The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

O. Henry

December 18, 1947

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Helen Belden counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And it was exactly one week until Christmas.

Most days Helen loved her life.  It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was far from that.  Her material possessions were meager, but she felt blessed beyond measure in what was most important. She had an incredibly handsome and caring husband who adored her.  He had a good job, even if his entry-level pay was stretched to the limit.  Their three-room apartment was cramped, but affordable, convenient, and in a good neighborhood.  She had two healthy young sons and was fifteen weeks pregnant with a third child. 

Yes, two sons; one barely two years and the other six months old.  Yes, there’d be three under three come the next summer. Yes, they hadn’t consciously planned to have three children so close together, but each child had been conceived in love and, blushing at the memory, she recalled that they were conceived in mind-boggling passion.

Unconsciously rubbing her slightly enlarged abdomen, Helen acknowledged that, overall, she had a good life. It was just difficult to appreciate it when it was her last chance to purchase the perfect Christmas gift for her husband and she had a paltry one dollar and eight-seven cents.  She’d known for over three months exactly what she would give her husband and how much it would cost and, although she’d scrimped and saved, she hadn’t saved enough.  She silently cursed her lack of planning. 

Three months. It had been three months since her husband, Peter, had received a promotion at work. The promotion entitled him to a private office with vintage paneling and a large walnut desk as well as a salary increase of $2.75 per week.  Still giddy with the good news he’d shared and their passionate celebration the prior evening, Helen had taken the two boys for a walk the next morning when she saw it in the window of a second-hand shop. 

August 25, 1947

“Mommy?”

“Mommy?”

“I’m sorry Brian.  I was…”  Helen was mesmerized by the window display of Benders, a small second-hand shop.

“Why staring, Mommy?”

“Do you like that?” Helen pointed at what had caught her attention in the window.  “Do you think Daddy might like that?” 

Brian shrugged, more interested in the bus that had just pulled up to the corner. “Are we gonna’ wide the bus?”

Helen continued to stare into the store window at the perfect gift for her husband. Almost smelling the rich leather through the glass, she knew it would look wonderful on the walnut desk in his new office. She knew it would speak of power and confidence to every person who entered that office. She knew that she had never wanted anything so much in her young life. She knew she’d die if she couldn’t have it for her husband.

She knew it would be expensive.

“Can we wide the bus, Mommy? Pease? ” Brian pointed his chubby finger at the bus that now was pulling away from the curb. “Marty won’t cwy if we wide the bus.”

It had been almost three hours since his last feeding and three month old Marty was beginning to fuss, but she maneuvered the baby carriage up the steps into the shop and convinced Brian to humor him while she haggled with the shop owner.  She begged and pleaded with the man to lower the price.  When he’d finally capitulated, she begged him to allow her to pay in installments.  He’d only agreed to the second request when the pungent odor of Marty’s loaded diaper convinced him to allow her to make weekly payments through Christmas.   Satisfied that she would have the perfectly perfect Christmas gift for Peter, she took her two young sons home for lunch and afternoon naps.

Helen practically jumped into her husband’s arms when he came through the door of their apartment that evening. 

“Mmmm,,, I’m getting used to this,” he mumbled as he spun her around.  “Two nights in a row!” While Peter’s desire for his beautiful young wife never waned, Helen had been showing the strain of caring for two young children. They’d recently switched Marty to formula and his time between feedings was allowing her to get some rest and enjoy a renewed passion.

“Brian and Marty both took a nap at the same time today and we went for a walk and…”  Helen almost destroyed her surprise.  “I slept too.” 

“Think they’re ready for another nap?”  Peter pulled her to him, wanting to express his desire for her. “Or we can lock them in the bedroom and…”

Helen pulled away. “I can’t believe you.”  She laughed as she headed into the kitchen.  “Wasn’t last night enough?”

“It’ll never be enough!” Peter walked over to the playpen and picked up his younger son. “And you love it.”

“I plead the fifth!”  she called out as she checked on their dinner.

After they ate, Peter cleaned up the kitchen while Helen gave the boys their baths and put them to bed. Once the last dish was in the cupboard, he went to the bedroom to enjoy the evening ritual that assured him he had a purpose in life.  Young Brian was nodding off to sleep in his crib while Helen shared an imaginative story and gave Marty a bedtime bottle, rocking in the same wooden chair Peter’s mother had used to rock him and his two brothers.  Once assured both boys were asleep and Marty’s tummy was full, Helen placed the infant in the cradle next to Brian’s crib.

