A Child's Christmas. Kate James
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DANIEL DIDN’T THINK his partners would be enthusiastic about contributing more money. He’d pushed their generosity to the limit with the two families they were sponsoring, especially since he’d made sure they’d gone well above what was requested. No, he couldn’t commit his firm to more.
Laura rushed on before he could decline. “How about if I email you Jason’s picture and his story? Then decide.”
He didn’t see how he could refuse without sounding rude. Besides, if he’d learned one thing about Laura during their brief interactions, it was that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. In fact, he could hear her nails tapping on the keyboard as they spoke. He remembered their initial meeting, and how she’d good-naturedly maneuvered him into sponsoring two families instead of one. He sighed. She was good at her job, and he couldn’t fault her for that. “Okay. Send it to me.”
“Thanks again, Daniel. Please don’t take too long to think about it. Time’s running out...especially for Jason.”
Daniel opened Laura’s email and then the attachments. Reading Jason’s story, he ached for both the boy and his mother. They lived in Camden Falls, a town he hadn’t heard of. According to the report, it was just outside Springfield, Massachusetts, less than an hour from his office in Hartford. The brief overview told him that the mother was single and doing her best to take care of her very sick child. Daniel sat in front of his computer monitor, staring at the little boy who’d been through so much in his short life and—miraculously—was still able to grin. Jason’s blue eyes seemed to gaze directly into his.
Daniel wasn’t going back to his partners for more money. But little Jason would have everything he wanted for Christmas. Daniel would see to it—personally.
PAIGE WORKED EXTRA hours for a week straight, since she’d traded shifts with a colleague so she could take a few days off to visit her parents. She tried to save her vacation days to accommodate Jason’s medical appointments, and she didn’t want him to be without her over the weekend, either. She hated to leave him, but things were hard enough for Jason as it was; she didn’t want him overhearing their conversations, easily done in her parents’ small bungalow.
As they’d agreed, Paige borrowed Chelsea’s ancient silver Honda Accord for the drive to Great Barrington. The weather forecast concerned her. An accumulation of wet, heavy snow was expected, but she didn’t have much choice. Between her work schedule and Jason’s first treatment, these three days were the only real opportunity she had.
Jason was staying with Mrs. Bennett—a great adventure for him. Other than his visits to the hospital, it was the first time he’d be away from home without her. Chelsea had offered to take him to the park, promising they’d make a snowman if there was enough snow. To prove that she was serious, she’d bought carrots, a small bag of coal and even a toy pipe. Mr. Weatherly, their next-door neighbor, also offered to spend some time with him.
Paige drove through a few intense snow squalls, clinging white-knuckled to the steering wheel. She thought about stopping for a coffee but feared the storm would only get worse. She didn’t want to risk not being able to get to Great Barrington that afternoon. She drove on and hoped for the best.
Fortunately, the squalls were localized and short. She made it to Great Barrington without incident. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief when she pulled up outside her parents’ house.
Her parents adored the little bungalow, with its board-and-batten exterior stained a pale blue-gray and the shutters and trim painted a sunflower yellow. She remembered the excitement in her mother’s voice when her parents had first seen the house. Her mother had said it reminded her of a bright summer sky. Even in the dreary twilight, the house glowed with warmth and welcome.
Her mother loved to tend the gardens on either side of the porch steps. In the summer, ever-blooming annuals crowded the small space with a riot of colors. Now the gardens were cut back and neatly edged, laid to rest for the winter. With Christmas fast approaching, the house was decorated for the holidays. As a child, Paige had loved that she was the envy of all her friends at Christmastime because their house was always the brightest and most cheerful in the neighborhood.
Feeling nostalgic, Paige grabbed her overnight bag from the Accord’s trunk, stood beside the car and inhaled deeply. From the familiar subtle, smoky scent, she knew her mother had a fire going in the fireplace. She mounted the three short steps to the porch, and the muffled strains of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” drifted out to her.
The glossy red door, adorned with a wreath of holly, was framed by a garland entwined with twinkling white fairy lights. Pewter-gray urns stood on either side of the door, filled with evergreen boughs, birch branches and twigs laden with red berries.
Despite her father’s illness, joy and love emanated from the simple little house.
Paige felt guilty about bringing sadness to her parents’ door, especially at this time of year. How was she going to do this? For once, her father’s loss of memory might be a blessing, if it spared him the cruelty of the news she had to impart.
Now that she was here, she was terrified of the impact her revelation about Jason’s condition would have on her mother, who’d been so eager for Paige to visit. In a few short hours, she’d be breaking her mother’s heart.
Paige took another fortifying breath and let herself in. Almost immediately, a sheltie scrambled out of a room on the right, bounded over to Paige and took little leaps all around her in greeting. Paige put her bag next to the front door and bent down to scratch the dog. “Hey, Iris. How’re you doing? Have you been a good girl?” Paige was rewarded with an energetic face wash.
The greeting ritual completed, Paige straightened. She brushed some dog hair from her pants, pulled off her boots and simply stood where she was. The combined living/dining area was to her left, the kitchen ahead of her, and a small den and powder room to her right. Pretty Christmas touches were everywhere—the poinsettia on the hall table beside a photograph of her, Jason and her parents, the mistletoe hung from a chandelier, and a plastic snowman they’d had since she was a child, which stood as a friendly sentinel in a corner of the hallway.
From her vantage point, she could see the Christmas tree in the living room with its bright decorations and more flickering lights, a half dozen neatly wrapped packages beneath it. A miniature tree, no more than eight inches high, with a dusting of fake snow, sat on the coffee table beside a dish of sugar cookies.
Although the fireplace was out of Paige’s sight, she could hear the logs crackling, smell the rich aroma of applewood and see the dancing reflections of the flames.
Just as she had when Paige was a child, her mother made every occasion special. All of a sudden, Paige had an overwhelming need to be held by her. She took a few steps forward, the dog at her heels. “Mom! I’m here.”
Charlotte Brooks emerged from the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel. “Hi, honey.” Her hair was snow-white, short and stylish. Behind her glasses, her eyes were clear and bright, and the same shade of cornflower blue as her daughter’s. Her face was remarkably unlined for a woman approaching seventy. She wasn’t as tall as Paige but had a slim, youthful figure. She wore neatly pressed black pants and a pale pink sweater. A white apron was tied around her waist.
Love and admiration swelled in Paige’s chest, as they never failed to do whenever she saw her mother.
They hugged, swaying gently together. “It’s so good to see you, Mom.” Paige held on, taking strength from her mother.
When they parted, Charlotte grasped Paige’s shoulders and stepped back. “Let me have a look at you.” After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “What’s wrong, honey?”
“We’ll talk, Mom. But I’d like to see Dad first.”
“He’s in the den. Reading, I think.”