Happy Holidays VII
The Christmas Card
By Zap
“Where are you going?” Trixie Belden asked her brother Mart as he veered from the path that led to the school bus which would take them home.
“I have to work on a school project,” Mart said.
“Oh, you’re going to the library?”
“No, I have to see someone at Golden Meadows. Moms knows all about it. See ya later!”
Trixie frowned as her brother hurried away. Golden Meadows was an old age home. She wondered why he was going there.
“Where’s Mart rushing to?” Honey Wheeler asked as she walked up beside Trixie.
Trixie shrugged. “School project.”
“Well, we’d better hurry or we’ll miss the bus.”
Back at Crabapple Farm, Trixie munched on some freshly baked cookies and asked her mother about Mart’s project.
“He said he was going to Golden Meadows. That’s the old folk’s home,” Trixie mumbled through a mouthful of cookies.
“Yes, I know,” said Mrs. Belden, as she cleaned up the kitchen. “He has to interview someone for his history project.”
“I don’t get it. Does someone famous live at Golden Meadows?”
“No, Trixie. But Mart’s history class is doing a living history project. He’s gathering interviews from people who experienced World War II.”
Mart was full of chatter at dinner that evening.
“This one fellow, his name’s Amos Gower, he was part of the invasion at Normandy!”
“”He must have a lot to say,” Mr. Belden said.
“Well, he’s really isn’t very talkative about the actual fighting he did. I think it’s difficult for him.”
“A lot of people who’ve been through war prefer not to think of it.”
“I guess so. But there are a couple of other veterans who have been very helpful.”
“You should interview some women, too,” said his mother.
Mart frowned. “You sound like Diana. Her favorite person there is Mrs. Larrabee, and she thinks I should interview her.”
“How does Diana know her?’ asked Trixie.
“Di volunteers at Golden Meadows. She reads, plays games, and talks to the residents.”
“I never knew that!”
“Neither did I,” Brian said.
“Her mother got her involved through one of her charitable groups.”
“Well, if Diana thinks Mrs. Larrabee is worth talking to, perhaps you should,” said Mrs. Belden.
“But Moms, she wasn’t even a WAC or anything. She didn’t work in a war plant. I don’t think she’ll be much help to me.”
“You never know,” Mr. Belden said. “It might be valuable to get a woman’s perspective on the homefront.”
“Hm,” was all Mart said.
At school the next day, Trixie confronted Diana about Golden Meadows. “Why didn’t you ever tell us you volunteered there?”
“I thought I’d mentioned it. I told Mart. I’ve only been going there for a few months.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, I do. I know some people get uncomfortable around old people—in fact, I was one of those people—but I always feel better after I spend some time there. So many of them are lonely because they have no family left or their kids live in another state. My brief visits can make them feel just a little less lonely.”
“I’d like to come with you on your next visit,” Honey said. “I hate to think of people feeling lonely, especially at holiday time.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Trixie.
“Okay, they’re always happy to have visitors. I was planning to go Saturday morning. Mart has to finish up his interviews, so he’ll be there as well.”
“It’s a date,” Honey said. “Maybe Jim will join us.”
“I’ll ask Brian…” Trixie began. “Oh wait. We forgot that Brian and Jim are going to the auction in White Plains.”
“That’s right. They’re going with Dan and Mr. Maypenny.”
“Then it will just be the four Bob-Whites Saturday,” Trixie said.
On Saturday morning, the four Bob-Whites arrived at Golden Meadows. The home was not at all what Trixie had feared it might be. It was surprisingly bright and cheerful. She could hear a Christmas carol being played on a piano somewhere.
“We’re having a sing-along in the sun room,” Ms. Hopkins the activities director said as she greeted them.
“Is Mr. Poole in there?” Mart asked.
“No, you’ll find him in the parlor. He’s playing cards with some other residents.”
“Thanks.” Mart turned to the three girls. “I have to finish my interview with Mr. Poole. See you later.”
“Come on,” Diana said to Trixie and Honey.
They entered the sun room where about a dozen residents were gathered while a chipper woman pounded away at the piano. “Follow along on the sheet of paper if you don’t remember the words!” she said. “Good King Wenceslas looked out, on the Feast of Stephen…”
“There’s Mrs. Larrabee,” whispered Diana. “Just wait a second.”
