A Home For Christmas. Linda Ford
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children sprang forward and fell upon the baggage as if they’d been returned home from being lost. In a sense, Missy supposed it felt that way. Everything they owned and were familiar with was before them.
Wade pried open the first box and let the children dive into the contents. Blankets, clothing, a pair of woolen mittens were all pulled out. Annie pressed her face into each article and breathed deeply. Joey fingered the fabric and then slipped his hands into the mittens, a look of joy and pain twisting his features.
They emptied the box and sat back. No doll.
Missy carefully repacked the contents while Wade opened the next box. Again he stepped back as the children examined the contents. With a squeal, Annie pulled out a pink sweater and slipped it on. She rubbed her sleeves and smiled through a sheen of tears. “My sweater Mama made me.”
Joey dug further. He didn’t say anything, but it was obvious he was hunting for something. When the box was empty he sat back on his heels. “It’s not there.”
“What are you looking for?” Wade asked.
“Something.” Joey would say no more.
Missy repacked the box, with the children following every move of her hands, as if saying goodbye to each item. As if saying goodbye to their life. A tear dropped to the back of her hand but she wiped it off and continued until everything was back and Wade closed the top on the box.
The two valises sat untouched and the four of them stared at the bags. Would they contain something to comfort the children or would there be only disappointment? Missy didn’t want to face the possibility of the latter. It seemed the children didn’t, either. But Wade pulled one valise closer and folded back the top. “We might as well see what’s here.”
With less enthusiasm than they’d shown previously, the children pulled out items. This bag held boy’s clothing. Missy realized it contained the things Joey needed for the present. Annie sat back and let him remove the contents. He carefully lifted each shirt and each pair of trousers, almost reverently setting them aside. At the bottom of the bag he felt something and grew still, his eyes wide. Slowly, he lifted out a photograph and stared at it. “Mama and Papa.” The words came out in a whisper.
He turned the picture so Annie could see it. She sucked in a sigh and then released it.
No one moved. Missy wondered if anyone breathed as the children drank in the likeness of their parents.
Joey kept the photograph on his lap and searched the corners of the bag for something more.
Missy knew the moment he’d found it. He froze, one hand in the valise, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Then he swallowed twice and slowly withdrew his hand. “My ball.” He burst into tears.
Wade and Missy reached for him at the same time. Their arms crossed as they comforted Joey, but neither of them withdrew. The weight of Wade’s arm across Missy’s sent a rush of warmth straight to her heart. She was instantly thirteen years old again, longing to be comforted. She’d gone to Gordie in tears, overwrought about their parents’ death, but her brother had pushed her away. Told her it was time to grow up. Wade, to his credit, simply held Joey now and let him shed as many tears as he needed to.
Annie scrambled over the valise, lifted the photograph from Joey’s knees, crawled into his lap and wrapped her arms about him.
Missy wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She could not bring herself to look at Wade, fearing her emotions would riot out of control and she would become a teary mess.
When Joey’s sobs subsided he shared a memory. “Papa played catch with me every time he could.” He darted a glance to his uncle.
Missy almost chuckled at the boy’s subtle hint.
Wade nodded. “Tell you what. We’ll play catch, too.”
Joey grinned. “I’d like that.”
Annie slipped from her brother’s lap and squatted in front of the last valise. Wade opened it and the others sat back as Annie slowly lifted out little-girl garments and set them aside. After each she looked from Missy to Joey to Wade. Not until her uncle said, “Go ahead,” did she take out the next item.
She looked into the bag and squealed in delight, but kept her hands on her knees and stared at the object.
“What is it?” Missy asked softly.
Gently, Annie lifted out a soiled and worn cloth doll. “My dolly, Mary.” She hugged the doll to her neck and rocked back and forth, humming a lullaby.
Missy heart overflowed at this child’s pleasure. But her joy was intermingled with unshed tears. She shared a glance with Wade. From his trembling smile she guessed he struggled with the same emotions she did.
Their gaze remained locked. His smile fled and then returned with warmth and understanding, finding an answering smile in her heart. They might not have much in common. They had plans that didn’t involve the other. Certainly they were at odds about what his plans for the children were. But unmistakably they shared tender affection for these children.
Annie looked about the room as if searching for something else, saw her new doll on the kitchen table and trotted over to get it. “Mary, you have a sister now. This is Martha.” With one arm clutching each doll, she hugged them both to her neck.
Joey shifted to face Wade. “Are you leaving us here?”
Still on the floor, Wade sat back and crossed his legs with an ease that said he often sat this way. Missy could imagine him on the ground before a campfire, a tin cup of steaming coffee in his hand. The picture made her smile and, at the same time, filled her with an unfamiliar restlessness.
Her smile fled as she waited for Wade to explain his plans to the children.
He caught Annie and pulled her to his lap. “I’m not leaving for a little while. You both know I don’t want to ever leave you but...” He shrugged, then brightened. “But Missy is going to help take care of you while we’re here. How do you like that?”
Joey grinned. “I like that.”
Annie reached for Missy’s hand and pulled her closer. “Me, too.”
The children looked at each other, sharing a secret. Then Joey nodded. “I’ll ask.” He considered Wade a moment as if gathering up the nerve.
“What is it?” Wade prompted.
“Annie and I want to have our own Christmas. Not one with so many strangers.”
Wade turned to Missy. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me.” She turned to Joey. “Did you have something in mind?”
Joey wriggled with excitement. “Tomorrow is the day after Christmas. Boxing Day, Mama called it. She said it used to be when people gave their servants money and gifts back in England. We don’t have servants, but she said Grandma considered the animals her servants, so they would go to the barn and decorate it to celebrate Jesus being born in a manger. Can we do that tomorrow?”
Missy’s throat clogged. The children didn’t want gifts for themselves; they wanted only to make Christmas memorable.
She turned toward Wade, intending to tell him she’d help him decorate the barn if Eddie approved. But Wade looked as if he’d been stabbed through the heart.
He shifted Annie to Missy’s lap and strode from the room.
* * *
Wade stumbled out the back door into the clear evening. Trying to calm himself, he sucked in the cold air and commanded his thoughts to fall into order.
The door behind him opened, threw out a patch of golden lamplight before him, then closed softly. He felt Missy at his side but did not look her way nor acknowledge her.
Her hand touched his arm and rested there. “Wade, what’s wrong?”
He