Christmas at Stony Creek (2 page)

T
he sleet had stopped during the night. The morning sun ricocheted off the thin coat of ice that covered the ground, the rocks, the trees. The whole world glittered.

Christmas was two days away. Pip didn’t know how they could celebrate it without Papa.

“We have to, Pip,” Mama told her after lunch, while the twins and Finny were taking their naps. Pip and Mama were baking cookies with the nuts Mama
had saved for Christmas sweets. “The twins would be so disappointed if we didn’t. Imagine what Papa would say.”

Mama’s voice was firm. “We’ll go ahead and decorate the tree. We’ll plan a wonderful day. Papa will be home just in time, you’ll see.”

She took Pip into her bedroom and showed her the acorn rattle filled with pebbles she had made for Finny. And the rag dolls for Nibs and Nan.

Their button eyes didn’t match, and their bodies were flimsy from lack of stuffing. Pip knew her sisters would love them all the same.

“Papa finished Will’s flute before he left,” said Mama, “but I don’t have anything for Kit. I was hoping you could find a stick for him. Teach him how to
make one the way Uncle Hank taught you.”

Pip’s heart sank. More than anything, she wanted to stay home. To be there when Papa arrived. But she couldn’t let her mother down.

“I can do that,” she said. “It would be a wonderful present for Kit.”

“I knew I could count on you.” Mama gave her a quick hug. “I’ll finish the cookies myself,” she said. “Go now! You’ll have to hurry if you’re going to find a stick and be home before dusk.”

Pip got her own stick and went outside. It would be hard to find the right piece of wood with so much snow and ice, but she knew exactly where to look.

“Down at the bend in Stony Creek, where it branches off toward Silvermine Road, that’s the
spot,” Uncle Hank had told her as he led her down the hill that day so long ago. “There’s an old shagbark hickory there. Got hit by lightning about ten years ago. Most folks think it’s dead, but it’s just fooling.”

Remembering the way he had chuckled made Pip smile.

“Folks came and got the nuts, but they left the most valuable part,” Uncle Hank said. “Hickory wood’s hard and strong. You remember that, Pip.”

Yes, that was where she would go, Pip decided as she poked her stick through the icy snow. Maybe she’d find some dried berries on the blueberry bush she passed along the way. A treat for Nibs and Nan.

But there was someone she needed to visit first.

A
unt Pitty, are you there?” Pip scratched lightly on the door hidden in the bank in front of her. “It’s me, Pip.”

“Why, of course it is,” a friendly voice said as the door creaked open. “Who else would it be?”

Pip was wrapped in a soft embrace that smelled of apples and cinnamon. When Aunt Pitty finally held her out at arm’s length, the loving face of the old rabbit was creased in a welcoming smile.

“I haven’t seen you in weeks,” said Aunt Pitty. “You’re as skinny as a willow whip. Come in and let me get you something to eat.”

She drew Pip into the warren and shut the door. Pip rested her stick against the wall and followed Aunt Pitty down a dry tunnel to the kitchen.

“Of course, I haven’t been outside much myself lately. My rheumatism’s been acting up something terrible. Sit down, while I get you some apple cobbler.” Aunt Pitty bustled around the cozy kitchen while she talked. “There isn’t much, but I’m glad to share. Terrible winter, this. If it goes on much longer, I don’t know what we’ll all do.”

She put a large bowl on the table in front of Pip and sat down across from her.

“But you know that, don’t you?” she said, looking at Pip closely. “Eat, and tell me about the family.”

Aunt Pitty had known Mama and Papa since long before Pip was born. She’d known Uncle Hank, too. She was the one who had come over to straighten Will’s leg after the accident.

Aunt Pitty listened carefully as Pip told her about Papa.

“Eight days, you say?” she said when Pip was through. “Well, it’s a long way, Pip, even in fine weather. I bet your Papa has found himself so many good things to eat, dragging all that goodness back home is what’s taking so long. Yep, I reckon that’s it.”

“Do you think so?” said Pip. “Do you really think so, Aunt Pitty?”

“Yes, I do,” Aunt Pitty said firmly. “And I suggest
you think the same. It doesn’t do a body any good to think the worst.”

She got up stiffly and went over to the counter to pull out a deep drawer. “Now, how’s the family set for food?”

“There’s hardly anything left,” Pip said. “It’s up to me now, because of Will’s leg. But he’s so much better at finding it than I am.”

“Nonsense,” said Aunt Pitty. “You’re as capable as anyone. It’s all in knowing where to look. Have you tried the banks along Turtle Pond?”

“Yes. There’s nothing left.”

“Hmm, how about Hollow Log? No, that’s no good. That greedy Badger told me he’d picked it clean.” Aunt Pitty sniffed. “Laughed about it, too.”

She was busily stuffing things into a burlap bag. “I can give you some seeds and some berries,” she said, “but I’m clean out of nuts of any kind.”

“But what about you?” said Pip. She longed to ask Aunt Pitty about Land’s End but didn’t dare. Aunt Pitty would tell Mama for sure.

“Don’t worry about an old rabbit like me. I hardly eat anything these days.” Aunt Pitty put the sack on the floor next to Pip’s chair and rested her warm paw on the top of Pip’s head. “You just have to keep digging and scratching,” she said, looking into Pip’s eyes. “Even if it takes all day.”

“It’s hard,” Pip said in a small voice. “Sometimes I’m afraid.”

“We’re all afraid of something,” Aunt Pitty said
kindly. “No one’s expecting you to turn brave overnight. Braveness is earned one step at a time, Pip. The first step’s usually the hardest. Don’t give up. You’ll get there.”

