--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Nelson, Kathleen collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 25 number: 3 published: 1922-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Kathleen Nelson, "Santa’s Best Gift," *Improvement Era* 25, no. 3 (January 1922): 205–214.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2503unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2503unse start_page: 205 end_page: 214 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1922-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2503unse publication_year: 1922 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1922, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Santa’s Best Gift Santa's Best Gift By Kathleen Nelson Gertrude Laughlin was still at her desk behind her private glass window. In her hand was a telegram held tightly be- tween two fingers. A bright flush in her cheeks betrayed the surge of excitement it had occasioned. "There is no answer," she had said almost sharply to the waiting boy. He had gone several minutes ago and still she sat, looking with unseeing eyes straight before her out into the outer office where all the desks were deserted. The telegram in her hand read: "Will be in Springfield Dec. 22-28. Can I see you?" "Bert." And Bert was her husband. That is, he had been, until four years before when the courts had separated them — and she had never seen him since. At that time she had been given the custody of their one child who was then only ten months old. She had come immediately to Springfield. Here she had been fortunate in securing a young English girl to tend her baby, daytimes, and by veritable will-power and hard work she had been able to wrest her small share of success from the business world. True, Gertrude was a born business woman. Her keen insight coupled with her power to do, soon won her recognition. After serving numerous unpleasant ap- prenticeships she was now commanding an enviable salary as chief writer for a big advertising firm. There had been nothing lurid about their divorce proceed- ings. It was too commonplace to receive the usual publicity. If Gertrude had had friends and relatives to complicate things, they might have been shocked; but she had never felt the responsibility seemingly due to relatives, since she had none, and of her many acquaintances, there is none to whom she could apply the intimate term of friendship. Until Bert came into her life she had stood very much alone in the crowd — not pa- thetically alone, but gloriously free. At least that was her ver- sion of it. And so it was after two years of married bliss, that she found the dead monotony of domestic life utterly unbearable. Moreover, financially, Bert seemed to be a failure, and the lit- tle subterfuges to which they were constantly being put were galling to Gertrude's proud spirit. There was no use trying 206 IMPROVEMENT ERA she simply could not stand it. She would escape while there was yet the opportunity, before new responsibilities held her to a life that was utterly distasteful. True, thoughts of the child gave her some hours of worry, but she had no idea but that the child would be better off with her. She was frankly sorry and would let Bert take none of the blame. She honestly thought that she could do other things much better, and she was too young to call their little mistakes the end of her career. Once she had made up her mind, there was no vacillating — she was very confident that, alone, she could carve a future for herself and child. And Bert? Well, he had failed to give her happiness, the least he could do was to give her their child and her freedom. He was too proud to let any one know what it cost him. Gertrude had thought that he had passed out of her life as completely as the father of her child ever could, and now here was this telegram forcing himself upon her self-compla- cency. It was not that she felt any resentment toward Bert, but it brought up the past unpleasantly. She did not like to think of the past. Her conscience always condemned her. Deep down she knew that she had played the coward. It was not a soothing thought to this woman who had met many things so fearlessly. "Of course, we were both to blame," she argued. "It was simply impossible. If we had both cared more, things might have been different." But that was as much as Gertrude would concede. She would never admit even to herself that she would want things to be different. In her months of supreme self-sufficiency she looked upon the di- vorce as a lucky escape for both of them. But there were other wells in Gertrude's heart that were not so easily sounded. The wee bit of flesh that had come to her, first, only as new responsibility, had now assumed gi- gantic proportions in the ordering of her life. After that first dreadful year, she found her child the interest around which all her work and play and dreams of the