The Perkins Christmas Miracle

Mike Perkins woke up with a start. He was cold. His fingers looked blue in the dim light of his bedroom. He was about to curse but thought better of it. It was the day before Christmas. He shook his head which, now that he thought about it, ached from a cold. Already his nose was running again. No wonder, he thought. “It must be forty-something degrees in here,” he murmured aloud to himself.
The furnace must have died during the night. Shoveling coal was a chore he hated but this was worse. He would have to light a new fire and wait till the wood was burning good and hot before he could add some coal to it.
He forced himself out of bed. He looked over and saw that his wife Melanie was still sleeping. How could she sleep when winter had invaded their bedroom? He wondered. Maybe being pregnant kept a woman warm somehow. He grabbed an extra blanket and gently placed over her body. Then he headed to the cellar and got to work lighting a fire.
As he added heavier pieces of lumber to the paper and light kindling sticks, his head began to clear. He hadn’t even checked on the twins yet. His 8 year old sons were his pride and joy. Secretly he hoped the new baby due in a couple of weeks would be a girl. Of course he told all the guys at the mill he wanted another boy. Melanie was praying for a girl though, so he wanted one too.
Now the fire was roaring. The wood crackled as the red, yellow and blue flame devoured it. He could add the coal soon.
“Daddy? Is it Christmas yet?”
That would be Randy. Although the boys were spitting images of each other he could always tell the difference between the two by the timbre of their young voices.
“Not yet Randy, tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait for it to come,” Randy said.
“Why is that?”
“Well tomorrow Santa is bringing me a new train set, just like I asked for.” Mike’s heart sank. The fire had warmed his bones but suddenly he felt cold again. He forgot all about what the boys had been asking for all these weeks, ever since Thanksgiving. He had priced train sets at Mitchell’s department store again, just like last year. Nothing had changed. No way could he afford something like that. The set the boys asked for, Santa Fe Railway diesel engines with a line of box cars, oil tankers and a shiny red caboose, was priced right at $100, about $70 more than he had to spend. He couldn’t understand why Mitchell’s would display something so expensive when most of the kids in the neighborhood had at least one parent that worked in the mill. Money problems were routine. He even wrote Mr. Mitchell a letter to complain about it. Melanie thought he was crazy. “What good will that do?” she asked. Mike had to admit he didn’t know but he was always writing letters anyway. Some went to politicians, others to the editor of the County Times. It was just something he did.
He turned to face his son. Ronnie was standing next to Randy now. The boys didn’t agree on much but they were united in their desire for that train set. “Now boys, Santa has to take care of a lot of other kids this year. It might have to wait until next year.”
“No Daddy.” It was Ronnie who spoke this time. “He didn’t give us a train last year. You said he ran out of them but we would be first in line this year, remember?”
Mike nodded. “I remember,” he said. He wished he could crawl back into bed and wake up in the middle of January. He started shoveling coal. He and Melanie had talked about it a few days ago. She felt the boys would be disappointed but they would soon get over it. Anyway, they were each getting a new baseball mitt. She pointed out that neither of the boys had mentioned the trains for nearly a week. “They understand Mike, really. They can see we’re struggling. And, with another mouth to feed, well we just can’t do it.”
Randy and Ronnie stood there, neither of them moving a muscle. They watched their father shovel coal into the furnace, waiting for some sign from him that they needn’t worry: Their Christmas dream would come true. “Go on upstairs boys. I’ll fix you some breakfast before I go to work.”
“Santa’s not bringing the trains,” Randy said to Ronnie, disappointment in his voice. The twins turned in unison to climb the stairs to the kitchen.
“Maybe he will,” Mike said. What possessed him to give the boys hope he couldn’t really say. He was broke. But something inside, was it anger at life’s cruelty, that well to do men would make such fine things and keep them out of reach of underprivileged kids? Was it his childlike belief, however fleeting, that miracles can happen at Christmas? Miracles, he thought. He sure had never seen one. And now he would need one. That was not something he was known for.
He put the shovel down, banked the fire and headed up the stairs. Melanie was in the kitchen making breakfast. He gave her a peck on the cheek and went to get ready for work. She followed him into the bathroom. He was putting shaving cream on his face. She walked over to him, fire in her eyes. “Michael, did you just tell your sons they were getting that stupid train set for Christmas?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean? Did you or didn’t you tell them that? They are just humming out there, talking about how the train’s gonna be around the tree when they get up in the morning. Have you lost your mind?”
“All I said Mel, was maybe.”
“You might as well have guaranteed it Mike. What are we going to do? We’re behind on the rent as it is. Don’t you know they’re going to tell their friends all about it today? Then tomorrow they are going to wish they could crawl under a rock. As far as I’m concerned you can join them.”
Twenty minutes later Mike walked down the street toward the bus stop. It was an extremely cold and windy day. Snow flurries decorated the streets. Not that Mike noticed. He wasn’t cold like he was earlier. No, he was numb, inside and out. The bus came right on schedule. A lot of people took the day off so the bus wasn’t crowded. Usually he had to stand all the way to his stop which was two blocks from the mill. Today he got a seat. The bus ran through its route, making stops along the way. An old gentleman got on just two stops before Mike’s and sat down next to him.
“Merry Christmas,” he said. “Looks like it’s going to be a cold one.”
Mike just nodded. He sat staring at the ads on the bus’s wall not reading them, just staring as if one of them might have the answer.
“Say, if you don’t mind my saying so, you look like a man carrying a heavy load,” the man said.
Mike turned and looked the guy over. He could be taciturn when things weren’t going well. Melanie had spoken to him about that more than once. This was one of those times. Recognizing that Mike wasn’t going to respond the old man turned away and started to read his newspaper. The bus stopped to pick up another passenger. As it pulled way from the curb Mike reached up and pulled the cord for his stop. He checked his watch and saw he was going to be late for work. He shrugged as if to say, “What else could go wrong today?”
The old man let out a sigh. He folded up his newspaper and offered it to Mike. “Go ahead and take it. There might be something in the news today that will cheer you up.”
“I doubt that.”
“Just the same, take the paper. Nothing is as bad as it seems my boy.” The bus was coming to a stop; the door opened. Mike got up to go. The man shoved the newspaper toward him. He grabbed it, mumbled a thank you and bounded off the bus. He was going to toss it in the wastebasket but he was in a hurry. He didn’t want to be a moment later than he already was.
He stood over his machine all morning as if he was in a trance. His mind raced as he considered all the possibilities. A bank loan was out of the question. But Melanie’s parents might be willing to lend him the money, a promising thought until it dawned on him that he would soon be asking them to help with the hospital bill when the new baby arrived. Another possibility was Shaughnessy an old school chum from the neighborhood. He could definitely get the money from him but Shaughnessy was a loan shark. He would be paying him for the rest of his life and unlike the electric company, missing a payment wasn’t an option. He had to face reality. The boys would be disappointed but it wasn’t fatal. Feeling sorry for himself Mike thought, “get used to the idea kids because it will happen a lot in life.” The thought shamed him.
The whistle blew signaling lunch time. He went to his locker and reached for his lunch pail. Sitting underneath it was the newspaper the old man gave him. Thinking about the old man he smiled, if only for a moment. The guy actually bore a slight resemblance to Santa Claus. Nobody would have confused him with the Santa from the Coca Cola ads, but the guy was overweight and sported a scruffy white beard. He had a red sweater under his coat and he wore heavy black boots.
Mike took the paper over to one of the picnic tables where he usually ate lunch. On most days the tables would be crowded but a lot of the guys took vacation this time of year. He sat in silence and ate his peanut butter and banana sandwich. He picked up the paper and started to turn the pages. On page 25 he saw something that brought him up short. It was a Mitchell’s Department store ad with a picture of the exact train set the boys asked for. He could not believe his eyes when he read the ad; this week only, Mitchell’s was offering to give the entire train set away to the customer that could write a limerick describing the scene in the ad which showed an enraptured little boy at the controls of the train. Mike grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper. He always enjoyed writing poems but he never showed anyone, not even Melanie, a single word he wrote. In hardy any time at all he had what he thought was the perfect limerick.

