Cutter, My Christmas Gift
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About this ebook
Every year tens of thousands of people face their first Christmas following the death of a parent. While a luck few have no regrets about their choices and actions, many, like Peter Donnelly, are filled with self-reproach and sadness.
Christmas was held sacred by his mother, who celebrated her love of the holiday with stories of Christmases past. Peter dismissed the importance of Christmas and his mother’s stories and hasn’t been home for Christmas for over 30 years. Haunted by guilt, regret and the memories of his mother, Peter—now a father and grandfather himself—is tasked with carrying out his mother’s last wish: to hold a Christmas party in her old house one last time before it’s sold.
Through a series of magical encounters, he finds himself living out the Christmas stories he heard so many times as a boy. Peter comes to realize how fortunate he is to discover the true meaning of Christmas—that his mother lives on through the stories and special memories that he was privileged to share. An upbeat, whimsical tale of heartfelt nostalgia in the same vane as Dickens’ A Christmas Carol and Evans’ The Christmas Box (Simon & Schuster—12,000,000 copies sold), Cutter, My Christmas Gift is the story of one man’s journey of transformation and acceptance.
Michael Smith
Michael Smith was a political and business journalist for over thirty years with The Guardian, The Observer and The Evening Standard. He has written two other books on polar exploration - An Unsung Hero and I'm Am Just Going Outside.
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Cutter, My Christmas Gift - Michael Smith
Cutter
My Christmas Gift
M. J. J. Smith
Copyright 2011 by M. J. J. Smith. All rights reserved.
Cover photo and artwork used with permission.
Published by Book and Software Publishing Corporation at Smashwords.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Table of Contents
Tracks in the Snow
Cutter Ride
Father Christmas
Box from the Past
Mom’s Christmas Presents
Tracks in the Snow
Peter Donnelly turned his rental car into the snow covered driveway, shut off the engine and took a deep breath while staring at his now unoccupied childhood home.
Thank God you remembered how to drive in a snowstorm,
Wendy observed. It’s been years since either of us did it and I’m not sure I could drive on the ice and snow anymore.
After checking to make sure their two grandchildren were still asleep in the backseat, Peter turned to his wife. What did you say? My mind must’ve been somewhere else.
That’s for sure and it’s been happening a lot lately. Forget about what I said and tell me what’s bothering you.
Before it happened, I never gave any thought to the fact Mom would die. Somehow I’d convinced myself she would live forever and I’d have time to make up for what I was often too busy to do. Every day since she died I’ve thought about having to go into Mom’s house to face her for the first time since the funeral and, now that I’m here, it’s harder than I expected.
Wendy’s smile changed to a look of concern as she reached out and grabbed her husband’s arm. Peter, where did that come from? You never said a word about it before. And what’s this about having to face Mom? She’s dead!
Before explaining his statement, Peter refocused his attention on the farmhouse. I didn’t mean I was going to physically see her but everything in Mom’s house is going to remind me of her and I just know some of the stuff will make me think about the many things I didn’t do.
You’ve got to be kidding; you were a good son.
I’m not kidding. The moment I turned off the road and drove toward her house, my regrets welled up in me like a tidal wave. I haven’t been free of them for a single day since she died but just now they were the worst yet.
Wendy squeezed her husband’s hand as he continued. The truth is I’d give anything not to have to go into her house again. I’m not ready to deal with the pain thinking about what I didn’t do is causing me.
Before continuing, Peter held his hand up with his index finger an inch from his thumb. This morning, when we were getting in the airport van, I came this close to canceling out on the entire trip. I know being here, for this Christmas celebration, is going to make my regrets even more difficult to deal with.
After a short pause, he added, And this party of hers couldn’t have come at a worse time.
Peter, you’re the one who promised Mom you’d host this last Christmas celebration in her house before it’s sold, and, in spite of what you just told me, I’m glad you did. You need this break from everything that’s going on at the college more than ever.
After checking to see if their grandchildren were still asleep, Wendy refocused her attention on her husband. For their sake, forget the regrets and think about the fun times you had here when you were young. That’s what Mom would have wanted you to do.
I know…and, of course, you’re right.
Wendy, believing her husband had accepted her admonition, decided to address the issue uppermost on her mind. And stop trying to get that paper of yours published while you’re here. Even though you started the search for a publisher later than ever, it’ll take care of itself. It always does.
I hope you’re right,
Peter responded as he pulled a key chain from his pocket and rustled through it until he found the right key. I’ll open the door and turn the porch light on so we can see what we’re doing.
He again paused a moment, gazing at the empty house. The fact is I know you’re right, but it’s not just the regrets and the things that will remind me of Mom that worry me. Mom’s house holds so many memories…things I saw for myself and stories I heard. I’ve blocked so many of them from my mind and I’m sure our time here is going to bring them back.
Why does that bother you? You’ve always told me what a great childhood you had. The only memories you could bring back would be good ones.
My childhood was fine, but after the funeral, Rita asked me a question about something Mom said when we were kids and I couldn’t remember it. I must have blocked it out. I’ve read about that happening to people.
You’re just letting your grief get the best of you. There’s nothing wrong with your memory.