future centered. He had wakened in her the dormant mother soul. Every minute outside of her office was dedicated to him, and little Bobbie was the only one who had ever tasted the wealth of sweetness that dwelt under her rather cold exterior. She thought of Bobbie now with an added wave of annoy- ance. Of course, Bert would like to see the boy. Did he dream for a minute how much harder it would be for all of them? And she had never mentioned his father to Bobbie, and that involved another difficulty. Of course, if Bert really cared about the boy — but then he couldn't care as Gertrude did — why, he hadn't known Bobbie at all. He had only known that wee little bit of humanity she had carried away with her. He SANTA'S BEST GIFT 207 would never recognize the manly little fellow who made her life joyous. To see him would only make Bert realize his loss. Poor Bert! Her mother soul pitied him. She remembered how she had read several days ago of the Newspaper Men's Con- vention which was coming to Springfield and how something more than curiosity had made her wonder if Bert would attend. She knew he was editing the home town paper and doing quite well. He would make friends everywhere; she knew that. Gertrude was not sentimental, but she was honest. Deep down in her heart she would always be interested in Bert's comings and goings till Time rung down the final curtain. Mechanically she put the telegram into her bag, tidied her desk, put on her wraps and walked over to the elevator. She was not too excited to give the elevator-man his usual cordial "Good-night" and when she felt the crisp outside air in her face she was quite herself again. * • * * * "Nobody home?" Gertrude fairly burst into her own apart- ment. Her voice was joyous, her cheeks rosy, her eyes spark- ling. "Oh-o-o-o-o-ee!" A positive shriek of pleasure went up from the tiny kitchen. There was a wild scramble through the door, and two flour-laden hands closed 'round Gertrude's trim tailored suit. "What in the world?" she held the hands off laughing, and kissed the boy's beaming eyes. "I's helping Annie," Bobbie began proudly, "I's so busy I nealy forgotted, an' oh, turn an' see what we's makin\w "Smells good." Gertrude poked her head into the kitchen. "Everything all right, Annie?" Evidently everything was, for she came back looking very satisfied. Ah, this was home and this was luxury. After the day's work, to have this re- treat and no worry about dinner and dishes and burned fingers. Just opportunity to romp and play and get more wrapped up in Bobbie. She felt sure the old-fashioned mother never had time to really know her children. She took off her coat and hat, freshened up a bit, and got into a soft clinging dress. Bobbie followed closely at her heels keeping up a steady flow of chatter. "One more week an' 'en Christmas. Will we go down an' see the poor boy's Christmas tree? an' kin I buy some candy elephants to give 'em, like last year? an' I know I'm goin' to get Annie somefink," Bobbie came up close to her and whis- pered so loud you could hear him out in the hall. "A bottle of scent. She calls it scent. You call it perfumery. She dest loves it." He danced up and down in eager anticipation. 208 IMPROVEMENT ERA "My, that will be fine. Who do you think I saw, to- day?" "Ooh-e-e-e- Santa Claus!" "Sure enough." "Was his nose cwooked? an' did he have black hair under?" "O no. This was the real Santa Claus. He said he didn't know what Bobbie Laughlin wanted because you hadn't sent him a letter yet." "I know what! I know what! I wants to go to tell him." "I bet I can guess. A tricycle?" Bobbie shook his head. "A little phonograph?" Another vigorous shake of the brown head. "What is it you want so bad, Bobbie boy?" "A daddy!" "A what — ?" Gertrude thought she had not heard aright, but she paled suddenly. "A daddy a — real live daddy to fwolic me. Don't you know what a daddy is?" Gertrude sank into the nearest chair, "No, I'm afraid I don't very much. What is he like?" "A big man what comes home at night an' lets you wide on his neck, an' stands on his head for you an' gwouls like a bear, an' lets you put your feet on the ceilin', an' evwyfink." "Oh, just a big man. Maybe the delivery man would do." Bobbie looked dubious. "He has to love you a lot." "Oh." Gertrude realized that she was on dangerous ground, but now that he had brought this thing up she must settle it forever. "And what put this idea of a daddy into your head?" "Nearly everybody has one. Sally's got one, an' Annie's got one, an' you know Betty at the sea-shore had one. Didn't you never have one?" Gertrude had had a father, and the memory of how he had made her childhood happy brought the tears to her eyes. When she spoke it was very gently but very firmly. "Come, Bobbie, all little boys and girls can't have a daddy. There aren't enough to go around, I guess. You have a mama who tries all the time to make you happy. Isn't that enough?" But it was very evident that Bobbie was not satisfied. "Was my daddy killed in the war?" There was no re- sponse. "Cause if he wasn't maybe we could find him." "Some little boys don't even have a mama." "And some have bwuwers an' sisters an' aunts an' cousins an' evwyfink," Bobbie continued in a grieved voice. SANTA'S BEST GIFT . 