Christmas Eve, 1910

The year was 1910, and it was a cold, bitter winter night. Arthur sat before the fire, rocking and smoking his pipe as he listened to the giggles of excitement that issued forth from the next room where eight of his ten children slept. The youngest two, twins, were already asleep in his and his wife’s bedroom. His wife, Anna, was with the other eight children, attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to calm them so that he could begin his annual Santa Claus masquerade. He shook his head at the thought and laughed. Well, she certainly had her work cut out for her. All children grew excited with the joy and anticipation of Christmas Eve, and his were certainly no different. His wife might have to threaten the children within an inch of their lives to achieve such an endeavor.

The family homestead was not a large one, but it was comfortable in its simplicity and afforded their needs. Candles flickered throughout the room and created dancing shadows on the four walls. In the corner, was a simple pine tree covered in homemade paper ornaments, strands of popcorn, and berries. It was simple but quite charming nonetheless due to the creative attentions of so many little hands. There were ten knitted stockings hung from the mantle: one for each child. A hand-sewn quilt lay draped on his wife’s rocking chair directly across from him, and he knew it would not be long before she joined him and helped to set tonight’s plan in motion. His two oldest children had grown suspicious of his annual routine, but the younger ones were still quite eager to believe in the magic of Santa Claus and Christmas.

Arthur heard the pitter patter of small feet approaching and looked up to find Sarah Lois with her younger sister’s hand firmly encased in hers as the two stood side by side. They stopped just short of the rug that lay before the hearth. Arthur could see tiny toes peeking from beneath the hemlines of the girls’ nightgowns. Sarah Lois was nearly eleven, but she often thought she was as mature as her older siblings were. Still, it was Christmas, and she was willing to be the little girl for a little while longer, especially if it meant getting presents. Her younger sister, Mabelle, was just shy of three years of age, and her eyes were large round saucers, as she expectantly looked around the room, unsure as to what or whom she might see.

“Daddy,” Sarah Lois began. “Bertie says there’s no Santa. Is that true, Daddy?” Bertie was the girls’ oldest sister.

Arthur pushed his spectacles more firmly in place as he peered at Sarah Lois and Mabelle. He slowly rose from his rocking chair and walked to the far side of the room where he removed a small notebook from a locked desk. Before opening the book, he looked at the girls and shook his head. “Well, now, I don’t know girls. Maybe Bertie is right and maybe Bertie is wrong. What do you two think?” The girls returned his gaze, wide-eyed and shook their heads to indicate that they had no idea what the truth might be. Arthur continued, “I guess the only thing we can do is look and see what this here special book says about it all.”

The two young girls inched closer to their Daddy as he pretended to read from the little black book. Ignoring the numbers on the pages, he read as if the book was rich in text and wisdom.

“It says in this book that you two girls have been pretty good this year, listening to your Momma and doing your chores. Is that right, Sarah Lois? Mabelle?” He paused and eyed the two girls questioningly. They responded by eagerly shaking their heads affirmatively. Arthur smiled and continued. “And your brothers and sisters, well, it says they’ve been pretty good, too. So it looks like Santa might be on his way, after all, and that Bertie is dead wrong.”

He glanced up to see surprise and joy etched across the girls’ faces. Arthur loved seeing his children so excited and happy. He continued, “But it also says that Santa won’t likely be stopping by our house if you children don’t hurry up and get to sleep.”

Not waiting another moment, Mabelle took off running back to her warm bed and crawled between two of her sisters as she pulled the covers to her chin and squeezed her little blue eyes shut. She was determined to go to sleep so that Santa would not miss her house this Christmas night. She wanted an orange and whatever else Santa saw fit to leave in her stocking.

Sarah Lois, a bit more reluctant but a firm believer that anything her Daddy said was the almighty truth, nodded at him and then followed behind Mabelle, heading back to a crowded bed as well. “Move over, Levy. You, too, Bertie,” she said, pushing her way under the covers and seeking a bit of extra blanket to ward off the night’s chill.

“Sarah Lois, what did Daddy say?” a little voice whispered anxiously from the corner. “Did he say there really was a Santa Claus?” It was Albert, who was all of five years old. He desperately wanted to believe that what Bertie had told them was not true and that there really was a Santa Claus.

“Daddy says you better get to sleep or Santa won’t be stopping here,” Sarah Lois retorted quickly.

“Well, I don’t believe it,” piped Jack from where he lay next to Albert. He was ten, but since he was the eldest boy of the family, he thought that his opinion counted. “I believe Bertie.”

“Oh shush up, Jack! Or Santa will bring everyone but you and Bertie something in those stockings out there,” Sarah Lois quipped. “Shame on you, Jack! You should know by now that if Daddy says it’s true, it’s true,” she added with conviction.

Sarah Lois smiled to herself as she deliberately elbowed Levy to make more room in the bed. She liked to think that she was her Daddy’s favorite, so she was sure that he would never lie about something as important as Santa. He had read from that special book he liked to read from, after all. It just had to be true!

From the doorway, tired from the long day of cooking and preparation, their mother smiled. “Your father and Sarah Lois are right. Go to sleep children or Santa won’t come.” She turned and headed into the other room where, sighing as she took a seat in her welcoming rocking chair.

Looking at her husband, Anna smiled. “It won’t be long now, Arthur. Do you have everything ready outside in the barn?”

Arthur nodded and smiled. “Santa is primed and ready to fly!”

A few minutes later, Arthur quietly rose and winked at his wife. “I’ll be back shortly, dear,” he said as she helped him don his winter coat and heavy boots. He had best do this thing before the littler ones were fast asleep and missed it.

