How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

aside. Some were blind, others couldn’t walk, and their crutches lay beside them as they prayed, silently or out loud, to be healed. As I stood behind them, I also noticed in the shadows to the side of the tomb a number of other people, all ragged and hungry looking, quietly waiting, though I had no idea for what.
    â€œWho are they?” I asked a reasonably well-dressed man who was standing beside me.
    â€œIt’s an odd thing,” he said. “Ever since this tomb was built, poor people passing through Myra seem to get comfort from just being near it.”
    As I stood as close to the tomb as I could, a strange feeling came over me. It wasn’t sadness, though I felt very badly for the crippled and poor people, and wanted with all my heart to do something to help them. And it wasn’t exactly excitement, either, though I was thrilled to be in a large city for the first time in my life. If I had to describe it, I would say I felt inspired. My eyes moved from the poor people to the carving of Bishop Nicholas’s kind face, back and forth between them while time passed and I didn’t notice the afternoon shadows growing long and deep. Finally, as night fell, everyone began to leave. I felt as though I was being jostled awake from a wonderful dream. Then I realized it was nighttime, and I remembered Aunt Lodi waiting back at the market.
    She was very angry with me when I finally returned, a bit out of breath because I’d run all the way from the tomb.
    â€œIf Silas knew you’d been out gallivanting until after dark, he’d pack up the cart and have us back on the road to Niobrara at dawn. What was there about the bishop’s tomb that made you forget your promise to come right back?”
    I don’t recall my answer, though I do remember she didn’t tell Uncle Silas about how I had disobeyed. The three of us stayed in Myra for four days. We bought clothes and ate wonderful food and wandered around the city marveling at its size and all the people who lived there. Twice, we went to see the bishop’s tomb. Both times, I was overcome by the same sense of inspiration. I did not tell my uncle and aunt about it, but afterward when we were back home in Niobrara I found myself having the same dream almost every night. I would be in a different place in each dream, but in the company of the same man. He was older than me and somewhat overweight. His hair and beard were white. No one who looked like him lived in Niobrara, yet his face was very familiar.

    The first dog kept barking, and several more joined in the thunderous chorus. There was nothing for me to do but turn and run. As I did, I dropped the loaves of bread, which were long and thin, and then I lost my grip on the blankets as I dashed madly through the darkness back toward the city.

CHAPTER Two
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    I was twenty-four when first my aunt, and then my uncle, passed away. Though I mourned them, it was hardly a surprise when they died. Aunt Lodi was fifty-seven, and Uncle Silas was fifty-nine. By the standards of the day, each had reached great old age. And, in a way, it was merciful that Uncle Silas quickly followed Aunt Lodi to heaven, because in the days after she was gone he was simply lost without her. The wheat in his fields remained un-harvested. He sat in our hut staring into the fire, saying very little. I did the best I could to comfort him, but it soon became obvious he was not long for life, either.
    â€œMarry, Layla,” he said during our last conversation. His voice was quite weak. “Find a good husband.”
    â€œI promise,” I replied, and felt somehow I was telling the truth, even though I was no more willing than ever to marry a man from Niobrara and become a farmer’s wife.
    Uncle Silas’s death created a very difficult situation for me. As his only heir, his farm became mine. But no woman in Niobrara, or anywhere else that anyone in Niobrara knew of, lived alone