Story of the Month: It Happened at Christmas

The broad street was more crowded than usual... rows of “buses” one behind another... and the signal light changing from red to green and to red again without the crowd thinning — as though a torrent of human beings were pouring past.

And Karen was like one lost... She had spent a great deal on what her sister Dorta had called “a special Christmas”... and she had nothing left but the price of the ticket home... “A special Christmas”... she meant that Cliff Carlop would ask for her hand.

Ah, if only there were someone here other than Cliff — but from where?... Their house in Sussex was not open to bachelors... and the flower farm had lately withered, after the insects and the early cold had ravaged it... and the orchids — how they had changed!

The “bus” stopped again... People jumped off, their noses reddened by the cold... and Karen thought: I shall be late getting back, and there is the turkey to prepare... and the church to decorate...

The turkey, for Cliff?... She seemed to have murmured the words in a voice the man sitting beside her heard, for he looked at her... A quiet beauty... round cheeks... and fair hair lying under a little hat as red as cherries.

She said to herself: there are a few minutes... I will address the Christmas cards in them... and she struggled until she got them, with the pen, out of her bag.

The “bus” stopped again and the cards fell... The man sitting beside her bent and gathered them politely, and she thanked him... and in a flash her heart leaped madly...

Mike Anderson! Could it be?... He was in Rhodesia — had he come back?... Their palms had brushed, and his two brown hands were there beside her...

He did not know her — and no wonder... She had been a child when he saw her last... a schoolgirl preparing for the examination she failed... and he was in those days up to his ears in love with her sister Dorta.

She had loved him with her small heart... and it was enough for him to say “Hello, Karen!” for her whole being to tremble.

She remembered the past, and how she differed from Dorta in everything, even in the small things... Dorta would kill outright the insects that ravaged the flowers... while she would hurry to save their lives and set them loose out of her sister's sight.

Her mother had loved Mike... and was sad when Dorta sent him away... Neither the mother nor the father had liked Cliff... But both of them were dead now... killed on Christmas Eve in a motor accident... and that was another reason why Christmas had not been happy since that accident.

She glanced again — stealthily — at the man beside her and thought... all that was over. She had mastered her feelings — and yet how handsome he was... the dark hair above the broad forehead... the nose... the mouth... the clothes that said frankly they were on the body of a successful man... Should she make herself known to him? Should she tell him she was Dorta's sister?... He did not know, of course, that they had left Norfolk after their parents' death...

But perhaps he had married... or perhaps he was on his way to meet a sweetheart, to announce their engagement on Christmas Eve.

He had a married sister, and no doubt he was going to her... If only Dorta could see him... Then — after five years in which she had grown sensible — she would not give Cliff the chance of a lifetime.

He was looking at the cards on her lap... and a sudden idea came to her... Quickly she began addressing the cards... the first to an uncle of hers in Scotland... the second to a school friend... She lingered over the third, then wrote slowly: Miss Dorta Fielding... Shom Flower Farm... Brighton... and lingered again before closing the card...

She heard a deep sigh... He had seen the address, and if he wished, he would get in touch with Dorta.

She reached home, and Dorta met her, saying coaxingly: I'm sorry, my sweet, to leave all the work to you, but what can I do?... Cliff has reserved a table at the Hudson Hotel... Then she bent and whispered, laughing: I think something is going to happen tonight...

She was very beautiful, with her wide eyes and her soft mouth and everything about her... Men — even the old gardener — lost their wits before her charm.

Karen said imploringly: Dorta, whatever happens tonight, don't be hasty, for heaven's sake... Money is not everything.

She said: I know that, but it is something of value... I shall get used to Cliff...

His family is putting forward, for him to marry, a girl of the noblest families...

Karen interrupted her: Then let him marry her... let him go. Dorta said: I would be a fool if I did. We are in debt to the bank... and I am no success at running the farm... She shrugged her shoulders and went off.

Karen set about preparing the turkey, feeling hatred for it with every feather she plucked: in the big cities they buy it ready for the table... but here in the country...

The kitchen filled with feathers, so she put on old rubber shoes... wrapped her head in an old shawl... this besides her old apron... And just then the front doorbell rang.

Mike Henderson was troubled in mind... He had arrived some hours before at his sister's house, to find her four little ones down with scarlet fever... and the room prepared for him occupied by the nurse... His sister said, apologizing: There's no use grumbling, darling... they will be well by New Year, and I believe you can arrange sweet company for Christmas Eve.

He said: Quite easily.

But the matter was not easy: no room at the nearby hotel for a bachelor... alone on Christmas Eve... Then chance played its part... In the big bus he had seen a strange girl writing on a card the name of his first love... Dorta had refused to go with him to Rhodesia... and she had not married yet: sweet Dorta, and a flower farm... Was that how she earned her living?... He would find that out for himself — and what a sweet Christmas!

* * *

He was walking up the garden path when she met him... He said quietly: Hello, Dorta. She cried: Mike! Mike!... and every emotion passed over her face as she held out both hands, saying: Mike, how strange this is... Come in. And he went in.

Karen heard the voices and shrugged... It was Cliff, of course... Ten minutes passed, and the kitchen door opened... She started — for what she wore was that shabby old dress... And he exclaimed: Oh, it's the girl of the Christmas cards! I didn't realize she was...!