Diana went over to a small, plump lady who was fanning herself with the lyrics sheet. The lady smiled when she saw Diana. They spoke a few words, the lady nodded and she and Diana walked back toward Trixie and Honey.
“Trixie Belden, Honey Wheeler, this is Mrs. Larrabee,” Diana introduced them.
“So happy to meet you both!” Mrs. Larrabee said with a bright smile. “Let’s go into my room where we can have a nice visit.”
For some reason, Trixie thought Mrs. Larrabee’s room would look like a hospital room, but it was actually more of a suite with a sitting area, bedroom, and a private bathroom. It was furnished with regular furniture. There was a standing birdcage near the wall.
Mrs. Larrabee’s noted the surprise on Trixie’s face. “Yes, it’s like a small apartment. Only certain residents require special care.” She tapped at the birdcage. “And meet my closest companion, Melville.”
“Hi, Melville,” Honey said to the green parakeet. He chirped at her.
“Why don’t I get some tea for us all?” Diana suggested.
“Thank you, dear. Can you manage on your own?”
“Sure. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“We can’t cook in our rooms,” explained Mrs. Larrabee. “All meals come from the dining hall.”
“Have you lived in Sleepyside all your life?” asked Honey as they all sat down.
“Oh no,” Mrs. Larrabee said. “I came here with my second husband. He wanted to escape the noise of the city. I was born and raised in Buffalo, but I moved to New York City when I was eighteen. That’s where I met Ronald. Ronald was my first husband. He died in the war.”
“I’m so sorry,” Honey said.
“World War II?” asked Trixie.
“Yes, he was killed in action in 1943. Only ten months after he shipped out. We really only got to spend a short time living together as husband and wife. When he left, I was pregnant with our daughter Louise. He never got a chance to see her. I wrote him about her birth, but I never got any reply. It was a few months later that I got word of his death.”
“How sad!” Honey said with tears in her eyes.
“Where’s your daughter now?” Trixie asked.
“She lives in New York. She has a busy job as an art director. She inherited her artistic talent from her father. She usually manages to visit once a month.”
“You’ll see her for Christmas, I suppose.”
Mrs. Larrabee sighed. “I’m afraid not. She’s going to St. Croix with her beau. She’ll try to visit me before she leaves and then she’ll be back to see me on New Year’s.”
“Oh,” Honey said.
“Now, I don’t want you to think ill of Louise. She’s a good daughter. She’s feeling a little blue this year because her ex-husband is having their son for the holidays. He's away at college most of the time. Let me show you a picture of my daughter and my beautiful grandson.”
Mrs. Larrabee took a framed photo from the side table and handed it to Honey.
“My grandson’s name is Joey.”
“He is beautiful,” agreed Honey.
“He looks a lot like his grandfather,” Mrs. Larrabee said, her eyes glistening. “Ronald was the love of my life. Wally—that’s Mr. Larrabee—is a good man, but I never did love him the same as I did Ronald. I tried to be a good wife to him, but something was missing and he knew it. I guess it’s no surprise we ended up divorced.”
There was a noise at the door. “Help me, please!”
Trixie hurried to the door and opened it to find Diana struggling with a tray laden with cups of tea and a plate of green and red-sprinkled Christmas cookies.
They sat and sipped tea and enjoyed the cookies while Mrs. Larrabee inquired about their families and their lives.
Recalling what her parents had said, Trixie asked Mrs. Larrabee about life on the homefront in World War II. As Mrs. Larrabee talked about rationing and other facts of life she would mention Ronald occasionally and her voice would sound wistful and her eyes would get misty.
Just before the girls left, Trixie asked if Mrs. Larrabee had a picture of Ronald.
Mrs. Larrabee smiled. “Of course! I keep it beside my bed.” She went and retrieved it, proudly showing it to the three girls.
The picture showed a handsome smiling young man in his soldier’s uniform. He looked barely older than Brian or Jim.
As if reading her mind, Mrs. Larrabee said, “This was taken only a month before he left. He was twenty-two.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Honey said. “I hope I may come and see you again.”
“Certainly! I enjoyed your visit immensely.”
“We did, too,” said Trixie as they said their goodbyes.
Mart was waiting for them in the lobby. He stood near a poster announcing the annual Golden Meadows Christmas party on Christmas Eve.
“It’s about time,” he grumbled. “I’m done here and I have to start typing up my notes.”
