She bent her head forward before she knelt to the rug. Slowly—ever so slowly, she began to pick up the pieces of scattered puzzle. One by one she laid them in the box before her. At long last she reached for the final piece before her. The family members in the room had been holding their collective breath.
“You missed one,” said her father. “Behind you.”
Berta turned, retrieved the last piece, and slowly laid it in the box with the others.
“Now—it is bedtime,” said her father.
Berta did not argue. Without lifting her head she stood to her feet and turned to walk toward the door. Glenna pattered up beside her and reached to take her hand.
But Berta pulled her hand away. She did not want to be escorted to her room by the small Glenna.
“We’ll be in to hear your prayers,” called her mother after her.
Berta did not look forward to the prayer time. She wished she could fall asleep before they had time to come. Maybe if she pretended …
The two small girls were in the long hall. Glenna reached for her hand again.
Berta jerked her hand away. “Don’t, Glenna,” she said as angrily as her whispered words could be hissed. “You—you bother me.”
Glenna’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t be sad, Berty,” she pleaded. “It’s Chris’as—next day mornin’.”
The words only served to remind Berta how it had all started. She cast an angry glance at her little sister and marched stiffly down the hall to their room.
———
When Berta opened her eyes, darkness still pressed against her window. She had completely forgotten the unpleasantness of the night before. But she had not forgotten that this was Christmas morning. For one moment she lay still and listened for sounds in the house. Was it time to be up? Had anyone else in the household stirred? Would she be sent back to bed if she crawled out and made her way toward the living room with its warm fire and the stockings over the mantel?
Very faintly she heard hushed voices. Then soft laughter. Her mother and father were already up.
Berta threw back the covers and slid to the floor. She didn’t pause to put on her slippers.
“Glenna. Glenna,” she called across the room. “It’s time. It’s Christmas.”
The tiny girl stirred.
“It’s Christmas,” Berta said again. She was beside Glenna’s bed now, one hand extended to touch her little sister’s arm.
With a smile Glenna wakened. “Chris’as?” she repeated. “Now?”
“Now,” answered Berta.
Together they ran down the hall and toward the light in the living room. Already Berta could feel the warmth of the fire that spilled out into the chilly hallway. Already she could smell the scent of hot, spiced apple cider, her parents’ favorite Christmas morning drink. It was Christmas. Her favorite time of the year. She outran Glenna.
“Merry Christmas,” called her mother as Berta burst into the room.
“Merry Christmas,” echoed her father, who was busy tossing another log onto the open fire.
“Oh-h,” squealed Glenna from somewhere behind her. “A dolly.”
Berta lifted her eyes. Yes. Dollies. Beautiful dollies gazed out at them from two full stockings. Berta’s breath caught in her throat. She slid to a stop and her hands clasped together in front of her. One doll was dressed in soft pink. The other in delicate blue. Each wore a bonnet with lacy frills and loops of ribbon. Berta still held her breath.
“Can you get, Papa?” pleaded Glenna, her arms extended toward the stocking above her reach.
With a satisfied smile her father lifted down the stocking and placed it in Glenna’s arms.
“Mine too. Mine too!” cried Berta.
The second stocking was lifted down. Berta squatted on the rug before the warm fire and lifted the doll tenderly from its place. She didn’t even think to explore what else the stocking held. She gazed at the pretty doll before her, fingering the soft curls, trailing her hand over the lacy frills of the blue gown. She was beautiful.
“Look,” squealed Glenna. “She has bloomers!”
Berta turned to look. Glenna had the doll tipped upside down, its multi-skirts hoisted in a crumpled state while she studied the pantaloons.
“Don’t, Glenna,” said Berta sharply. “You are messing her.”
Glenna quickly turned her doll right side up and smoothed down the skirts. “She has,” she insisted, nodding her head to emphasize her point. “She has bloomers.”
Berta gently smoothed her doll’s soft cape. “Mine’s got a prettier dress,” she murmured.
“An’ she has shoes,” went on Glenna without answering her sister’s comment.
Berta looked at the tiny feet. Yes, there were real leather slippers. Slippers that had buttons.
Berta looked at Glenna’s doll. Glenna was struggling with the buttons. Already one tiny shoe lay on the floor beside her.
