against the wall and held
onto the doorjamb while she slid down far enough to reach the
package. Lifting it turned out to be harder than she thought. She
couldn’t bend the leg with the cast, so she had to slide it outside
the door and along the step. There was no way she could pick up the
package with one hand and lost her balance, ending up on her butt.
That was fortuitous, because she now had two hands free to grab the
package and pull it inside. The trick would be finding a way to get
up again from the floor. In the end, she left the package on the
floor and wiggled across the living room so she could hoist herself
up on the sofa. At least she’d managed to kick the door shut with
her good leg on her way to the futon, but in doing so, she’d
knocked over her crutches, which now lay on top of the package. Her
little adventure and perplexing problem exhausted her, and before
retrieving them, she closed her eyes to rest and quickly fell
asleep.
The sun had set by the
time Johanna awoke, and she switched on the lamp to look at her
watch. It was ten p.m. She caught site of her little tree and
smiled. She used the folding chair like a walker and pushed it
toward her crutches. A sense of empowerment washed over her as she
sat on the chair, leaned down, and retrieved the fallen crutches.
With that problem out of the way, she grabbed a magazine Amaranda
had given her and made a paper chain out of strips of the more
colorful illustrations. She twisted each strip and then wet the
ends and twisted them together. Her first attempt looked large and
cumbersome, but time was on her side, and she used it to make a
finer chain with smaller loops to suit her tree’s
proportions.
She quieted her growling
stomach with a peanut butter sandwich. The bag of chocolates she
had purchased as an occasional treat sat in the fridge next to the
bread. Each piece had been wrapped in either red or green foil for
the holidays. She grabbed the candies and carefully set some of
them on the tree branches. Her decorating culminated in lighting
the candle she had purchased a couple of weeks before but always
felt too guilty to light. The aroma of cinnamon and spice filled
the air. She placed it by the tree, but not too
close . I don’t want the tree to catch
fire. The candlelight flickered off the
bits of foil on the candies, and Johanna felt a sense of peace she
hadn’t ever experienced.
It was well past midnight,
and she turned her head in surprise when she heard caroling
outside. She pulled back the curtain and saw a group of people
walking down the block, singing.
It’s Christmas, she thought. The package she’d found on her
doorstep still waited for her to unwrap it. Once again, she used
her folding chair as a walker and sat on it while she picked up the
parcel. She placed the package on the seat and pushed it over to
the futon. She made herself comfortable before tearing off the
wrapping paper. She had no idea what could be inside but knew it
might be the closest she’d come to opening a gift at Christmas. Her
jaw dropped when she finally cast her eyes on what was hidden
inside—a first edition of Heidi— the same book she had been
looking at in Artiqua
Literaria . She leaned her head back
against the cushion to think. The woman who owned the bookstore
seemed friendly enough, but why would she give Johanna a valuable
first edition? The woman didn’t look poor, but she also didn’t look
like she made a habit out of giving books away. Johanna’s heart
skipped a beat when she remembered the little old man—the one who
had called her ‘Josefina.’ No, it can’t
be. How would he even know where I
live? Neither Amaranda nor Derrick had
been there, nor had she told them about the book, so she felt
confident it hadn’t come from either of them. She opened the cover
and discovered a small envelope with her name on it. Inside, a note
simply said, “Merry Christmas from one book lover to
another.”
A single tear cascaded
down her cheek.
onto the doorjamb while she slid down far enough to reach the
package. Lifting it turned out to be harder than she thought. She
couldn’t bend the leg with the cast, so she had to slide it outside
the door and along the step. There was no way she could pick up the
package with one hand and lost her balance, ending up on her butt.
That was fortuitous, because she now had two hands free to grab the
package and pull it inside. The trick would be finding a way to get
up again from the floor. In the end, she left the package on the
floor and wiggled across the living room so she could hoist herself
up on the sofa. At least she’d managed to kick the door shut with
her good leg on her way to the futon, but in doing so, she’d
knocked over her crutches, which now lay on top of the package. Her
little adventure and perplexing problem exhausted her, and before
retrieving them, she closed her eyes to rest and quickly fell
asleep.
The sun had set by the
time Johanna awoke, and she switched on the lamp to look at her
watch. It was ten p.m. She caught site of her little tree and
smiled. She used the folding chair like a walker and pushed it
toward her crutches. A sense of empowerment washed over her as she
sat on the chair, leaned down, and retrieved the fallen crutches.
With that problem out of the way, she grabbed a magazine Amaranda
had given her and made a paper chain out of strips of the more
colorful illustrations. She twisted each strip and then wet the
ends and twisted them together. Her first attempt looked large and
cumbersome, but time was on her side, and she used it to make a
finer chain with smaller loops to suit her tree’s
proportions.
She quieted her growling
stomach with a peanut butter sandwich. The bag of chocolates she
had purchased as an occasional treat sat in the fridge next to the
bread. Each piece had been wrapped in either red or green foil for
the holidays. She grabbed the candies and carefully set some of
them on the tree branches. Her decorating culminated in lighting
the candle she had purchased a couple of weeks before but always
felt too guilty to light. The aroma of cinnamon and spice filled
the air. She placed it by the tree, but not too
close . I don’t want the tree to catch
fire. The candlelight flickered off the
bits of foil on the candies, and Johanna felt a sense of peace she
hadn’t ever experienced.
It was well past midnight,
and she turned her head in surprise when she heard caroling
outside. She pulled back the curtain and saw a group of people
walking down the block, singing.
It’s Christmas, she thought. The package she’d found on her
doorstep still waited for her to unwrap it. Once again, she used
her folding chair as a walker and sat on it while she picked up the
parcel. She placed the package on the seat and pushed it over to
the futon. She made herself comfortable before tearing off the
wrapping paper. She had no idea what could be inside but knew it
might be the closest she’d come to opening a gift at Christmas. Her
jaw dropped when she finally cast her eyes on what was hidden
inside—a first edition of Heidi— the same book she had been
looking at in Artiqua
Literaria . She leaned her head back
against the cushion to think. The woman who owned the bookstore
seemed friendly enough, but why would she give Johanna a valuable
first edition? The woman didn’t look poor, but she also didn’t look
like she made a habit out of giving books away. Johanna’s heart
skipped a beat when she remembered the little old man—the one who
had called her ‘Josefina.’ No, it can’t
be. How would he even know where I
live? Neither Amaranda nor Derrick had
been there, nor had she told them about the book, so she felt
confident it hadn’t come from either of them. She opened the cover
and discovered a small envelope with her name on it. Inside, a note
simply said, “Merry Christmas from one book lover to
another.”
A single tear cascaded
down her cheek.
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