Magical Christmas Eve – When Wishes Come True
It’s a day for miracles. There’s magic in the air. We on Earth have been given one amazing chance to have a special wish granted. But there are two unbreakable rules that go with it:
First, this blessing only comes on Christmas Eve and no other day.
Second, once the sun goes down on our wish, there is no changing it. Or taking it back.
It started out in a normal way in Mexico….
Connie finished giving the last-minute instructions for Christmas Eve dinner to the kitchen and was making her way back up to her suite. It had been a long day, a long week to tell the truth, and her head was still spinning from the letter she received from Hector…….
The Monday before today began in a typical way – Connie had her chocolate and fruit brought to her room and her ladies’ maid was putting the finishing touches on her coiffure. Her glossy black hair was magnificient and it swirled into a perfect updo in a way that only a few women in this world could boast about.
But it was just minutes after Clarita curtsied and left the room that she was back with a letter in her hand, telling Connie it had been delivered by a man who insisted it be handed directly to Connie – and no one else.
“Gracias.” Connie murmured and politely waved the maid out of the room. It was from Hector Arroya. The stationary was heavy and expensive, and the handwriting bold and strong. Just like him.
It was not a lenghty writing – in fact it got right to the point. And it was written in English to keep the servants from reading it; just in case.
My beautiful one,
For so long my heart has been yours. Be mine, truly.
Moving quickly before anyone else could knock at her door, Connie tossed the letter into the fireplace and watched it burn to ashes.
And now, on Christmas Eve, just as the last rays of sunlight streaked through the sky, Connie made her wish. Her request for a miracle. Was it too selfish of her to ask for something only for herself? Should she not ask God to keep her child safe now that she was once again back home after a horrible mistake?
Connie sat down on the old chair that gave her a perfect view of the fireplace and of the big bay windows on the far wall. There was no snowfall here in Mexico, but it could rain; come down like walls of water drenching the Earth. Just as it had started to do now. At sunset. And it was one that was sealing her fate on this magical Christmas Eve as she took out her rosary and started to pray.
It started out quite differently in another parlor much farther North….
Cynthia Palmer looked at herself in the glass and wondered if she’d ever get her figure back again. The child she’d born had been a big baby and a month late – making her entire body swell to what felt like gigantic propotions.
She let out a sigh, knowing that the laces of this particular dress would not be closing today. No matter how hard she tried.
Her new ladies’ maid, Thomson as she was called, was a formidable woman who had an amazing talent for hairdressing and applying rouge, though it would never make up for her now thicker waistline – at least in Cynthia’s mind it would not.
Falling gracefully onto a nearby chase lounge, Cynthia ordered more tea and cakes, reasoning that if she was to be a big, fat Goliath of a woman, she might as well enjoy herself.
But, when the cart arrived, laden with a gleaming silver pot of hot water for her tea, and a three-tiered tray of tarts and chocolate scones (her favorites), it looked anything but appetizing. For Cynthia was pining the loss of both the man she realized she loved so very dearly – and the baby she thought sure she’d hate.
Although the child was both alive and well, he had been taken from her at birth in such a cruel way Cynthia thought sure The Devil himself was at the root of the plot. And indeed it was true, she smiled ruefully to herself, for she had recently found out that The Devil had an Earthly name. And that name was Gertrude Merriton!
A soft knock at the door to her private wing startled her. “Enter.” She managed to say in as normal a tone as possible.
“Pardon my intrusion, Miss.” Another new maid, Sylvia, curtsied awkwardly. “I have a letter here for you. A stranger brough it to the back door and insisted it be handed to you personally.”
Cynthia extended her hand out, completely taken by surprise though she wanted to appear to be the opposite. “Yes. Thank you, Sylvia. You may go now.”
The young maid smiled, relieved to see that her mistress looked unruffled. “Good day, Miss.” And she made a quiet exit.
Tearing the letter open much like she did as a child on her birthday, Cynthia’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. It’s from him!
With hands shaking and eyes watering up, Cynthia was barely able to read the words scrawled in obvious haste:
Meet me tomorrow at 4PM. The courtyard behind St. Michael’s Church.
Dont by late, my love.
Closing her eyes tightly, Cynthia hugged the letter to her now very full bosom. Her prayers were being answered! But, then she remembered one lingering problem. One last remaining stumbling block to her happiness that she wanted to be removed – forever.
Dare she wish for it? Dare she think the words so clearly that they formed a prayer on this magical night of nights?
“Yes!” Cynthia said aloud, as the gray and snowy New York sky began to darken even more as the Winter sun dipped down lower and lower toward the horizon. Sunset on Christmas Eve was upon her, and there was no stopping The Wheels Of Fate now. Or ever.
Christmas Eve in 1844 was proving to be an especially powerful one. Magic was in the air. Miracles would happen. And the Will Of God would be one with His humans on Earth. For better or worse, wishes would be granted!