The Secret Samaritan

Ben trudged down the hallway and paused by the loungeroom door, ears attuned to his boys, feeling every bit of his thirty-eight years. He peered around the doorframe to watch.

Lying on his stomach, eleven-year-old Harvey sprawled on the floor in his pyjamas, note pad in hand, chewing the end of his pencil.

“Whatcha doin’?” asked three-year-old Curtis, also in his pyjamas.

“Thinking about what I might get for Christmas. What are you doing?” asked Harvey in return.

“I just came in to see the tree,” Curtis whispered. “The decorations are pretty.

‘Specially the one with mummy’s picture.”

Ben’s stomach tightened as Curtis’ words tore through him.

“Hey, guys. What are you up to?”

“Thinking about Christmas presents,” Harvey answered. “I’m hoping for a skateboard.”

“And I want a new book,” Curtis responded, looking at his father. “And some toys.”

“Hmmm,” said Ben. That’s nice. But…Christmas might be a bit different this year.” He walked to the tree and fingered the decoration with the picture of the boys’ mother on it. “Santa mightn’t be able to bring you guys as many presents.”

“Santa?” Harvey began. “He isn’t….” The words “He isn’t real,” were about to leave his lips, but he stopped as his father shook his head and frowned. Curtis looked from Harvey to the tree, then to Ben.

“Huh?” questioned the three-year-old. “Doesn’t he know where we live?”

“Sure he does, buddy,” Ben responded. “Don’t forget we sent him a letter.

It’s just that he’s super busy and has so many people to deliver presents to and….”

Harvey thought quickly. “Santa won’t forget us, Curtis.” He sat up and gave his little brother a shoulder squeeze.

“Will Mummy be here for Christmas?” Curtis asked.

What could they say? How do you tell a preschooler that death is permanent?

There had been a hit-and-run accident. Their mother Beck had put up a brave, brief fight, but in the end, the life support had to be disconnected. Then the avalanche of bills began to arrive. With time off work, organising a funeral and care for the boys, money was tight, but it was a harsh reality to explain to a small child. A small child who wasn’t old enough to grasp abstract or concrete concepts, let alone the reality of life and death.

This would be their first Christmas without her. Ben had bought what he could, but apart from a few things from Grandma, that would be it.

He scooped Curtis up into his arms and hugged him.

“No, buddy, she can’t be here. But she left us her picture for the tree. She’s watching over us and sending lots of love.” “

“Is she a…a…angel?” asked Curtis.

“Well,” Ben replied. “Not really. But guess what? She’ll always be our special angel. He kissed his small son on the top of his head. “Now it’s time for bed.”

“Tuck me in?” asked Curtis. “Read me a story?” A bedtime story was Curtis’s favourite time of the day.

“You bet,” said Ben, ruffling Curtis’ hair. “Off you go. I’m coming.”

***

Once both sons were tucked in for the night, Ben wandered back into the lounge room and stared at Beck’s picture, fighting back tears. “We all miss you,” he said. “Nothing will ever be the same.”

He turned as a knock rapped on the front door. Who could be calling at this time of the night? There had been reports recently of house invasions. Warily he armed himself with a golf club and slowly opened the door.

Just outside on the porch was a large carton. The chill in the night air braced his cheeks. “Hello?” he called, but nothing stirred.

There was nobody in sight. No footprints on the gravel driveway, either. How was it he hadn’t heard anyone?

It couldn’t be a regular delivery: it was too late for that. Taped to the top of the box was a note: “Sharing some Christmas love. For you and the boys,” it read.

He brought the box inside and carefully cut open the tape holding it closed. Inside were several brightly wrapped presents. He brushed away tears as he removed the presents from the box to inspect them.

The top gift was marked for Curtis. It was the shape and size of a large picture book. Underneath were other gifts for the three of them, mostly for the boys.

Ben replaced the gifts, took the box into the spare room and locked the door. The presents would be placed under the tree the next night.

He scratched his head. It was a mystery as to who would be so caring and generous, but he reflected on the fact that they had good neighbours. Maybe they had banded together in a Good Samaritan type scenario. But hang on…nobody was around. They had all gone away for the holidays. So, what was going on?

