A Secret Santa

Grace peered into the box as I unwrapped the tissue paper. "It looks like a rock or fossil."

"It is, it’s coal," I beamed. "A lump of coal. I found it at a novelty shop on Market Street downtown."

"That’s not a very nice gift," Grace scoffed.

"Hold on there," I replied. "Do you remember the gifts Toogie has given me in past years for Christmas, like the Chia Pet, the exploding golf balls, and the whoopie cushion? I’m just keeping the gag going."

"You better watch out," Grace cautioned. "Aunt Toogie might get you something nice this year."

"Fat chance. It’s payback time, Baby!"

Grace shrugged her shoulders. "Dalton Williams, where is your Christmas spirit?"

The next day, I wrapped the present, tied it with a big red bow, and to add an element of intrigue to the surprise, addressed it ‘To: Toogie, From: Secret Santa.’ So Toogie wouldn’t recognize my penmanship, I wrote the card left-handed. As Christmas neared, I checked each day to ensure the package was prominently visible beneath the Christmas tree. Toogie didn’t mention or acknowledge it, but I’m sure she saw her gift. I couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when she opened it.

After dinner on Christmas Eve, Toogie declared, "Who would like to open just one gift tonight?" I translated the female dialect: I want to open a gift tonight. So, I offered to pour a glass of eggnog, while the ladies gathered near the fireplace next to the tree in the living room.

Toogie hollered, "Don’t forget a healthy shot of Maker’s in my eggnog."

As I arrived with the tray of drinks, I noticed Toogie placing a small gift near my chair."

"You go first, Dalton," she said with a smile.

I recognized this as the set up for this year’s prank present. I winked at Grace to signal I knew what was coming. I opened the package and found a thick envelope. Opening it, I stared down in disbelief at a packet of tickets for the 2006 Masters. I was stunned and managed to only say, "Wow!" followed by a nervous laugh. Going to the Masters was one of my fondest wishes. How she managed to obtain such precious tickets was overwhelming.

Grace then opened her gift from Toogie. Grace gasped, "Are these your pearl earrings?"

Toogie acknowledged they had been her Mother’s and that she always wanted Grace to have them.

"The earrings will look so nice on you, and one day, you can have the joy of passing them on to someone else, perhaps your daughter."

Grace’s eyes were moist as she and Toogie embraced. Finally, Toogie sat back and put her hands on her knees.

"I have enjoyed living with you since I gave up my house and I can’t thank you enough. You two are both so dear to me. So, I wanted you to have a family heirloom," she explained nodding to Grace. Turning toward me, she added, "And, I wanted you to have something you have talked about so often." I took all this in, although the scene seemed to be passing in slow motion. Then, it hit me – the lump of coal! How could I get it from under the tree?

With that, Toogie reached down and, oh, no, picked up the box with the bituminous blunder.

"It says ‘To: Toogie, From: Secret Santa.’ I’ll bet this is from you," Toogie declared, staring straight at me as she loosened the ribbon.

"It’s not me," I stammered. "That isn’t my handwriting."

"You probably wrote it left-handed," Toogie retorted without looking up.

Then she unwrapped and opened the box.

"Look at this," she uttered, with a smile on her face.

I arched my eyebrows and shot Grace a questioning glance.

"I believe I recently saw this in a magazine," Toogie said slowly, pulling a rectangular, chrome device from the box. She turned the new-fangled thing over and scrutinized it.

I stared at the unfamiliar object, but couldn’t speak.

Sensing my confusion, Toogie said, "This must be one of those picture frames that displays digital pictures. I think I can turn it on here."

As the screen lit up, Toogie sat back in her chair, hand to her chest.

"Oh, my," she said softly. "These are my old pictures! Oh, look, my wedding portrait. How did you do this?"

I didn’t answer, nor did Grace. She only took Toogie’s hand and both of them dabbed their eyes and hugged again.

The next hour was spent scrolling through the pictures from Toogie’s life: her childhood, school pictures, her wedding, extended family members, and the various homes and cities in which she and Uncle Harold had lived .These memories rekindled stories of holidays past. I refilled glasses with the Maker’s-eggnog concoction several times, moving to straight Maker’s after the eggnog was depleted. Around midnight, Toogie said, "You kids need to get to some sleep. Santa’s coming, you know." Then she held her arms around the picture frame and announced, "This is the most memorable Christmas present I have ever received. I am holding my entire life here in my hands."
After we were in bed, I turned to Grace and sheepishly said, "Thanks for what you did tonight. You really saved my butt."

"What?" Grace inquired, pulling off her glasses.

"Replacing the lump of coal with the picture frame."

"I had nothing to do with it," Grace declared. "I believe I saw the gift still had your ‘Secret Santa’ card on it."

"Well, if you didn’t…" I mused, the words trailing off.

"Who else?" Grace offered.

"You’re not suggesting…" I replied.

Grace put a finger to my lips to quiet me.

"Dalton Williams," she declared, "don’t tell me you are too old to believe in Santa Claus."

Then she smiled and turned off the light.

My head spun from the events of the evening and the potent libation. I pondered how the picture frame came to be placed inside the present. Finally, I reached out, took Grace’s hand, and asked, "Is there anything else you have to say?"

"Do you?"

After a pause, I whispered, "Merry Christmas, Dear."

"Now, that’s the spirit," Grace whispered back.