The Christmas Coins

Cold snow pelted Alberto Oste’s back as he trudged through a foot of solid ice. The weather had been harsher for months and it was growing worse in the days leading up to the holidays. Mr. Oste was making his way back to his inn from picking up a new shipment of potatoes and beans. An old but wiry man, Mr. Oste was hardworking and never took a day off. He had short graying hair he was short, shorter than most, but he had grown strong from lifting boxes for his business. 

He set down the box he had been carrying and pulled his weathered jacket closer around him. He shivered from the cold and blew into his hands to keep them warm. His business had not been very successful this year and it was becoming harder to make ends meet. He picked up the box once more and continued on his way. 

He reached the inn within the next hour and set the box down on a dusty, wooden table. The place was small and made solely out of decaying wood. It had a fireplace in the far corner and beds lying across the walls. A ladder led to a second story with more beds crammed together. The inn had a musty smell to it though once dinner started cooking it would smell of potatoes, beans and chicken. 

There were only a few people staying at the inn tonight, a small family of four with two young children, an older couple, and a shady old man with a scar running down the side of his face. Mr. Oste tried not to meddle in his visitors affairs so he hadn’t asked. He unloaded the box and to his dismay found that there was very little food in the box. He sighed and tried to think of a way to make enough food for everyone in the inn. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to find his wife standing there, a worried look on her face. His wife was a beautiful woman with large eyes and a soft smile. Her hair, though gray, was long and shiny and smelled of flowers. She took the cans of beans and potatoes and hurried to the small room they called the kitchen. 

Mr. Oste took a seat in an old, creaky wooden chair by the fireplace and put his head in his hands. He knew that with business this slow they would never be able to make it. He already had to cut short on the luxuries they once had. He desperately wanted to get his wife the gift she had been asking for, an expensive dress with lace sleeves and a velvet skirt, but he knew he didn’t have the money. 

He wondered what had happened to make his once busy inn turn into a slow paced barn. He wished that more people could come but there seemed to be no one traveling through the land that needed shelter. Deep in thought, he heard the front door open and he raised his head. 

An icy gust of wind flew into the room and the figure brushed snowflakes off his coat and onto the floor. He stepped into the room and shut the door. Then took off his hat, scarf, and coat and hung them on the coat rack. 

“Got room for one?” The man asked, looking at Mr. Oste. 

“Yes, yes I do,” Mr. Oste replied, flustered. 

He stood quickly from his chair and beckoned to the mystery man. “I have room upstairs if you would like it, or if you prefer to be warm, but cramped, I have room down here too?”

The man said nothing, but sat down at the small table and slipped off his gloves neatly. 

Mr Oste followed him and said, “May I ask your name, sir?”

“Mr. Aiutante.”

Mr. Oste nodded, “Supper will be ready in a few minutes. I have to say that there is not much but I will do my best. With the holidays soon I hoped that people would come but, as you can see, there hasn’t been many.”

The man said nothing, but rubbed his mustache thoughtfully. After a few minutes of awkward silence the man turned to look at Mr Oste, “Thank you for your hospitality but I think I have somewhere else to be.” 

Mr. Oste’s heart dropped. He had lost another visitor. However, the man started rummaging in his pocket and pulled out seven pure gold coins. Mr. Oste stared at the money, eyes wide.

“This is for letting me stay and get warm. This should cover all the expenses, the coal in the fire, the chair, the coat rack, your time and space,” The man got up and headed to the door.

“Sir, this is too much to ask, you owe me nothing.”

The man again stayed silent and put on his coat and scarf. He opened the door and another icy breeze ran through the roof. The man placed his hat on his head and left the inn. 

Mr. Oste couldn’t move. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what had just happened. A mouth-watering smell of beans and potatoes entered the room and he knew his wife had finished cooking. 

Sure enough, a few minutes later the kitchen door opened and Mrs. Oste entered the room with plates full of food. She went to each of the people staying at the inn and silently handed them their food. She then made her way over to her husband, a grim look on her face. 

“What is it, tesoro?” Mr. Oste asked, stroking her cheek.

“I am afraid that there is no more food left for us.” 

Mr. Oste frowned and looked at the people eating the food. The children were smiling as they ate the unseasoned food. Their parents had their arms around each other. They seemed happy even though they were staying in an old musty inn with little to no food. He knew his wife had done the right thing, giving all the food to them, but he wished there was food for them. 

As he followed his wife into the back he felt something jingling in his pocket and he remembered the coins the man had given him. 

“Tesoro, I remember that a man just gave me seven gold coins.”

“Miele, are you sure?” Hope flashed in her eyes. 

“Yes,” He pulled out the coins and dropped each one into her hands. “This is what we needed. This is enough to support us for years to come.”

“This is a miracle,” A smile grew across her face as she set the coins on the dresser and got underneath the thin sheets. Within minutes her breathing became heavy and he knew she was asleep. He walked over to the window and gazed up at the stars, the bright twinkling lights that stretched miles and miles in every direction. He looked at his sleeping wife, her beautiful face peaceful at last. 

He remembered when they had gotten married and he promised that she would have everything she ever wanted. Now he couldn’t even get her dinner. He heart ached with sadness as he looked at her. He prayed, he prayed for a Christmas miracle that he could keep the inn and get his wife the dress she wanted. 

He looked at the stars deep into the night and all the way into the early morning. He fell asleep just as the first rays of sunlight rose above the mountains, casting pinkish light onto the bare trees. 

He woke to the sound of his wife’s screams. His eyes flew open and he found the bed empty. He tore into the next room and saw a massive fire curling up the side of the building. He grabbed his wife and made sure that there were no other people in the inn before running out the front door into the snow. 

He watched in horror as his inn, his life's work, fell into a fiery mess. The wood burned as fell and he watched as the pots and pans, the beds, and his all of his possessions burned. His wife fell to her knees and sobbed, watching with disbelief. 

Mr. Oste knelt down next to his wife and held her in his arms. He heart pounded and he felt tears well up in his eyes. They watched the fire for hours before the last flame burned out. Then sat and stared at the wreckage, unable to move or speak. 

Finally his wife spoke, “Miele, what are we going to do now?

“I don’t know,” He said. He glanced with sad eyes towards his wife, his heart breaking when he saw her face. 

The slowly walked forward to the smoldering wood to see if anything had survived. They dug through piles and piles of completely burned wood to find that everything they had owned was now a pile of ash. 

It was becoming dark and Mr. Oste and his wife had no place to stay. Mr. Oste grabbed a piece of wood that didn’t seem too burned, and started dragging it over to a nearby tree to use it as a makeshift bed. 

“Alberto! Come, come quick!” Mrs. Oste shouted.

Mr. Oste stopped dragging the wood and came running to her side. She pointed at the ground, her eyes shining. 

“Look tesoro! Look!” 

Mr. Oste looked to where she was pointing and gasped. Lying in the dirt were the seven gold coins the mysterious man had given him. He knelt down and picked up the coins, brushing the dirt and ash off of them. 

Over the next couple months Mr. Oste had a prestigious new inn built with silk sheets and fancy food. He even bought his wife the pretty dress she had asked for. Mr. Oste died ten years later, rich, and happy.