The Last Christmas Pageant

By Laurie Hodges Humble

When Alice faces the fact that the service club that has been the center of her life for over thirty years has come to its end, she looks at the bright side – she'll never have to orchestrate another Ladies Club Christmas Pageant. That is until Melissa, one of the young playgroup moms finds a box of children's rhythm band instruments used in previous pageants. Melissa's enthusiasm for all things Christmas is countered by Brenda, the politically correct mom, who does not believe nativity pageants have a place in contemporary society. Using Sanjula, the new-Canadian mom as a pawn, they argue over the value of tradition and its merit in modern Canada. Who wins the battle? Who saves the day?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laurie Hodges Humble
• Release date: Sep 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393463047

Laurie Hodges Humble

When she’s not conjuring up well-developed characters in unique plotlines laced with humour, Laurie Hodges Humble is either reading a book in the sunniest room in the house or listening to an audio book while driving. She is a loyal fan of Coronation Street, prefers red wine to white wine, Smarties to M&M’s, and has a sweet spot for Old English Sheepdogs. Her favourite tea is English Breakfast, which she drinks any time of day. Having lived in all three western provinces, Laurie currently resides in a small Alberta town with her hubby and two spoiled cats. As a proud Canadian she takes delight in slipping u’s into certain words. Keeps everyone on their toes! This is Laurie’s first published novel. Author Photo courtesy of J.C. Humble

Book preview

THE LAST CHRISTMAS

PAGEANT

by Laurie Hodges Humble

Halloween Week

Sunday

Alice

Hello. Joyce. Can you hold on a minute? Alice scurried to the counter, telephone receiver in hand, until the old and tangled telephone cord stretched like a clothesline strung between the wall and the counter. No matter how many incentives the telephone company offered to update her phone set, Alice’s memories of her daughter, Heather lying on the floor chatting to a friend outweighed any desire to modernize. She always knew when the talk turned to boys the cord trailed into the broom closet which Heather believed to be soundproof. She couldn’t imagine how empty the house would feel with a bare space on the kitchen wall.

She snapped the lids onto the containers of baking she had done for the next day’s play- group Halloween party. A gust of wind rattled the old house. She glanced out the window. A white plastic grocery bag bellied in the wind on a fence post, heralding that winter was on its way. Her prayer for Halloween was dashed. The kiddies would have to wear their costumes over their snowsuits. She loved Halloween. It was the only holiday she wished she lived in town where folks were guaranteed to have trick-or-treaters knock on their door. Farm kids needed a chauffeur and good weather for going from house to house. Halloween Apples! she sang into the phone to let Joyce know she had her full attention.

Alice. Alice!

Sorry, Joyce. She rolled her eyes. You called just as I was packing up the treats for tomorrow’s Halloween party. Dead silence. You haven’t forgotten the playgroup is having their Halloween party tomorrow? It is the last Monday in October, right? Alice glanced up to check the John Deere wall calendar. She was sure she had the date right.

No, Alice, you are right. And I hadn’t forgotten. Joyce spoke slowly. Actually, that’s what I’m calling about.

The playgroup? Why, we can talk about that this afternoon while we visit. Alice moved the travel brochures to one side. Piers and Hank will have their own stuff to talk about, and —

I’d prefer to tell you now. Alice heard Joyce take a deep breath. Piers and I won’t be coming over this afternoon.

Alice shivered. She felt a sudden change in barometric pressure and the room darkened. Heavy grey storm clouds rolled in from the west. Yes, the weather is changing quickly. Shall we postpone our coffee until later in the week?

This is really hard for me to tell you. We have been friends for so long.

You can tell me anything. We have been friends ever since we both joined the Ladies Club. Confused, Alice wrinkled her forehead and reached for the tissue she kept in the sleeve of her sweater. What was Joyce on about? You are okay, aren’t you? I mean you aren’t sick or anything?

It is the Ladies Club I want to talk to you about. Joyce perked up which made Alice wary. Her friend had a special way of delivering news she knew you didn’t want to hear. She worried the tissue in her free hand. Joyce continued, We have been members for what? Forty years now.

Yes, our initiation ceremony was forty years last May. Alice concurred. Initiates are always the first Monday in May, if I remember correctly. Mercy, it’s been years since we’ve had an initiate, or for that matter, anyone interested in joining the Ladies Club. Alice pondered the word initiate. It sounded so formal. So institutional. So scary. "Do you think we should just call them new members or something less daunting?"