Aunt Pitty settled herself into the chair beside the wood-burning stove and patted her lap. “Now, come over here and sit for a bit. Aunt Pitty will sing you a song.”

Pip climbed gratefully onto Aunt Pitty’s lap and snuggled down.

Maybe she would never have to take the first step, she thought. Maybe she could stay here, safe and warm, until Papa got home.

Pip closed her eyes and listened.

P
ip, wake up.”

Pip reluctantly abandoned the warm comfort of sleep and sat up. “Is it Papa?” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Is he home?”

“No, it’s not Papa.” For a minute Aunt Pitty’s kind face looked sad. Then she smiled. “You slept for an hour,” she said. “You’d better get going. It gets dark awfully early these days.”

Pip followed her back down the tunnel to the door.

“Take good care, now,” said Aunt Pitty, winding Pip’s scarf around her neck. “Don’t let this beautiful day trick you.” Pip grabbed her stick as Aunt Pitty held open the door. “Remember,” Aunt Pitty said, “everyone out there is as hungry as you are.”

“I’ll be careful,” said Pip.

Aunt Pitty’s sack was a reassuring weight against Pip’s back as she hurried down the slope to Stony Creek. She followed the creek past the deer beds for a while, making sure she stayed hidden in the bushes.

When she reached the crooked bend in the creek called Old Man’s Leg, she saw what she had come for. The huge shagbark hickory was lying on its side. Its gnarled branches sticking out of the snow waved to her like fingers.

Pip’s spirits soared as she ran into the clearing. All caution was left behind. She didn’t sense the danger until a shadow swept across the sky. Something dark and dangerous glided over her head.

Owl.

Wasn’t it too early for him to be out? Pip thought, looking wildly for a place to hide. It must be what Aunt Pitty said. Owl was as hungry as everyone else. And Pip was a delicious morsel.

Oh, how could she have made such a foolish mistake?

She was out in the open with no place to hide. The terrible sound of heavy wings was all around.

The smell of her fear filled the air.

Pip spotted a tiny hole in the ice straight ahead. It
was her only hope. She hurled the sack to one side and heard the seeds and berries scatter across the ice as she started to run.

The deadly swoosh of Owl’s wings came closer and closer. Pip dived toward the hole with a sob of relief.

It was blocked.

A thin sheet of ice lay across it like a cruel joke. It was the only thing between her and safety. Pip raised her stick over her head and brought it down with all her strength.

The sound of shattering ice mingled with Owl’s screech as she slipped into the hole. Owl’s talons closed on empty air inches above the ground.

She was safe. Pip hugged her stick to her side as
she lay there, panting.
Thank you, Uncle Hank. Thank you
.

As Owl’s angry voice faded in the distance, Pip’s heart slowed and became calm. When all was quiet, she poked her head out of the hole and looked around.

The sack was lying empty on the ground.

Only minutes before, it had been so full. Pip crawled out of the hole and picked up the limp sack as gently as if it held a sleeping baby.

Because of her, Aunt Pitty’s precious gift was gone.

What would Aunt Pitty think of her? And how could she bring herself to tell her mother what she’d lost? Pip realized then what she had to do.

T
hat night, when everyone in the house had gone to bed, Pip crept quietly into Will’s bedroom. “Will,” she whispered, “are you awake?”

She climbed onto his bed and felt her way along it in the dark until she came to his feet. He was lying on his back, staring into the night.

“I’m awake.” Will’s voice was flat.

Pip drew her legs up inside her nightgown for warmth. “I need to know about Land’s End,”
she said softly. “You have to tell me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But you have to. It’s the only place left,” Pip said. “There’s lots of food at Land’s End, isn’t there?”

For a minute she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, “Mountains of it,” Will said in a reluctant voice. “Crumbs under the table…crusts between the floorboards…dried bits of egg stuck to the seats of the chairs—”

He stopped.

“I have to go up there. You know I do.” Pip’s voice was calm. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We don’t have anything to eat.”

Will was quiet.

“You need to tell me everything,” Pip said fiercely.
“Where to go. What to look for. About Cat.”

She stopped. She had never asked Will this question before. “It was Cat who killed Uncle Hank, wasn’t it?”

The room was so still she heard someone moan in her sleep on the other side of the wall. Nibs, maybe. Or Nan.

“No, it wasn’t Cat.” Will’s voice was barely a whisper. “It was the trap.”

Will started to talk.

He told her how quiet and strange the huge kitchen had felt in the moonlight. How he and Uncle Hank had started across the floor, searching for crumbs. How they’d heard a noise and started to run for cover under a cupboard.

Suddenly Uncle Hank had stopped. “He told me to go on,” Will said in a whisper. “He said he would be with me in a minute.” Will’s voice broke.

“Shhh…” Pip patted his feet the soothing way Mama would have done. “Hush,” she said. Will was quiet for a minute, and then he started again.

Uncle Hank had turned and headed off toward the windows, alone.

That’s when a movement caught Will’s eye. Cat was crouched in the doorway, ready to spring. Before he could cry out a warning, Will said, a deafening noise filled the room.

A trap rose into the air as its jaws snapped shut.

There was a cry from their uncle.

Then silence.

“I ran.” Will’s voice was full of shame. “When Cat’s nails sank into my leg, I thought I’d never see home again. Then Uncle Hank gave one last cry, and Cat turned. He let me go. Uncle Hank saved me, Pip,” Will said in a hushed voice. “I made it back through the crack in the wall and onto the porch.”

Will’s voice stopped. Pip was almost afraid to breathe.

“I can’t go back there,” he said. “I can’t.”

“That’s all right.” Pip looked up at the window. She could see the moon shining down through the branches of their tree. “I’m not afraid to go by myself,” she said.

She wished in her heart that it were true.