She tried to keep track of AJ, but he seemed to disappear then reappear, holding a small child, talking to a pregnant mother, treating everyone with respect and gentleness, regardless of how they were dressed or talked.
Chaos broke out when the children found the puppies and kittens in their kennels under the Christmas tree and let them all loose. Chanti never laughed so hard in her life as she did watching AJ and his father, along with several of the police officers who had come and most of the children, chase the small animals around and under the tables, trying to retrieve all of them before anyone got hurt. Even without being told, the children seemed to know who the puppies and kittens would belong to, and soon peace reigned once again, the animals wrapped securely in loving arms or sitting quietly in their kennels next to their new owners.
“Ms Morrison?”
Chanti turned to the sound of a woman’s voice. The pregnant woman she had seen AJ visiting with stood close, a sad smile on her face. “I’m Jennifer’s mom. Thank you for having this party for the children. With Jennifer’s dad overseas, I just haven’t felt like celebrating.”
Chanti remembered the very first letter she had read when the contest began. Jennifer was one among many whose dad was in the military service.
“I do appreciate what you’re doing, but I read Jennifer’s letter before she sent it, and I know you can’t make her wish come true.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t do it all.” Chanti squeezed the woman’s hand just as a loud noise sounded. She turned to see a big screen television light up, and then a voice came across the loud speaker.
“Jennifer?”
“Daddy!” A little blond haired girl squealed, and AJ, who had cleared a space close to the screen, lifted the girl and stood her on the nearby table. Chanti heard Jennifer’s mom sob, and quickly circled her shoulders, giving her a hug before urging her to join her daughter, who was chattering rapidly to her father, who was bigger than life on the television screen.
For the next hour, AJ and his dad helped one after the other youngster stand on the table and talk to their parent, mostly dads but one mother, as they appeared on the two-way videoconferencing screen. Chanti used several napkins to stem the flow of tears and she wasn’t the only one. Even parents who didn’t have spouses in military service were crying, all sitting or standing quietly as everyone had the chance to visit with a loved one stationed overseas. As each child finished, they received a small teddy bear dressed in camouflage, got a hug from AJ, and were gently lifted down.
AJ had timed it just right, and their connection wasn’t lost until the last child had a chance to blow kisses to her father. Knowing she had to immediately get the children busy so they wouldn’t be sad with their parent so far away, Chanti collected them by the fountain and they started singing Jingle Bells.
They were on the second verse of Santa Claus is Coming to Town when they heard a loud ho, ho, ho, and Santa actually arrived. Chanti breathed a sigh of relief and plopped down in a chair as Santa took over the entertainment, laughing heartily, patting the little ones on the head as he walked over to the Christmas tree, dragging a huge bag behind him.
Chanti laughed at his antics as he read the names on the presents, majestically handing each child their gift. As much as was humanly possible, every child’s wish was granted. There was a baby doll for Megan and a teddy bear for her baby brother; Alvin got his new coat, and Sarah, who had asked for a baby brother, seemed perfectly happy with twin Cabbage Patch® babies.
“Is Mabel Johnson here?” Santa asked.
Chanti had been so wrapped up in the party she had almost forgotten the reunion they had planned for Noel and her mother. She watched the older lady walk towards Santa, being careful not to step on the little ones, who were happily playing with their toys on the floor. Chanti saw Noel step from behind the Christmas tree.
Neither one needed to say anything more. The instant Mabel looked up and saw the willowy model, she burst into tears and flung herself at the young woman. Noel was also crying, as was Chanti and at least half the audience before everyone began applauding. Annie helped Mabel and her daughter off to one side where they could continue their reunion with a little privacy.
Santa’s bag was empty; the kids were playing and the parents were visiting. Chanti was just about to tell Charlie what a wonderful Santa he made when the elevator doors once again dinged and her friend walked out with George and Wilma.
“What are you two doing here?” she asked Wilma as they hugged.
“We’ve come for the surprise, sweet pea,” Wilma answered.
“What surprise?” All the entertainment, presents and excitement were over.
“The surprise,” George repeated.
Chanti looked to Charlie for an explanation, especially considering he was supposed to be playing Santa.
