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Bells of Atonement

Mitchell stood on the porch with his girlfriend in the cold December air. He felt like he was living a dream. Never before had he brought a girl home to meet his grandmother-Becca was the first. Life at the University of Minnesota was hectic and lonely for the twenty-one-year old from the country. Living most of his life on his grandmother's ranch, he lacked the social skills to carry on a conversation with a girl. As soon as she walked into his statistics class he knew she was different-wasn't from the city.

The full moon on the snow cast a blue hue. Mitchell held Becca in his arms kissing the top of her head-gently, inhaling the lingering scent of shampoo in her short, brown hair. The steam from their breath floated away into the night air simultaneously. Thoughts of asking her to marry him on Christmas Eve gave him butterflies in his stomach. He had the ring tucked away neatly in his suitcase-he now only needed to explain about his family, but that could wait for later. Tonight was too special.

Mitchell was lost in thought when Becca's quiet, sweet voice broke through his haze.
"I'm sorry, did you just say something?"

"I said, aren't those sleigh bells beautiful? They just make the night," she sighed. The distant, multiple tones echoed through the trees and fields.

"Sleigh bells? Oh, no!" he gasped. "What day is it?"

"Thursday. Why?"

"No, I mean the date!"

"December twenty-first," she answered, shocked by Mitchell's behavior.

He released her and ran to the front door. "Oma!" he yelled for his grandmother. "Oma, we're late!"

Greta Wilson, Mitchell's seventy-two year old grandmother, came running out on the front porch, drying her hands on the daisy print apron tied around her waist. Her usual pale complexion was void of all color.

"Oma, are we too late?" Mitchell asked. His face was equally ashen.

"Not if we act right away," she answered with a steady voice. "You'll have to do it for me.; I won't make it in time. Do you remember the way?"

Mitchell nodded his head. "Which one should I take?"

"The nasty, little, speckled one. He bit me twice last summer," she stated with confidence. "You better hurry now. They're getting louder," she urged. Mitchell obeyed and was headed for the barn before another word could be said.

Becca stood quietly on the front porch watching Mitchell run down the snow covered drive, trying to figure out what on earth her boyfriend and his grandmother were talking about. She felt a tender touch and then a forceful tug on her shoulder.

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