Tidings

 

He walked past the window every day as he came and went from work. A gentleman, he waved at Pearl Henson every morning and every evening without fail. This went on for years and he looked forward to each event. James Summer was a simple man with simple wants and few needs. He lived in the house his parents both died in, and he walked into town through the week. For 11 years, he had been Foreman at the lumber mill past town and just off the river bend. Every workday he took the same pattern. He left his yard, stepped out onto MacArthur Avenue and followed it straight down right to the lumber yard. The 2-mile trek was good exercise and made for easy strolling The Henson House rested halfway down in the old area of the village. A giant Victorian age bay window almost filled the wall that ran against the side yard. Pearl Henson sat every morning as Mr. Summer passed her way. She remained there throughout most of the day sitting, staring, lost to the world. Every evening around 5:30 PM he would return on his way with a smile and fond gesture. They became friends without ever speaking a word. It made his day every time. It was all she had most of the time.

 

It was a cold November morning when he first noticed her. As he sauntered from home, a frosty sting met him, the air was icy and moist and ready for snow. He liked the cold. He liked the walk. He liked seeing the same things every morning and every evening on the way home. He noticed her presence right away it seems. One day and she started to appear in the giant bay window. Her wheelchair obvious from the view. Each morning, she sat in the same place, looking out that window into the world of James Summer. He also noticed her resting in the same place every time he headed home from work up MacArthur Ave. It took a few weeks for the dance to become habit. Slowly, he noticed that she noticed him. A few nods here and a smile there eventually led to the raising of hands and the endearment that would become so important. Day after day, Monday to Friday, two strangers reintroduced themselves with a wave.

 

Pearl Henson had been wheelchair bound since the death of her family. More than 5 years before, fire whipped through her home killing her husband Albert and her two children Abigail, aged 6, and Benjamin, aged 4. By the time Pearl got home from the Post office and other errands, the fire had spread and consumed the place. The very idea of her children suffering in the flames rushed her into the midst of it, severely burning both her legs and her torso. She barely got back out of the torrent, helplessly tossing herself through the front window and onto the front garden under the main window to the house. The glass cut deep as she rolled on it to put out the flame. A neighbour extinguished her, tossing a heavy wool blanket on her in desperation. She was in hospital for years. Eventually, they took her to her parent’s home with the large bay window and a most pleasing view. Each day she found herself, sitting in her chair pointed out the window in order to see who might come along on the street.

 

The snow had been falling for about an hour as James dressed for the occasion, a heavy coat his friend. He left Tucker’s and followed his evening path. Along the way Christmas lights began to dance in windows and out on the street. Within a week, Christmas was everywhere. Each day was full of twinkle and wonder and fun. James loved Christmas, a testament to his late parents and his private ways. He had a real tree. He decorated inside. He even hung red and green lights around the frame of his front porch. Two Christmases had passed since Pearl first appeared and James began to dream for her. There had been  no lights, no glamour, nothing seasonal where the invalid lived.  Over and over, to and fro, James noticed there was no Christmas for Pearl, not even a little. As Christmas day approached, James began to think outside of himself. He allowed his Christmas spirit to conquer his shyness and awkwardness, and he decided that come Christmas Eve he would visit Pearl in person.

 

December 23 was a Friday and James left work early. The week ahead held many comforts with friends and some family and the warmth the season always brought him. It was snowing a little. He stopped at the flower shop on his way. He purchased a miniature but real spruce tree, potted with slight decorations upon it. They wrapped it in cover, and he took it home with him. After a few hours of last-minute Christmas shopping at the mall, James took the chocolates he had purchased, and he wrapped them with care. He had bought a few small tree decorations which he added to his gift. The card held a simple Merry Christmas and nothing more. With the surprise in hand, he walked out the door and made the journey from his house to hers. The night fell down.

 

Christmas Eve was magical, and James felt it was the perfect time to meet his friend. He walked in a slight chill, slipping and sliding on snowfall from the day before. With no further accumulation, he was unencumbered. It was a straight and direct route which he travelled with great energy and forward motion. He stopped dead about three houses down. He slowly walked into Pearl’s view, and she waved almost instantly. James walked down the front sidewalk and up onto the old but sturdy porch. He took a deep breath, hugged the tree and he used the knocker to announce his presence. He stood there in the cold. When no one answered, he assumed that Pearl was having trouble getting to the door. Just in case, he knocked again.

 

            When the door opened without warning. James was startled. The old woman looked like someone from a Dickens’s novel, crinkled and grumpy and stern. She stood there much to his surprise. She was short and portly with a cotton bonnet covering frizzy grey hair. 

“Can I help you?,” she asked with aggression.

“I’m here to see Miss Pearl Henson if you please,” he responded.

“What business do you have with Ms. Henson?”

“Well, we have been waving at each other from your front window for years and I just wanted to give her this tree and a gift for her Christmas”.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she interrupted. “Pearl Henson has been catatonic since she almost died in a fire 5 years ago. The woman has not moved on her own or talked since that day.”

“That’s Impossible,” he claimed, “she just waved at me as I came up the front walkway”.

The old hag then forcefully slammed the door shut in his face. As he turned and began to walk away, he spoke to himself over and over: ”That’s impossible, that’s impossible” . He left the tree and the card and the candy at the bottom of the front steps and he turned his attention towards home. As he passed the window, for the very first time, he did not look for Pearl. Instead, he dropped his head and quickly paced himself past it all.

 

Once he returned home from Christmas Day celebrations, James sat down to a quiet evening alone with his thoughts. Those thoughts quickly turned to Pearl and the sheer audacity of the old woman’s claim. He Googled Pearl as the evening progressed and her truth became a harsh reality. 

“What the hell?,” he asked himself.

In the midst of Christmas, he gathered himself and headed back to confirm what he had read. Upon his approach, Pearl did not wave to him. She did not move and was staring off into someplace that he did not understand. He could see it in the corner just behind where Pearl was sitting. A small spruce Christmas tree was adorned with little decorations, some of which came with it.