Each day after school I walked the six blocks to main street where Mama still worked as a waitress at the Cafe. Her boss was nice enough to feed me supper as part of Mama's wages. Needless to say, we were dirt poor, the free meal sure came in handy.

Hereford boasted only two main streets downtown. All the businesses crowded together in dark red brick buildings built around the turn of the century. Four doors down from the Cafe was a store with big plate glass windows, filled this time of year with Christmas treasures.

Each day I hurried just as fast as my short nine year old legs would carry me.

As I ran, I prayed over and over, "Please let Miss Mattie be there ... please let Miss Mattie be there." I always come to an abrupt stop right in front of the wide expanse of glass, standing with eyes closed tight, gulping my breath, heart going ten ways past sixty. One last prayer muttered beneath my breath. Then, very slowly, I opened my eyes to see if Miss Mattie still remained waiting for me.

Miss Mattie was the most beautiful doll I 'd ever seen. She stood thirty inches tall with long blond ringlets down to her waist held back with a grosgrain ribbon in a red tartan pattern to match her dress. A wide lace collar covered her shoulders and a matching white lace petticoat peeked out at the ruffled hem. Her feet were shod in black patent leather Mary Jane's and white anklets.

The sign on the card next to her said that if you held her hand she would walk alongside you. I felt that her big blue glass eyes brightened when she saw me. We were meant for each other, Miss Mattie and me. Her pricetag was $39.95, a fortune.

Sometimes at the Cafe, the other diners would ask me to sing, after which they would give me nickels and pennies. I'd saved fifty-eight cents so far. If I did without lunch I could add another five cents a day. I had no idea how long it would take me to save up the amount I needed to rescue Miss Mattie, but I was bound and determined I was gonna try.

Each day my heart skipped a beat to see she was still there waiting for me. I had tried to tell Mama about Miss Mattie, but she just shook her head and muttered something about heads in clouds. It didn't make a lot of sense and I worried that life was too tough for her. Mama was always tired.

That night the weather was nasty. A 'Blue Norther' was blowing in. Mama's voice called out over the howling of the wind. She was standing in the doorway of the Cafe shouting to be heard. I gave Miss Mattie one last loving look as I bent my head into the wind to join Mama.

Because of the weather, there weren't many people in the cafe. The old bum who smelled was there, seems he was always there. Mama said I should be nice to him even if he was an old drunk.

She said he'd suffered tragedy in his life, lost his wife and baby daughter in a car accident. I hated having him look at me though. My skin twisted around over my bones. He gave me the creeps. I gulped and gave him a grin, then hurriedly looked away. The gratitude in his eyes made me want to smack him one.

Toby, the cook, came sailing out of the kitchen, a tray held over his head, "Make way, make way, my lady's dinner is served."

The tray swished in a great wide arc down to my level. I loved Chicken Fried Steak with white cream gravy, never ate anything else for dinner. But every night Toby went through the same ridiculous act. "Guess what delight I have personally prepared for the princess tonight?"

I always came up with something witty like, "Aw, jeese, Toby, we all know ya cain't cook nothin' but chicken fried steak!"

I could always count on him to snicker like he'd never heard it before.

I was just about to take my first bite when the smell of rot-gut whiskey mixed with alley trash, near took my appetite away. I twisted my face sideways and sure enough there stood the old bum.

He placed a brightly wrapped package on the table and stuttered as he said, "I .. I w-wanted to get ya s-somethin' fer Christmas. I .. I .. h-hope ya l-like it."

Up close, like we were, he didn't look so dirty, but, boy did he smell. My stomach was churning as I tried to decide what I was supposed to do. I craned my neck looking for Mama. She motioned from across the room for me to say thank you, which I did.

I just wanted him to leave. He stood there waiting for me to open the present, his stench wavering, moving around me like a living thing, sliding tentacles into my mouth, eyes and nose.

Mama finally came over to my booth. "Well, Betty Ellen? Ya gonna keep us a waitin' all night? Open it!"

Taking real slow breaths, thinking that way I could cut down on some of the stink... purely gagging I was. I tore into that present like there wasn't no tomorrow. Sooner I had it open, sooner he'd be gone and I could eat my dinner, that is, if I had any appetite at all left by then.

Well, I guess you know it was Miss Mattie, me making such a big deal and all. I just sat there, holding her by her little hands. This was as close as we'd ever got before.

She was so pretty and her eyes were all lit up with happiness just the same as mine. How on earth had he known she was exactly what I wanted? I looked up to tell him a heartfelt thank you, but he was gone.