“Beautiful,” Peter sighed aloud.  “Incredible.”

“They are.”  Helen walked over to her husband.  “Marty’s almost too big for the cradle.”

He pulled her to him and inhaled the scent of her hair, not wanting to think of the cost of a second crib or where it would fit in the small apartment.  “I didn’t mean the boys.”

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?”

“Marty? Dr. Arnow said he’d sleep through the night if we put him on cereal and formula.” 

Helen recently had taken Marty to the doctor, concerned that he always seemed hungry and, after almost three months, he was demanding to be fed every two hours or less—round the clock.  The doctor, espousing the popular thinking of the times, suggested that he wasn’t being fully satisfied by breast milk and she should either wean him entirely or supplement with formula at night time.  Frustrated and exhausted, Helen had placed him on formula and he’d immediately begun stretching out the time between feedings.  She’d been amazed at how much better SHE had felt once she got a few extra hours of sleep each day.

“You both are doing better.” 

Helen shrugged. 

“Helen, the doctor said formula is better.” 

Helen reached up and kissed her husband, thankful for his support. “I love you.”

“How much?” 

Helen laughed as they stepped out of the bedroom and she shut the door. “This much?” She held her arms out.

Peter offered the wicked grin that always melted her heart. 

“This much?” She spread her arms wider and stuck out her tongue.

“Show me.” Peter grinned broader and held out his hand.  “Show me.” His voice grew deep and husky.  “Show me.”

Just as Helen stepped forward and placed her arms around her husband’s waist, there were three firm raps on the apartment door. Peter pulled away and winked playfully as he walked across the small living room. He opened the door to find their downstairs neighbor standing in her bathrobe.

“Mrs. Holder? Are you…”

“There’s a call for you. It’s your mother.” 

Knowing his frugal parents would never be calling long distance unless there were an emergency, Peter pushed past her and ran down the stairs to the only phone in the building. 

October 22, 1947

“You’re joking!”

“It’s not something to joke about.”

Helen’s sister, Alicia, was visiting for Brian’s second birthday and had just learned that she was going to become an aunt for the third time.  The third time in less than three years.

“What is wrong with Peter?  Can’t he keep it in his…”

“Alicia!”

“He’s an animal!”

“I’m to blame, too.” Helen stirred her cup of tea, not wanting to look up. “We…I… I’d been breast feeding but stopped…I guess I...we…” Helen stared at her tea cup for some time before looking up and smiling at her sister. “It’s magic.  Pure magic. We…”

“Well tell him to stop waving his wand, magic or not, and…”

“Alicia!” Helen had never heard her older sister talk that way. 

“How’s Peter’s father?” Alicia knew it was time to change the subject.

“Much better, but his doctor says the damage from the heart attack was pretty severe.  They doubt he’ll ever return to work, and then there’s the farm. It doesn’t take much of his time, but it’s hard labor.” 

“Why worry about the farm? If they sell it, they’d have plenty of money for retirement.”

“Alicia! That’s been in their family for generations! It’s…”  Peter’s parents lived in a modest farmhouse on the last remaining acreage of what was once a working farm in Westchester County.  Despite high taxes and generous offers from developers, the Beldens were determined to keep it.

“What else can they do?” Alicia didn’t understand the Belden’s attachment to the small piece of property with a farm house in desperate need of upgrades.

“Peter and I have talked about moving out there.” 

“That’s a long commute for Peter.”

“Here he is!  The Birthday Boy!”  Peter came through the door with Brian riding on his shoulders.  “We had a great time at the zoo! 

Helen stood, welcoming the interruption so she didn’t have to tell her sister that Peter was looking to leave his promising position in the City and take something certain to pay much less in his home town of Sleepyside-on-the-Hudson.

“Aunt Lesha! It’s my birdday!” Peter set Brian down so he could run over to his aunt.  “Daddy took me to see monkeys!”

Alicia glared at her brother-in-law as she lifted Brian onto her lap.  “Come here my big boy,”

“You told her?”  Peter asked his wife.

Helen nodded.

