Summary:  Hoss tells Little Joe about Saint Lucia, as only he can.

Rating:  G   2,670 words

Attic Window

LUCIA

It was still pitch dark when six-year-old Little Joe Cartwright awoke from strange noises downstairs. He descended on tiptoe through the living room and spotted a feeble ray of light coming from the kitchen.

Probably Hoss. Hoss’ appetite pleased their family cook, Hop Sing, when the meals were devoured in the dining room. When Hop Sing was about to make breakfast for the father and sons, he was far from overjoyed to discover that the ham had disappeared from the pantry during the night.

All thoughts about Hoss’ vices vanished from Joe’s mind when his eyes landed on a bowl with yellowish dough on the kitchen counter.

He looked around before sticking his little hand into the bowl and pulling off a bite. The aroma wafted into the air around him, filling his nostrils. On impulse, he put it into his mouth. It tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled, so without thinking, he grabbed another piece of dough. And another. And another.

Blissfully absorbing the contents of the bowl, he swung around as he heard a familiar rant in Chinese from behind.

“I just wanted to—”

“Hop Sing wake up vely early to make dough for special buns. Want no lil’ boy sneaking into kitchen and eating before buns have been in oven!”

“But Hop Sing—”

“Hop Sing vely busy. No time for foolishness. Lil’ Joe out of kitchen where he not belong! No eating special dough before baked!”

The family cook let out a string of sentences in Chinese and turned to his special yellow dough. Joe sagged his shoulders and turned for the door. There was no use to argue.

Reaching the top landing on his way back to his bedroom, Little Joe stopped in his tracks when he saw a glimmer of light coming through the attic door. What was going on? There seemed to be lights burning on the oddest places this night. Who was up on the attic? A robber? A crooked outlaw, a desperado?

Should he call for Pa or Hoss, or peek himself, even though it was scary?

He hesitated for a few moments, then decided to be brave and check himself. His older brothers would never be scared like this, and he set off for the narrow door to the attic. Each step on the short ladder made his heart hammer, faster and faster.

Reaching the hatch, he peered through the opening.

A man stood under the sloping ceiling with exposed beams, his face turned toward the attic window. The light from a kerosene lamp behind him turned the figure into a faceless shadow.

It took a couple of seconds before Joe realized it was his brother Hoss. He stopped holding his breath, letting it out in a lengthy sigh of relief that ricocheted against the walls.

“Hoss! Ya’ scared the tar out of me!” The dust swirled in the air when he heaved himself up into the attic with its wide plank floor.

The big 12-year old started with shock and spun around. His face was chalky white while his eyes were as big as saucers, shining with terror. Joe leaned against the wall; he couldn’t help but smile.

“What the…?” Hoss sputtered. “Where’d you come from?”

“Downstairs,” Joe said. “What are you doing up here?”

The older boy straightened up. “Dadburn you smart-aleck! First, it ain’t none of your business what I’m doin’ up here. Second, you ain’t scaring the tar’ outta someone. You’re beatin’ the tar outta someone. And I’m mighty tempted to do just that with you for sneakin’ up on a man like this!”

Joe’s smile escalated into a giggle, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You sound like Adam. He always marks my words too.”

When the only reply was another fractious “dadburn it”, Joe composed himself. “Why are you so mad, Hoss?”

The older brother glared at the younger. “‘Cause you scared the daylights outta me.”

Joe walked over and placed a small hand on Hoss’ sturdy underarm. “Why are you up here in the middle of the night?”

Hoss sighed and sat down on a big wooden chest. Joe followed his example. “I’ve got no real memories of my ma. But Adam has told me lots ’bout ‘Mama Inger’, and things they did. Now with Adam away at that school in Boston… I reckon I started thinkin’ ’bout how I never got to celebrate this special day with her.”

“Is it her birthday?”

Hoss shook his head. “Nope. It’s St. Lucia’s day today.”

Joe creased his brow. “Who is Sane Lucia? A friend of your ma’s?”

“Not ‘sane’, little brother. Saint. She was a rich Christian gal who lived in the Roman Empire. She decided she’d never get hitched, but give away all her wealth to help other Christians who were hiding from the Roman Emperor.”

“Why were they hiding?”

“‘Cause bein’ a Christian was against the law. The Emperor wanted to capture all Christians and sentence ’em to death. So they hid in underground tombs.

Lucia bought and carried loads of grub down through long, dark tunnels so they wouldn’t starve. She had to use both hands to bring with her everything and wore candles in a wreath around her head to light the way.”

Hoss glanced at Little Joe; the boy’s eyes were wide with astonishment as he listened intently and seeing same mesmerized expression he used to have when Adam read him a story.

“Problem was that a feller wanted to marry Lucia, and when she gave away her big dowry to the poor, this jehu was fit to be tied and betrayed her. So Lucia got condemned to death for bein’ a Christian and helpin’ other Christians. They killed her with a sword on December 13th.”