“Sorry, but we were having a very nice time with Mrs. Larrabee,” said Diana.
“Yeah, you should have interviewed her,” Trixie said. “She lost her husband in the war.”
“I’m done with my interviews,” Mart said. “Now, let’s grab some lunch before we go home. I’m starving!”
When Trixie, Mart, and Honey arrived back at Crabapple Farm, they found that Jim and Brian were back from the auction.
“Look what we got,” said Jim pointing to a beat-up trunk.
“That’s what you bought at the auction?” Trixie said with a frown.
“I thought you would appreciate it,” Brian said. “After all, it’s a mystery trunk.”
“Mystery trunk?” echoed Honey.
“We have no idea what’s in it. The key is missing, so we’re going to pry it open.”
“You bought a trunk without knowing its contents?” Mart said. “How do you know it’s not empty?”
“We’re pretty sure it’s not. It’s kind of heavy. Besides, it was a bargain at five dollars.”
“You know what you’ll have after you pry it open?” Mart said. “A trunk with a broken lock.”
“Ha-ha,” Jim said.
The two boys set to work opening their mystery trunk. Trixie couldn’t help but feel the slightest tingle of excitement. Maybe there was a treasure inside after all.
At last, the lock gave way and Brian threw open the trunk lid.
They all peered expectantly into the mystery trunk. What they saw was less than thrilling
“Books,” Jim said.
“Old magazines,” Brian said.
Honey pulled out a book. She wrinkled her nose. “Ew. It’s so musty.” She read the title. “Thomas’s Guide to Practical German Grammar.”
“Exciting,” Mart said.
Jim flipped through a bunch of magazines. “Life, Look, a couple of movie magazines.”
He tossed them back in. “It’s a little disappointing,” he admitted.
“Hey, there’s something sticking out of that magazine.” Honey pointed.
Brian reached down. “It’s a letter,” he said. He held up an envelope. “It’s still sealed.”
“Maybe it was never sent,” Trixie said.
“No, it’s got an Army postmark. Stamped November 14, 1943.”
“Wow!” Honey said. “Who is it addressed to?”
“Mrs. R.W. Canby, 702 N. Overton Street, # 8, Brooklyn, New York.”
“Let’s open it!” Trixie said eagerly.
“Trixie!” Honey said in surprise.
“It would be wrong,” Jim agreed.
“Yes, this isn’t our letter,” Brian reminded her. ‘It’s private.”
“But you paid five dollars for everything in the trunk. The letter is yours now,” said Trixie. “And who knows if Mrs. Canby is even alive.”
“We can’t open someone else’s mail,” Jim said firmly.
“Oh gosh, I suppose you’re right,” Trixie sighed.
“We could try to track down Mrs. Canby,” said Mart.
“Even if she’s alive, what are the odds she still at the same address?” Honey wondered.
“I think Dad may be able to help us,” Jim said. “It’s worth a shot.”
But by the time school let out for the holiday break the next Friday, there was still no information on Mrs. Canby. Her building had been demolished in the 1960s and there was no way of tracing her. There was one glimmer of hope, though.
“The soldier’s name is on the return address,” Jim said as they rode the bus home. “Private R.W. Canby. Dad says the best bet is checking the military records. He’s got someone doing that for us right now.”
“Did you remember to drop off the toys we donated for the school’s Christmas toy drive? Diana asked Honey and Trixie.
“Yes, we took care of that,” Trixie said. “Are you going to see Mrs. Larrabee tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure. Mother wants to go into the city to do some shopping.”
“I think I’ll go see her,” Trixie said. “I might take a loaf of Moms’ special cinnamon bread with me.”
“I’ll join you,” Honey said.
“I’m glad. I stopped by to see her after school yesterday, and she seem to be feeling sad. I think it’s because her daughter isn’t going to see her before she leaves on her ski trip.”
Mrs. Larrabee looked happy to see Trixie and Honey. She inhaled the scent of the cinnamon bread. “How marvelous. Thank you and you must thank your mother for me as well. Shall we have some now?”
“If you don’t mind sharing it with us,” Honey said.
“Not at all. Let me phone down for some tea. Or maybe you’d prefer hot chocolate?”
“I know I would.” Trixie grinned.
As they enjoyed the hot chocolate and the bread, they chatted about Christmas.