209 "And are not half so well taken care of as you. Come, Bobbie, be your mother's big man. Let's forget about this daddy business and I'll tell you a story. Or shall we play marbles? I have my Bobbie, Bobbie has me, kings on their thrones might envy we," Gertrude sang gayly. But Bobbie was persistent. "Do you think Santa Claus would have one?" "Perhaps — but I'm afraid not. They're sort of out of style." "What's out of style?" "Well, I mean they are more trouble than they are worth, like rabbits." She fled to a new subject for refuge. "Day after tomorrow, mama takes her holiday and we will go to all the stores, and see all the pretty things. In one) window there was a little barn full of animals. There were horses and cows and pigs and a little baby calf. Next summer when we go on our vacation, we'll go and stay on a real farm. Won't that be fun?" "Yes," but his acquiescence lacked enthusiasm. After a few minutes he raised his eyes in earnest explanation. "That's when you ought to have a daddy — when you go into the coun- try. When you're looking at cows an' things — if they wun after you, why a dad can jest put you on his shoulder an' wun lickety bang! Now what could you do? I wouldn't wun an' leave you, an' your heels are too little to wun." "Yes, mothers do seem to have certain limitations," Ger- trude said it so sadly that Bobbie forgot to ask, "What's limi- tations?" Several seconds he stood regarding her with solemn eyes. Then suddenly he bolted for her and knocked her breathless by throwing his full weight on her breast. "Muwer, did I do somefink bad?" he sobbed. "No, Bobbie, darling." She held him in her arms and kissed away the tears. "Come, Annie is bringing in the din- ner." The next week was fraught with anxiety for Gertrude. The usual gayety incident to the preparation for the big holi- day was lost in a maze of troublesome questions. After all, was she treating Bobbie with perfect fairness? Had she robbed him of a sacred birth-right? Couldn't she fill the place of father and mother to her boy? But it was too late to ask her- self such questions. Any way, she would be glad when Bert's visit to Springfield was over. Though she had made up her mind not to see him, while he was in town there was always a possibility of a chance meeting, and she dared not trust her- self to that. Bobbie had destroyed her peace of mind. His 210 IMPROVEMENT ERA few words had done more to make her see things straight than anything Bert might have said. ***** Robert Laughlin drifted with the noon crowd down Main street. The toy shops held for him a certain fascination, how- ever futile, and he paused before a big department store win- dow to look at an unusually interesting display. At least this seemed to be the verdict of the throng of children who crowded the side-walk before it. As he lingered wishing for something he hardly dared to frame into thoughts, a familiar figure swept past him and disappeared behind the big swinging doors. Keenly, as an electric charge, the knowledge of Gertrude's pres- ence swept him. Only a second and she was gone, but in that instant his hungry eyes succeeded in getting a glimpse of the sturdy little fellow clinging to her hand. Involuntarily he fol- lowed through the plate glass doors, but they were already lost in the crowd of Christmas shoppers. He shunned meet- ing her after the rebuff his telegram had received. He felt that he knew Gertrude too well to imagine he would gain any- thing by forcing himself upon her — but if he could only get one more glance. He felt as near to sneaking as Robert Laughlin had ever felt, as he anxiously scanned the moving crowd. He was making his way toward the toy department for, of course, the boy — suddenly he stopped! His eyes were fastened on the elevator doors, as they opened, and he was quite sure he recog- nized Gertrude's resolute shoulders push through the crowd. As he stood irresolute, he felt someone looking at him and turned to meet the solemn eyes of a little five-year-old boy. Bert said afterward that he would have known those eyes any- where. Be that as it may, something told him he was face to face with his own son. Panic and a wave of exultation seized him simultaneously, as he realized that the boy was going to speak. "Please, man, will you hold me up so I can see Santa Claus?" Bert could not believe he had heard aright till he felt the boy's body against his own — flesh of his flesh — the arms tight- ened 'round the precious burden. Bobbie was a little fright- ened when the big man held him so tight, and not toward Santa Claus at all. "He's over here," Bobbie