On a Friday afternoon three weeks before Christmas 1882, Alana and Polly sat before a blazing fireplace sewing Christmas decorations for the church bazaar.

"I know I say this every year, Polly, but I can’t get over how the years seem to fly. It’s almost Christmas again."

"I know what you mean. Just a couple of days ago I was thinking it’s hard to believe you and Mr. Montgomery have been married fourteen years and your father is eighty-one years old."

Alana laughed, "Yes, because Father is so full of vim and vigor, it’s hard to remember how old he really is."

"More like he’s full of vim and vinegar," Pollyanna quipped.

Alana and Pollyanna laughed and turned back to their sewing.

"Why does time go so fast?" Pollyanna asked not taking her eyes off her needlework.

"Maybe the world is spinning faster," Alana said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, Miss Alana, be serious."

"Polly, all I know is it makes me aware of how short life is, and that it’s vital that we make every minute count."

"What does vital mean?"

"Let me get the dictionary," Alana said, laying her sewing project aside. "’Vital is derived from the Latin word vita, which means life. When used as an adjective, it means: (1) of or concerned with life. (2) essential to life. (3) fatal: as, vital wounds. (4a) essential or indispensable. (4b) of greatest importance. (5) full of life or energetic. When used as a plural noun, it means (1) the vital organs, as the heart, brain, etc. (2) any essential parts.’"

Polly nodded. "Like when you had your accident and the doctor said your vital signs were good, so you’d be all right."

"Yes, Polly," Alana confirmed, "you’re understanding the word correctly. The doctor was referring to my heart beat, my breathing, my pulse."

"So it’s essential to life that we live life to the fullest?" Polly asked.

"That’s exactly it, Polly," Alana exclaimed with delight. She loved to teach.

After a few moments of quiet stitching, Pollyanna spoke again. "There’s something else I think is vital."

"What?"

"Education," Polly answered simply.

"I agree," Alana was emphatic. "And so does Father. That’s why he not only educated Woody and me, but made sure that all you children were educated at the same time, then your children and now your grandchildren."

"I know, Miss Alana, but I’m talking about higher education, going to a university."

"Yes, that’s becoming more important all the time," Alana said with her mind on Jean Paul and Meghan.

"Would you keep a secret if I told you, Miss Alana?"

"After all these years, Pollyanna? I’m surprised you think you have to ask me that," Alana teased, then saw the plea in Polly’s eyes and replied seriously. "Of course, I will."

"Ever since your daddy freed us from slavery and began paying us a salary, I’ve been saving my money in a jar in the pantry. I haven’t needed it to buy anything because your daddy kept providing everything we needed. Just this minute, I decided what I’m going to spend it on," Polly announced with pride.

"A university education," Alana guessed.

"For my grandchildren," Polly clarified. "I suspect Amos will laugh at me. He’ll say something like, ‘And just where do you suppose our grandchildren are going to get this higher education, my dear woman?’" Polly effectively imitated her husband’s voice and tone, making the women laugh.

"Well, my dear woman," Alana copied Polly’s impersonation of Amos, "you tell your dear man that Miss Alana will help you find the place of higher education for your grandchildren when the time comes."

"You will?"

"Of course I will."

"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."

"No need for thanks, Polly," Alana said. "It’s simply the right and proper thing to do for my friend."

Another period of silence filled the room with the exception of the crackling and popping fire. Alana broke the silence. "Polly, what do you want for Christmas?"

"You know I never have an answer for that. I’m too busy at this time of year planning what I’m going to give other people."

"I know, but take a minute to think about it."

"Well, let’s see," Polly searched her mind. "I’d like some perfumed soap for my bath. Are you going to tell Amos for me?"

"I just might and I just might not," Alana teased.

At that moment, Amos entered the room. His face was ashen. He held his hat like a shield in front of his chest. "Miss Alana," Amos groaned.

Alana sprang to her feet, ignoring the spilled contents of her lap and the muffled clatter of scissors hitting the rug. She felt blood draining from her face. "Father!" Alana whispered the word that screamed in her brain. Amos’ lips moved, but she heard nothing. She went to him and shook his shoulders. "Tell me, Amos. What’s happened!"

"I’m telling you, Miss Alana. You’re just not hearing me. It’s not your father, it’s…." Amos’ voice cracked.

"Montgomery!" Alana screamed and ran. She was down the hall, out the front door and on the veranda before she stopped. She didn’t know which way to go.

Amos came up from behind. "This way," he said and took her elbow.

Side by side they ran down the steps, across the yard and past the mill. Amos told her in telegraph spurts between gasps of breath as they ran. "Ice on stacks of logs. Children playing. Logs bumped and sliding off wagon. Child in the way. Mr. Montgomery pushed child. Logs got him."

Alana ran blinded by tears and sobbed, "No! No! No! No! God, no!"

For the third time in her life, Alana sensed everything in slow motion. Her long skirt and petticoats slowly whipped around her legs and tried to trip her. Her legs moved through heavy, water-like air. She heard horses scream. No. That was my accident. I have to reach him before he burns himself. No. That was Jean Paul. This is Montgomery. He’s hurt. Oh, God, no! Not my Montgomery! Alana and Amos rounded the far corner of the mill. She saw the logs avalanched over the ground. She pushed through the crowd. Montgomery was on his stomach. His head and right arm were the only exposed parts. "Get this stuff off him," she screamed.

No one moved. No one explained that they were afraid to move anything for fear it would cause the rest of the logs to completely crush him. Instead Edward put his arm around her shoulder and assured his daughter, "The doctor is on his way, Alana. Montgomery will be all right." Edward’s voice held no conviction.

Alana pulled away from her father and dropped to her knees. "I’m here, my love. I’m here. Hang on." She gently touched his red and swollen face. His mouth moved. "No, my darling, don’t try to talk now." Blood trickled from Montgomery’s nose, mouth, ears and eyes. Alana saw urgency in those eyes and put her ear close to his lips.

"It doesn’t hurt, Alana," Montgomery whispered. "It’s just like we’ve read." He paused for breath. "It’s a release, but I’m not leaving you." Montgomery smiled "It’s beautiful here." Then Montgomery deeply inhaled and with rattled breath said, "I’m with you always," and his body went limp.

Alana felt Montgomery’s spirit whoosh past her ear and through her hair. She leaned back on her hips. He’s smiling, she thought. I know he’s alive in some beautiful place, but not on this earth. Calmly, she closed his eyes.

Edward leaned down and drew Alana up into his arms. She looked into her father’s eyes and fainted.

Edward carried his daughter back to the house.

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