Well, the world has certainly changed over the past forty years. While Joyce talked Alice’s train of thought trailed to the dress she’d worn to her first Ladies Club Meeting. It was a floral print, just above the knee with a gold link belt. She had argued with her mother over whether she had to wear the wide-brimmed hat that came with the outfit. Yes, it was hot for May. She liked the long string of pearls. It was oh so Carnaby Street. She felt like Twiggy, the supermodel. Alice remembered the compromise she’d made: she could leave the hat at home but had to wear stockings. She let her mother believe the hat was non-negotiable. My, hadn’t times changed. And we have, too, Alice! We too have changed, right?

What? Yes. Times have changed. The only thing that had changed was that Joyce no longer wore hats to social events. Alice admonished herself for being so green-eyed. She too could wear heels all year-round as Joyce did, but she preferred to keep her toes warm in winter. Besides, if she got stuck in snow and had to walk part way home, gravel roads wreaked havoc on high heels. Hank once joked that he bet Joyce even wore heels and stockings on laundry day. Alice laughed, but she often wondered what her well-coifed friend wore on laundry day. The thought of her friend in an old housedress and comfy slippers completely boggled Alice’s mind.

And that’s what I want to talk to you about. I have changed.

I know what you’re saying. We are so different to the young women of today. We just wanted to be good wives and mothers. Alice sighed. Glad that her and Joyce were finally on the same track.

That is what I am talking about, Joyce interrupted. The Ladies Club is just a bunch of old housewives and grannies.

Excuse me. Alice was dumbfounded. Where did that come from?

Since May I have been exploring other opportunities for myself. Other women’s clubs, like the bridge club. Rotary Club. Golfing and cross-country skiing. Activities Piers and I could do together, ballroom dancing and such.

Where do you go ballroom dancing? Hank and I were just talking about going to the Legion dances. Alice reached out to her friend. How about curling? Hank is a member of the seniors’ curling league. He loves curling. And so do I. The registration is still open. Neither Hank nor Piers ever golfed or skied. And none of them had participated in outdoor activities in years. Alice had played softball in high school. She couldn’t remember Joyce playing. Now Mabel, she was one heck of a ballplayer. Curling is a sport you can grow old with.

That’s the point. Joyce’s voice cut through the telephone lines. I do not want to grow old. The sound of Joyce’s sharp intake of breath silenced Alice. Effective immediately, I hereby resign as a member of the Poplar Grove Ladies Club. As our friendship is based on said club, Piers and I will no longer be having coffee dates nor socializing with Hank and yourself.

Not socializing. Did Alice really hear correctly? Wait a minute.

It would be awkward.

AWKWARD! Alice said barely keeping her temper in check. "When did you decide this? Before or after you agreed to do this fall’s playgroup session? Before or after you promised to help clean the Hall kitchen in the summer? When, Joyce? Just, when?"

As I said, it is effective immediately. I’ll be leaving the Hall key under the back doormat.

You will of course call Mabel and give her your resignation. She’ll need it for the Club’s minutes. Alice was not going to let Joyce off easy. She had to fulfill her obligation to the Club.

I tried to tell you before, but Mabel just steamrolled ahead, and I wasn’t given the opportunity to say my piece. How could she blame Mabel for her cowardice?

You. Will. Call. Mabel. Alice could only imagine what Mabel’s reaction would be. Just the two of them to finish up playgroup, cut funeral lunches for the old ones, and run the Hall. Run the Hall. The Hall that they hadn’t paid the taxes on. Needed building repairs that were beyond their husbands’ means. The last two volunteers on the building committee.

Oh. Tomorrow morning a bin of pumpkins will be left in the lot, Joyce steamrolled on. The bookkeeper mom, Brenda. Rudy said he’d leave his barter payment to her in the Hall lot. Who knows, maybe you can all make some pies or muffins or something. Alice wanted to throw something against the wall, but then she’d just have to clean it up. She took the coffee cake she’d baked for their visit that afternoon. Balanced the plate on the palm of her hand and dumped it in the garbage. A clear, contained expression of her disgust. That she could handle.

Alice frowned and gazed out the window without really seeing anything. Joyce had said she would try to help with playgroup this autumn, but she would be starting a new health routine which may take up a lot of her time. Autumn. Joyce used the word autumn, not fall. At the time Alice smiled at her friend’s pretentious use of language and concern with her appearance. The woman was the best-dressed member of the Ladies Club. Her only competition in Poplar Grove was Berle Stokes. Joyce was very proud of the fact that Berle, younger by five years, still couldn’t hold a candle to her in the looks department. Alice clenched her teeth. Joyce was never modest. It turns out she was afraid of growing old and being with old people. Like old friends. If Alice had known the truth she never would have given in to Mabel’s harping about starting another preschool playgroup in September. She would have paid more attention to Hank and his retirement wish. They would have travelled to Mexico with the United Church Volunteers and built someone a house.

