Miller's Secret

Untitled Part 1

PART I

 December 1921

CHAPTER ONE

Caroline 

CAROLINE BENNETT, nestled into the corner of the sofa in her father's study, organized a stack of letters into alphabetical order. Degrees of handwriting skills aside, each letter was clearly addressed to Santa at the North Pole from one of the forty-two children at Saint Theresa's Home for Orphans. Caroline was cozy in her red flannel nightgown and thick socks, and her legs were almost long enough to reach the floor. A fire crackled behind the metal grid. Fresh fir branches decorated the mantel and filled the room with their spicy scent. Candles flickered on the side tables, casting soft shadows. Outside, December fog sheathed their home so that tonight they lived in a cloud instead of a street in San Francisco where the houses were the size of schools. 

Caroline knew there was no Santa. She was twelve now, after all. Her days of childish beliefs were in the past. Her parents were Santa. It was obvious now that she knew. She'd discovered the truth when she accidently saw their housekeeper, Essie, wrapping presents in the same paper that later showed up as gifts from Santa. This new knowledge rested heavily in the middle of her chest. It had been lovely to believe in magic. However, her dismay to learn that her favorite saint was, in fact, fiction was tempered by her delight that this year, for the first time, she would be able to help deliver the gifts to the orphanage. Her stomach did flips just thinking of it. As if that weren't enough, her mother, Sophie, had entrusted Caroline with a sacred task. She was to help find just the right gift for each child. 

Her father, Edmund, hidden behind the newspaper in his large chair with nothing but his long legs visible, occasionally grunted or exclaimed over something he read. He'd missed several Christmases when he was fighting overseas. This was his second Christmas home with them, but Caroline had not forgotten how lonely those days were or the worried tears Mother had shed. Edmund Bennett, as Mother often said, could fill up a room like no other. Without him, the house had seemed empty and less like Christmas, his presents stacked up under the tree for his hoped-for return, their deepest fear that they would remain unopened. Now, though, Father was safe at home, and Mother no longer cried by the fire while holding his latest letter in her delicate hands. 

Caroline settled back into the sofa, placing the piles of letters next to her. "I've put them in order, Mother. Are you ready for me to read them now?" Working side-by-side with her beautiful mother, Caroline imagined she'd experienced a great transformation from the previous Christmas. She was taller and more sophisticated, and felt almost sorry for her deluded younger self. What a little dolt she'd been, believing that a man could fly around the world in only one night on a sled pulled by reindeer. 

Other than telling her parents she knew the truth, she kept mum about this devastating fact. There was no reason her friends should have their belief in magic ruined. Believing in something as wonderful as the idea of Santa made them happy, and it was not her place to take that away from them. The longer one believed, the better. 

Essie entered with a plate of sugar cookies, hot chocolate for Caroline, and glasses of sherry for her parents. "Good evening. Some sweets for the sweet?" Caroline grinned, knowing Essie meant she was sweet. 

"Essie, you must stop working and retire for the evening," said Mother. "You've been on your feet since dawn." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Bennett, and I beg your pardon, but dawn is an exaggeration." Essie, only twenty-five, had come to them four years before as a housemaid but had proven so smart and capable that Mother promoted her to head housekeeper when cranky Mrs. Smith, inherited from Father's mother, had retired. Caroline adored Essie. She was pretty with brown curls that made Caroline want to pull one to see it spring back into place. Essie was never cross, even with Caroline who sometimes forgot that she wasn't supposed to run in the house. 

The newspaper lowered. Father's green eyes fixed upon Essie. 

"Mrs. Bennett exaggerating? Impossible." 

Mother laughed. "No one asked for your opinion, Mr. Bennett." 

Essie patted Caroline's head, smiling. "Oh, the letters from the children. How wonderful." At the door, she turned back, tears glistening in her eyes. "What you do for those poor orphans— giving them a Christmas. Could've been me but for the grace of God." 

"Thank you, Essie. Have a good rest," said Mother. "We have a million cookies to make tomorrow." 

The newspaper lowered once again. "We?" 

"Well, it's my mother's recipes, anyway." Mother tossed a pillow at Father, which he thwarted by once again hiding behind his newspaper. The sound of Essie's laughter accompanied her clicking heels down the hallway. 

Mother held up her pen and paper. "I'm ready, darling. Read away." 

The first was from a boy named Miller, who wanted a telescope so he could study the constellations. Caroline put it back into its envelope while left-handed Mother, the paper at a slant so she didn't smear the ink, wrote his wish on the list. Other than Miller's rather forthright letter, the others had deeper wishes. 

Please, Santa, bring me a new family for Christmas.

Santa, bring my mother back to me. 

Santa, do you know where my brother is? 

After the tenth letter, she couldn't continue. Tears slid down her cheeks and onto the paper, blurring the ink. "Mother, please. I can't. They're too sad." 

Mother set down her pen. The newspaper came down and Father placed it on the table next to him. "Caroline, I know the letters hurt you," said Mother. "They do us as well. But you must never turn away from truths like these just because it's hard. It's your responsibility as a person with so much to understand that many others have nothing and to let it soften you to do good in the world." 

"For whom much is given, much is expected," said Father. 

Caroline wiped her eyes with her handkerchief, then ran her fingers over her embroidered initials. "But why do I have so much when others have so little?" 

"We're lucky," said Mother. "Because of that we have to serve others as best we can." 

"Love instead of hate," said Father. "This is what Jesus taught us. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir." Caroline picked up the next letter. "Dear Santa."