panted. "Turn on. I wants to tell him somefink." So the tall man with the little boy in his arms pushed forward through the crowd, and soon Bobbie was whispering in Santa's ear. Blessed fact that the whisperings of children are so audible, or Bert would never have experienced the thrill that came at Bobbie's words: SANTA'S BEST GIFT 2il "Please, Mr. Santa Claus, bwing me a daddy, please. — " Then as an afterthought he almost shouted back, "If you ain't got any daddies, a bwuwer." Then turning to Bert with a radi- and smile, "Vats all, please take me back so I won't be losted." Bert was trembling so he could hardly hold the child. His lips were gray with suppressed emotion. He did not trust himself to speak. Hurriedly he put the child down where he had found him, and made his way to the door. No, he had never known what it meant to have a boy of his own. It's meaning came to him now poignant with the realization that he had renounced that happiness forever. He must do something. Was there no way? He tried to correct his thoughts, and remembered gloomily how Gertrude had ig- nored every effort he had ever made to bring about a meet- ing. One could easily see Gertrude making a decision, it was not so easy to imagine her unmaking one. But did his boy really want him? If he did, Bert felt himself ready to sacri- fice his pride and throw himself at Gertrude's feet. If only there were any way. "So he wants his Daddy," he mused happily. But some inherent mistrust that leads so many of us to take the wrong turn at the cross-roads, would not leave him with this pleasant fancy. Suddenly he gave a low whistle under his breath and set his teeth hard. "What a fool I am. She's going to marry again. She's put the kid up to that Daddy rot. And to think I never thought of it before." So he congratulated himself on not making a great blunder. He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. That evening at their banquet he gave a very clever after- dinner speech on "Life's Little Ironies." It was too clever and tainted with bitterness. Bert's friends said it was unlike him. » * * * * Christmas Eve, at Gertrude's apartment, was not going off in the usual night-before-Christmas fashion. Something was decidedly wrong. The two rooms were cluttered with bundles still wrapped, a little Christmas tree poked from the tiny kitchen, and on a chair an armful of holly had been dropped. Nor was there any effort being made to bring order out of this chaos. Annie tip-toed through the two rooms and listened at the bed-room door. She had been crying. At intervals Bob- bie's voice could be heard thick and hoarse. Presently Ger- trude came out. "How is he, ma'am?" "He's just dozed off. His breathing's very hard and he's burning with fever. Call the doctor again, and if he can't 212 IMPROVEMENT ERA come at once I'll have to call someone else." Gertrude tried to speak in a business-like tone but her voice trembled miser- ably. "And you had better go, Annie. It is getting late and you were planning on spending Christmas with your family. I would not like to spoil your Christmas." Gertrude's sub-con- scious mind tried to imagine what it would be like to spend Christmas with a large family. Annie was reluctant to leave but Gertrude persuaded her that her family would be disappointed. But even in sending Annie away, it was her independence as much as her kindness that prompted her. Gertrude had gone to the office in the morning. She had gone earlier than usual so she could finish her work by noon. AJaout ten o'clock Annie called up and said that Bobbie was not at all well. He kept saying he was not sick, but she just knew something was wrong with him. Gertrude knew it, too, the minute she got home and caught sight of his flushed face and felt his hot little hand. He kept protesting in a hoarse voice, "I won't be sick. Tomorrow's Chwistmas." But the hoarseness had rapidly increased till in the afternoon he could scarcely speak above a whisper. His breathing seemed painful and there was a menacing whistle in his throat. Gertrude felt her helplessness, and called the doctor at once. When he got there Bobbie was still playing about and urging preparation for Santa Claus. This led Gertrude to believe that there was nothing seriously wrong. The doctor looked grave, told her to put Bobbie to bed at once, said he would examine the swab he had taken and return in the evening. Bobbie had never been sick in his life, and, so far as Ger- trude was concerned, the term sick was bereft of adequate mean- ing. Death and sickness were twin companions, in her mind, but she had never coupled them with Bobbie. It was always in a world outside her own. That sickness had come to her, while her back was turned, was incredible. All her usual initiative seemed to have left her. Finally the doctor came. He brought a nurse with him. Through Gertrude's troubled mind flashed a horrible picture of a hospital and cutting. "The boy