“Don’t, Glenna,” scolded Berta. “You mustn’t undress her. You’ll ruin her—”
“Berta,” her mother spoke softly. “It’s Glenna’s dolly. Let her play with it as she wishes.”
“Why don’t you see what else is in your stocking,” prompted her father, “and then we’ll have breakfast.”
Both girls eagerly retrieved their stockings and began to pull out the rest of the contents. Glenna squealed over each item. Berta surveyed each new possession in silence. Though she was pleased with each gift, nothing—
nothing
—matched the beautiful doll. She carefully carried it to the breakfast table with her and reluctantly laid it aside as she ate her breakfast.
“We need to get you dressed so we can go to Grandmother’s house,” announced Mrs. Berdette as soon as the girls had finished their breakfast and gathered their dolls back into their arms.
“‘Ray,” cheered Glenna on behalf of both of them. They loved to go to their grandmother’s.
“Will Ada be there?” asked Berta. She enjoyed playing with a cousin her own age.
“Yes—Ada and William and little Dorcas.”
“And Unca Cee?” chimed in Glenna.
“Aunt Cee,” corrected Berta. “It’s Aunt Cee.”
“Aunt Cee,” repeated Glenna.
“One of these days you’re going to have to learn how to say Cecily,” laughed their father.
“An’ Unca John?” asked Glenna, casting a glance at Berta to see if she would be corrected again.
“Uncle John,” agreed her mother.
“‘Ray,” cheered Glenna again.
“You may wear your new dresses,” her mother went on. This brought another cheer.
“An’ a big ribbon in my hair?” asked Glenna.
Her mother smiled. “A great big ribbon in your hair,” she answered the girl.
“I don’t want a ribbon in my hair,” said Berta firmly.
Glenna looked disappointed. “Ribbons look pretty,” she told her older sister.
“I don’t want to look pretty,” maintained Berta.
“Why?” asked Glenna innocently.
“Just ‘cause I don’t. That’s all.”
Glenna looked sad. “Granna likes us lookin’ pretty,” she dared to say.
“Berta doesn’t need to wear a ribbon if she doesn’t wish to,” Mrs. Berdette gently pointed out to stop the discussion.
Glenna still looked unhappy. “Granna—”
“I don’t need to wear a ribbon if I don’t want to, Glenna. Mama said so,” said Berta, her chin lifting.
Glenna looked about to cry. Then her face brightened, and she reached out and patted her big sister’s arm. “That’s all right, Berta,” she soothed with little-girl tenderness. “Granna will unnerstand.”
Berta pulled away. She didn’t need her little sister taking her side.
They dressed in the new dresses that Mama had sewed for them. It had taken her many hours at the new Singer Papa had bought for her birthday. The dresses were full and frilly and generously bedecked with ribbons. Glenna twirled so that the skirt would bounce, making herself dizzy in the process. Berta wished to twirl too, but she refused to allow herself the pleasure. Still she could not deny a stolen glance into the mirror on the wall of Mama’s room. It nearly took her breath away. She looked—she looked like the princess in her new Christmas book. For one brief moment she was tempted to relent and have her mother place the loops of matching ribbon in her hair.
“Look at me,” chirped Glenna. “I look like a ferny.”
“Ferny? You mean fairy, Glenna. Fairy,” corrected Berta.
“Fairy,” repeated Glenna, spinning again. Then she stopped and turned to her mother. “Put in my bow, Mama. Put in my ribbons so I’ll look just like a fairy.”
Berta turned and walked away. She would not have a bow in her hair.
“I need my baby,” Glenna said from behind her.
“It’s not a baby, Glenna. It’s a dolly,” informed Berta, whirling around to look at her sister.
Glenna did not argue. “I need her,” she said again.
Berta had already put her new doll up on her cupboard shelf beside her stuffed bear and dog.
“We’re gonna go,” Berta told her sister. “Papa’s already getting the team.”
“I wanna take her,” said Glenna. “I wanna take her to Granna’s.”
“You can’t take her. She’ll get all mussed up,” said Berta with grown-up firmness.
“I wanna,” said Glenna and her eyes began to tear. “I wanna play with her.”
“You can take her if you wish,” Mrs. Berdette told her. “That’s what she’s for. To play with.”
She left the room, calling back over her shoulder, “Papa will soon be here with the team. I need to get the food together.”
Berta listened to her mother’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. She turned to Glenna.
