NightWriters
By Mike Price
Sheila, my four-year-old daughter, climbed onto my bed and said, “Don’t cry, Mommy. It’s Christmas.”
“I know, sweetheart.” I closed my eyes and thought of Bill. He died just before Easter. I dabbed my tears and said, “Let’s see what Santa brought you.”
“Okay,” she said. She dashed to the Christmas tree and found her present. “Can I open it now, Mommy?” After I nodded, crimson foil paper fluttered to the floor as she tore open her gift. “Oh, pretty,” she said, as she tried on her new blue jacket. “It’s a little big.”
“You’ll grow into it.”
“Mommy, I don’t see one for you. Mommy, please don’t cry. Maybe Dan will bring you a present. He’s nice.”
Dan was my late-husband’s good friend who had recently moved back to town. Bill’s parents had introduced us at their Thanksgiving dinner. We had a wonderful time getting reacquainted. We fell in love.
“Dan may not be back,” I said.
He proposed last night. My brain told me that it was too much and too fast. I was scared. I told him, “No.”
The doorbell rang and Sheila flung open the door. “Mommy, he’s here. He’s here.”
“Dan?” I asked, my eyes wide with surprise.
“Merry Christmas, Julia,” he said, trying to hide his hurt with a smile. “I come bearing gifts. May I come in?”
“Um, yes, get in and close the door.”
He handed me a small blue package. “For you.”
I sat on the couch and carefully removed the wrapping from an exquisite set of ceramic figurines of Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus lying in a manger.
“It’s beautiful, thank you.”
“Bill told me you collected nativities.”
“Did you know my Daddy?”
“Yes, I did. He was my best friend.” He handed her a silver present. “I have a gift for you too.”
Sheila’s gift was a pink magic wand with red lights. When she waved it, the lights blinked and it chimed, “La, la, ling!”
“Careful,” Dan said. “It’s real. But you have to say ‘Ho, ho, ho,’ after you wave it. Try it on your swing set.”
We had bought her the playset last year, but Bill was too sick to assemble it. What was Dan up to?
“Okay,” she said, and ran into the garage. She waved her toy over a big long dusty box and said “Ho, ho, ho, be put up.”
“Look in your backyard,” Dan said, with a sly smile.
“No way,” I said, as my daughter ran to the back.
“Mommy, Mommy, look! It’s up.” She sat on her swing and said, “Push me, push me.”
Astounded, I asked, “How did you do that?”
“Magic,” Sheila said.
“And a screwdriver,” Dan whispered. He ran to push my happy girl back and forth.
After swinging and sliding, she said to Dan, “You can’t catch me.” When he almost did, she waved her wand and quickly said, “Ho, ho, ho, freeze!” He froze in place. “Unfreeze.” He chased her again, but never caught her.
“It’s starting to rain,” I said. “Let’s go inside.”
Sheila sat next to Dan. “I like you. Mommy doesn’t cry when you’re here.”
“She’s sad because your daddy went to Heaven. But someday, she’ll find someone else who will love her, and you, just like Joseph loved Mary and Jesus.”
Sheila glanced at the figure of Joseph and then looked at Dan. Suddenly, she flashed a big smile, waved her enchanted wand, and said, “Ho, ho, ho, you’re my new Daddy!”
As if by magic, my heart said, “Yes,” and I threw my arms around my fiancé.
Mike Price is a retired nuclear plant operator, part-time writer, and full-time grandpa. He loves Christmas and hopes everyone can have a magical and merry Christmas. Mike is a member of SLO NightWriters, for writers at all levels in all genres. Find them online at <a href=”https://slonightwriters.org”>slonightwriters.org</a>.