His name was Johnston, so, in memory of his little girl, I tacked that name on. Miss Mattie Johnston.

I never saw him around after that. Mama said he went up to some sanitarium to do something called 'drying out.' Whatever it was, I hoped it started with a bath.

Miss Mattie was the best Christmas present I ever received. That year, she was almost the only present I received. Mama didn't make enough money to squander. I got socks and a new pair of pajama's and a box of Cherry Cordials. I really disliked the cordials. The chocolate was too sweet to begin with, then to bite in and have the liquid sugar covered maraschino cherries dribbling down your chin to deal with. Almost made me gag. I got a box every year, though, until I actually started liking them.

We used to get half of December off from school for the holidays, and didn't have to return until the second week of January. I'd looked forward to the vacation, until I found I'd be spending it with Daddy. That wasn't the worst part. Bob would switch and stay with Mama. I hadn't seen him since the summer before, and then for only a few hours.

It might seem strange to think of me missing my brother, The way we always fought and all. But I did. I even found I loved him more than I could say. It hadn't always been that way. Especially when we lived out on the Wall place.

My brother Bob and his friend Norval Wall were the bane of my childhood. They were just two years older than I, but boy did they lord it over me.

I'm covered with scars from trying to keep up with them. Norval had an older sister named Betty, same as me, and a younger one named Ann. I was the caboose. Running on short stubby legs, calling constantly, "Hey, ya'll, wait up fer me."

We all lived out in the country about ten miles from town. Out by Blue Mound. Weren't any other neighbors, just us.

Mr. and Mrs. Wall owned the farm my daddy leased. They lived up the hill from us and across the bridge. Their house was a big old unpainted Victorian, shining gray in the sun.

Our house was older, but daddy kept it freshly whitewashed. The windows trimmed in black and green paint mixed together. I told you about the wide shady porch wrapped around on three sides. How the rear had a sleeping porch, as well. A sleeping porch is screened in to keep out mosquitoes and other flying bugs. Ours had a hand pump for water. During really hot thick nights, we drug our mattresses out onto the porch to sleep. There's nothing quite as lovely to sleep by than the smell of sweet honeysuckle on a night breeze.

Along about three o'clock in the morning, that's when a nice soft breeze would pick up and we'd have to snuggle under the sheets to keep from getting a chill on our sweat soaked bodies.

Occasional sounds would drift up to us from the barn. The bawl of a calf separated from it's mama, or a horse stomping his foot in the corral. Sometimes a hen would squawk as she lost her footing momentarily on the roost or fuss because another wanted to rest too close.

It gets awful quiet out in the country. You can hear the blood moving through your veins and the least little movement can disturb your sleep. I use to lay awake listening for sounds that meant a monster was about to attack. Bob and Norval filled my head with stories of little girls carried off in the middle of the night.

Mama didn't like chamber pots, said they stunk up the house. If we had to 'go' in the middle of the night, we had to really go -- all the way to the outhouse.

That was quite an endeavor when you realize the house sat on brick piers that lifted it four feet off the ground. Without a moon, it was pitch black. We had to feel our way down six steep steps, cross the hard packed clay that served as backyard, open a gate, walk around the smokehouse and then about fifteen more feet to the little wooden shack with the toilet holes cut into a thick plank over the 'pit.'.

Always terrified that a black widow spider was in there and I couldn't see it. Once daddy found a six foot rattler coiled on the floor. Most nights I chanced wetting my bed rather than make the trip.

I can't see how Bob got much sleep, though, cause everytime I did have to go, he was waiting somewhere in the dark to pounce on me and scare me half to death.

Knowing that he would jump out of the darkness never lessened the fear … or the shock. Anytime I had to go out that rear door, I first sneaked to see where he was.

Sometimes, it happened when my foot touched the first step. Othertimes he was waiting just outside the gate. The worst was when he waited until I was already in the privy and beat on the door.

Imagine perfect silence. No sounds in the night. A tiny girl perched on the toilet seat. Stiff with fear of being bitten and dying right where she was, then … KaBOOM! KaBOOM! … she's practically hanging from the rafters! Poor thing, caught with her pants down … actually a good thing, when you think about it… Saved on the laundry!

Night wasn't the only time Bob or the others pestered me. Anytime of day, didn't matter, someone was out to get me. That could make anyone paranoid, looking for trouble behind ever door, ever clump of grass or every smile directed her way. I never knew when who or what... just knew it would come.

Take the day I was thirsty, and being too small to wench up the bucket out of the cistern, had to ask Bob to do me the favor. "Sure, kid. No problem. Hey, guys! Betty Ellen's thirsty. Wanna help me crank up the bucket?"

