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    Christmas Secrets
    Christmas Secrets
    Christmas Secrets
    Ebook263 pages4 hours

    Christmas Secrets

    By N. Beetham Stark

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Stories here are original and fictitious. They are intended to entertain. The first of the short stories in this book is ‘Tub and Chub’. Two little fat boys have been told by their mother that they can have no candy this Christmas. They panic. Their candy cache is empty, devoid of sweets, drained! They set about finding ways to get candy for Christmas and get derailed along the way.

    In the ‘Toy Factory’, the only toy factory for miles burns down. The children are devastated because no one has bought toys yet and now they are all gone. But fate has a way of working miracles. The townspeople, each remembering their childhood Christmases, come to the rescue in a most unusual way.

    In ‘The Driftwood Madonna’, a younger son feels that his efforts at making a present for his parents are inferior to his brother’s gift. But he finds inspiration on a deserted beach and sets himself on a lifelong path of success. The haggard lady who shops, wraps, hides, cleans, cooks and serves as referee among family factions will enjoy a bit of humor to cheer her Christmas season.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherN. Beetham Stark
    Release dateMay 23, 2011
    ISBN9781458086914
    Christmas Secrets
    Author

    N. Beetham Stark

    Nellie Beetham Stark was born November 20, 1933, in Norwich, Connecticut to Theodore and Dorothy Pendleton Beetham. She attended the Norwich Free Academy and later Connecticut College in New London, CT before graduating with a MA and a Ph.D. degree in Botany (Ecology) from Duke University.Stark worked for the U.S. Forest Service as a botanist for six years and then joined the Desert Research Institute in Reno, Nevada where she worked on desert and forest ecology and later tropical nutrient cycling. She has consulted in many countries, working for some time in Russia, Australia and South America. She developed the theory that explains why tropical white sand soils cannot grow good food crops and described the decline processes of soils. She has also developed a science of surethology, or survival behavior which describes how humans must adapt to their environments if they hope to survive long term. She has 96 professional publications and has published in four languages.Her life long hobby has been English history, with emphasis on naval history. Her family came originally from Tristan Da Cunha in the South Atlantic in the early 1900’s. Her grandfather was a whale ship captain for a time which spurred her interest in naval history. She also paints pictures of sailing ships which she has used as covers for her historical novels. She has built several scale models of sailing ships and does extensive research on ships and naval history, traveling to England once yearly.Stark was awarded the Connecticut Medal by Connecticut College in 1986 and the Distinguished Native Daughter Award for South Eastern Connecticut in 1985. She was named outstanding Forestry Professor three times by the students of the University of Montana, School of Forestry.Today she writes historical novels, mostly set in England. She has published some 21 novels in the past twenty years, mostly on the internet. She lives on a farm in Oregon and raises hay and cows.Stark's two most popular book series are:Early Irish-English History1. The Twins of Torsh, 44 A.D. to 90 A.D.1. Rolf "The Red" MacCanna, 796-8462. An Irishman's Revenge, 1066-11124. Brothers 4, 1180-12165. Edward's Right Hand, 1272-13076. We Three Kings, 1377-1422The Napoleonic Wars at Sea (Benjamin Rundel)1. Humble Launching - A Story of a Little Boy Growing Up at Sea, 17872. Midshipman Rundel - The Wandering Midshipman, 17953. Mediterranean Madness - The Luckless Leftenant Rundel, 17974. The Adventures of Leftenant Rundel, 1797-17995. Forever Leftenant Rundel, 1800-18036. Captain Rundel I – Trafalgar and Beyond, 1803-18067. Captain Rundel II – Give Me a Fair Wind, 1806-18098. Captain Rundel III – Bend Me a Sail, 1810-18139. Admiral Rundel – 1814-1846

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      Book preview

      Christmas Secrets - N. Beetham Stark

      Christmas Secrets

      Nondenominational Christmas Stories for the Entire Family

      by

      N. Beetham Stark

      * * * * *

      Discover other titles by N. Beetham Stark at

      Smashwords.com or at NBeethamStark.com.

      Christmas Secrets: Nondenominational Christmas Stories for the Entire Family

      Written by N. Beetham Stark

      Copyright 2010 by N. Beetham Stark

      Cover art by N. Beetham Stark

      Published by Smashwords, Inc.

      ISBN 978-1-4580-8691-4

      All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form

      without the written permission of the author or trust agents.