After giving her husband a chance to absorb her assessment, Wendy continued, But this sure isn’t the place to be talking about it…it’s just too cold with the heat off. We can discuss it more inside after the kids are in bed, but the truth is it would be better for you to just forget the past and enjoy the present. That’s what your mom was always trying to get you to do.
Peter nodded his agreement as he opened the car door. That’s true.
I’ll wait to wake Karen and Keith until you come out. They shouldn’t be out in this cold longer than necessary. They aren’t used to it, and I don’t want them getting sick right before Christmas.
Peter stepped out of the car, closed the door, walked to the house, kicked the snow from his feet, and disappeared inside.
After a few minutes, the porch light came on, and Peter emerged. Rita must have turned the heat up. It’s warm inside.
Wendy opened the door and stepped out of the car. What took you so long? You were in there almost five minutes!
She kept her voice down so she wouldn’t wake the kids, but Peter knew she was angry.
Come on, Wendy, it wasn’t that long.
Okay, three minutes, but you and I both know it didn’t take that long to flip the light switch on and find out your sister turned the heat up. What were you up to?
Peter was found out and needed to try to minimize the deserved razzing he knew was coming. I promised Tom and Frank I’d give them a call to answer any questions they had concerning my paper. I’d have called them from the airport if I hadn’t lost my cell phone and maybe I wouldn’t have gotten their voice mail like I did just now. I can’t believe my bad luck. The saying about expecting the worst is sure true in this case.
That’s not how I see it. I think you losing your phone was my first gift this Christmas. Maybe now you’ll be able to be here for our grandkids. You know, when your mother told you she wanted us in her house for this last Christmas celebration, she meant being present both physically AND mentally.
Look, Wendy, every year you know I’m required to get a reputable publication to sign off on my paper for one of their next year’s editions and time is running out. If I don’t, I lose my job. Doesn’t that matter to you?
Not when we’re out here in the freezing cold, it doesn’t! Lately your priorities are all screwed up, and everyone but you knows it.
Peter moved a step closer to his wife. My priority is the same as it’s always been—I want to be a good provider like my father.
You always have been and I’m sure you always will be, but, Peter, this is Christmas and that changes things. I hope you’ll straighten yourself out so you can let go and enjoy the wonder of our grandkids. You do realize just how special Christmas is for kids their age, don’t you?
Peter nodded his agreement.
When her husband gave no further response, Wendy opened the back door to the car, reached in, and gently shook her grandchildren until they woke.
Keith opened his eyes and looked around to get his bearings. Are we there yet?
What a dumb question,
Karen scolded. Can’t you see the car is stopped? Grandma wouldn’t wake you up if we weren’t THERE!
The six year old ignored his sister’s barb, looked around, and asked, Does Santa know we’re going to be here for Christmas?
Wendy flashed a smile at Peter and then looked back at her grandson. Yes, he knows. I sent him a letter a few weeks ago so he’d know where to deliver your presents. You’re just like Grandpa Peter…always worrying. Everything has been taken care of. All you need to do is enjoy yourself. Santa will be here with presents for everyone on Christmas Eve.
Peter opened Karen’s door, reached in, and picked her up. Keith, stay in your seat until I come back. There’s over a foot of new snow, and I don’t want you to get your feet cold.
The young boy looked out the door at the snow covered ground. I’ve got boots on. My feet won’t get cold.
While Peter continued talking with their grandson, Wendy blew warm air on her hands as she rubbed them together. With the snow as deep as it is, your feet could still get cold if I don’t carry you.
Keith stomped his left foot on the floor. Why does she get to go first?
Because a gentleman lets a lady go first, and we all know what a fine young gentleman you are.
With nothing more said, Peter hoisted his granddaughter up a bit higher, closed the car door, walked up the stairs, and opened the porch door. Before entering, he turned toward Wendy and commented, Don’t worry about bringing anything in with you. As soon as I’ve got both kids inside, I’ll come out and get everything.
Fine. I’ll stay here with Keith until you get back.
After giving his granddaughter a hug and setting her on a kitchen chair, Peter asked, So what do you think of the house your grandpa grew up in?
It’s neat.
Pointing to a door, she asked, Where does that go?
The basement.
Looking back at her grandfather, she asked, What’s a basement?
It’s where my mom stored things including lots of ghosts, so it’s best if you don’t go down there.
Oh, Grandpa, you’re just trying to scare me. There’s no such thing as a ghost.
Really?
Yah, you’re going to hide our presents there and you want to make me too scared to go there to find them.
The corners of Peter’s mouth turned up. You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?
After a short pause he turned and walked toward the door. You sit still while I get your brother or one of the basement ghosts will get you. This house is full of them and they haven’t had anyone to scare since my mom died three months ago; so if you go near the basement, they will get you.
Karen looked toward the door to the basement and then back at her grandfather. If you want to scare me, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that.
Peter stifled a laugh as he left the kitchen.
Returning to the car, he held out his arms toward his grandson and motioned for him to jump. Your turn, my fine young gentleman.
Keith stood up on the door jam and jumped into his grandfather’s outstretched arms. Wow, you’re getting to be a real load,
Peter observed as he pretended to recoil from the boy’s weight.
The young boy looked down at himself then back at his grandfather. It’s all the winter clothes. I don’t have to wear all this stuff in California.