The funeral home hummed like a giant bee. Everywhere she looked, her grandpa’s friends stood huddled in groups, laughing and talking. Sophie glanced over at the casket where Grandpa lay, and a fresh tear rolled down her face.
"Why are they so happy, Mama?" Sophie scowled.
Laura leaned close to her daughter’s ear, and said, "They’re celebrating being alive, honey. You’ll understand when you get older."
Sophie dabbed her eyes. "I know, but I wish . . . why can’t we live forever, Mama?"
"Come on, now. Grandma Ellen’s waiting by the door. She has something for you back at the house."
Once they reached her grandparents' home, Sophie ran inside. She looked around, half expecting her grandfather to appear from his library at any moment. Her grandmother’s memory box stood open by the front door. She took a deep breath. The sweet smell of cedar and bayberry filled her nostrils.
Ellen stepped through from the kitchen. "Sophie, I have to put some coffee on for our visitors. They’ll be arriving any moment now from the funeral home. Grandpa left you a parcel on his desk in the library. He made me promise to give it to you and no one else, when he passed on. Go on in there and get it."
Sophie raised her eyebrows. "Maybe it’s my favorite book. Grandpa used to read it to me every time I visited."
Ellen smiled at Sophie. "It isn’t, but you’re welcome to the book. I’m sure you’ll know just where to find it."
Sophie walked into the library. Sitting on the desk was a large photo of her grandpa wearing his yellow fireman’s jacket and a shiny red hat, shaking hands with the Mayor. The mayor held up a newspaper headline in his other hand, which read, Hero Fireman Saves Residents In High Rise Complex Fire.
Awards and trophies sat along one shelf in the room, and Sophie knew there were boxes of them in the basement. Her grandfather had saved hundreds of people during his fifty year career as a fireman and never once got burned or injured. He'd cherished every one of those awards, not for their glitter or prestige, but because they represented the people he rescued.
Sophie’s gaze wandered around the room, but she didn’t see a parcel. Stepping closer to the desk, she noticed a shiny key next to the photo. Sophie picked it up and felt a warm vibration. Her hand jerked and the key pulled her across the room to a small bookcase with a glass cabinet door. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. She let go and the key jumped into the lock and opened the door.
"Oh!" Sophie stared, her heart still pounding, as the door swung open. There sat a small box and an envelope addressed to her in her grandfather's handwriting.
Trying to steady her shaking hand, Sophie reached in and took the envelope. She opened it and read the letter.
My dearest Sophie,
By now you know I grew tired of living and decided it was time to explore the great unknown. I’ve longed to meet God for years now. You are my only living grandchild and although I will miss you, the time has arrived for me to pass my legacy on. I am very proud of you and I know you will choose to do the right things with this gift. I must warn you, however. Be true to your heart. Never use these gifts to bring harm, or you will destroy mankind forever. . . .
Sophie’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. Only living grandchild? He didn’t have any other grandchildren. She continued reading.
When you open the box, you will find three things. The magic ability of these items will change your entire world, forever. You can choose to use them in a selfish way, or to help others. Be warned, my dear. Nothing bad will happen to you if you use these things selfishly, but you will never find the happiness you search for, no matter how many centuries you walk through.
Sophie picked up the box and sank down into Grandpa’s leather chair. The silken wrapping paper felt smooth under her hand. She turned the page of her letter.
Centuries?
Open the box now, Sophie. Inside you will find a pencil. When you tap the pencil, it will produce a penny. You will be rich, child. For every penny you keep, give three pennies away. Help the churches feed the poor. Give money to the hospitals researching cures for cancer and other diseases. There are thousands of good causes out there; you get the idea. But never keep more than you give away. If you do, the pencil’s lead will snap and you will be forced to sharpen the end, shortening the pencil.
If you do this more than once, you will wake up one day to find the pencil gone, and everything you bought with it vanished. It will not stay with a greedy human. It seeks a good heart to share its wealth. You will know the true state of your own heart the first time you try to pick it up. If it senses goodness in you, it will feel warm and glow with your touch . . . .
Sophie tore open the box and looked inside. There sat a plain-looking green pencil, about six inches in length. She touched it. The pencil quivered and a small fingerprint-size portion glowed ruby-red. Picking up the pencil she tapped it on the desk several times. Pennies of all different sizes poured from the eraser onto the table. Sophie giggled and picked one up. 1793. Wow, this is really old.
A hand touched her shoulder. Sophie looked up at her mom and grandma who were smiling.
"It makes pennies. Look!" She tapped the pencil again and another penny rolled onto the desk.
