The Christmas Pearl by Dorothea Benton Frank

bells of churches all over Charleston were beginning to peal.
    Resigned to the new order of the day, Teddie, George, and Camille grumbled their way to the coat closet. Andrew, Lynette, Barbara, and Cleland were more eager.
    “The sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll get home and find out what Santa brought,” Lynette said to Teddie.
    “Santa. Big deal,” Teddie said. “Who cares about that old bunch of bull?”
    “Miss? We’ll have no more of that kind of talk!” Barbara said, but sweetly.
    Having received more reprimands in twenty-four hours than he had in thirty-something years, Georgemumbled a stupid joke. “Who died and made our mother the boss?”
    “You really don’t want to know the answer to that,” I said. “Now run along like a good family. Say a prayer for me, all right?”
    “You aren’t coming, Mother?” Barbara said with a trace of worry in her voice.
    “You don’t need me this morning. Pearl does,” I said.
    She nodded to me, trusting my decision, and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
    “I love you, Mother,” she said. “So very much.”
    It had been a long time since I had heard those words. I could feel my heart give a little lurch in my chest. I wanted to cry from joy.
    “I love you, too, Barbara. I am so very proud of you! Now scoot!”
    Pearl was right behind me at the front door. We stood together watching them all sashay down the slippery sidewalk. We saw Barbara and Cleland come to a standstill. She put her hands on her hips. We couldn’t hear what they said to each other. I would ask her later. He put his arms around her. It appeared that at least for the moment, he had agreed to behave himself.
    When they were out of sight, Pearl turned to the manger scene. She shot an eye to me.
    “One gust of real wind and that thing’s gonna be a pile of toothpicks,” she said.
    It was true. The shelter was listing to the west. There was no baby in the manger. It was a pitiful display.
    “What are we going to do about this?” I said.
    “Hmmph! Watch this…” Pearl inhaled. The little building righted itself toward us. Lights appeared all along its edges, inside and out. Then, in the wink of an eye, there was a swaddled baby doll lying in the manger.
    “That doll is the hottest ticket on the toy market. That Teddie is going to holler her head off when she sees it. I gots the whole wardrobe and everything for it under the tree.”
    “She says she’s too old for toys,” I said with delight.
    “Hmmph!” Pearl, in imitation of the most uneducated street child of the day, made the most brilliant statement of her entire visit. She said with a burst of laughter, “She be messing with she own head, too, ’eah?”
    “Right! You’re so right! That poor child! But aren’t they all? What’s next?”
    “That tree !”
    “Whoo hoo! Let’s go!”
    We hurried inside and pulled open the living-room doors, which, given their age combined with their condition, usually resisted over a tugging. Today, though, it was like some unseen hand had greased the tracks they rolled on. Maybe one had! Nonetheless, we stoodback, staring in horror at the abomination before us. It was hardly the White House.
    “Holy hairy cats and mangy dirty dogs! That is the ugliest thing I ever did see in my whole life! Before, during, or after!” Pearl said. She started to laugh. “Oooh! Help me, Lawd! Come on, Lawd! We gwine fix dis now! OOOH! Let’s go!”
    She took a very deep breath, waved her hands in the air over her head, snapped both fingers. The tree disappeared in a burst of smoke. In its place stood a regulation balsam fir, well over ten feet in height, lit with hundreds of minuscule gold glowing lights, strands of pearls looped all around it. All of our family’s distinguished ornaments were hung in just the right spots. It was a magnificent feat, and without question, it was the most beautiful Christmas tree to ever grace our home.
    “Pearl! It’s gorgeous! I’ve never seen…” I gasped. “Pearl!