Peter looked sheepishly at Alicia.  “This wasn’t something we planned,” he offered feebly. 

Alicia ignored him. “Wait until you see what I have for the birthday boy.  My big boy, Brian.”

December 18, 1947

Over the past three months, Helen had managed to scrape together a small payment each week, but she still owed almost half the negotiated purchase price of ten dollars for the beautiful desk set.  Tears began trickling down her cheeks as she pondered the hopelessness of stretching the $1.87 she held in her hands into the $5.00 she still owed.

She couldn’t imagine where she was going to find three dollars in less than a week.  It might as well have been three hundred dollars.  Glancing towards the bedroom where her precious sons slept, she gave a silent prayer of thanks that they’d have plenty of gifts. 

Helen reached across the table to get her pencil and scratch pad, knowing that Einstein himself couldn’t find the numbers in her household budget to squeeze out three dollars, but she had to try.

“WAHHHHHH!!!!!”   Marty began wailing before she could scribble a single digit. “WAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” The coldest heart would melt at her younger son’s smile and bright blue eyes, but there was no smile when he was hungry, and he was hungry much of the time.  Helen jumped up, grabbed a bottle from the ice box and placed it in the warmer, before dashing off to the bedroom, praying that he’d not disturbed Brian from his afternoon nap.

Once both boys woke from their naps, had fresh diapers and an afternoon snack, Helen decided to head down to the small second hand shop and attempt to appeal to the owner’s holiday spirit. She just might be able to negotiate something that would allow her to have the set to give to Peter on Christmas day.

After bundling the boys in their winter snow suits, she took her warmest coat from the closet.  The long fitted deep-blue cashmere coat had been a gift from her parents the last Christmas before she’d married Peter.  Rubbing the soft plush fabric against her cheek, she allowed herself to think about how rich and beautiful it made her feel.  She knew that some would think her foolish to have rejected her parents wealth and security to marry Peter, but to think of his love for her, to see her two young sons waiting patiently, or to feel the stirring in her belly, she knew without even a smidgeon of doubt that she had made the right decision.   She sighed as she slipped the coat on.  Barely able to button it, she realized that it wouldn’t fit much longer. The only thing that had fit her the past winter had been a wool poncho that her mother-in-law made for her.  She’d thought the brown and red plaid was hideous and made her look even larger than she’d been during that pregnancy, but appreciated the thoughtfulness of the woman she’d come to call Moms,  When she packed it away the prior spring, she’d never imagined she’d be needing it again so soon. 

She placed Marty in the stroller, grabbed Brian’s small hand, and headed out the door, praying that she’d have the desk set with her when she returned home.

Peter leaned back in his chair, reflecting on the promotion that allowed him to enjoy the large, well-appointed office and all the other changes that had occurred in his life over the past three months.  The new position provided a much-needed pay increase and the confidence that he would be able to provide for a family. But when his father had suffered a serious heart-attack, and he and Helen had learned they were expecting a child—the third in less than three years--he'd began to question what the future might bring. After his brothers had made it clear they had no intentions to help in the care of his parents, he was giving serious consideration to sacrificing a promising career to move back to Sleepyside to care for his ailing parents.

He reached across the desk and picked up the framed photographs he displayed proudly.  One side of the frame held a snapshot of his two young sons.  Two year old Brian was a carbon copy of his father, sharing thick dark wavy hair and large brown eyes, but Brian’s dark eyes looked wise and serious, while Peter’s always seemed to twinkle playfully. Marty, less than six months old in the photograph, was the image of his mother with sparkling blue eyes and the beginnings of a wild tangle of blond curls. 

The other side of the double frame held a studio portrait of Helen, taken shortly before their marriage, when she was still a beautiful young debutante from the Main Line of Philadelphia.  After almost three years together, Peter still found it difficult to believe that a woman like Helen Johnson had married a humble farm-boy like him.  Feeling guilty about the sacrifices he believed she had made, he wanted desperately to find a Christmas gift worthy of her beauty and sophistication, but he only had a few dollars to spend.

Thinking of how her blue eyes and blonde curls looked in candlelight, Peter recalled something he’d seen on the way into work that morning.  Not caring about the cost, he knew then that nothing else would do. It was the perfect gift.