I cringed, but they all crowded around the cistern, each of them casting me encouraging smiles.

The bucket was actually a long metal cylinder, sorta like a big bullet casing with a hole at the top. Water spilled down the sides as it came in view, splashing over our feet. One by one, they drank from the tin cup they filled from the bucket while I sniffed, waiting my turn, knowing they'd drink it all and leave without me getting a drink at all.

After they'd all had a turn, Bob shook the bucket. "There's still a little bit in there. Think we ought to give the Caboose any?"

I knew better than to beg, so I just stood there listening to them argue whether I should have a drink or not. Mama came out to see what we were up to and Bob said, "Oh, we wus just getting the Caboose a drink."

While he was talking, he tipped the bucket to pour the last of it out. A big, dirty old dead rat plopped into the cup. All the kids turned green. Mama gave me a drink from the porch pump as we went to the house so she could 'dose' the others.

Daddy had to drain the cistern, and I swear he chuckled the whole time he was doing it.

Well, Christmas vacation arrived amid the first snow storm of the season. Big, fluffy flakes cascaded soft as you please, like feathers wafting on still air. Somehow, I'd expected a blizzard, with the snow being like sleet, only flater. But, I'd never really seen snow falling, except in movies. (The little flurry we'd had in Nocona didn't count... I mean, that snow melted as soon as it touched the ground.) It wasn't even that cold out and I pirouetted, face upwards, arms flung out at my sides, letting the soft flakes settle on my cheeks, lashes and tongue.

I didn't think of the outcome to all that snow, which just kept falling and falling... all day, all evening... stacking up deeper and deeper, until when morning came, the blanket of snow was over three feet deep. This was the day Daddy was supposed to bring my brother, Bob, up to visit!

Daddy had surprised me by calling to say he'd be bringing Bob up to stay for a week with Mama and I, then saying he'd be back the the day after Christmas to get us. Us? Yes, he meant us. Bob and I had three whole weeks together, part of it with Mama, and part with daddy.

No matter what, every Friday night, Daddy called me on the telephone. He always made sure Bob and I had a few minutes to talk, as well. I didn't always want to talk to Daddy... he did sell Printer!... but I hungered to hear Bob's voice, find out what he'd done that week.

Well, with all the snow, how could they come? I ran to the kitchen to tell Mama, but there was only a note propped on the table to tell me she'd been called in to work for someone who couldn't make it due to the snow.

Well, if someone who lived right here in town couldn't make it because of the snow, then that meant for sure that Daddy and Bob wouldn't be coming.

I poured myself a bowl of Cheerios, got the bottle of milk out of the refrigerator. But, at the table, I found I wasn't hungry at all.

I tried to listen to the weather news on the radio, only to have the radio sputter and die along with the overhead light. That meant the lines were down somewhere. We didn't have electricity. No phone either. The gas was still on, so the house wasn't cold, but it was so quiet and lonesome.

I talked to Miss Mattie for a while, fixed her hair. Then about midmorning, we curled up on the bed and I read her a story outloud. We were just getting to an interesting point in the story, when there was a loud banging at the front door.

I ran to the living room and there stood Bob, stomping snow off his cowboy boots on the door rug. Daddy's tall silhouette filled the doorway, his face beaming with a teeth baring smile.

"How did you get here?" I cried, running to grab Bob in a bearhug, then stood stiff while Daddy kissed me hello.

"It wasn't snowing until we came up on the Caprock, and, by then, they had the snowplows out," Bob said, looking past me for Mama, with a hunger in his eyes.

I followed his look, sighed, then said, "Mama had to go work this morning. One of the waitresses couldn't get there because of the snow. I was sure you wouldn't be able to make it either."

Daddy sat Bob's suitcase on the floor by the wall, explained, "She probably lives way off a major street. They only plow the main thoroughfares."

I thought about Mama trudging through the snow in the blue of early dawn with the last stars still strung overhead and wondered why the other waitress didn't just walk to work herself. Maybe she didn't need the money like we did.

"Well, since she's not here, you take care of this and give it to her as soon as she gets home," he said, counting out ten $20 bills. "Tell her to have a Merry Christmas."

After Daddy left, Bob and I sat in the middle of the floor and played with the small stack of money and felt rich. With Bob there, it didn't matter that we had no electricity or phone.

Mama was delighted to get home and find Bob there waiting, but worried, too. "What got into your father, driving all that way on a day like this?"

"He said Betty Ellen was expecting us."
"Well, all he had to do was explain about the roads. She'd have understood."

