Excerpt: "Resting Place"

     Fog, thick white and silent, rolled up Meeting Street from the harbor as carols from the midnight service drifted through the open door of First Scots Church. Gas lamps threw hazy shadows against the spreading oaks in the churchyard as the final strains of “Silent Night” faded in the still air and James leaped down the stone steps into the white night. 

     He was eager to be home where the first gifts of Christmas would soon be opened as family and friends sipped hot chocolate and sampled cookies in the red glow of the fire. James knew there would be no presents until his brother and sister arrived. But he thought that if he hurried somehow, they might hurry along as well.

     He ran through the white night and gained the front gate of the big brick house on South Battery when he first heard the sound - a sound as magical as any child has ever heard of a Christmas Eve. 

     He paused, held his breath, and listened more closely. There it was again. It was as though someone were ringing a crystal bell to welcome Christmas. No, it sounded like a wind chime. But that wasn’t quite right either. It sounded like the breeze rustling the marsh on a bright winter’s day or a mother singing a lullaby to her newborn upon a spring evening.

     Captured by the wonder, James quickly forgot the bright packages and glowing tree waiting inside. He turned back down the walk and into the mist which shrouded White Point Garden and made the Spanish moss appear as icicles hanging from the ancient trees.

      He lost all sense of direction but felt a deep sense of peace as he followed the magical sound toward a stand of oaks.

     The fog lifted slightly and there, standing beneath the golden glow of a streetlamp, James saw a reindeer - a huge strong beast with gnarled antlers and gentle eyes. The animal shook its head as if in welcome and the boy again heard the magical sound. It came from the silver bells adorning the animal’s velvet collar. 

     James felt no fear. He walked slowly toward the reindeer and gently reached out his hand to stroke the animal’s broad neck. 

     “I have been waiting,” said the reindeer, although he really didn’t speak the way you or I might speak. But James knew what the beast was thinking. And he didn’t think it at all strange to be standing on Charleston’s Battery carrying on a conversation with a reindeer upon a winter’s midnight.     “Waiting for me?” James asked. “Here in White Point Garden?”

     “Well, waiting for Father Christmas and the first gift of the day,” the reindeer replied...