon. He probably just isn’t wanting his hunt to end. You know how he gets. Maybe he got a big one and just needs some help. It’ll be okay, Mama. I’ll call you when I know something.” He cuts the call and sighs again. The old man has always been a reliable source of sighs. Sighs and expletives. Letting his head fall back, then leans against the wall and taps his head against it a few times. “I swear to God everything that man does somehow has a way of making my life harder.” He shakes himself and goes to gather some gear.

The sun isn’t quite touching the swayback top of the valley when he turns off the highway toward Friend. It’s muscle memory. He could get there with his eyes closed. They’ve been going there since he was small, and he veers left at the old clapboard schoolhouse and up to the crest of the hill. He pulls around a couple of boulders and starts slowly down the dusty road riddled with washouts toward their camp by the creek.

Around the last low road bend, the camp almost seems dark in the late day shade of the valley wall and the Ponderosa pines. No camp smoke from a lunch break. No lantern light in the cook tent. He parks his truck next to the old Suburban. Gets out. It’s dead silent. “Dad?” he calls, looking around. Just the wind and some birds answer. He pulls off a glove and lays his bare palm on the Suburban’s hood. Ice cold. Gingerly pushes his fingertips into the ash of the fire pit. Cold, too. He’s not sure how long it’s been since Dad has been in camp. The temp is dropping. He goes to the cook tent. No sign lunch was made, but there’s pack sitting on the table. Great.

Rummaging in the bottom of the pack, his heart drops as he finds an insulin kit under some worn gloves. It’s all wrong.

The angry part of him, the hurt kid part of him, wants to leave his bitter old ass to die in the woods. The grown man part reminds him revenge isn't justice, even when it feels good. This situation is forcing him to set memory aside. No fair. Forcing him to simply be a young man trying to help an old man.

***

I wrote a different version of this story years and years ago. Pulled it out the other day to see if I could pillage some of it for the Well Water collection. It’s going to be a hike. Hopefully years and perspective change the way we craft our words. Jim is going to have a strange journey to find his father. Let’s see if I can make this work in a different way now.

L.