The Plum Tree by Ellen Marie Wiseman

Christmas, despite everything,” she said. “I wonder what we can do to make it special.”
    “Let’s look for the biggest tree we can find!” Maria said.
    “They would love that!” Christine said. “Remember the time Heinrich picked out that gigantic tree, then stood there crying because Mutti said it would never fit in the living room?”
    “It was twelve feet tall!” Maria said.
    “I know, and Heinrich howled until we let him pick out another one.”
    “Then he picked out a tiny one because he insisted on dragging it home by himself. Wasn’t he only about four years old at the time?”
    “ Ja, but he was already a little man, trying so hard to be big and strong like Vater. Remember the Christmas we all piled in Farmer Klause’s horse-drawn sleigh and drove through the countryside?”
    Maria smiled. “I’ll never forget it. It was magical. I can still hear the bells jingling!”
    “You’d been begging for a horse, and it was the closest thing Vater could get to surprise you.”
    “It was the best Christmas ever. Maybe we can do that for Heinrich and Karl. They’d love to go for a sleigh ride! The weather is perfect and the snow is deep enough!”
    “I’m afraid Farmer Klause sold his sleigh a long time ago. He needed the money.”
    “Oh,” Maria said, her shoulders dropping. “It was the most beautiful sleigh I’d ever seen. Remember it was shiny and black, with gold trim and red cushions?”
    “ Ja, it was beautiful,” Christine said. “My best Christmas memory was when I was eight. I was going to the dressmaker’s with Mutti on Christmas Eve. It was just the two of us, and we were picking up some new material. You’re probably too young to remember, but Oma made us matching dresses that year. I was so excited about Christmas, and about picking out the material with Mutti. On the way to the shop it started snowing—these huge, slow flakes drifted down from the sky—and I just remember feeling so happy.”
    Maria took Christine’s mittened hand in her own. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel that way again someday. I promise.”
    Christine forced herself to smile, blinking against the moisture in her eyes. She didn’t want to ruin the moment. It felt good to bring up happy memories, almost giving her hope that somehow, everything would work out in the end. “Remember the time Mutti dressed up as Christkindl?” she said. “She was giggling so hard her nose was running. We all knew it was her!”
    Maria laughed. “ Ja! She borrowed Herr Weiler’s long, red nightcap and used rags to make a beard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her laugh so hard. She wasn’t very good at fooling us, but it was a wonderful time. Oh! That gives me an idea! Let’s use ashes from the woodstove to leave footprints next to the tree. We’ll tell the boys Christkindl left them when he brought their presents!”
    Christine nodded, and the sisters walked faster, hurried on by their growing excitement. At the edge of town, they crossed a snow-covered field toward Farmer Klause’s woods. Inside the forest, loose flakes drifted down from the towering spruce, encircling the girls in a quiet, soft snowfall. Christine and Maria examined every evergreen, scrutinizing the shape of the branches from every angle, looking them up and down to find the perfect specimen. Following rabbit and fox trails, they found a clearing, and, right in the center, a wide, young spruce.
    “This is the one!” Maria said. “It will fill the entire corner of the living room!”
    “Heinrich and Karl will love it!” Christine said, kneeling to examine the trunk.
    Maria held the lower branches out of Christine’s way and, after several practiced blows, the tree was down in minutes. Each sister grabbed a low limb, and they dragged the spruce across the field, the stiff branches scratching a wide path through the drifts. Trying to synchronize their strides as they hauled the heavy tree up a hill, they had to stop every few minutes to catch