Alice couldn’t remember ending the conversation with Joyce, but somehow the receiver was back in its cradle on the wall. She sat at the kitchen table wondering about a plan of action for the Ladies Club. Or was it the Mabel and Alice Club?

Propelled by a gust of wind, the kitchen porch door blew open. The Habitat for Humanity Global Trips magazine flew off the pile of travel brochures on the counter. Alice raised her head to greet Hank.

I left the last of the pumpkins in the cold cellar in case you wanted to make a Jack O‘Lantern or some pies. Have the Torkelsons called? Hank, boots already off and on the mud rack at the back door, used his tractor cap to brush the wet snow off his coat and jeans.

Joyce called. They aren’t coming.

Good. It’s wicked out there. He put his cap back on. What else did Joyce have to say?

Nothing. She straightened up in her chair and rolled her neck. Absolutely nothing. Alice stared out the kitchen window at the blizzard.

Nothing?

She said she was exploring other opportunities for herself and Piers to do together.

She’s got that right. I didn’t sell off all my livestock so I could freeze all winter, waiting for you to come home from playgroup. Hank looked at the snow he’d knocked onto the floor.

My friend quit the Ladies Club, Hank! She clenched her hands. She said the ladies were old grannies.

Hank nudged the melting snow with his stocking foot, avoiding her gaze.

So, you fold the Ladies Club.

How can you say that? Alice burst into tears.

Sorry, it’s just, ah don’t cry, Alice. ... Ah shoot. Hank twisted the cap in his hands. You know I’m not good with stuff like this. Geez. I’m sorry Joyce up and quit the Club. That’s a lousy mess to dump on you and Mabel. He shoved the cap into his jeans back pocket; at his feet the pile of melted snow mixed with bits of dead leaves.

Alice wiped her eyes with the soiled tissue in her hand and then with the edge of her apron. Hank handed her the box of tissues.

I’m so tired. I’m so tired of playgroup and funeral teas for people I don’t even know. And now with Joyce quitting, well, it’s just Mabel and me left to run the Ladies Club. Alice stopped to catch her breath and take a fresh tissue from the box.

Can’t the new moms... Hank started to say, cut short by Alice’s raised hand.

Alice didn’t want to hear Hank telling her one more time the way he saw things, ‘all these young women seem to want is a place for their kids to run free while they drink coffee and gossip.’

"All the other club members are too old, too sick or too far away to help. All the healthy ones have gone south for the winter. It’s just me and Mabel now, and we need to focus on the members that are left, and ... Joyce said I was old. OLD! Am I old? Sixty isn’t old, is it?" Alice took another tissue and bunched it in her hand with the used tissue. Maybe Hank was right. The young moms didn’t even want a playgroup program. They just let their children, whom they referred to interchangeably as ‘dude’, ‘buddy’, or ‘precious’, do their own thing while they drank coffee and played with their cell phones. Three of them went outside for numerous smoke breaks leaving the other three non-smoking mothers to mind their little buddies and dudes. From where Alice sat, the young moms were the smart ones. They turned the playgroup into a coffee klatch, sold each other the latest version of home party wares; while for a modest fee the Ladies Club provided the venue and refreshments. For a moment Alice wondered what great last-minute idea Melissa or Brenda would bring to tomorrow’s playgroup Halloween party that she and Mabel would have to clean up after.

Hank sat beside his wife at the kitchen table. Maybe it is time to call it a day. You and Mabel and even Joyce, you’ve done your bit. Let the young ones take over.

Alice adjusted the collar on her blouse, stood up and pulled the cuffs of her sleeves down, then straightened out the skirt of her apron with the palms of her hands. She looked around her kitchen, at the puddled snow water and the pork chops defrosting on the counter. She pushed back her chair, walked to the pantry and took out the electric fry pan.

Sit down. I’ll make supper. Hank took the fry pan from her. Why don’t you give Mabel a call? Tell her about Joyce.

Alice stared at the kitchen clock. It was 3 o’clock.

How about I put on the kettle. Hank turned on the burner under the hot water kettle. More coffee cake for us!

Snow is early; it will be a white Halloween, Alice said softly, as if speaking to herself. Hank?

Yes.

The thought of putting on another Ladies Club Christmas pageant nauseates me.

You need to tell that to Mabel, not me. He checked the containers on the sideboard looking for the coffee cake Alice had made that morning.