Her mother, Laura, reached over and picked it up. "It’s a double-die date penny. The last time I checked, this is worth over twenty-five thousand dollars."
Sophie held the glowing pencil. "Mom! Grandma! Aren’t you even surprised? It’s magic!"
Laura laughed. "We know, honey. Open the rest of your gift."
Sophie lifted a silver comb from the box. "Grandma?"
Ellen smiled. "You are holding your life-line. Run it through your hair and it will stop time, for two minutes. Go ahead, try it out. You’ll see --"
Sophie lifted the comb and ran it through her mouse-brown hair. The loud tick-tock of her grandfather’s wall clock ceased. She looked at her mother and grandmother suspended in time, unmoving. She looked out the window. A car hovered in the street and a bird hung in the air outside the window. Sophie set the comb on the table, and waited, her stomach fluttering. I hope time can keep time . . . .
"– what I mean," Ellen finished. She picked up another penny. "Another rare one. These coins are worth a small fortune, Sophie. The pencil must really like you."
Laura touched her daughter’s hair. "Look, Sophie, no tangles. No more running late for school trying to brush your hair. The comb has added benefits."
Sophie giggled. "If I use this comb on my hair in the mornings, school will never start!"
All three of them laughed. The doorbell rang and Ellen looked around.
"Our visitors are here. You stay with her, Laura, and explain the rest."
Laura nodded. "Sure, Mom. There’s more, Sophie. Keep going."
Sophie held up an umbrella and a nail file, giving her mother a puzzled look.
Her mother’s face darkened. "Sweetheart, although your grandfather has given you an amazing gift, you must be aware of the evil in this world. People may try to harm you. Your grandfather’s trench coat is hanging in the closet. Until you are old enough to wear it, you must rely on these objects to protect you."
"How, Mama?"
"If you show someone the nail file, they will pass out. Be careful and only use it when you need to escape from danger. The umbrella will make people think they know you. Not only know you, but like you so much, they will do anything for you. Like the pencil, these objects will serve you faithfully."
"What about the coat?"
Laura shook her head. "Ah, yes. Your grandfather liked to call it the turn-coat. It’s the only wild card. While it will protect you from any harm, even death, it has no sense of loyalty like your other gifts. It will allow anyone to wear it. You’re ten years old. I don’t need to explain to you just how dangerous that could be. Don’t worry though. The minute you put it on, it will transform into the coat of your dreams. It will even change color when you ask it to."
Sophie held up the box. Her grandfather’s glasses sat in a clear case. She opened the case and took them out. They shimmered and turned mauve. "Mom, these change color, too!" She tried them on. "They fit me. I don’t believe it. What do they do?"
"They prevent fires from burning. Any kind of fire. A word of warning. Never wear them if you’re riding in a plane."
Sophie shuddered. "So that’s why Granddad was such a great fireman? Why didn’t he just wear them the day he ran into the burning building and saved all those people? The fire would have gone out. He must have been wearing his trench coat, huh?"
"No, sweetheart. He wasn’t wearing them that day, in fact, he’d left all the gifts at home by accident. Your grandfather was a true hero."
Sophie looked at the photo on the desk. "How will I ever be as good as him? I’m just a kid. Why didn’t you get these gifts?"
Laura hugged her daughter. "He chose you, honey. We all wanted it that way."
Sophie sighed and set the box down. A quarter rolled out and stopped by her hand. She touched it.
"What is it?"
Laura frowned. "I don’t know, honey. I never saw that before. Maybe Grandma knows."
"Knows what?" Ellen walked back in. "Go on out, Laura. Uncle Jack is looking for you."
Sophie held up the quarter and her grandmother’s face lit up.
"Put it in your mouth, under your tongue."
Sophie did. The room rippled. She was sitting on her Grandfather’s knee. His deep baritone voice speaking the words to her favorite story, The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis. She sat, speechless, nestled against his chest, smelling the peppermints he always kept in his pocket as he read page after page.
"There, Sophie. That’s enough for tonight. It’s your bedtime. I love you."
Sophie felt him kiss her forehead. She looked up. Her grandfather was gone. Her grandma stood there, tears in her eyes, hands folded in front of her face, as though she were praying.
"He loved to read you stories, Sophie."
Sophie grinned and spat the quarter from her mouth. "It’s not even wet. It tastes like peppermint."
Ellen chuckled. "Mine tastes like apple pie."
"You have one?" Sophie grinned.
"Yes, child. I do. It’s a memory quarter. There are four of them in existence around the world. When your Grandfather and I met the second time, we both knew we were Savers when we summoned up the memory of each other." She giggled like a school girl.