***

Two mornings later, Harvey sat up and yawned, then remembered it was Christmas Day. Curtis was already up, his bed empty. He could hear his father talking and Curtis’ excited voice. Harvey padded along the hallway to the lounge room. Underneath the tree was a pile of presents.

“Lookie, lookie!” yelled Curtis. “Santa’s been! Look, Mummy!” he called to his mother’s picture. “And there’s lots for Harvey, too.”

“Dad?” asked Harvey, puzzled. “Where….”

Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Curtis knows,” he winked. “Santa’s been.

There’s a lot of things here.”

“Okay, boys, one at a time,” Ben instructed. “You go first, Harvey.”

Harvey ripped the paper off a heavy gift. Inside was a skateboard. “WOW!” he said. Keeping with the Christmas spirit, he smiled at his little brother. “Thanks heaps, Santa.”

Ben handed the book-shaped present to Curtis.

“Open this one buddy,” he encouraged. “It looks like something good.”

Curtis ripped off the paper. “Hey,” said Harvey. “What is it?”

Inside the wrapping was a picture book called Rudolph and the Cherry Pie. The red and green cover was illustrated with animals around a kitchen table and Santa flying away in the background.

“Read it to me, Daddy,” Curtis piped up.

“Now?” Dad asked. “Shouldn’t we save it for bedtime tonight?”

Curtis nodded his head. “Yes, now. I want Mummy to hear it.”

“Okay,” Dad replied. “Here we go.”

Mrs Magpie had baked some large cherry pies,

the animals watched her with round, hungry eyes.

She set them all down on the benchtop to cool,

and everyone’s tongues began to drool.

Young lizard’s nose smelt some lovely warm, spice.

“Please, Mrs Maggie, could I have a slice?”

Bandicoot said, “Those pies look so yummy,

Could I have a piece for my hungry tummy?”

“Mmmm,” said Possum “those pies look so sweet.

Could I pretty please have a small piece to eat?” Wombat spoke up, ‘cause he wanted to try,

a lovely warm piece of a fresh cherry pie.

Then in through the door whooshed the big Cockatoo,

he wanted a piece of a cherry pie, too.

“We can’t cut them now,” Mrs Magpie soon said.

“Why don’t you eat a crisp apple instead?

These pies are for Christmas Eve, you all see,

and Santa can have a big slice for his tea.”

Christmas Eve came, and dinner was ended,

those sweet cherry pies had been perfectly splendid.

The pieces left over were put out on plates,

for Santa to share with his nine reindeer mates.

Animals tired, they all rubbed their heads,

and snuggled right down in their soft, cosy beds. Everyone soon was quite fast asleep,

the air was so quiet, no one made a peep.

When Santa was leaving, way up on the roof,

the reindeer were ready; they each raised a hoof.

But one was still missing, his ears hadn’t listened,

too busy eating, and now his nose glistened.

“Hurry up, Rudolph,” Santa called down,

“We have to get all of the toys into town.”

Back on the roof Rudolph gave a great cheer,

“Let’s take off and go, I’m finally here!”

With a sweet, bright red cherry, stuck right on his nose, he raised up his head and pointed his toes.

The sled rose on high and sped right away.

to deliver the presents without a delay.

On Christmas day morning, the gang out of bed, found a bright letter, the paper was red,

“Thank you,” wrote Santa, “that slice was the best,

and nine hungry reindeer ate up all the rest!

“So that’s where Rudolph got his red nose from!” Harvey piped up. And laughed.

Curtis clapped his hands. “Yay, Daddy. That was fun. You can read it again at bedtime.” He looked up at his mother’s picture on the tree. “Thank you for telling Santa where to come.”

Harvey and Ben exchanged looks. Overexcited, Curtis rushed off to the toilet. “I’m coming back!” he called. “Wait for me!”

“Hey, Dad,” Harvey said. “What happened? Where did all of these presents come from?”

Ben winked. “Well, son, someone is watching over us, that’s for sure. Someone who knows how much we love and miss Mum. Presents won’t make up for not having her here, but I know she would want us to be happy.” He drew Harvey close and hugged him.

“Yeah, Dad,” Harvey replied. “You’re right. Thanks. And thanks, Mum, for everything.” He looked over at his mother’s picture on the tree.

And, just for a moment, Harvey was sure he saw her wink and smile back.