“There’s absolutely nothing you’ll do?”  Helen pleaded with the shop owner.  “It’s a gift for my husband! I don’t want a refund of what I’ve already paid…I want the desk set.  ” She fought to hold back the tears.

“I’m a businessman, lady.  If you want charity you can go somewhere else.” 

“But it’s Christmas.”

“Yeah, and if I don’t make money at Christmas, I don’t stay open the rest of the year.”  He crossed his arms to indicate his determination. “That set is authentic leather. It’s Art Deco design and a lot of people would want…” He stopped short. While he had no real sympathy for the attractive young woman, he wasn’t going to lie to her.  He knew that the since Gimbels began selling Reynolds Rocket Biro ballpoint pens two years ago, fewer and fewer people were using fountain pens, and while certainly attractive to a collector, the desk set had no practical value. “It’s a real classic.”

“I tell you what I’ll do.  I’ll refund your payments, minus ten percent. You still got time to find something else.  We got lots of nice things for under five bucks.”

Helen shook her head.  She wanted the set. She’d have to come up with the money.  Just as she turned to leave, Mrs. Holder entered the shop. 

“Helen, what are you doing taking the boys out on this cold, miserable day?”  Mrs. Holder reached down to greet the boys. “I see they’re all bundled up nicely.”  She stood and touched the sleeve of Helen’s coat.  “And you have on your beautiful coat. How I covet that! Good afternoon, Jake.” Mrs. Holder greeted the store owner cheerfully before becoming serious. “You’re not trying to cheat my lovely young neighbor, are you?”

The older man blushed.  “I cheat no one, but I’m a businessman.” 

“Helen knows that, but if you want these iced cookies and my help wrapping, you’ll give her a fair deal!” Mrs. Holder handed over a box of homemade cookies and turned to Helen.  “Jake’s complete ineptitude when it comes to wrapping presents is legendary, so he never does it any longer.  Last year he hid all his gifts under a blanket on the couch and pulled them out one by one. His family got a kick out of it, but he didn’t, so I bartered these homemade cookies iced by my children and my wrapping skills for that beautiful chair he used to have over there.” She pointed to a corner where an overstuffed chair had been the last time Helen was in the store.  “I meant business, too!”

“You have a Merry Christmas!” Mrs. Holder turned and left the store.

“I’m sorry.” Jake’s tone had changed. “I'd like to help you, but I can’t afford to give away that desk set. You find anything else in the store that…”

“Do you barter?”  Helen suddenly had an idea. 

“Barter?”  Jake shook his head.  “Mrs. Holder is a friend. To say I bartered with her…” 

“Barter, Mr. Bender.  Trade.  I’ll trade you something for the remaining five dollars.”

“I don’t know. “

Ten minutes later, Helen Belden left the store, struggling with a large package and two young boys, but elated that she had the perfectly perfect Christmas gift for her husband.

December 25, 1947

“Mommy?  Daddy?  Is it Cwissmas yet?  Did Santa come?”  Helen opened one eye to see Brian standing in his crib, all the wonder of Christmas apparent on his cherubic face. 

“Peter?” she mumbled, wondering how a two year old could have such good language skills so early in the morning. 

“Grr.  Hurumph…I’m ‘wake.” He rolled over and saw the time on the bedside clock. “Dammit.  It’s barely six.”  

“Is it Cwissmas, Daddy?” 

Peter sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He pushed his hair back from his forehead and swore.  Waking fully, he remembered the Christmas ritual he had planned and cleared his throat.  “Gotta’ check first, Bud.” Peter grabbed his robe and pulled it around him as he went into the living room to turn on lights and music.  Brian squirmed impatiently as Helen changed his diaper and tried to reassure him that it’d only be a few minutes. 

“Santa didn’t come. I guess we can go back to bed.” Peter announced just as she snapped Brian’s pajama bottoms to the top. 

Brian sat up and looked at his father.  “No Chrissmas?” The tears welled up in his dark eyes. “No Santa?”  he choked out.

“Oh no, Brian.  Daddy was kidding.”  Helen reassured him.  “Let’s go see.” She helped him down from the bed and watched as he ran into the living room. 

Peter and Helen sat side by side on the sofa watching their two sons enjoy their new treasures. “Is it our turn, now?” Peter asked.

“Let me get yours.” Helen jumped up and ran into the bedroom, barely able to contain her excitement.  She couldn’t believe she had kept her secret for a full week. 

