Jacob Marley’s Ghost

Jacob Marley was alive—very much alive. And nobody was happier about that than his father.

"Jacob!" said Mr. Benjamin Marley with excitement, "your eyes are open! Can you hear me?"

The boy slowly opened his eyes wider. He tried hard to think. For a moment, he wasn't quite sure if he could hear his father or not, but then realized that he was only able to think such a thought because he had, indeed, heard his father's voice.

"Yes," said Jacob's soft and crackly voice, "I can hear you. Where am I?"

"You're at St. Chillip’s Hospital—you've been fighting a bad fever and scaring all of us nearly to death."

"Am I actually going to live? Am I going to be alright?"

"Yes, Jacob," replied Benjamin with a small chuckle, "it seems like the fever has broken and you are going to live."

It took a few moments for Jacob to consider whether he was happy or sad. He thought that he should probably feel happy about not dying and all, but his head hurt and he was cold. He thought: There is a possibility that death might be warmer, but it may also be rather dull.Yes, I will be happy to be alive—at least for a bit.

Mr. Marley stood and grabbed a cloth from a nearby table. He used it to dry Jacob's face—Jacob was wet from sweat. Benjamin looked at his son and smiled. It was night, but the large hospital ward was full of the light from several gas lanterns that hung against the cold gray walls.

Using a little of his precious strength, Jacob lifted his head slightly and saw that there were many other beds in the room. He wasn't able to see if the beds contained other ill children, but Mr. Benjamin Marley had seen the many other sick children. Jacob was also not able to see if the other children had parents beside them—Benjamin knew that they did not. Life was hard for the children of London and Jacob knew how fortunate he was to have such a caring father. But now, unfortunately, Jacob thought about his Mother.

"Is Mother here?" asked the boy.

"Oh—um—not right this moment. But she has been here often during these three days. She's at the shop now, of course."

That was no surprise to Jacob. Mrs. Marley was always at the shop. Jacob greatly doubted whether his Mother had ever visited him in the hospital—even one visit seemed like one time too many for her to step away from her work and habits.

"She'll be mad at me," said Jacob.

"What? Of course not. That's nonsense."

"It must cost a lot of money for me to be in this hospital. I know I'm only twelve years old, but that's old enough to know that it takes more than a farthing for me to be here. She'll be mad at how much money I've wasted being sick—money that we don't have—money that we need."

I wish we had more money, Jacob thought, life would be so much easier. And he was correct. At the time of this story, everyone in London believed that money was essential for happiness. Money was the difference between living in safety and living in filth. At least Jacob’s family had a sort of roof over their heads. Still, they were constantly just on the verge of eviction to the street.

"Jacob," said Benjamin as he bent closer to his son to look sternly in his face, "you do not need to worry about money—let me do that. And, let me worry about your mother. Even though she doesn't show it often, she has a heart. She cares about you and will be quite glad that you are well."

Just then, the sound of a horse and carriage came clanging through an open window next to Jacob. It must be toward the middle of the night, he thought. This was the first sound they had heard coming from the normally busy street.

"Let me go and see if I can find someone to send word to your mother. I'll be right back."

Benjamin bent over the bed and scooped up Jacob's small body in his arms. He held him tight. He didn't worry that Jacob may be too weak to sustain such a strong embrace—somehow Benjamin knew about the healing energy that flowed through hugs such as these.

"Jacob, I'm very glad that you are alive. I know you will have a long happy life and that you will do many wonderful things for yourself and others. Now, don’t worry about anything and try to get some rest."

Neither of them noticed that as Benjamin Marley said this, a cloud passed over the moon and created a fuzzy shadow over the clock in the room.