CUTTER GAP SNOW STORIES - The Store Window

DECEMBER 1913

BY SaraJane
sarajane83@yahoo.com


The little boy trudged through the newly fallen snow in
his over-sized shoes; they had been handed down to him by
an older brother.  Mother had tried stuffing them with
cardboard to improve the fit but the edges dug into the
soft flesh of his arches and left them more than suitable.
He was thankful to have shoes-many of his friends did
without.

Christmas would be lean this year.  The business at the
mill had slowed down to a trickle and the encroachment of
newer lumber mills in the neighboring county had forced
the business where his father worked to cut back work
hours.  Mother tried selling her jams and jellies at the
county fair in the summer but money was scarce all over.
There was talk - rumblings of war over in Europe and
people had begun to hoard and stash their goods and money.
The boy's heart felt sad, for people had begun to act a
lot like that man in Miss Christy's story by a fella by
the name of "Dickens".

Reaching the store in El Pano, the little boy stood
outside glancing over the items in the store window.
He could see his breath against the windowpane.  There was
a right fancy blue bottle of ladies par-fume, straight from
Paris, France.  He recognized the number 5 on the label.
Though he didn't cotton to girl's dolls, the bisque dolly
in the lavender dress did catch his eye.  A nice boxed set
of men's handkerchiefs lay on the bay of the window and a
Swiss army knife was on top, it's contents spread out- a
knife, a screwdriver, and a magnifying glass.  There was
more of the usual ladies stuff - then, he spotted the
wind-up train.  It's shiny exterior was a sight to behold.
The engine was red sans the black smokestack and the
running bars; the wheels were shiny brass.  It was the
most awesome thing he had ever seen.  Pressing his nose
still closer against the glass he pulled the nape of his
coat closer around him, freeing his hands from his pockets.
It didn't matter how cold his hands got for his attention
was fully attuned to this wondrous train.


A lady dressed in finery drew closer to Benson's store.
It would be a 45 minute lay-over to clear snow from
the tracks before Old Buncombe could make its trek
further southeast.  She was traveling to visit her niece
and nephew for their annual Christmas get-together.
It was just a formality, really, for they didn't need
or want for anything and having her their soothed their
guilty conscience over having her spend Christmas alone.
Being the only family she had left she felt they were just
waiting for her to pass away so they could inherit still
more money they didn't need.  With these thoughts flowing
through her mind she noted the little boy standing by the
store's window, entranced by its display.

Christmas is all about giving, not receiving, she thought
to herself.  By the looks of this young boy, all he could
probably count on was a bag of peanuts, an orange and an
apple from his church Sunday School.  She had known those
hard times in her life as a young girl.  The weight of her
heart was soon lifted as she approached the door, opened
the door to the shop and entered.


The little boy stayed outside.  He knew he couldn't buy
anything so what was the use of going inside?  Still, he
could dream.  Studying the items over again he began to
feel dismay and disappointment as the shop clerk began
removing items from the store display.  One by one his
treasures were disappearing.  His eyes welled up with
tears.  The doll, the perfume, the knife and handkerchiefs
all disappeared.  And the train.  He turned around and
his body sagged against the window, his head lowered.
He fought the tears as best a boy can do.


He heard the door to the shop open and close but he did not
look up.  Suddenly there stood a lady looking down at him.
"Young man, do you believe in Santa Claus?"


Startled, he answered, "No Ma'am, don't reckon ah' do.
Some folks do."


"Who brings you your Christmas gifts?"


"No one, really, ‘ceptin' sometimes Mama and Papa get
us something.  But not this year.  Mama already told me
so I wouldn't be lookin' fer nothin'.  It's okay, lady,
I wouldn't want ta' git' spoiled."


"Do you believe in Jesus?"


"Sure do!"


"Well, why don't you bow your head and tell Jesus what's
on your heart - about Christmas."


He bowed his head and talked a bit, then lifted his head
again.  And when he did the fine lady was gone.  Mr. Benson
opened the door to his shop, the winter wind howling
through into it's interior, snowflakes peeping inside.


"Is that you, Sam Houston?"


"Yes Sir!"


"Well, get inside this minute before you catch your death!
You're not going to believe what I'm going to tell you!"
He ushered Sam Houston inside.  "She said to tell you it's
from Jesus."


Sam Houston stared in amazement and wonder at the items
Mr. Benson pointed to on the counter.


Looking at Mr. Benson, Sam Houston enthusiastically
exclaimed, "God Bless Us Everyone!"

THE END