High Five
By DebbieB
“That’s not right…there’s five…see, one, two, three, four, five…now sing along with me, Five…..golden rings…” Ben sang, his deep voice rumbling in the near empty building.
He paused, the only sound he heard was his own voice and suddenly his patience with the group of children had begun to wear thin. He ran his fingers through his silver hair and wondered why he was there and why he had agreed to do such a thing.
Somehow he had gotten selected as director of the annual Christmas program, in charge of the music. He believed that one of his so-called friends, either Paul Martin or Roy Coffee had mentioned his name to Miss Jones…as a joke. Little did they know, he wasn’t laughing.
Poor Ben had tried every way in the world to weasel his way out of it, but Miss Abigail Jones would hear nothing of it. Now it was up to him to teach the Sunday School children this new Christmas song.
“Alright, children…again…begin…On the first day of Christmas, my true love sent to me…”
“Why aren’t you singing?”
The children giggled.
“How’s tum we gotta sing a lub song, Mr. Tartwite?” one little boy yelled?
“It’s not a love song, Tommy…it’s a…”
“Tis too a lub song…”
“I can sing Five Widdle Injuns…wanna hear me? One widdle, two widdle injuns, tree widdle, four widdle injuns…”
Ben held his hand out in front of the small boy, and pleaded with the lad.
“Billy, please…please stop that screeching…ere…singing. Now everyone listen up…we have to learn this…”
Patty held her hand up, five little fingers waving frantically in the air, just under Ben’s nose.
“Yes, Patty…what is it?” Ben asked with a long sigh.
“I gotta go to the out house, Mr. Cartwright,” she stated.
“Oh dear,” groaned Ben. “Alright, go ahead, sweetheart…”
A commotion behind him drew Ben’s attention to two boys. The two little boys were over in the corner, fighting. Ben rushed over to put a stop to the ruckus.
“Boys, boys, that will be enough!” ordered Ben, taking each boy by the collar and separating them.
“Now! What is this all about?” Ben inquired as he waved his hand in the air.
“AWWWWWWWGGGH!” came a scream from the outhouse.
“What now!?” shouted Ben, the warring lads forgotten.
Ben ran for the back door, the group of children right behind him. He stopped suddenly and spun around, holding his hand out to stop the stampede.
“STOP!” he bellowed. “Stay right here…don’t you dare move!” he ordered, rushing out the door and across the yard to the outhouse.
“Patty?” he called, knocking gently on the privy door. “Are you alright in there, dear?”
“No, Mr. Cartwright…there’s a big green bug on me….AWWWWGGGHHH! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!”
Ben tugged on the door but it was locked from the inside.
“Patty, calm down…unlock the door, Precious…”
“Never mind, Mr. Cartwright…it’s gone,” Patty said in a sweet little girl voice. “I’m fine now.”
Ben sighed again, it had been a hectic afternoon; how he longed to be at home with his grown sons, doing anything but running after all these children, fifteen children to be exact…minus one, Patty.
“Hurry up and come back inside, Patty, you have learn your part…five golden rings,” Ben said, holding up his hand as if the young girl could see his fingers. Ben glanced up at his hand, a look of disgust on his face and he lowered it to his side.
“Oh good grief,” he spat and then headed back to the building.
The program was tomorrow night and he doubted seriously if the children would be ready, or if he’d even be ready. Ben doubted both, and the entire congregation was depending on him. Ben moaned softly, looking upward as if expecting divine intervention.
The children were running in circles, singing at the tops of their voices when Ben returned. He stood and watched for a long moment, before stepping into the center of the children, wondering where on earth they got all their energy and why in the world they couldn’t sing like that when he needed them to.
Ben held his hand up and as if on cue, the ruckus and running came to a halt. The children gathered around their fearless leader and waited for him to speak.
“Is we gonna sing some more?” Tommy asked.
“I don’t wanna sing…I wanna go home,” Billy whimpered.
“You’re just a big baby,” mocked Carrie, a bright eye, blond haired little girl of about seven or eight.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“No I ain’t.”
Ben’s hand flew into the air. “STOP!” he snapped sharply, bringing an instant halt to the fussing.
“Please…can’t we just be happy and sing?” he pleaded.
“Maybe you should call it a night, Pa,” Adam said.
Ben turned around, sighing in relief at the sight of his son.
“I’d like to, but they haven’t learned all the song yet,” Ben groaned.
“Well, let’s see what I can do to help…” smiled Adam as he entered the church and removed his hat.
The children flocked around the newcomer and when Adam sat down on a pew, the girls pushed and shoved to be the closest one to the handsome young man. Adam laughed softly in his gentle way.
“One at a time, please,” he said. “And let’s see if we can help my father out and learn this song so he can go home, he’s very tired,” Adam explained.
“How far have you gotten, Pa?”
Ben held up his hand, his finger’s spread wide. “Five golden rings!”
“Not bad…almost half way…okay, children, lets get you in order.”
After about an hour, Ben and Adam agreed that the children had succeeded in learning the new song and quickly dismissed the children to their parents who had arrived to take them home.
“I’m beat, son, let’s go home,” Ben grumbled as he grabbed his hat.
He waited at the door for Adam to extinguish the lamps and then locked the door.
The next night, the children sounded like angels from on high. They sang perfectly, pleasing their director and making him proud. Patty sang the part of the five golden rings…and when Ben held his hand up, she never missed a note. The entire house rocked with applause and both Ben and the children were asked to take a bow. The children were giddy and loud afterwards at the special Christmas party. Ben stood off to one side, smiling proudly.
Later, after everyone had gone, Ben stood amid the stars and inhaled deeply of the crisp night air. The experience had been worth all the effort, he gleamed, but never again…never, he vowed.
“OH, MISTER CARTWRIGHT!”
Ben spun around. Miss Abigail Jones had followed him outside and was obviously searching for him. Frantically, Ben looked around for a place to hide. He was just about ready to run when the schoolteacher spotted him.
“Oh, there you are!” Abigail beamed.
Ben’s hand flew into the air, his fingers spread wide.
“NO!” he clamored. “NO…I’LL NOT DO IT…NOT AGAIN…DON’T ASK…ADAM! HOSS! JOSEPH!” Ben shouted, slowly backing away from the lady.
Ben turned to run, he had made himself a promise, not to be cornered again into doing something so…so…high handed…ever again!
THE END