      Smashwords Edition License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

      * * * * *

      Dedication: This book is dedicated to Tintagon, Tarsie and Picotso and their mutual friend, 'PP'.

      Christmas should be a state of mind that shepherds us through the trials of every day life throughout the year.

      N. Beetham Stark

      Acknowledgements

      The stories in this book are all original creations from the pen of N. Beetham Stark. Any resemblance to other stories is coincidental.

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1 – Christmas for Tub and Chub

      Chapter 2 – The Toy Factory

      Chapter 3 – Aunties Three

      Chapter 4 – Encore of Mercy

      Chapter 5 – The Stable

      Chapter 6 – Surprise, Surprise

      Chapter 7 – Christmas Wind

      Chapter 8 – The Pugilistic Sparrow

      Chapter 9 – The Prince of Tacky Town

      Chapter 10 – The Driftwood Madonna

      Chapter 11 – Cut and Run

      Chapter 12 – A Strange Family for Christmas

      About the Author

      About the Book

      Chapter 1 – Christmas for Tub and Chub

      By N. Beetham Stark

      Don’t push! I’m going as fast as I can, grunted Chub. Groan!

      Tub, his twin brother, brought up the rear as the two extremely fat boys ascended the stairs on all fours. Spanky, their pet terrier was racing circles around them, up the stairs to cheer them on and over the top of them down stairs again to nibble at their heels. There was a lot of heavy breathing and grunting as the two came to the top stairs and trundled off to their bedroom.

      Chub burst through the door and dove under the bed. He began to dig furiously as if he were the dog, not Spanky. Out came a dirty sock covered with dust mice, then a tooth brush, a tennis ball, part of a chocolate doughnut, a wash cloth, a tattered slipper and one paper bag covered with chocolate stains. There was a wrenching sound and then total silence. Tub stood close to the bed, just out of reach of the flying debris, with a curious half smile on his face. You might call it a smug smirk?

      What gives! came a frantic cry from under the bed. The larder is empty! One could hear rustling and groaning as Chub tried to put together what he saw. His hands made thumping sounds as he ran them over the floor of the empty cache.

      "You ate all of the candy we had left! You scoundrel! I’ll whip you for this!" More grunts and much wiggling brought Chub out from under the bed, his face flushed and screwed up in anger. Spanky had to pull at his trouser legs to help get him out from under the bed.

      Chub wheeled around at his brother’s feet, glaring up at him with angry eyes, that were beginning to fill with tears.

      You ate it all, didn’t you! he said accusingly, trying not to hide the hurt.

      Well, I was hungry the other night and you were asleep. Surely you did not want me to waken you and ask you if you wanted a piece of candy. The argument was logical enough, but logic could do nothing to stave off a small six-year-old’s craving for candy.

      Chub sat down heavily, as if the cares of the world had suddenly been unloaded on his young shoulders. He could not trust his twin brother! That was a terrible thing to learn. He sat in a daze for a few minutes, lost in his private world, one totally devoid of candy.

      Now Tub Butterworth had been born Tobias or Toby for short and Chub was christened Charles or Chuck for short, but as the two boys began to grow sideways faster than upwards, their nicknames had soon changed to Tub and Chub. The real problem was simple, plain sugar! We had an incurable craving for sweet things. Cereal with sugar was a natural, but if they could have their way, which they did not, it would have been sugar with a little cereal. At dinner the ham, steak or chicken had to be sprinkled with sugar in order to find its way down their throats. And vegetables, Ugh! All vegetables were unfit to eat unless they were floating in sugar and butter.

      Alice Butterworth was a good mother and she tried her best to control the boy’s access to sweets, but it was impossible. They would take their lunches to school and sell or trade them for candy. If they worked it right, they could get enough traded candy, cookies and cakes to last the day and have some left over to put away in their private cache. Harry and Alice Butterworth had hunted tirelessly for the cache of candy that they knew the boys kept, but had never been able to find it. With two such fat little boys, you would have thought that Mr. and Mrs. Butterworth would be large people also. But the opposite was true. Alice was a slender, pretty, nervous little woman, a caring mother, who worried constantly about her boys. Harry was a slim and wiry fellow who could have played a cowpoke in the movies. He worked as a teller at the bank. He just couldn’t understand where the boys got all their tubbiness from.