has diphtheria, all right," he announced cheer- fully, as if he had made a very gratifying discovery. "Diphtheria?" Gertrude reeled. Something at her heart seemed to be sucking all her strength away. In her childhood, a family near them had lost four children in one night. No one word could have conveyed to her such a horror. "Oh, no," she protested feebly. "Yes, there's a great deal of it in the city." The doctor SANTA'S BEST GIFT 213 took off his coat. "I've brought Miss Elden along to take care of him. There will be no need of your exposing yourself further, Mrs. Laughlin. In fact it will be much better for the child, if you put him entirely in our care. It is a rule we make in all such cases." The light of a tigress leaped into Gertrude's eyes. "He is my boy," she said fiercely. "I will not leave him." "Well, we may need you to help hold him, while I ad- minister the antitoxin." Gertrude paled but led them firmly into the sick room. Bobbie jumped wildly when they came in. The fever had made him delirious. "Is that my daddy?" he cried hoarsely. Gertrude went to him, and against the nurse's protest held him against her breast. "It's mother, dear," she soothed him. "We must lose no time," the doctor said coming forward. "The medical professsion has a sure cure for diphtheria, pro- vided it is taken in time. But this seems to have a good start on us. He is worse than I thought at first." Gertrude found him a very masterful doctor. Two hours later she was sitting in the outer room thinking, while the nurse sat at Bobbie's bedside. • Bobbie was sleeping heavily and the sounds of his breath- ing came to her painfully. The battle between the dreaded disease and the antitoxin was on, and Bobbie was in its throes, while the one who loved him most sat helpless. The doctor said when he left that by morning the crisis would be past. And how long that night! Back and forth she walked, then she sat, and sat, and counted into the thousands, then tiptoed to Bobbie's bedside and back again. She had plenty of time to think and in those long hours of the night she gave her soul a thorough sweeping. Self was forgotten and she felt her pride slipping from her. She had not been fair to Bob- bie, much as she loved him. She was narrowing his vista in order that it might not fall without her own. And surely she was robbing Bert. She must let Bobbie spend some of his time with his father. He must have a daddy if — if — she trembled when she thought that it may be too late. She looked up Bert's hotel. She knew that the newspaper men were at the Imperial. When she had done this and framed the fol- lowing message, "Come at once. Bobbie is sick. Gertrude," she looked at the clock and was relieved to see that the clock had traveled fifteen minutes. As the hands crept round to six o'clock, Bobbie coughed several times, and then the listen- ing mother thought his breathing was easier. She slipped into the bed room. Bobbie was lying with wide open eyes. "Did he come?" he asked. "Who?" Gertrude asked softly. 214 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Santa Claus, of course." Then it was that Gertrude remembered it was Christmas. "Not yet," she said tenderly. Bobbie smiled, turned his head, and soon fell into un- troubled sleep. This put new life into Gertrude and she hurried about putting things to rights. "We may have a Christmas after all," and she thought of Bert. * # # * # It was early Christmas morning, and the elevator in the apartment house was not running. Gertrude lived on the fourth floor, and Bert bolted up the three flights of stairs. No wonder he was flushed when he rang the bell. Gertrude was with Bobbie. The nurse opened the door. "You can't come in here," she protested as he pushed past her. "It's a diphtheria case." "I don't care if it's the Bubonic plague. I'm coming in, I'm his dad." Bobbie tried to raise up in his bed, but the pain in his chest held him back. Gertrude was at the bedroom door, and Bert fairly swal- lowed her in his big arms. Wowanlike her surrender was com- plete. They stood by Bobbie's bed each holding one of his hands. "Why, it's the man who held me up. Ain't that the bestest thing? I was wishin' it could be you. I knew you'd love us a lot." Here the nurse thought it high time to assume authority. "If you are not careful this child will have a relapse. I can't have this excitement," she began sternly. "He ain't excitement, he's my daddy," and with his fingers twined 'round Bert's, Bobbie went happily to sleep. His mother and father stood long and looked at him. The tears fell unheeded down Gertrude's cheeks, and Bert's eyes were misty. "I suppose you know the quarantine laws, Mr. Laughlin?" The nurse's tone sounded rather hostile. Bert laughed a loud, boyish laugh. "So we're in quarantine are we? That's the best Christmas present yet. A week or so, just to talk things over, and worry about nobody's business but our own." Brighton City, Utah