Lucia's Promise

 

Lucia’s Promise

By Mary R. Davidsaver

Not a bad turnout for the Saint Luciafestival of lights. Crisp night air and a couple of inches of snow makes itpretty and not too difficult for those who dress warm. There are always the fewnaïve, impetuous teenage girls who come with bare legs. Bishop Hill has neverbeen kind to vanity.

The store is crowded, packed attimes, but we are managing quite well. I’m handing out cheese samples, smiling,answering questions, and looking forward to a break. Sophie comes by to relieveme and I’m free.

As I’m straightening my apron andotherwise getting myself in order, a girl comes up and shoves something at mesaying in a small voice, “Hold this for a minute.”

Suddenly I have a bundle in my arms:it’s cold, heavy, and warm all at the same time. I’m startled. I frantically fumbleto keep from dropping it. I look down as the cover slips away and I see a tiny sleepingface. Looking up I see an ocean of coats and hats, but nothing of her.

This is great. Only a few free minuteson the busiest night of the year and I’m stuck babysitting for a stranger. Ihave all the luck.

Ok, I’ll give her 10 minutes, butonly if there’s no crying. All bets are off if there’s noise or odor.

So, I’m standing, rocking, trying toget back my pleasant looking “people face.” I scan the crowd, searching for thegirl. What did she look like? I can’t remember. Her coat? Blue. Maybe? It was waytoo fast, and I have a spotty memory even under the best of conditions.

“Be patient. Be patient,” I drone soothinglyto the child, and myself. “She’ll be right back.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve evenheld a baby. I don’t have the knack with the little ones; they usually cry whenplaced in my arms. I like them older and talking.

Studying the baby’s face, it doesn’tlook right somehow, too small, too splotchy. I can’t recall the last time I sawone like this.

I will myself to keep calm, looknatural, smile, when it comes to me—I’ve seen a face like this before, in ahospital—this is a newborn.

Crazy. Just plain crazy. Why wouldanyone hand so tiny a baby to a stranger?

I don’t like what I’m thinking next.Could it be? Did she just abandon her baby?

I’m so paralyzed with fear thatnothing comes out of my mouth. This can’t be real. I can’t make this kind ofdecision. No one trusts me enough to handle something like this. It’s too big.I could be wrong. I tell myself, I’m probably wrong.

Why? Why here? Why now? Crowds? She’slost and wants to stay lost?

What should I do? Pray? Beg? Plead toSaint Luciafor a miracle?

I’m looking around when I see her; wemake eye contact. She’s coming my way.

She’s not alone this time; there’s ayoung man with her. Man, hardly, they’re both just kids.

They make it through the crush ofbodies to where I’m standing, still rocking the baby.

“Thank you,” she whispers as shereaches out.

I hesitate. Stiffen. I wonder if it’sthe right thing to do. I give her a stern look and utter a low-pitched demand, “Don’tever do this again.”

She nods.

“Promise.” I glance at the tiny faceand back to her, “Promise.”

The young man takes a step forward.

She halts him with a small gesture. Thestrain on her face softens and disappears. She vows, “I promise.”

 

Copyright 2009-2023,Mary R. Davidsaver

 

 

One of the last events for atypical Bishop Hill tourist season is St. Lucia’s Festival of Lights. Ourversion of Lucia Night’s is held on the Friday and Saturday evenings on theweekend closest to Dec. 13, the traditional day it’s observed in Sweden. Afterdark, buildings are illuminated by a single candle in each window. Some usereal candles for this. The sidewalks around the village park and along MainStreet are also glowing with candles burning in white paper bags set out byanyone who wants to add to the magic of the experience.

 

My story, “St. Lucia’s Promise,”came to me as I was walking home from one Lucia Night. I had gone past theColony Store and by the time I turned the corner by the Bjorklund Hotel, I hadall the essential elements in place. It was my first work of fiction during atime I wrote mainly for newspapers.

 

St. Lucia’s Promise was first publishedas part of Winter Worlds: Three Stories in 2017.