      So what are we going to do? said Chub. You heard Mom. We won’t get any candy for Christmas and father has said that the sugar bowl will be taken from the table. Now that you have eaten our very last piece of candy, we are destitute. We’ll starve!

      Never fear, little brother. We’ll think of something. There must be some way to get candy.

      They sat amidst the terrible clutter of their room in an old New England house and anyone could see that they were deep in thought. You might have mistaken them for a couple of aged seers the way they concentrated and meditated, but they were really only two fat, hungry little boys who were temporarily suffering from a cut-off supply of vital candy.

      What about going to see Henry? His folks always have a lot of candy. Maybe they would take pity on us.

      Not likely, said Tub. They are off to see some relatives in northern New Hampshire. They won’t be back until after Christmas. Besides, their mom is friends with our mom and we’d be found out.

      Hmm. School is out and we will not be back until after the first of the year, a full three weeks.

      Spanky sat at their feet, first on his hind legs, looking for some attention and when that did not come, he laid down with his head on his paws, beady eyes peering through a mop of hair lovingly at the two boys. They loved Spanky, but they found it hard to play with him. If you want to know the truth, they were so fat that the little tan dog could run circles around them and they could never keep up. So Spanky had to cope by staying at their sides and nudging them from time to time to get some action going.

      Suddenly, he barked, a playful bark that brought the boys back to reality. Chub ran his hands down the little dog’s back. Spanky turned his head from side to side, proud of the attention and hungry for more.

      I know, said Tub sitting bolt upright. We can make some candy.

      "Make! What do you mean make?"

      Well, somebody has to make candy, don’t they? We can become candy makers just for the holidays.

      Now it had never occurred to Chub that candy had to be made before it was eaten. He mused for a few minutes. Well, what does it take to make candy?

      Oh, I don’t know. Fudge must be just chocolate, sugar and water, I suppose. Should be easy to make, said Tub.

      And when do you suppose Mom will give us time to get into the kitchen to make the stuff? She lives in the kitchen this time of year, making cookies and cakes to give away.

      That did pose a problem even for the nimble brain of Mr. Tub. He sat for awhile as Spanky nudged him with his nose. I know! he shouted. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. Mom is going to the reception for the new minister, a Rev. Preach, this afternoon. He giggled at the name. She will never take us to a lady’s party with all those sweets. We would only embarrass her by eating everything in sight. So she will have to leave us here since every other lady in town will be at the reception too. That will give us lots of time to make the fudge," said Tub.

      Could work, said Chub. Sure you know how to make the stuff?

      It’s a sugar cube. Trust me, said Tub. Tub was the one who always planned the mischief. He was the doer of the twosome.

      They ate their toasted cheese sandwiches sprinkled with sugar and washed the whole bit down with milk. Then they set about squabbling and playing pick-up-sticks on the living room floor. The Christmas tree was not there yet, but they stared at the spot where we knew it would sit and Chub saw a fine little brightly painted train with track set all around the tree. And there was a station and some logs to haul. Tub saw a top that would spin in place and send off pretty colors.

      Wonder what kind of a tree Dad will get this year? He was known as the fussiest man in the village when it came to a Christmas tree. His had to be the biggest and prettiest tree that anyone could find. He would bring it home tomorrow night and they would all help decorate it together."

      Let’s take our money and go buy some presents for the folks, said Tub who was bored with waiting. We always have to rush when Mom takes us shopping the day before Christmas. She waits impatiently in the car and we have to rush so.

      Not a bad idea, for once. How much money do you have?

      Oh, about 14 cents, said Tub.

      I’ve about a dollar sixty eight cents, Chub chimed in proudly.

      If we pool our resources, we should be able to buy something for both of them, said the spendthrift Tub. They made the arduous ascent to their room and picked up the money, Chub shook the piggy bank nearly to death to choke every penny out of him.

      The boys, tired of playing, marched off to find their mother.

      Mom, we want to go out to play in the snow, said Tub.

      Well, it has stopped snowing. I guess you can go out for an hour or so. Don’t go far though. Tub thought that it would be impossible to go far in any direction in Addipost, New Hampshire. The town had about a hundred people and covered all of four blocks.

      Mom dressed Chub first. The snow suit was fitted over chubby legs and eventually, with some holding of the breath and sucking gut, zipped up the front. On went the rubbers, cap and mittens. Then she began to work on Tub. She had him properly suited up and was just putting on his cap when Chub let out a whine.