“Poor Lucia,” Joe said. Hoss noted a suspicious moisture in his brother’s eyes. “She was helping people that needed helping. They shouldn’t kill someone for being good.” He bit his lip and looked away. Then the glossy eyes riveted to Hoss’ in puzzlement. “How’d you know all this?”

“Adam told me.”

“Oh…” The boy’s head sank again. Without words, Hoss knew what his brother thought about. He missed Adam. He was intrigued by the legend about Lucia but took the information about her tragic death hard. His mother’s fatal riding accident last year had made Joe sensitive to the concept of death.

Little Joe had always been a quicksilver. He could shift from laughter to tears and vice versa in a matter of seconds.

As if to validate his brother’s silent reflections, Joe’s head jerked up to meet his gaze a second time; the same bewildered expression. “But what has this got to do with your ma?”

Hoss smiled. “Stand up, and I’ll show you something, Shortshanks.”

“What is that?” Little Joe asked, fingering on the round metal object on top of what looked like a white sheet. “A candlestick holder?”

“This is my mother’s Lucia crown.”

“Lucia crown?”

“My ma came from Sweden,” Hoss explained, “and in Sweden, they celebrate St. Lucia’s Day. It’s tradition that the oldest daughter in a family puts on a white gown, a red sash and a crown with lighted candles early in the morning of December 13th. She wakes up her parents and brings ’em Saffron buns while singing Lucia-songs.”

“Sapphire buns?”

“Saffron buns. Yellow buns decorated with raisins. They got another name too. Lussekatt.”

“Lucy cat?”

Hoss nodded. “Lussekatts are part of the tradition. In Sweden, they shape them like an S, so they look a bit like a sleeping yellow cat. Hop Sing is down in the kitchen baking them right now.”

“I know,” Joe mumbled, his cheeks burning. Hop Sing’s lecture on the sin of stealing special dough suddenly made sense to him.

Hoss weighed the wreath in his hand, handed it to Joe and reached for the white fabric.

“This is my ma’s Lucia gown. She and Adam used to dress up in white and wake Pa with Lussekatts, coffee and singing.”

“Was Adam Lucia too?”

“No, ‘course not! There can only be one Lucia, and that has to be a gal. Adam was Star boy. He walked behind my ma, dressed in the same kind of white robe as her, but with a cone-shaped hat decorated with golden stars. And he held a stick with a star at the top.”

Putting Inger’s Lucia gown back into the trunk, Hoss lifted a cone formed paper-hat out.

Joe stared at him as if he questioned his brother’s mental state. “A dunce cap?!”

“It’s Star boy apparel,” Hoss explained indulgently. “Star boys represent them three kings who came with gifts to newborn Jesus. And today, little brother, I’m gonna wear it.”

Joe almost dropped the Lucia wreath. “You’re what??!”

“Be careful with that crown!” Hoss admonished. “I’m gonna wear Adam’s Star boy gear. When Hop Sing’s Lussekatts are baked, I’m gonna wake Pa with this song, ‘Santa Lucia’, a tray with fresh saffron buns, hot coffee and the finest set of china. Just like they do in Sweden. Just like my Ma and Adam. Like a real Lucia procession. Pa is gonna be real happy!”

Joe fingered the wreath. “Can I join you?”

“No, you can’t.”

“Why? How come you and Adam get to sing to Pa and make him happy, but not me?”

“‘Cause we only have one Star boy outfit, that’s why.”

“But I can be the Lucia,” Joe prodded.

Hoss snorted. “You’re plum crazy! I told you – Lucia has to be a gal.”

Joe crossed his arms. “You also said Lucia had to be the oldest daughter in a family. Your ma wasn’t Pa’s daughter. If they could bend the rules, then why can’t we, Hoss? Besides, how are you gonna carry that tray with a stick in your hand?”

Hoss turned quiet. He hadn’t considered that. Sighing, he threw his arms out in a relenting gesture.

“Alright. You can be Lucia. But dadburn you if you drop my ma’s Lucia crown, you hear me?”

“I’ll get burned, that’s for sure,” Joe mumbled. “I’ll get some candles for it.”

“Now, let’s try this here Star boy apparel, and see how it fits.” Hoss grinned to himself, unbuttoning his nightshirt. He picked up Adam’s gown from the bottom of the trunk and pressed it over his head. He tugged the white fabric to force it over his shoulders, but to no avail. After a final desperate “Dadburn it!”, he gave up just as Little Joe returned with the candles.

Joe’s somber little face shifted in the blink of an eye. He burst out laughing at the comical sight of his older brother; dressed in long johns, a Star boy-hat and something resembling an oversized white bandana around his neck.

The exasperation in Hoss’ voice was unmistakable. “What’s so dadburn funny?”

