“Well …” Not wanting to hurt her, Mr. Henry searched for kind words. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Geiger, but when Mr. Fishbein said he was motoring all that long way and wouldn’t mind some company … well I thought to myself, ‘What a grand adventure! To go fording out into the wide-open spaces, sleep by the side of the road under the stars!’ I’d sure hate to miss a chance like that.”
“You planning to go all de way to dat shame-on-you place, he’s going?”
“Hope to, Ma’am. Sounds real lively—plenty of possibilities for a one-armed rascal man like me.” Using Hannah’s old affectionate nickname for him, Mr. Henry tried to soften the blow of his defection from her generous care.
As he would be long gone before the holidays—the new Mr. Ebb Fish proclaimed that he was choosing Glory Day as his Giving-of-Gifts Day. Everyone dedicated to shielding Hannah from the evil being manufactured along with their beloved Model T, Ebbely’s announcement to celebrate Hanukah-Christmas on the Fourth of July was greeted with enthusiastic acceptance. Hannah was relegated to her kitchen to get busy making gingerbread boys, the children the important task of decorating the rubber tree plant that stood in the parlor, with imagination and cut-out shapes of colored paper. Fritz set out the nativity scene—even the menorah saying, “God wouldn’t mind, for after all the calendar was man’s idea.” Jane clipped the candles onto the rubber tree. When lit, it looked so splendid—Hannah said maybe she would keep the candles there for good.
Trying not to cry, determined to be brave, Hannah baked so many festive delicacies that the house began to smell of warm cinnamon, nutmeg and precious clove, just as if it were really December.
For an early farewell and holiday party combined, everyone joined in the sunlit festivities. Excited, the children waited for Ebbely’s giving of gifts. No one was forgotten. There were hoops and Erector sets for the boys, delicate porcelain-faced dolls for the girls, pretty will-o’-the-wisp mementos for the ladies, pungent, rich tobaccos for his friends. Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for—Hannah’s gift. What would it be? What could it be?
Ebbely wheeled it into the parlor. Hidden under a large bedsheet it stood like a pylon—shortened to the size of its procurer as if waiting to be disrobed.
Like a salesman giving a demonstration, Ebbely stood before his curious audience holding out a tiny metal box.
“Ladies and gentlemen and Lilliputians, here in my hand you see a vital necessity to the one standing hidden before you. This tiny receptacle made of tin, its hinged lid adorned with flourished script indicates the manufacturer of its contents of needles and their graded sizes of soft, medium, medium-loud, and extra-loud. ‘Needles?’ you’ll say. ‘For what?’ You’ll mutter, ‘The man is mad!’ But stay—take heart for we have but begun. Assembled friends—as yours truly cannot be with you this year to enchant, transport, delight you with his sublime musical renditions, I hereby present you with a more than worthy substitute.”
With the dexterity of a flamboyant conjurer, Ebbely whipped off the sheet.
“Voilà! Behold! Here before you stands the latest marvel, a Victrola! Housed in its own cabinet of finest black chinoiserie. I shall now demonstrate.” Cranking the handle on its side, pushing a lever, Ebbely carefully lowered a peculiarly curved pipe, positioned its head into the grooves of a glass plate rotating at an alarming speed and suddenly a man’s voice enveloped the parlor in rapturous beauty.
His audience gasped.
Having achieved the impact of his surprise, Ebbely bounded about the room chanting, “Caruso! The divine Caruso—listen! What passion! What tonality!”
“Who?”
Ebbely, in midhop, froze—aghast.
“You must be joking. You are, John, aren’t you?” Taken aback by the shocked faces directed at him, John shook his head.
“My father-in-law just bought one of these new Victrolas just to hear the great man,” injected Zoltan.
“You hear that? Zoltan, a Bulgarian, knows who Caruso is and you—a landsman of the great man, a compatriot, a true Italian—you don’t? You asked, ‘Who?’ You should be ashamed of yourself, John! You should hang your head in abject shame!” Ebbely shook his head.
“So, hang me by my thumbs!”
Everyone crowded around the splendid Victrola—examining the phonograph—discussing the great man. Caruso kept singing his heart out.
Still not a word or sign of joy from Hannah. Ebbely, concerned by her silence, approached her. “Well, my dear? Was I wrong? Don’t you like it?”
Eyes half closed—her body as still as a sunset—Hannah whispered, “Shhh … I am listening.”
And Ebbely had his answer.
“Ebberhardt—what a gift!” Fritz shook his hand. “You shouldn’t have spent that much money but I thank you anyway.”
Later as the party was ending, Ebbely handed Jane a book wrapped in white tissue tied with red string.
“For you, Jane. A courageous woman wrote this—I think you will understand what she had to say.”
Throughout her life Jane kept her special gift. Uncle Tom’s Cabin became a sort of talisman—a reminder of those early years and all that Rumpelstiltskin taught her.
The red maples had turned—clocks and nature had reverted back to where they belonged when Zoltan announced that his Agnes was expecting. Everyone was delighted—especially Hannah, who was heard to remark, “Now finally dat poor alone man—he will have a family—a real home!” Mr. Kennec and his Molly had said their annual farewell when John stormed into the house calling for Jane.
“Ninnie! You will have to go! I have been assigned to the Rouge on a special project—so I can’t go.”
Jane looked up from mashing potatoes.
“Go? Go where?”
“To New York—in three weeks when Celestina’s ship gets in.” Jane stared at her husband. “Well my sister can’t be expected to travel halfway across the country by herself.” Taking off his coat, John began washing up at the sink. Still no word from the woman frozen behind him. “For God’s sake, Ninnie, you’re capable, intelligent, you know how to handle yourself and you speak the language. Who else is there?”
“Me? You want me to travel to the city of New York all by myself?”
“Hannah will take the children, I’ll make all the travel arrangements, an exact schedule for you to follow, where you have to change trains, where you have to go—what you have to say and when. Both for going and coming back. You’re lodging …”
“Lodging?” Though it was but a breathed question its panic was poignant.
“Yes, you must overnight. It’s the only way you can be on the dock in time the morning of Celestina’s arrival. Of course I shall send you first class all the way. So you really have nothing to worry about.”