      I gotta go, Ma.

      Oh, well, I guess if you gotta go, you gotta go. she grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to the bathroom. Tub stood by the kitchen door, a chessycat grin on his face. Chub was always the weak one!

      When Mom returned with a fully suited Chub, she looked at Tub, You too?

      A,a. He shook his head, to his mother’s great relief. She was busy these days and it had taken a whole twenty minutes to get the boys ready for out. Meanwhile, Spanky had done his traditional Scottish dance all around the boys, eager to get out into the cold snow and race a bit. Mom led them out the door and said, Be back early. I have that reception to go to this afternoon you know.

      Once on the street, the boys scuffed through the snow, short, chubby legs not quite adequate for a foot of fresh snow.

      Come on. The 5 and 10 is just around the corner, said Tub. Spanky, you stay home, said Tub, pointing at the little dog, his voice husky with all his authority. The little dog wagged his tail, sat down and looked terribly sad, ears drooping.

      Once in the store, they began a two hour search for the perfect presents for their parents. They looked at everything, I mean, everything. But strangely, they seemed to always come back to press fat noses against the candy case. The 5 did not have much of a selection of candy, but it was the real thing and looked and smelled so good, especially the candied cherries.

      After a long look, Tub looked at his brother and said, "There is no use fighting it. We have all but 2 cents needed to buy a big box of cherry chocolates for both our parents. Maybe I can talk the lady into letting us have the chocolates for two cents less?

      He walked to the counter with the box in his hand. He reached out for Chub’s money and began to count out the pennies. Then he put the box on the counter and smiled a sugary smile at the pretty girl who was at the cash register. She took the box and was about to put it into a bag. Please, could you gift wrap it, said Tub.

      Why yes, sir, she replied with a smile.

      When the wrapping was done, she counted out the money, and looking at Tub, deduced that he could not yet count correctly. You are two cents shy of the price, she said. Tub said nothing, but shrugged what little shoulders he had, putting on a most innocent look.

      Oh well, it is Christmas, and what are two cents anyway, said the nice lady. She handed the wrapped box to the boys in a brown paper bag and smiled at them both. Merry Christmas.

      In unison, Merry Christmas.

      But the way home was not merry at all. Both boys felt an uncomfortable churning in their stomachs. The bag with the box of candy was handed back and forth like a hot potato. Neither of them wanted to get too close to the luscious candy, for fear all control would disappear and he would tear off the wrapper and go on a chocolate and cherry binge. There was real pain in their faces as they approached the house.

      What are we gonna do with this? said Chub. He could almost taste the sweet cherry liquor inside the chocolates as he imagined they would run together in his mouth. This stuff is dynamite! We can’t keep it in the room. Surely one of us will weaken and there will be a disaster. You know how sick you get when you eat too much chocolate.

      Don’t either. It’s you that gets sick on too much candy. But you are right. We can’t keep it in the house. Besides, Mom might find it. So where can we hide it?

      We could put it in the woodshed.

      Naw. There is too much chance of Dad finding it there.

      What about in the dog house? Spanky sleeps in our house in winter. We could slip out Christmas Eve and rescue the candy and put it under the tree.

      Guess it will have to do. They crept around the house and Tub knelt down in the snow, nuzzled by Spanky, as he put the bag with the candy in the dog house, on top of the frozen water bowl.

      At quarter to four that afternoon, their mother came into the living room where the boys sat playing. She had her coat and rubbers on and was carrying a flat box. By the smell, it was a lovely cake. Chub had to bite his tongue to keep from asking for a piece, just a little one?

      Now boys, I am off to the reception for the Reverend Preach at the church. I will be gone only an hour, so you stay warm and play with your lincoln logs. She picked up a handful of wood and laid it on the fire. I will be right back to make dinner. She bent and kissed each fat little cheek and the boys exchanged a sly look as she straightened up and headed for the door. Yes Mom, came in unison which it often did.

      Tub had inhaled deeply as she bent down to him, hoping to get some taste of the cake from its wonderful aroma. Yum, Chocolate, he said under his breath.

      They sat on the floor, looking at each other and listening intently. Fudge was just minutes away! They heard the front door open, then click shut. They waited anxiously for the sound of the old Ford chugging to life in the driveway, and then it happened, as if by some secret signal. Spanky, who had been sitting idly by, bored with such inactivity, bounced up with them as they let out gleeful laughs and raced as fast as two tubs could go, to the kitchen, jostling to get through the kitchen door at the same time.