The Santa Fe Railway a red and white honey
Running the trains makes a boy’s day sunny
Lights and whistles so much to see
He’s hoping Santa puts one under his tree
It’ll happen for sure if daddy has money

The ad said the limerick had to be entered by 2:00 p.m. that day. He checked his watch. It was 12:30. He would have to ask for the afternoon off. Certainly a part of him understood how foolish he was being. What were his chances of winning? But the more he thought about it the more he believed that what he wrote was a winner. He just might deliver on his promise after all. He went looking for his boss to see if he could get leave early.
“Mike, I don’t think we can spare you,” his boss said. “We got too many people out today and we have an order that has to ship by five o’clock. Sorry buddy but you have to stay.”
Mike was crushed. He thought about telling his boss what he was up to but he was sure they guy would think he was crazy or worse, lying.
“I really have something important I need to do,” was all he could manage to say.
His boss shook his head and “Sorry.”
Mike stuffed the limerick in his shirt pocket and went back to work. At 1:30 his boss stopped by. He looked at Mike and said, “Don’t say a word. Not now. Not ever. To anyone.” With that he gently pushed Mike aside and said, “Get out of here.”
Mike practically ran out of the building, stopping only to punch his time card. He walked and ran all the way to Mitchell’s. He arrived just three minutes before the deadline. There was a long table near the train display where people could place their entries. Two judges, a man and a woman, sat at the table impeccably dressed with bored looks on their faces. They were surprised as much by Mike’s appearance in soiled work clothes, as by the lateness of his entry, coming in just under the wire.
He handed it to the woman. She read it quickly and passed it on to the man. He took his time going over it carefully. Then he looked at the woman whose eyes confirmed that they were in perfect agreement. “I’m sorry Mr. Perkins,” the man said, “This is good but we have several others that are even better.”
Mike was genuinely surprised. “What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
The woman averted her eyes. The man cleared his throat and said, “Well for one thing, your closing line refers to money. In fact it implies that the trains are too expensive.”
Mike could feel the blood rushing to his head. “Well they are too expensive. If they weren’t, why would you run a contest?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Perkins but you are not the winner today. Better luck next time.”
“Sure. I’ll tell my boys that tomorrow morning I guess. Better luck next time.” With that he turned to go. Just then another man who had been standing nearby walked over.
“My name is Robert J. Mitchell. Can I help you?” he said.

The next morning Randy and Ronnie woke up very early. It wasn’t even light out yet. Mike had given them strict instructions not to leave the bedroom they shared until they were told. He was up early too because he wanted to be sure they would have enough heat when it came time to open presents. He stoked the fire and got Melanie up. Then they all went into the tiny living room to see what was under the tree. Santa Claus came through at the Perkins house that year. The boys were ecstatic.
Upon seeing the shiny new train set, Melanie looked at Mike with a combined sense of fear and wonder. “Mike, I know you would never do something really crazy so I must be witnessing a Christmas miracle.”
Mike put his finger to his lips, smiled and whispered, “It’s a miracle alright. I’ll be working part time at Mitchell’s for a while.”
Melanie smiled and took Mike’s hand, her eyes glistening. “Merry Christmas Michael.”
They watched the boys as they took turns running the train. It was the best Christmas ever.

Copyright 2009, Len Serafino. All rights reserved.