Greatest Gift of All; Chapter 1

 

Greatest Gift of All; Chapter 1

© 2025 by Amber Wright

Date: Christmas Eve, 1900

Place: Boston, Massachusetts

It was Christmas Eve, 1900 and all the nice houses along the street had holly, ivy and burning candles in their windows when twelve year-old Ebron Boyd dragged his feet towards the tenement house with empty pockets. And a long face.

He ignored the passersby as he walked and he thought out loud. “Always bad luck, that.”

Begging, he added silently.

He kicked at the snow fiercely and blinked. “And pa says if I didn’t come home with anything I’d be turned out for good.”

He kicked at the snow again. Slowly this time. Noontime and still nobody had given him a single penny. “What will Pa say?”

Then he thought quickly. I have just enough time to see “Auntie” and to grab a muffin she usually gives before I go back home. Home, he gulped. Home was where his alcohol possessed father was waiting for him. Ready to beat him when he came home empty handed.

“But he should understand.” Ebron found himself talking aloud. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Indeed it is, Ebron.” Mr. Hooke, the shopkeeper answered him when he entered the bakery. “Merry Christmas to you!”

Ebron looked up and managed a small smile. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Hooke.”

Suddenly, the aroma of cinnamon, apples, pumpkin and baking spices sank into his nostrils. He heard his stomach growl in complaint and he hoped nobody heard. He blinked quickly, and dove quietly to the large fireplace crackling to warm up.

He pulled off his mitts and sat on the toasty warm hearth. Then he looked up.

“Here you are, child.” Auntie smiled down at him with a plate of food and a tin cup of hot apple cider.

Ebron took the plate with a big gulp.

There was a round meat pie, a red and green sprinkled sugar cookie in the shape of a star, a piece of pumpkin pie and a red and white striped candy cane which he tucked into his coat pocket to eat later.

“For me?” he gasped.

“Yes, all for you, honey.” Auntie’s white teeth contrasted against her brown skin. “You eat it all, too.”

“Yes Auntie. Thank you.” Ebron said a quick prayer and began munching away on the juicy meat pie.

• • •

Proudly, Ebron tied on the new red scarf Mr. Hooke had given him for a gift. “Thank you! It fits perfectly.”

“You’re welcome.” Mr. Hooke smiled and gave his shoulder a pat. “Now run along. Your pa will be wondering where you are.”

Ebron gulped. He had forgotten. He was going back to the run down tenement house and he had empty pockets. He said a quick goodbye and thrust his feet into motion. Maybe if I promise to beg tonight he won’t be so angry. I hope… His thoughts trailed off. Back to his mother. He blinked and felt his head jar against a man’s coat.

“Watch where you’re going!” a man with a pencil tipped nose snapped, gingerly brushing off his coat where Ebron had hit.

“Sorry sir.” Ebron said in a small voice, ducking his head and racing past the man.

He had to get home. And the sooner the better. Pa never liked to be kept waiting.

• • •

Clem Boyd was waiting for his son. Belt ready in his hand, bloodshot eyes and leaning against the doorframe as he kept muttering in his thick voice.

Ebron had tucked his new scarf deep into his coat so his father wouldn’t see it and pawn it for money. After all, Ebron had told himself with a scared little gulp, Pa only sells things to get drunk. And Mr. Hooke gave this to me—for a gift. A Christmas gift.

Now, Ebron began blinking away as he faced his father. “Pa, I’m sorry—”

“Nothing?” Clem staggered over to the little boy, half starved from no nutrition. “I don’t need to ask.”

Ebron stood quietly as the belt barely grazed over his thick wool coat. Luckily, Clem Boyd was deep drunk and didn’t realize that Ebron was still wearing his coat.

But still, Ebron felt the pain of his cursing father. He had never acted like this when his mother was alive. Only after.

“Now out.” Clem slurred his words as he swung his belt in the air. “Out with you, good for nothing baby.”

Ebron felt his knees tremble. “Pa?”

“I said out with you!” Clem began to shout. “Or I'll make blood pudding out of you. Ha-ha!” He hiccupped.

Clem’s eyes began to stare piercingly and Ebron stepped back. He had better obey his father…before it was too late. He chewed on his bottom lip. And felt his eyes widen.

“Out!”

Ebron scrambled down the tenement house’s steps and knocked into his brother Lachlan coming up.

“Watch out!” Lachlan snapped. “What are you crying for, baby?”

Lachlan laughed with a hiccup. He leaned over the outside steps and belched out a thin stream of brown liquid. His laugh turned into a silly giggle.

“What are you laughing for?” Ebron furiously wiped the telltale tears from off his face. He pulled his new red scarf around his neck. “Goodbye, Lachlan.”

“Goodbye!” Lachlan shouted loudly just like their father. “Bye pootle tootles.”

Then Lachlan started laughing and Ebron hurried away. Away from his drunk household…and from the threat.

Blood pudding? He gulped a little, pushing his feet forward. I wouldn’t taste too good, Pa.

• • •

Lance Boyd drove up to the old tenement house in his clapboard wagon. He had been gone for three days, hauling timber. Now it was Christmas Eve and Ebron needed a cheerful holiday: a good sledding party with the rest of the poor boys of the tenement house.

Lance expected his little brother to fly from the house, suffocating him with all sorts of questions that only a twelve year-old boy would ask. But Ebron didn’t come. His other brother Lachlan was leaning against the doorframe of the main entrance.

“Where’s Ebron?”

“Gone.” Lachlan’s flat reply chilled Lance as he let go of his reins to jump down.

“Gone—to where?”

“Gone because Pa got rid of him, tha’s what.” Lachlan rubbed his forehead and tried to look intelligent. He kept blinking. “I didn’t know Pa sent him off for good until Pa told me.”

Lance burned his eyes into his palms. He had to go. Now. Before it was too late.

Before Ebron would freeze. Die. He hopped back onto his clapboard wagon and charged off full speed. The sooner the better. When he came back home, he’d eat.

• • •

Ebron kicked at the snow all down the street, making sure he was out of the way of the rich people who walked briskly past him.

They don’t notice me, he thought glumly. I wonder if I was dead, on the street, if they would notice me. Probably not. I’m not important. He shivered. Despite the warmth of his brand new red scarf, he still felt cold.

He began blinking with a heavy yawn. He forced his eyes to stay open and shuffled his feet along. If he stopped, as cold as it was he would most likely die. After all, it was the coldest time of the year. The time where he should be inside, having a wonderful time with his family on Christmas Eve. But no.

There he was. Without home, without family. Even Lance probably would forget to come home for the holidays.

Minutes slipped by noiselessly.