      You find the sugar and cocoa. I’ll get the milk and pan, said Tub.

      The milk came out of the refirg with only a small spot spilled on the floor as Tub opened the cap too soon. Spanky licked up the spot. Chub found the cocoa easily in the cupboard, but the sugar had been put on the top shelf. Now these two boys were so wide and so short that they had trouble working on the countertop, let alone reaching the top shelf.

      I’ll get a chair, said Tub. With the chair in place, Chub climbed up gingerly, with Tub providing a not too helpful push from the rear and Spanky dancing around the kitchen with the excitement. But Chub could still not reach the top shelf. He climbed onto the counter and looked down at Tub in dismay. There can be no fudge without sugar. Tub said, Wait.

      Soon he returned with a stool that he put on top of the chair. That should work. Try it.

      Chub obediently climbed onto the rickety stool which wanted to slide on the slippery seat of the chair. He reached for the sugar, but the top of the bag was open and he managed to spill a good bit before he got it to the countertop. As he began to climb down, there was a crack and the seat of the chair split under his ponderous weight. He was nearly to the floor when it happened, so he tumbled and rolled over the kitchen floor, screaming as if he had been shot.

      You hurt, Chub?

      Chub sat in the middle of the scrupulously clean kitchen floor and wined softly. No, I’ll live, but what are we going to do about this chair? You and your bright ideas!

      Tub thought for a second.

      Come on, we gotta get this cleaned up. Mom will be home soon.

      Tub flew into action. He grabbed the chair and slipped it behind the curtain in the dining room where it usually sat next to the table. We have six chairs and there will be only five people for Christmas dinner. Maybe no one will notice the chair is missing from the table, said Tub.

      Chub shook his head. Let’s get the fudge made.

      Tub held the big pot, his mother’s favorite, while Chub poured in lots of sugar. Spanky looked on, head acock. Put in some more, said Tub. Then he poured in some cocoa and finally some milk. At six, they had never heard of recipes or measuring things.

      It’s getting late. Turn the gas up high so it’ll cook fast, said Chub.

      A chubby hand turned the gas on and there was a whoosh as the pilot light lit the burner. Flames licked yellow up around the pot, but that was what was needed. Speed! No one had thought about stirring the mess inside, so the sugar was all on the bottom, now moistened by milk.

      Let’s go back and play with the Lincoln logs, said Tub. That will take a while to cook."

      How long?

      Don’t know, but I bet it’s done by the time Mom comes back.

      So they went back to their games and built a fort of logs for the train that they hoped to get for Christmas.

      A bit later, you smell something funny? said Chub.

      No. but his fat nose wrinkled as he tested the air. Yes. There is something that smells like burning.

      They got up ponderously and trundled to the kitchen. The fudge was just about to crawl out of the pot onto the stove top and there was evil smelling smoke all through the kitchen. Ever the man of action, Tub grabbed the pot by its handle and pulled it off the stove. He winced in pain as the warm handle burned his hand. He reached up and turned the gas off. Chub, open both the front and back doors, quick before Mom comes home! We gotta clean up this mess.

      Fresh air did a good bit to hide the smell, but no amount of water would wash away the baked sugar in the bottom of Mom’s best pot! They dug at it with knives and forks and when they tried to sample the stuff, it was perfectly awful, meaning it could not have been worse!

      Then they heard it. The chug of the old Ford as it reached the drive and slid in beside the house. It had begun to snow and the sound was muffled, but with the doors open, they just heard it in time. Chub waddled to the front door to close it as Tub yelled, get the front door Chub. What are we going to do with this pot?"

      There was no time to think. Tub slipped on a bit of sugar on the kitchen floor, but managed to get out the back door to the woodshed just in time to ditch the pot far back into the wood pile. They won’t find that until sometime next spring, he said to himself. He raced back into the kitchen, grabbed the broom and swished the sugar under the table. Then at his top speed, puffing all the way, he joined Chub who was playing innocently on the living room floor with their fort.

      Mom should have been mighty suspicious when she came in. Two not too clean little boys playing on her living room floor, huffing and puffing, but she was late and had to get dinner for father. She did mention how cold the house seemed and came into the living room to put another log on the fire. "You boys know to

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