“Try to stay warm and be quick, Arthur. It’s a frightfully cold night,” Anna said. She always worried when he took to the roof of their homestead on Christmas Eve. Moreover, this year was a particularly icy night, and she knew the roof would be slippery.

Arthur leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek. “You worry too much, Anna. I will be back before you can say ‘Merry Christmas’!”

Arthur closed the door behind him and headed to the barn. As he did so, he looked out across the pond bordering his farmstead. It was so cold this year that the pond was a big sheet of solid ice. It was beautiful as the moonlight and stars glinted off it. As he reached the barn, he first located a ladder and carried it to the far side of the house or the one furthest away from the children’s bedroom. He returned to the barn and walked to the back where he opened an old trunk and removed a rope with several bells attached. Carefully, lest he make a sound, he made his way back to the ladder and climbed to the roof. Once on the rooftop, he began to walk across the length of it, deliberately and with force ensuring every heavy booted step made a huge thud. As he did so, he shook the belled rope he carried, the light sound of bells ringing in the still of the night. Beneath him, he could hear the laughter of his children. He knew they were crowding and peering out of their bedroom window in hopes of seeing Santa and his nine reindeer. He laughed, thoroughly enjoying the annual masquerade and delighted by the laughter of his children issuing forth from their bedroom below. These times would be something he knew his children would fondly remember and talk about for years to come, possibly even with their own children in the years ahead.

After a brief time of retracing his footsteps while repeatedly ringing the bells, Arthur hurriedly climbed down the ladder, picked it up, and made his way back to the barn, intending to return the ladder and the ropes to the hidden depths of the trunk. As he opened the trunk, his hand brushed against a small box wrapped in brown paper. Perplexed, he wondered from where it had come. He was sure it was not there only minutes earlier.

Looking about but finding no one else in the barn, Arthur picked up the package and quickly walked back toward the house. He would have to wait to see what was inside the package until after he was back inside. He did not want to miss his children’s reactions to his escapades, so he hurried along so that he could assure them that he had heard the same proof of Santa as they had.

As he quietly entered the farmhouse, he discarded his boots, coat, and gloves, leaving them by the door as he placed the package on the kitchen table before quickly making his way to the children’s bedroom. They were all pushing against each other in excitement as they attempted to see out the window, hoping to catch sight of Santa and his reindeer.

“Did you hear that?” their father asked them with a voice full of surprise as he walked into the room. “I’m pretty sure I just heard Santa and his reindeer on our roof! I think he is outside and wants to come in to fill your stockings. Quickly! You had best get back into bed and go to sleep!”

The children shrieked with surprise. They giggled as they eagerly climbed over one another while seeking the warmth of their beds, anxious for the wonder of Santa and Christmas to fill their home.

Arthur turned to leave, a huge smile on his face. “Momma and I are headed to bed, too! Goodnight, kids. We love you. See you first thing in the morning. Merry Christmas!”

“Night, Daddy! Love you!” they all screamed in unison. “Merry Christmas!”

Entering the adjoining room, Arthur found his wife still seated in her rocking chair, a contented smile upon her face. “The children get so excited each year, Arthur. It is such a special thing that you do each Christmas Eve. What wonderful memories you make for them.”

“I love surprising them. It’s so much fun,” he said before he walked over to the table and reached for the brown paper wrapped package. Holding it, he took a seat across from his wife in his rocking chair. The fire felt delightfully warm after the icy, cold wind outside.

“What is that you have, Arthur?” Anna asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Arthur said and then explained to Anna that he had found the package in the trunk but did not remember putting it there.

Arthur began to open the package, loosening the brown paper that enclosed it. Inside he found a small wooden box and nestled inside of it, he found a black bag with a note lying atop it. He handed the note to his wife to read as he began opening the black bag. “It looks as though we have a present too,” he said to Anna. “I wonder who left it.”

Anna took the note, squinting in concentration as she placed her glasses upon her nose. After a moment, her blue eyes widened, and she looked at her husband, surprise evident on her face. “Arthur? What in the world!” she asked, evidently confused.

Arthur was about to open the bag, but one glance at his wife stopped him. “What is it, Anna?” he asked.

Anna continued to stare stared at him, thoroughly amazed. “Well, dear, I am confused,” she said, her voice laced with apparent excitement.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked again. “What does the note say? Who gave us this package, Anna?”

Anna cleared her voice, unsure how best to proceed. Finally, she began to read the note:

“To Arthur and Anna. Thank you for keeping me alive in the hearts of children. Merry Christmas to you and your family!”

Arthur’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What in the world? Who’s that note from, Anna?” he asked, confused now as well.

“Well, it’s signed ‘Santa Claus’,” Anna said, laughing and ignoring Arthur’s snort of disbelief. “Open the bag, Arthur. Let’s see what Santa Claus brought us this year,” she teased.

“What in tarnation….” Arthur said as he opened the black bag and several pieces of currency spilled out of it. Speechless, he picked it up and quickly counted the money. There were forty $5.00 bills. He needed his wife’s help to make sure he had counted correctly, but if he had, there was a total of $200.00 in the black bag.

He held up a few of the bills. “Santa Claus?” he asked incredulously, his voice raspy and only above a whisper. “There’s two hundred dollars here, Anna!”

Anna’s disbelief and surprise were evident as well. Suddenly, she broke into a huge smile that was the biggest one Arthur had ever seen in a very long time. “And you thought Santa Claus didn’t exist,” she chided Arthur.

Still admittedly confused and surprised, Arthur nonetheless returned Anna’s smile with an even larger one of his own. “Who me - not believe in Santa Claus? You are wrong, my dear! You can bet that I’ll be a believer in the magic of Christmas and Santa Claus until I’m planted in the ground – and then some!”