"No. He said she'd be dissappointed."

"That'd be nothin' new. She gets dissappointed all the time."

"That's just it, Mama. That's what he said. That she got dissappointed too often."

Mama's face was working, like she'd swallowed something sour and was trying not to spit it out. The effort made her eyes water. I was on the point of asking if she was choking, when she managed to say, "That was right considerate of your Daddy, right considerate."

Whatever was bothering her, it happened again when we gave her the ten $20's.

Later in the week, in time for all the specials, Mama gave us each four dollars to spend on gifts. Four whole dollars! We bundled up warm and hurried to town as fast as the ice slicked roads and sidewalks would let us. There was a Woolworths -- a five and dime, and that's where we headed.

I can't remember what else we bought, but I remember what I got Mama. A great big cobalt blue bottle of a perfume called Evening in Paris. The label was silver with red berries and greenery tied to the neck and I thought it was expensive and Christmasy looking. I spent a dollar on it, maybe even a dollar and a quarter. She said it was the best present she ever got and the memory of the bottle of Shalimar flashed in my memory.

Christmas day, Ruthie and her husband, Lee, came for us in their brand new Chevy and drove us out to Grandma's. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Lloyd were there with my cousin's Phyllis Kay and Pauline.

Every surface in the kitchen and dining room was groaning under the weight of plate after plate of food. Candied Yams, smothered under brown sugar syrup, not marshmallows like today, and every kind of vegetable Grandma had canned that year, plus, Turkey, Ham, Roast... apple and pecan cornbread dressing, cranberry sauce, homemade that morning... mashed potatoes, gravy... red jello with fruit cocktail and green jello with shredded carrots and pineapple... Waldorf salad, green salad... fresh hot, cloverleaf rolls, and the pies...every kind of pie a person could want: raisin, apple, cherry, mincemeat, pumpkin, pecan... and right in the center of the desserts, Mama's white, triple layer, coconut cake, decorated with maraschino cherries.

On the candy table were dishes of thick fudge, filled with walnuts; dateloaf candy; divinity with pecans; peanut brittle; peppermints, striped red and white and a cut glass dish with grandma's favorite, hard ribbon candy, some in long wavy shapes that actually looked like ribbons and some with multicolored flower shapes in the centers, like mil fleur glass beads. There was always a big round bowl of mixed nuts, still in their shells and stacks of oranges and bright red apples.

We didn't sing carols or go around shouting Merry Christmas. Mama's family was bashful and quiet...easily embarrassed by shows of emotion or anything smacking of exhibitionism--drawing attention to yourself. About the only way anyone could tell it _was_ Christmas, was the small decorated cedar tree with an angel on top, the feast spread out before us and opening the small presents everyone gave each other -- more pairs of anklets for me... and another box of Cherry Cordials. But, the presents didn't matter. I was with family and I felt cosseted and warm and I had Bob with me... and Mama, and Grandma... everybody.

All good things have to pass, Mama always preached. After such a great and wonderful time Christmas day, It was time for Daddy to pick us up.

There wasn't room for all three of us and our suitcases in the cab of Daddy's pickup truck, so everything went in back, protected under a tarp. We climbed into the front seat and Daddy looked us over. "Where's Miss Mattie?" He asked.

"You said there wasn't room for nothing but us in the truck. Everything else had to go in back. Miss Mattie wouldn't like it back there. She'd be cold and might get wet." I hated leaving her behind. It was all I could do to keep my chin from trembling.

"She can ride up front with us, Punkin. I didn't mean you couldn't bring your doll."

"Ah, Daddy! I'm not driving hours scrunched up with no sissy doll!" Bob complained.

"Well, shoot, Miss Mattie Johnston don't take up no room at all! Run and tell her she's comin' with us, Betty Ellen."

During most of the trip back to Nocona, I sat with Miss Mattie cuddled on my lap. Her legs sticking out past my bony knees, like me on Mama's lap. A lump stuck in my throat I couldn't swallow. I kept sneaking looks of gratitude at Daddy, careful he didn't catch me at it.

Dozing off after awhile, I woke slumped against Daddy's side, his forearm lying lightly over my shoulder. Bob, one arm wrapped around Miss Mattie -- who sat comfortable on his lap -- to keep her steady, sat staring out the window at new snow falling, humming a Christmas carol.

Instead of moving, I sunk deeper into Daddy's denim jacket. Drank in his familiar scent of pine needles and tobacco. Felt his rough, work hardened hand gently smooth back my bangs. My eyes closed again and a smile spread across my face.