Gathering all her gifts, Sophie placed them back into the shoe box. "The second time, Grandma? You met before the war?"
"Oh, yes, darling. I met your grandfather way back in seventeen-seventy -six at the signing of the Declaration of Independence, but it wasn’t until we met again, almost two hundred years later, that we actually got together.
Sophie held her hands to her head. "Grandma, I think I have a fever or something. Are you saying you’ve been alive for two hundred years?"
"Oh, no, darling. It’s been far longer."
"Then why did Grandpa have to die?"
"He was ready to go home, sweetheart."
"Won’t you miss him?"
Grandma Ellen brushed a stray wisp of hair from Sophie’s puzzled face. "Yes, I will, but I understand. He’s done so much good over the centuries. We knew the moment you were born you would be a Saver, and there are only enough gifts for four people on the planet at any one time."
"Is Mom . . . you know, a Saver?"
"No, sweetheart. Your mother is a wonderful person. She didn’t receive the sign of a Saver, but when you were born, there it was."
Sophie nodded, a thousand questions racing through her mind. Her grandmother hugged her tight. "Don’t you be worrying about your mama. She will be here with you for a long time until you are all grown up. Do you want me to leave you alone, so you can finish reading your Grandfather’s note?"
Sophie looked at the pennies still waiting on the desk. "I think I’ll read it when I get home. I can't keep track of everything I've read already. I want to go find Mom. What should I do with the pennies, Grandma?"
"We can take them down to the coin auction tomorrow morning. After that, you have to decide where the money goes."
Sophie looked across the room. By the window, her grandparents' Christmas tree stood, glistening and sparkling with tinsel, lights and old-fashioned ornaments. An angel sat in the peak of the tree, its china hands outstretched in the air. Her brow wrinkled.
"I want to give the money to the Holiday Shop, Grandma. The one that buys gifts and food for all the families who don’t have enough money for Christmas."
"That’s a wonderful idea, darling." Sophie’s grandmother said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. It sparkled and fell to the table, where it rolled, coming to rest against a Lincoln penny.
Sophie stared at the solid diamond tear. She looked up and grinned. "Grandma, is that another gift?"
Her grandmother winked. "Tears of Compassion. They’re worth more than all the money in the world. All the Savers cry them. You can’t help it, when you spend so much time with those in need."
Sophie ran to her grandmother and wrapped both arms around her. "Merry Christmas, Grandma."
"Merry Christmas, child."
Sophie tucked the note from her grandfather in her pocket and set the shoe box beneath the tree.
"It will be safe here. I don’t know how I know, but I do." Sophie skipped out the door and into the living room, where the rest of the family and friends gathered around a table laden with food. She grabbed a sandwich and took a bite, before dancing right out of the room and down the hall, leaving the adults to mutter about the joys of youth, and how children didn’t really understand the finality of death.
Ellen took a quarter from her pocket, and slipped it in her mouth. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she opened them and looked across the room. A roaring fire crackled and snapped in the fireplace, and a grey-haired man stood by the tree dressed in his Sunday best. She stepped across the room into his arms.
Hugging her tight, George said, "Merry Christmas, darling. How are Laura and the baby doing? What a wonderful Christmas gift! A granddaughter."
Ellen kissed her memory’s cheek. "Two gifts. Sophie has violet eyes. She’s going to be a saver."
George whooped with joy. "A saver born on the birthday of the Savior. She’s going to be something really special."
Ellen kissed his cheek, and giving him one more hug, slipped the quarter from her mouth. She stood alone by the tree. "You can say that again, my darling George."
She held the quarter up to her mouth once more and sighed. "Maybe later. Now that you’re gone, George, I’ll have to learn how to wash dishes."
Leaving the library, Ellen closed the door, and waited. She heard a soft click as the unseen caretaker of the gifts locked it behind her. "Good. It’s still working."
The living room was empty. Her guests were gone. "Thank heavens for that Twin-In-Need gift. Nobody even missed me with her taking my place. I can’t abide hearing people telling me how lonely I’ll be now George is gone."
She continued through into her kitchen, and stopped, mouth open.
Her dish-rack sat full of gleaming, clean dishes and sparkling glasses. Sophie stood by the kitchen sink, watching a soft, pearl-shaped rag finish off the last dirty pot.
"I found this on the counter. I picked it up, and it started washing the dishes. Now it’s finished, I figured I’d take it down to that Homeless Shelter Soup Kitchen down town and give them a hand."
Cradling the soft rag, she kissed Ellen’s cheek. "See you in a while, Grandma." She ran out of the room.
Ellen laughed and called after her. "Don’t forget your umbrella!"
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