Peter was seated in the same position when she returned, but now had a beautifully wrapped package on his lap.  He appeared surprised when he saw the size of the box Helen carried.  “That looks heavy,” he offered as he stood up.  “Let me…”

Helen pulled it close to her chest.  “Sit down.”  She handed it to him when he was settled back onto the sofa.  “Go ahead.”  She stood tapping her foot.

“No.  You open yours first.”  Despite her own impatience, Helen knew not to argue with Peter when he looked so excited. 

“Sit! Open!” Peter patted the cushion beside him.

Helen sat and took the package he offered.  “Did you wrap it?”

Peter laughed.  “Free in-store gift wrapping!”

Helen carefully removed the paper, hoping to save it to reuse later, and lifted the lid of the box.  She gasped when she saw what was inside. “Oh, Peter.  They’re beautiful. The color!”  She wondered how she would tell him the truth.  She wondered IF she would tell him the truth.

“The color matches your eyes.”  Peter smiled, feeling pleased with his choice.  “I saw the set in the shop window and knew they’d go perfectly with your blue coat.”  He touched her cheek.  “They make your eyes…”

“You’re crying.  Helen, are you okay?  You don’t like…”

“They’re beautiful. The color is spectacular.”  She fondled the soft cashmere of the scarf and hat, and imagined how her hands would feel inside the kid leather gloves. She knew the rich shade would match the blue cashmere coat perfectly. She wrapped the scarf around her neck, wondering how it would look with the read and brown plaid poncho.  “It’s …”

Peter pulled her to him and kissed her.  “Your eyes…You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

Helen pulled away.  “Your turn.” 

“No.  I have one more thing.”  Helen looked surprised.  “It’s not exactly a gift.” He paused dramatically before continuing. “I received a call yesterday afternoon. It came immediately after I talked to Moms.”  Helen nodded.  Peter’s father had been readmitted to Sleepyside Hospital the prior afternoon and she and Peter planned to head out to Sleepyside later that day. 

“It wasn’t about your father?” 

“Not exactly, but the timing meant I couldn’t refuse.  It was from the bank.  First National Bank. They offered me a job.”

Helen and Peter had discussed his taking a position in Sleepyside for some time and Peter had met some time ago with the bank’s President.  Helen wasn’t surprised by his news. 

“It’s only Head Teller, Helen. Back out on the teller line without a fancy office. The pay is slightly less, but the benefits are good and with the money we’ll save living at the farm. We’ll need the insurance with the baby and...” 

Helen looked down at the wrapped package on her lap, not sure if she should laugh or cry.  The desk set would look perfect on the large walnut desk in his grand office but not at a teller station.  

“If you’re happy, I am.”  She offered the package to him.

“But you seem…”  Peter was confused.  He had thought Helen wanted to move to Sleepyside.

“It’s a good job, Peter.  It’ll be good for all of us.” She offered the package again.

Peter smiled weakly and shook his gift. 

“Don’t!  You’ll break it!”  Helen gasped. 

“Okay.  Okay.” Peter tore off the paper. He slowly opened the lid of the large box and winked at his wife before looking back. He sobered quickly. “Oh, Helen. It’s gorgeous but…”   He shook his head.  “I can’t.” 

“I saw it the day after you got your promotion and knew I’d die if I didn’t get it for you. I thought it’d look perfect on the big desk of yours.” She wrapped her arms around him.  “I guess you won’t have a place for it on the teller line.”

Peter laughed.  “It’s beautiful, but I guess not.”  He sat back and marveled at how the blue of the scarf brought out the color of his wife’s eyes. “At least if I’m working out front, I’ll see you when you first walk into the bank all wrapped up in blue and…”

Helen laughed now. “I won’t be in blue.  I don’t have the coat. I traded it for the desk set.”

“You what?  You mean?”  They both laughed.  “You mean I have no desk and you have no coat? He leaned back on the couch, put his hands under the back of his head, and smiled.

“Helen,” he said, “let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use at the present. I have no desk for the beautiful set you gave me and you have no blue coat to wear with the scarf, hat and gloves.” He nodded towards the two boys playing at their feet.” For now, we’ll enjoy this magical Christmas and the priceless treasures God has given us.”

And it was a magi-cal Christmas.