“There’s going to be a party here Christmas Eve,” said Mrs. Larrabee. “It’s not much, I suppose, but there will be food and music and people usually have fun. It’s when a lot of the relatives drop by for a visit. I do wish Louise was coming, but she’s leaving this Wednesday for her trip. She was planning to come see me this weekend, but she couldn’t get away. She was going to bring Joey. Now, I may not get to see him until summer, I guess. He’ll still be with his dad at New Year’s.”
Poor Mrs. Larrabee, Trixie thought.
“You must excuse me,” said Mrs. Larrabee. “I’ve been feeling very sorry for myself these past few days. Christmas blues, I suppose.”
“That’s okay,” said Honey. “A lot of people get sad at the holidays.”
“At least I have Melville,” Mrs. Larrabee said, smiling at her bird. “Ever since your last visit, I’ve been thinking a lot about my late husband. Before you got here, I was listening to our song. We danced to it on the night we were married. Two nights before he shipped out, we went to a supper club and he requested the band to play it for us. That was the last time we ever danced together. Would you like to hear it?”
“Sure,” Trixie said, but she was starting to get a little depressed herself.
“My daughter gave me this as a gift a few years ago,” Mrs. Larrabee said as she switched on her cd player.
The song began to play.
I remember you
You're the one that made my dreams come true
Just a few kisses ago
Mrs. Larrabee smiled to herself.
Trixie glanced at Honey. She seemed to feel just as awkward as Trixie.
When my life is through
And the angels ask me to recall
The thrill of them all
Then I will tell them I remember you
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Larrabee,” Trixie said. “But I promised my mother I’d watch my little brother for her this afternoon.”
“Oh. I’m afraid I’ve bored you.”
“No, you haven’t,” Honey said. “I plan to come and see you again soon.”
“I look forward to it.”
Honey and Trixie headed to the lobby.
“Gosh, I feel so sorry for Mrs. Larrabee,” Honey said.
“Yeah. It’s too bad her daughter couldn’t squeeze in one measly visit this month.”
“Hello, girls,” Ms. Hopkins said as they entered the lobby. “Have you been visiting?”
“Yes, we just saw Mrs. Larrabee,” Trixie told her.
“Poor Loretta. She has been feeling a little down lately. But don’t worry; I plan to keep her busy. Happy Holidays.” She waved goodbye.
The next week was a busy one. There was decorating, shopping, baking, and gift-wrapping to be done. The Bob-Whites had decided at the end of November to do a gift exchange with each other by pulling names out of a bowl. That way, each Bob-White only had to buy one gift for another Bob-White. Trixie had blushed when she pulled Jim’s name. She hoped he’d like his present.
It was at the Bob-White gift-exchange gathering in the clubhouse on Christmas Eve that Jim told them the news about R.W. Canby.
“He was killed early December 1943,” Jim said.
“But what about Mrs. Canby?” Trixie asked impatiently.
“He was married to a woman named Loretta Chambers and they had one child. Dad thinks that even if Mrs. Canby is dead, their daughter is probably still alive.”
“What was her name?” Honey asked.
“We don’t know yet,” Jim said.
“It’s Louise,” breathed Trixie, her pulse quickening.
“What?” said Brian.
“Louise!” screamed Honey.
Diana gaped. “You mean…? Oh my gosh, Louise!”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Mart.
“This is unbelievable, but I just know it’s true!” said Trixie. “Mrs. Canby is Mrs. Larrabee.”
“Huh?” Dan frowned.
“Yes,” Honey said excitedly. “It fits. We heard Ms. Hopkins call Mrs. Larrabee Loretta. And she was married to man named Ronald. R stands for Ronald!”
“And he was killed in action in 1943!” Diana chimed in.
“Slow down,” warned Jim. “You can’t be sure Mrs. Larrabee is Mrs. Canby.”
“You’re right,” Trixie said. “We’ll just have to ask her. Let’s go.”
“Right now?”
“Jim, quite possibly, Mrs. Larrabee has already waited over sixty years for this letter. It wouldn’t be right to make her wait a minute longer!”
“She has a point,” Dan said. “I wish I could go, but Mr. Maypenny is expecting me. My uncle is coming over for dinner.”
“And we have to be at the church in time to see the Christmas pageant,” Mart said. “It’s a family tradition.”
