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The school house was packed, families and neighbors crowded into rows of folding chairs as the children waited on risers made of apple crates to perform their Midwinter program.
Ed and Winry sat close to the windows on the left, a few rows from the back, in case Sara grew fussy or Winry developed nausea, as she sometimes did if she got overheated while pregnant. With nearly one hundred people in a room meant for thirty, it was almost assured the place would become stuffy rather quickly.
Ed beamed at his son. James stood proudly in the middle of the group of children, fidgeting with his classmates and making funny faces every now and again at his parents. The teacher waited until the clock on the wall said five o’clock exactly, and then thanked everyone for coming before sitting down at the piano.
As soon as the teacher’s bottom touched the bench, the children got serious about their performance and joined hands. James had told his parents earlier in the day that Mrs. Valen said it would make them feel less nervous if they all held hands together.
They began to sing, their little voices loud and mostly in tune to Ed’s surprise. The rhymes were well loved and traditional- Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, Frosty the Snowman- all summoning tears to Ed’s eyes that he viciously held onto, as if the Central Military Choir were serenading them with classical operettas. Thankfully, Winry said nothing, only patted his arm as she balanced Sara on her lap.
Ed assumed after six or seven songs, the program would be over and there would be punch and cookies passed around before people began to file out and go home for the holiday. When the music stopped, Mrs. Valen stood and bowed, gestured to the children to take a bow, and then addressed the parents.
“Our last song is one we all decided to keep secret. This is one we’re really proud of because we all wrote it together, and the children asked if we could sing it a cappella the way the big choir in Central does.”
Ed turned to Winry, still fighting to keep from actually crying tears of joy. “Did he mention anything to you about this?” he asked.
“It wouldn’t be a secret if he had,” Winry said with a smirk. “He did mention he had a secret though, but refused to tell me what it was. I never heard him practicing anything other than what we just heard though.” She offered Sara a pacifier to keep her quiet.
Ed looked back to the front of the room, watching as Mrs. Valen pulled a pitch pipe from her dress pocket to help the children get into tune. Then their little mouths opened and out came the most precious sound Edward had ever heard in his entire life.
“Nightfall is coming,
and with it a king.
He’s holly and snowflakes,
his song we all sing.”
Ed’s jaw hung open as the children sang with amazing harmony, their sound floating to the rafters and lilting angelically.
“Though darkness is ling’ring,
at dawn we shall see
the sunshine returning
for you and for me.”
Ed’s cheeks gleamed as he lost the battle against his tears. His chest felt warm and full. His hands trembled. He’d never in his life heard anything more glorious. The song went on for three more verses, each more lovely than the last, and James looked so proud of himself when Ed was the first one to stand up and begin clapping furiously. Everyone around him followed suit, and thunderous applause rang throughout the school house. Whistles and cheers and shouts of praise made some of the children blush adorably, and when the kids reunited with their families, hugs and kisses rained down on rosy little cheeks.
Ed had wiped his eyes dry before James caught up to them, and Ed scooped him up in his arms and hugged him tight.
“That was some secret, kiddo!” he exclaimed, the waterworks just barely held back by a desire not to cry in front of his son. “Where’d you learn to sing like that?”
“Mrs. Valen taught us!” James answered as Winry leaned in to kiss his cheek. “She brought phonographs in to teach everyone their parts and let us listen to some of the Central choir songs!” He then asked if it was okay to get a cookie and Winry told him to meet them outside when he was finished.
Ed ruffled James’ hair, told him to go have a bit of fun before going home for the night, then followed Winry outside.
“Jeeze, can you believe that?” he asked as he took Sara so Winry could cool down some. “I wish I had one of those cameras that took motion pictures and sound- that would have been one for the archives!”
Winry paced without her coat on, grinning. “I’m totally telling Mrs. Hughes about the crying.”
Ed tickled his daughter under her chin. “Go for it. That performance deserved weeping of the Alex Armstrong kind. What about you, Sara? Did you like the singing?”
Sara pulled her pacifier out and said, “James sings pwetty!”
He looked up to the sky, still light but not for long. “Such a wonderful song for the longest night of the year. They should record that sometime.”
The next day, the newspaper said the same thing, and a man from Central came to set the recording equipment up about a week later. By Midwinter, every family had a copy of it for their own homes, to play whenever they wanted to hear it again.
Many years after the man from Central came with his fancy set of microphones and giant wax record ready to put down the notes of their voices, James Elric now held a toddling great-grandson on his knee, a bottle of milk in one hand and a soft blanket in the other. A tune spilled out of the small electronic box on the table, an MP3 player, his grandson had told him. In it were thousands of songs, all right there at the touch of a button, and it was playing the Midwinter song his primary teacher and classmates had written in his first-year class.
“See? Old gramps used to have a nice voice!” he said with a gravelly laugh. “And though it never made me famous, everyone’s heard this song at Midwinter since it was pressed into vinyl.”
He grinned at his son when he mentioned the song being an heirloom that had been passed down the Elric line for generations.