On Christmas Eve by Ann M. Martin

Author:Ann M. Martin [M. Martin, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2013-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

I look at Sadie, who is looking back at me with contented squinty eyes. “What? Tell me what is going to happen,” I say. “You know, don’t you?”

Sadie flops down onto her haunches, her tongue hanging out. I flop down into an armchair. It is near the Christmas tree, and it faces the fireplace. The box with the snow globe rests in my lap. I look at the clock on the mantel. Ten minutes until midnight.

I settle back and wait.

The hands on the clock move closer to midnight. As they do, the room seems to grow noisier and noisier. I must be the only human in our house who can hear the din, though. The murmurings and mutterings have become loud voices, the songs now offered up by entire choirs. In all the noise, though, I feel only peace.

I gaze into the fireplace. I am staring at the red and orange embers when a gust of wind comes whooshing down the chimney, roaring and whistling and bringing with it dry leaves and a swirl of snow.

Eleven fifty-nine.

With a loud pop and a shower of sparks, the fire springs to life again. Soon it is crackling away, as big a blaze as when we hung our stockings hours earlier.

I grip the arms of the chair. For the first time I feel just the teensiest bit afraid, afraid of what, exactly, I will see tonight. I do not think that on the dot of midnight Santa will slide down the chimney — that will happen later. But something is about to happen, and I don’t know what. I look outside at the star, at the birds on the roof of the barn, at the animals streaming toward the barn. I listen to the music, the songs, the bells. A voice, loud but clear and pure, sings over and over again, “What happiness befalls me, what happiness befalls me.”

And the clock chimes twelve.

It is midnight on Christmas Eve.

I glance at Sadie, then gasp and sit up straight as a wavery form appears above the hearth. The form shimmers and begins to take shape. I see wings, a gown, a head, and above the head, what must be a halo, although it looks absolutely nothing like the halo Evvie fashioned for her pageant costume.

There is an angel in our living room.

But only for a moment.

Just as I let out a small cry, the angel fades away. I am on my feet now, breathing hard.

Sadie is on her feet too. She stands beside me, looks up at me with her gentle eyes, and says, “Don’t be afraid, Tess.”

I can’t answer. Sadie has spoken to me, and I am speechless.

And then … and then I remember old stories, things I have read in books, something about the animals being able to talk on Christmas Eve. Why has this never occurred to me? That in this time of wonder and magic, Sadie would be able to speak, that I could talk to her and she could answer me, just as I’ve wished for so long.

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