“You!” Joe squeaked, gasping for breath. “You should see yourself!”

“Dagnabit, it ain’t funny, Joseph!” The big 12-year-old laboriously wriggled out of the child-sized linen gown and tossed it in the trunk. “I gotta have a white Star boy-robe, and this one is fit for a midget!”

“What about your ma’s Lucia-gown?” Joe said at length, as his mirth subsided.

“What about it?”

“You said Star boys had the same kind of white robes as the Lucia, didn’t you? Why don’t you wear Inger’s gown and Adam’s dunce cap and I wear his robe and her Lucia crown?”

“Yeah…” Hoss’ face lit up. “Yeah! You know what, little brother? You ain’t half as stupid as you look. ‘Course, with your looks, it still means you’re as dull as Hop Sing’s dishwater.” He gave the smaller boy a playful wink. “Come on, Shortshanks. I bet this midget-dress will fit your scrawny little back like a glove.”

“You remember that song, Santa Lucia?” Hoss asked as he tied the red sash around his little brother’s waist. “We sang it when we were out caroling last Christmas.”

“‘Course I do,” the boy replied. “But…”

“But what?”

Joe squirmed uncomfortably. “I… sorta forgot the words,” he admitted.

“You can just hum it then, and I’ll sing the words.”

Joe shifted from one leg to the other. “Eh… Hoss?”

“I ain’t got time to learn you them words.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Joe looked at the other white-clad boy with apologetic eyes. “It’s just that… I kinda forgot the melody too…”

Hoss heaved a deep sigh.

“But it’s okay,” Joe said. “Hop Sing probably don’t know the song neither.”

“What in tarnation has Hop Sing got to do with it?”

“He ain’t gonna let me carry the coffeepot and best china,” Joe informed, “just the Lucy cats. So he’ll go with us and make Pa happy.” In a fainter tone of voice, he continued. “Hop Sing is part of the family too.”

***

Half an hour later, the Lucia procession began. Joe walked in the front, carrying the plate with golden Lussekatts, warm from the oven. Hoss walked behind him, followed by Hop Sing who carried the tray with coffee and chinaware. When they reached the first landing, Hoss intoned the Lucia song.

Hark! through the darksome night
Sounds come a winging:
Lo! ’tis the Queen of Light
Joyfully singing.
Clad in her garment white,
Wearing her crown of light,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.

A faint singing outside Ben’s bedroom made the patriarch turn his head on the pillow. The tunes of the Lucia song grew louder, and soon the white-clad figure of a tiny Lucia appeared in the doorway, carrying a plate. Slowly, Lucia walked forward, followed by a Star boy and a little man holding a tray with coffee and the finest set of china.

The glow of the candles made it a magical spectacle, as his two youngest sons dressed in white, and Hop Sing came closer. Hoss singing in his clear voice, Little Joe and Hop Sing doing their best to accompany him in the unfamiliar song.

Deep in the northern sky
Bright stars are beaming;
Christmas is drawing nigh
Candles are gleaming.
Welcome thou vision rare,
Lights glowing in thy hair
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia.

After the song, the Star boy stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he started a speech:

“Adam and my ma surprised you on Saint Lucia’s day 12 years ago and brought ya’ coffee and Saffron buns. I figured I ought to take up the reins and celebrate again, seeing as neither of them is here in person to do it. Adam done told me all ’bout how it was when I was a little shaver and Mama introduced the Swedish Lucia tradition. I want this St. Lucia Day to be as special as that one.”

“Me too,” Joe butted in.”Last December everybody was real, real sad ’caused it would be the first Christmas without my Mama. And now Adam is gone to that school in Boston and there will be just us.”

“That’s why we need Lucia,” Hoss said when his brother paused to take a breath. “Lucia comes to the sad, lonely, scared, hungry folks on the darkest day of the year to spread light. Make ’em happy and give ’em hope. Here we’ve got—”

“I counted the candles in Inger’s Lucia crown,” Joe interrupted. “There are seven of them. That’s part of why I wanted to be Lucia…”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Hoss asked.

“Pa, Hoss, Adam, Mama, Inger, Elizabeth and Hop Sing. That’s one candle for everyone in this family, spreading light around me.”

“So along with all that light, we wanna get you coffee and Lussekatts, Pa. So if—” Hoss broke off mid-sentence. “Joe! What in tarnation have you done, you little jasper?!” He glared at the empty plate in the little Lucia’s hands, then at the white-clad offender’s face. “Where the blazes are the Lucia buns?”

“I… I ate them,” the boy answered. “When Hop Sing caught me dipping into the unbaked dough, he said not to eat the Lucy cats before they were done and these are done.”

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Happy Lucia, everybody!

Click here for the 2018 Advent Calendar – Day 14 – Hens and Chickens or Wrench aka Three French Hens by Patina