“If you play with her she’ll get all mussed,” she argued.
Glenna picked up her doll and hugged her close.
“You’re already mussing her,” continued Berta.
Glenna looked alarmed. She thrust her doll back and studied her carefully. “She isn’t mussed, Berty,” she said finally. But she laid the doll back down and smoothed at her skirts.
But Berta had already changed her mind. It would serve Glenna right if she ruined her doll. “Go ahead—take her,” she said with a shrug. “Go ahead.”
With a joyous look Glenna picked up her doll and clasped her close. “Thanks, Berty,” she said with a smile.
Berta tossed her head, making her hair brush against her cheeks.
“I need a blankie,” Glenna went on. “She’ll get cold.”
Berta cast a glance at her younger sister. She was so silly.
“I know,” brightened Glenna. “I’ll use my towel.”
And Glenna hurried off to pull her towel off its hook in the bathroom. Then she bundled her baby in haphazard fashion, concealing even her pretty face.
She’s really gonna mess her up,
thought Berta, but she didn’t say the words out loud. The thought gave her a moment of strange satisfaction.
————
Berta always enjoyed the trip to Grandmother’s house—but never more so than on Christmas Day. Bundled up snugly against the sharp cold and tucked among blankets on the soft hay of the cutter, she squinted against the brightness of the morning sun and studied the frost-painted branches of the barren trees overhead.
“I think my nose is leakin’,” said Glenna to no one in particular. Mrs. Berdette slipped off a glove and turned, hankie in hand, to wipe the child’s nose.
“It’s nippy,” said Mrs. Berdette, tucking her hankie back in the pocket of her long dark coat.
“Are we there yet?” asked Glenna as she sniffed.
“We just started out,” answered Berta in annoyance. “We can’t be there yet when we just started.”
But even the angry words could not dampen the spirits of the small girl. She began to sing.
“Silen night. Ho’ey night,
Allas calm. Allas bright.”
Berta covered her ears. She couldn’t stand to hear the song sung incorrectly, but she knew if she protested, her mother and father would take Glenna’s part. They enjoyed hearing their little girl sing.
————
There was a wild and joyous welcome at Grandmother’s house. Cousins ran forward with excited words about what Christmas had brought. Aunt Cee kissed everyone and Uncle John boomed out cheery greetings in his man-sized voice while Grandmother beamed and hugged and said over and over how glad she was to see them and how much they had grown since the last visit.
Already the house was filled with delicious scents, promising another of Grandmother’s wonderful Christmas dinners. But after one deep sniff, Berta pushed aside thoughts of dinner. She could hardly wait for the greetings to be over so she could slip out of her coat and show off her pretty new dress.
But Glenna was helped with her coat first.
“Just look at you,” exclaimed Grandmother. “Aren’t you a picture?”
“Ah-h,” said Aunt Cee. “What a dolly.”
Glenna pushed forward her smothered doll. “In here. My dolly,” she informed them all, and she began to unwind the bath towel.
Aunt Cee laughed and helped the child find the new doll in all the bundling.
Grandmother turned her attention to Berta.
“And look at you,” she said, her eyes shining. “My, how you’ve grown. And you have a pretty dress, too. How nice you look. And so grown-up.”
After all the attention Glenna had just received, Berta was anxious to forget the new dress. “I can read,” she informed her grandmother proudly, thrusting forth the book she had brought.
“Read? Already? You must read for me—after dinner.”
Berta was disappointed that she’d have to wait. She wanted to steal the attention back from Glenna, who was prancing around in her new dress, blue eyes dancing, dark curls bouncing her multiple ribbon bows, as she introduced one family member after another to the new Christmas doll.
Things had begun to settle down a bit when Berta heard Aunt Cee whisper to her mother, “She gets prettier every day.” Her eyes, filled with love and admiration, were on the tiny Glenna.
Her mother nodded. “Now if I can just manage to keep her sweet,” she answered, her eyes misting.
“Glenna? I can’t imagine her being anything but sweet. She’s the kind that doesn’t spoil. She loves to make people—happy. She—she just—bubbles.”
Berta saw her mother nod.
Berta turned her eyes to the small Glenna. It was true. She bubbled. She—she glowed. And she did like to make people happy.
“I know a Chris’as song,” she was informing her cousins and Uncle John. “You like to hear it?”