Hay in the Manger

By Connie Johanson

In Hay in the manager readers will meet David, a grade-schooler who simply hates the coming of Christmas this year. Life has not been easy for him, especially since he and his sister moved into the town of Valley Junction after their father accepted a managing job at a local newspaper.

After his father's car accident, his hatred for Christmas is so strong he got into trouble with others. He even dislikes his father's dream house and gets easily irked over small things such as seeing his sister's toys on the floor. Soon enough his mother arrives to comfort him and offer help. Will they be able to end their hatred of Christmas this year? The outcome awaits readers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450086554

Book preview

Copyright © 2010 by Connie Johanson.

Library of Congress Control Number:                        2010905446

ISBN:                     Hardcover                          978-1-4500-8654-7

                              Softcover                            978-1-4500-8653-0

                             Ebook                                  978-1-4500-8655-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

78524

Contents

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

With Thanks to

Nancy and Dan Cormier

Kathy and Chuck Pease

Bonnie Burmeister

Carla J. Hassel for the use of her diagrams from her two books You Can Be A Super Quilter, c.1980, and Super Quilter II, c.1982 and of her pattern O Tannenbaum from Super Quilter II. Pattern included in her book.

Also thanks to many others for their help and support of this project.

ILLUSTRATIONS

Manger on cover page and title page

Chapter #

1. The house

2. Straw ornaments

3. Cup of cocoa steaming

4. O Tannenbaum quilt pattern

5. Toast in triangles and squares

6. Firewood stack

7. Baseball mitt, ball and bat

8. Branch with a Christmas tree cookie

9. Broken doll

10. Round loaves of date-nut bread cooling

11. Vine of Friendship kits, pin cushion, compass and ruler

12. Show proper piecing up close, and a curved unit with finger-pressing

13. Piece of pie

14. Cookies on teacart

15. Logs again – on grate in fireplace

16. Fireplace with stockings and David’s covered box of hay, with a 5-pointed star on the end of box

17. Cat in hand (quilt design border - Little Giant)

18. Vine of Friendship design

Following Chapter 18:

Vine of Friendship - Full Quilt

O Tannenbaum - Full Quilt

1.JPG

Chapter I

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, David grumbled as he kicked snow along the sidewalk on his way home from school. It was the first week of December, and there was already a thin blanket of snow over the little town of Valley Junction. The white stuff, his dad had called it. David kicked the next snowbank fiercely. He sniffed, and a tear was in his eye.

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas.

David and his sister Kirsten had moved here last spring when his father accepted the job as manager at the newspaper in Valley Junction. Dad bought a tiny house in the middle of a long block just past the intersection of Main and Chestnut where a large church, a nursing home, and a dentist office anchored the neighborhood.

His dad, seeking a project to bury himself in after long days at work, picked out a little cottage with a fireplace, brick sidewalk, and French doors to a sitting room that overlooked a backyard with large trees and a pond. He envisioned a special place for his family to live and his children to grow. He planned a cozy home with a crackling fire and tantalizing aromas from the kitchen, beautiful gardens surrounding the pond, a fountain, and a swing. He looked forward to adding a garage and updating the plumbing and heating. He planned to remodel the attic so David could have his own room. He promised Mary, his wife, a new stove and new cabinets as soon as he could get things settled at the paper and get his tools organized in the basement shop. He loved Mary and the two children very much, and their happiness was the most important thing to him. He set a goal to have home improvements ready to start just after Christmas so everything could be ready for summer. He had taken his position at the paper with the intention of being editor and manager. Then the owner decided to retire, and his dad had seen a golden opportunity to realize his professional dreams and provide a secure future for the family at the same time. He used the family savings to finance a buy-in and was working out details for full ownership.

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, David continued to grumble. His dad had always eagerly anticipated Christmas, David supposed, but mostly his mom had organized the festivities. This year, she wasn’t organized in anything. Usually his mother was cheerful and methodical and always read stories to them at bedtime. Now she looked tired, talked in a sour voice, and never read books to them—ever.

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas. David continued kicking snow onto the freshly shoveled sidewalk.

Hey you! a voice roared from behind the hedge. I just shoveled that! David’s head shot up in surprise, and he groaned. He had been lost in thought as he turned the corner, and he didn’t realize he was in front of Mr. Grouch’s house.

Stop that! It took me an hour to shovel that, what with my bad back and all. Your parents should teach you better. Kids!" Mr. Grouch snarled.

His name really wasn’t Mr. Grouch, but that’s what David called him. Once, David had crashed his bike into Mr. Grouch’s hedge. Mr. Grouch was in the yard and ran to the sidewalk, waving his clippers.

Get out! You bad boy—get away from my property! David tried to hop on his bike and speed away, but his rim was bent. He ran off, tugging the bike along as fast as he could.

Now he didn’t even have a bike. Now he gave the snow an extra hard kick and ran as fast as he could around the corner to hide. He could hear Mr. Grouch grumbling.

I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas. David reached his house, dark, no tantalizing aromas in the kitchen, snow still on the sidewalk. There was no new garage and no tracks in the driveway. His mom wasn’t home yet. He went to the back door, kicking off his boots and putting his books on the back shelf in the pantry. It felt as cold inside as it was outside. He poured a glass of milk and looked around the tiny house.

Dad’s dream house, he scoffed. Nothing worked.

Stupid fireplace, David said, wishing his hands could be warmed by the blaze. The fireplace was broken and could not be used.

He walked toward the light switch across the room and heard a crack and a crunch beneath his foot.

Dumb sister! She always leaves her junk on the floor! When he turned on the light, he saw Kirsten’s favorite toy, Dolly, with her face cracked open. He picked up the doll, looked it over, and then hid it behind the sofa.

Dumb toy! Dumb sister! Dumb house! I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas, I hate Christmas! Then he heard the car with its tires crunching the unshoveled snow on the driveway. His mother came in the back door, carrying Kirsten and a sack of groceries.

Please help, David, she said, Why do I have to do everything?

Why do I have to do everything, muttered David under his breath. He noticed a piece of broken plastic on the floor and kicked it under the sofa.

Come here, please, his mother said, and started unloading the groceries. David shoved a quart of milk aside and put a bag of small, slightly bruised apples into the fridge. Bad day? his mom asked.

Yeah, David said.

Yes, his mother corrected him. Tell me about it. David continued to shove items into the fridge, knocking over a jar of pickles with a slightly loosened lid, spilling some of the liquid onto the shelf.

David, what’s wrong? Mary asked, putting her arms around her son for a quick hug. He remained silent. Then, she reached for a chair and sitting on one edge, she pulled David close, stroking his bangs away from his eyes so she could have a better look.

"I got into trouble again. I did my homework, even the extra-credit hard problem, but I guess I forgot to bring it to school. My teacher was mad. Mom, I can’t do my work with Kirsten’s