“And Bobby is going to be an angel this year,” Brian said.
“Miscasting.” Mart grinned.
“We’ll be able to make it if we hurry,” Trixie said. “Come on!”
The Christmas Eve party had begun by the time the six Bob-Whites arrived at Golden Meadows. Trixie searched the crow for Mrs. Larrabee.
“There she is!” Honey pointed.
They rushed over to where Mrs. Larrabee stood drinking some punch. She was startled to see a half dozen young people charging at her.
“Oh, Mrs. Larrabee,” Trixie gasped. “Mrs. Larrabee...”
“My, what’s all the excitement?”
“You first husband,” Honey said. “You said his name was Ronald. But what was his last name?”
“Canby,” a voice behind them said.
“Louise!” Mrs. Larrabee said, her face lighting up.
“Merry Christmas, Mother.” Louise kissed Mrs. Larrabee’s cheek and they embraced.
“This is such a surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be in St. Croix?”
“Well, I decided not to go. I had a visit from a young lady--” she paused and pointed at Diana, “--This young lady came to see me last week. She told me that it was very important to my mother that I see her for Christmas. She said she knew I was missing Joey, and so it should be easy to understand my mother missing her daughter. And I spoke to Joey. He's coming to see you on New Year’s Day.”
“Mrs. Larrabee,” Trixie interrupted. “We have a gift for you.”
“Nothing could be better than having Louise here with me for Christmas.”
“Did you once live at 702 N. Overton Street?” Jim asked.
Mrs. Larrabee’s eyes widened. “Why, yes, we had a small apartment there. “
“I think this is yours.” Jim handed the letter to Mrs. Larrabee.
She stared at the envelope in disbelief. “For me? From Ronald? How can this be?”
“We found it in an old trunk. Who knows how it got there, but it’s meant for you,” said Trixie.
Slowly, Mrs. Larrabee opened the flap. She hesitated a moment and then pulled out its contents.
“Why, it’s a Christmas card,” she said. “He drew it himself.” She opened the paper and read it silently. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes and waved the card at her daughter. “From your father,” she choked. “It’s from your father.”
Louise took the card. “It’s beautiful,” she said of the artwork. She began to read aloud.
My dearest Loretta,
I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. I’m a father! I can’t tell you how happy I was to get your letter telling me about our daughter’s arrival. I know she must be as beautiful as her mother. Maybe you can send me a picture? The mail is unreliable, but please try. I want so much to be there with you both, to hold our little Louise in my arms and sing her the lullabies my mother sang to me.
I’m not sure if you’ll get this in time for Christmas, but Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year too. I think it will be one of the best years ever. God willing, I will be home soon. Until then, kiss my little girl for me, and know how very much I love you. You are my one and only forever.
All my love,
Ronald
Louise began to cry and she and her mother hugged each other.
“This is so wonderful,” sniffed Honey.
Louise turned to the Bob-Whites. “You have to understand, I never knew my father. I wasn’t sure he ever found out about my birth or not. This card contains the only words he ever wrote about me. It means so much! Thank you for bringing it to us.”
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Diana coughed, wiping away some tears.
“I hate to interrupt, but we do need to get moving if we’re going to make it to church,” Brian said.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Larrabee,” said Trixie.
“It certainly is one now,” the old woman said clutching her daughter and smiling.
The Bob-Whites moved towards the exit.
“Maybe Mrs. Larrabee and her daughter can come to Crabapple Farm for Christmas,” Trixie said.
“Sorry, Trixie,” Diana said, “but they’re spoken for. Louise is staying at my house for a few days and Mrs. Larrabee will be joining us for Christmas.”
“You’re such a sneak, Diana,” Mart said admiringly.
A rush of people entered, pushing the Bob-Whites back.
“Oops, watch out, Jim!” Mart said with a grin.
“Huh?” Jim frowned.
Mart pointed upwards. “Beware the mistletoe.”
Trixie blushed. She was standing under the mistletoe with Jim.
“Let’s just go,” she said.
“Rules are rules,” Jim said.
He bent down and kissed her gently.
“Oh,” she said. “You always have to be so honorable.”
“You betcha.” He winked. “Merry Christmas, Trixie.”
In the words of Mrs. Larrabee, thought Trixie, it certainly is one now.
The End
I'Remember You lyrics by Johnny Mercer.