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‘Christian, it’s a no. You need to do your chores.’
Christian Scott sighed as he glanced down at the empty knapsack which he had gotten ready, knowing that it would never be filled. Of course his father would never understand. Why had he even bothered to ask?
The matter had begun earlier that day. Christian on his way home from the general store when he saw a hungry young child dressed in nothing but torn rags. He didn’t even want to contemplate how the child could have survived in such frigid weather. Christian had guessed that the child was on the brink of death.
‘Father,’ he pleaded, trying one last time, ‘It’s almost Christmas, and I believe that the children of town could use some gifts. We have more money than any of them. In times like these, we should share it.’ Christian’s father was Timothy Scott, a farmer, famous in their province of Nova Scotia for growing maple trees that produced the best maple syrup anyone had ever tasted.
‘I said no. Even though we’re better off than most other people, it doesn’t mean that we’re rich,’ said Mr. Scott, his voice stern. He paused for a moment. ‘Have you fed Rudolph today?’
‘Not yet. I’ll do that now.’ Christian had a feeling that his father was kicking him out of the house, but he didn’t care. He needed time alone with Rudolph, his pet deer that had been his seventeenth birthday present. No matter what the circumstances were, Rudolph was always happy to see him.
Christian swung open the front door, taking in the view. The sprawling farm he lived in sported a fantastic view of the small town below. The sky was crystal white, and Christian had noticed there was a fresh blanket of snow on the ground. He began to make his way towards the pen where all the animals were kept. Thankfully, it wasn’t far, and Rudolph looked overjoyed to see him.
‘Hello there,’ said Christian, grinning as he tried to quiet the deer. ‘Would you like some food?’
Rudolph happily bobbed his head in agreement.
‘There there,’ said Christian calmly, getting a bucket of carrots from the nearby stable. Rudolph seemed surprised perhaps wondering what he had done to deserve such a treat.
‘Well,’ Christian explained, ‘my father wouldn’t let me use some of his money to buy gifts for the poorer children in our neighborhood. For the sake of Christmas, I would like to at least make someone’s day better.’ He finished his sentence with a smile.
With that, Rudolph nearly yanked the bucket of carrots from his owner’s hands, wolfing the food down as if he hadn’t eaten in years.
‘Hello.’
The voice startled Christian. He hadn’t realized that there was anyone else behind him. He turned, viewing a girl with caramel curls and large, aqua green eyes. She was wearing a light blue coat, the edges lined with fur. He knew the girl; it was Jacqueline Hart, his neighbor and a friend who had gone to the same schoolhouse as him from first through eighth grade. Christian wondered what she was doing here.
Jacqueline must have seen his expression. ‘I need to buy some of your father’s delicious maple syrup. We just ran out, and my mother wants to make flapjacks tomorrow morning.’
‘I could get you some,’ said Christian.
‘That would be perfect,’ said Jacqueline with a smile.
‘Follow me,’ said Christian quietly. They walked for a few minutes in silence, through the beautiful snow-capped wonders of the farm. Christian had always thought his hometown was prettiest in the wintertime.
‘Are you alright?’ Jacqueline asked, noticing the slouched expression and quiet tone of her friend. Christian sighed, not wanting to reveal the argument he had had with this father.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure?’ Jacqueline raised an eyebrow, not convinced. She twirled a stand of her hair, gazing down at the ground.
Christian didn’t have the time to answer her question, because they had come to the tiny shack on the edge of the farm where the jars of maple syrup were kept.
‘How many bottles do you want?’ He asked once they had entered. The storehouse was a small, dark cabin filled with nothing but shelves of bottles in assorted sizes.
‘I’ll have just one,’ said Jacqueline sweetly, with a smile.
‘Golly,’ said Christian. For some reason, he felt that as though he was in the middle of a dilemma. What if I chose one that went bad? He thought to himself.
Pull yourself together, Christian concluded, picking the largest jar he could find.
‘There,’ he said, handing it to her, ‘The big jars always carry the sweetest syrup.’ He winked, only faintly aware that he was blushing.
‘Your face is bright red, Christian,’ Jacqueline commented as she took the bottle.
‘Is it?’ He asked, touching his face. It was hot. ‘Well, take your syrup, I have chores to do.’
Jacqueline nodded, smiled and turned around. However, she hesitated, finally turning back to face Christian.
‘Hey, I almost forgot!’ She exclaimed. ‘I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to the church Christmas play in town with me tomorrow night.’
Christian blinked. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Although he wanted to go, he had a feeling that his father’s answer would be no. ‘Definitely,’ he said quietly, ‘Can you come here tomorrow, at the same time? Meet me at Rudolph’s pen.’ Even if he didn’t go, there was an idea forming in his head, and he wanted to tell Jacqueline about it.
She nodded, her curls bouncing behind her as she exited the shack.
