Read Online A Christmas Wish by Joseph Pittman - Free Book Online Page B

remember that, too. See, Bradley took that picture of Momma and Cynthia. Cynthia’s holding my new baby doll, pretending to feed it its bottle. And that’s me. . . .”
    Janey and I sat there for a good long time, poring over each photograph. I listened to the stories that accompanied each one, making mental notes to myself about ideas to incorporate into our upcoming holiday, the first we would celebrate together. She returned the photos to their protective sleeve and resumed her search. She was clearly looking for something specific. Suddenly she grew excited again as she pulled the top off another box. She clapped wildly when she made her discovery.
    â€œBrian, you’ll love this, I know you will,” she said.
    She withdrew in her tiny hands what must have been Annie’s most favorite Christmas decoration of all: a ceramic, brightly painted, snow-covered windmill, with sails that actually spun. Carefully, Janey handed it to me and I gazed lovingly on it, mesmerized by its transforming beauty. Like the windmill outside, like Annie herself. I asked Janey if we could bring this one downstairs now and she clapped at the suggestion.
    â€œIt’s never too early for Christmas,” she said.
    â€œNo, not in the land of the windmill it’s not.”
    Just then the telephone rang downstairs, and Janey went racing to answer it, leaving me in the attic alone. I started to get up before changing my mind. I knew there had to be other photographs from years ago, and I wanted to see those. When I found them at the bottom of another box, I started to look through them, hunting for other clues to Christmases past. I stumbled upon an album that turned out to contain memories of Janey’s first Christmas. She was just eleven weeks old, with Annie holding her as she sat in front of the Christmas tree. No doubt her husband, Dan, had taken the photo. As an answer to my question, the next photo was of Dan holding Janey, a smile brightening his handsome face. Emotion swelled within me, blocking my throat. My God, what forces of nature had brought this precious little girl to this moment, only eight and planning her future holidays without either of these people in her life. How fortunate I was to be caring for her, but how daunting a task it was, too. Was I really up to it? Suddenly feeling like I was an intruder to history I had no business knowing, I put the photo albums back in their box and tried to reseal the tape. It flipped open, as though taunting me. In that cold, musty attic that day, I made a vow—to Annie and to Dan Sullivan, too—that I would do all I could to make this holiday perfect for Janey. But how? I knew she would need the most special gift possible.
    When Janey returned to the attic, she scrunched her nose at me. “Hey, come on, that was Gerta. We’re having dinner with her, remember?”
    I had remembered, but I hadn’t realized how much time had gotten away from us. It was closing in on five in the afternoon. The farmhouse had darkened along with the outside world. I asked Janey to give me a couple more minutes to get organized. Something was amiss, or more accurately, something was missing from the attic. I had placed my family ornament in the near corner, by the staircase. Today, though, it wasn’t there.
    â€œJaney, did you show Ashley my ornament?”
    â€œYes, oh Brian, her eyes just lit up. Remember? I told you,” she said. “You’re very forgetful lately. I could see the blue glass in her eyes, that’s how pretty it is.”
    â€œWhere did you find it?”
    She turned and pointed to the exact location where I had placed it. “Hey, where’s the box?”
    â€œThat’s a good question,” I said. “Are you sure you didn’t leave it in your room?”
    Janey nodded, her lips starting to quiver. “Uh-huh. I put it right back there.”
    She was noticeably upset, and after the great day we’d had I