And Dorta said slyly: But you... you would have come anyway, Mike... you would have found your way to my address... Then she went on: Karen, he is spending Christmas with us, and I shall ring Cliff to reserve four places for us.

And Karen was thinking... my dress is old, though it is not bad... and he will dance with me — the man I love... No, I will not be a fool; I will go.

But he was looking at her and saying... Come... please... And she could not refuse.

The party was delightful... the brilliant lights and the orchestra and the food and drink that seemed to be from another world... Karen, in her dress and her finery, was something quite other than the girl of the kitchen and the turkey — and yet, who could stand up against Dorta?

Mike whispered as he escorted her... Is he rich, this Cliff? She said: Very rich.
He said: And Dorta wants to marry him?...
She said: Don't blame her, for we have become poor... As for me, I hardly remember the life of plenty, for I was small... but she does... And then the farm has not given us a good income... Then she added... Do you still love her?

He answered: She was, and still is, the sweetest girl I have ever met.
– And wealth?...
– I can provide her a comfortable life.
– Then I will try...

Try... please, Karen... You were always splendid, even when you were buried among your books and never noticed my existence.
She swallowed a lump in her throat and thought:
How foolish men are, and how blind!

She came home... and Dorta was one of the happiest of beings, her eyes dancing as her feet had danced an hour before. She said as she took off her clothes... They both kissed me and wished me a happy night.

And Karen said... And you were happy at that?...
She said: If only Mike were as rich as Cliff... then imagine the presents — for the two of us.

Karen said: Mike is worth ten of Cliff... that is my opinion.
And Dorta answered: I know it, and that is why I cried after he went away — but I could not go with him to a place full of lions and snakes.
Karen cried warmly: Dorta, you will not wound his feelings and refuse him a second time!
And Dorta burst out laughing, saying: One would think you loved him.

* * *

Morning shone on Karen carrying the decorations to the church... Mike appeared, took her burden from her, and went with her there, and they began to work with energy and reverence... Others came to work... One of the women asked in a whisper: Where is Dorta? And another answered: Dorta is not one to help... she takes and does not give.

Everything was made ready in the church... and everything in the house... and all that Dorta had done was to set a few flowers on the dining table.

The postman came, carrying among the things he carried two presents of equal size... In a moment Dorta was opening a little blue box and taking from it a gold chain and a card on which was written “To the sweetest girl of all those I have known,” and she cried out in vexation... The sweetest girl?... He is mad... mad... Then she saw her sister's box and snatched it... In it was a necklace among the loveliest and most precious that eye ever saw, and a card on which was written “To the girl I love.”

She cried out with mockery and contempt... For you... for you?... Then it was not long before she fell to laughing loudly, saying:
Don't you understand?... It is a mistake... a mistake... He mixed up the two boxes — he was always like that, so forgetful.

Karen murmured in pain: I understand.
At that moment Mike came in... and Dorta rushed to cry: Mike, you idiot, do you know what you have done? You sent the necklace to Karen and the chain to me!

Mike said: Ah...
She would not let him finish, but went on crying... It was a painful thing for Karen... for a moment she thought she was the beloved girl.

Karen murmured sorrowfully... Dorta, enough.
But she went on... When you were here five years ago she adored you... I even found your picture once under her pillow... and now she hoped to win you... but the chain is the one that is hers — isn't that so?

Mike was stunned... Yes, what had happened was a mistake... The salesman had warned him not to mix up the two boxes, the blue and the red... but it was he who had erred.

Karen was silent, miserable... and Dorta laughing — hard... haughty.

And he discovered everything all at once... Dorta had always laughed at what gives pain... She was the girl created to take, not to give... Had his inner mind sensed this?... He had sat with her yesterday for an hour while she waited for him to ask for her hand, encouraging him to it — and he had not.

But tonight he had resolved to come forward, and had come early to cut off Cliff's road — and now fate played its game and the situation changed... He heard his own voice, as though it were the voice of another man, saying:
Well — it is not a mistake...

There was a sudden gasp from Karen...
As for Dorta, her face looked hard and strange as she said: You mean that you and Karen... Then she began to laugh and laugh with that mockery... and soon she flung the necklace at Karen, crying: Take it, take it!... As for you, you must understand that I never loved you and never wished to marry you, not before and not today... And this chain — take it too... Cliff asked for my hand on the telephone this morning, and I am going to marry him.

She hurried out at the sound of Cliff's car, and soon came back wrapped in a coat of costly fur, and said from the door: I am off with Cliff to London, to spend Christmas with his family... Then she laughed, shrugging her shoulders and saying... As for that turkey, let it stay for you two... And she was gone.

Silence fell... Karen broke it, saying: Mike, pay no mind to what she said, for she was angry... Everything that happened was a mistake, so forget it.

He said: Yes, Karen, a mistake did happen — but it did not happen today; it happened long ago.

She said: No, Mike, please...

He said: They said of you in the church, “the girl who gives,” and it would have been more fitting for them to say “the sweet, good girl” whom any man would be happy to win... the girl in whom he who discovers her discovers much... Karen... my picture under your pillow, and Dorta's name on the card in the bus... Karen, kindest of all the Creator's creation... it is a story like the fairy tales, on the happiest of Christmases... my darling.