On her way to the phone Alice ran her hand over the containers of spiderweb and ghost cookies on the sideboard. She put several spiderweb-decorated cupcakes on a plate and set it on the kitchen table. From the floor the bright, full color photos of the Habitat for Humanity brochure shone up at her. She picked it up and scanned the front cover. Her fingers tightened on the glossy paper. Hank would love to help build a nice house for a family who would appreciate his help. She could help sew up the curtains for the symmetrical square windows. Distracted, she lifted the telephone receiver and after a moment placed it back in its cradle, walked back to the table and dropped into a chair. She flipped to the next page which featured a chicken coop and goat pen. Mabel’s probably still baking cupcakes. I’ll be seeing her tomorrow morning before playgroup. By then Joyce should have called her.

Melissa

Visiting Kirby’s parents, Berle and Stan, was always exhausting for Melissa. Sheldon adored his grandparents and Kirby loved showing his son off to his parents. Melissa just wished she didn’t have to witness it. However, she wanted to marry in to a big happy family, and though it wasn’t big, looking in from the outside it was a happy family.

Every year since Kirby was a kid his parents had set up a Halloween display. This year’s plan was to transform the front yard into a haunted pumpkin patch. The weather in the foothills was known to be fickle, and when a northerly wind brought with it the first winter storm, it became impossible to work outside. After his third attempt to secure the plastic skeletons and straw zombies to their inground moorings, Kirby could only watch the plastic skeletons and straw zombies jettisoned into the strong winds. The much heavier pumpkins remained steadfast and alone in what looked more like a poorly-plowed-under pumpkin patch than a haunted garden.

Melissa’s part in this year’s Halloween preparations was to help Berle with the transformation of Thanksgiving pumpkins into All Hallows’ Eve decorations. She was instructed to ‘wear something you aren’t afraid to get dirty,’ so Melissa wore jeans and a t-shirt. Berle was dressed in Ralph Lauren casuals for women, her signature scarf and big earrings. Melissa had no doubt that Berle expected her to carve the pile of pumpkins that were on the back porch.

Melissa dear, would you mind stencilling the faces on the pumpkins? Berle handed her a package of Halloween-themed stencils and a bundle of art paint brushes. I don’t want to mess up my kitchen with carved pumpkin detritus. I just hate the smell of raw squash.

Melissa looked at the stencils. There were several of the toothless grin variety, two scary faces, and one that mimicked Edvard Munch’s The Scream. It must have been for the long skinny pumpkin that stood a good foot above the other pumpkins lined up along the boot rack at the back porch.

Are you still taking Sheldon to playgroup? Berle continued without waiting for an answer, Does the Ladies Club still put on Halloween parties for the children?

Yes, they do. The Halloween party is tomorrow. Melissa shook a tube of black acrylic paint.

Oh good. I just love Halloween. I bought extra pumpkins from the Organic Garden Market for Sheldon to take to his party. They had a bumper crop and weren’t able to sell them all at the market yesterday. She covered half her mouth as if she were about to tell a secret. I know times are tough, but I don’t understand why the farmer couldn’t at least call that pig farmer on the highway to see if he needed extra pig food. I mean, business is business, and organic pumpkins would make organic bacon, right? She lowered her hand and continued, I’ll ask Kirby to load them into your vehicle. Will fourteen be enough? Berle stuck her head out the door and yelled to her son, Kirby, there’s fourteen pumpkins here for the playgroup. They need to be loaded into the back of your SUV.

Good timing, Mom, Kirby said as he and his father Stan stumbled into the house at the same time. Their entrance blocked by the giggling boy Stan held in a football hold.

Too windy and cold to do anything more out there. Stan looked around him. Anybody see Sheldon? I hope he didn’t blow away.

I’m here, Grandpa, Sheldon squealed. Put me down.

Stan set the boy down. Let’s go into the kitchen and I’ll make hot chocolate.

Can we listen to that song, Grandpa? That song that Daddy likes.

How about we play cards, and you can tell me what you would do if you had a million dollars. Stan tweaked his grandson’s ear and started to hum If I Had a Million Dollars.

I’ll join you as soon as I finish here. Kirby carried the first basket of pumpkins out to the car. He caught Melissa’s eye and shook his head at his mother. Melissa shrugged her shoulders; she was as mystified as he was about his mother’s playgroup contribution.

Are you friendly with the other moms? Berle asked as she watched Melissa select the first pumpkin to paint.

Yes, we are all friendly. Our kids play well together. Melissa considered the shape of a particular pumpkin.

What about that new family, the pretty colored woman. What is her name again?

Melissa caught a quick look from Sheldon and Stan. Up to now Sheldon had made no comment about the different colors of people’s skin, and she didn’t want him to start. Her name is Sanjula. And yes, she is my friend.

No need to get stroppy. I’m sure your grandparents raised you better than that, Berle said, before leaving to join the men. Berle’s need to continually remind her she was raised by her grandparents because her own mother had abandoned her, frustrated Melissa. After a deep breath she laid out the stencils on the floor.

Melissa smiled to herself. She