“Sorry, Silly-Tilly, I got hung up with something. Is everything going okay?”
Charlie smiled at her and Chanti had the sneaking suspicion it was more like someone than something that caused Charlie to be late. She swung her gaze back to Santa, who she now realized was AJ. It was suddenly very quiet in the room as all the children sat on the floor at Santa’s feet as he told them a story.
“And so, there Santa Claus was, so lonely with only his little elves and reindeer to keep him company. But then he met a lovely lady with a generous heart and a beautiful laugh, and he knew he wanted her to be his Mrs. Claus.”
Astonished, Chanti watched as Santa reached into his bag, pulled out a small box, and opened it to reveal a ring. He asked the children, “Do you think the lovely lady will accept Santa’s proposal and marry him?”
Chanti’s hand flew to her mouth as a chorus of “yeses” echoed throughout the atrium and everyone started clapping. As AJ dropped onto one red clad knee, she remembered telling him she wished for time as her Christmas gift. But now, as she gazed into twinkling brown eyes, she realized that the man behind the white beard and pillow-stuffed belly truly was her Christmas wish come true.
The End
Barbara Baldwin books also published by Books We Love
Lost Knight of Arabia
Spinning Through Time
Prospecting for Love
Always Believe
Keep Reading for an Excerpt from Barbara Baldwin’s holiday novel Always Believe
Always Believe
By
Barbara Baldwin
Chapter One
“Are we home, daddy?”
“Yeah, sweetie, we are,” Ryan answered as he turned off the car. He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. Three long days and fourteen hundred miles in the car – he was exhausted. He blinked, finally moving when the porch light flickered on, casting a soft yellow glow across the drive.
He climbed out of the SUV and opened the door to the back seat, then carefully unhooked Emma’s seatbelt and folded her blanket around her. “Grab Teddy; here we go.” He scooped his sleepy daughter, blanket and teddy bear into his arms, ever mindful of the metal brace on her left leg that kept it stretched out straight.
“I can walk.” Her protest, once constant, was now random, and usually at times when she knew Ryan wouldn’t listen. Still, he acknowledged her.
“I know you can, but this is faster. Besides, Aunt Mary is waiting.”
He shuffled along the cracked sidewalk and up the steps onto the porch of the two-storied old Victorian style house. In the weak porch light, he barely saw the shadowy silhouettes of his aunt’s rose bushes that bordered the walk. He wondered if October was too late for the brilliant display of color he recalled.
“A rose’s bloom is a promise,” Aunt Mary had told him when she started the garden shortly after he had come to live with her. For more than the first time since his parents died all those years ago, he sorely needed a promise of something better. In fact, he needed a miracle.
“Ryan, it’s so very good to see you.” Aunt Mary met him at the door. “When you called to tell me you were coming, I didn�
��t know if you would arrive today or tomorrow. And this is Emma?” His aunt touched Emma's cheek, but she snuggled closer to Ryan’s chest, too drowsy to respond. Even though the doctors had assured him she was getting better, it seemed all she did was sleep.
“Come in, come in. I have Emma’s room all ready,” Aunt Mary said, holding the door wide enough for him to slip through. She led him across the living room to a set of French doors, which she pushed wide. “I thought she would be happier facing the rose garden than being upstairs with those tiny windows. Fact is, I never use those rooms any more. Too much trouble, you know, climbing the stairs all the time.”
Ryan was thankful for her thoughtfulness in putting Emma on the ground floor. Although she maneuvered short distances on crutches, she’d never manage stairs, and she was too weak to go far anyway.
Ryan stepped through the doorway of the guest room with its dark, full sized furniture. His aunt had tried to make it into a little girl’s room because pale yellow curtains covered the windows and stuffed animals sat propped against the pillows. He gently tucked Emma under the covers of the big bed, brushing back her hair and kissing her forehead.
“Sweet dreams, sweat pea,” he said, like he did every night from the time she was born.
“We’re not putting you out, are we?” He followed his aunt through the living room to her cozy kitchen at the back of the house.
“Of course not. There’s plenty of room in this rambling old house. I freshened your old room upstairs, if that’s all right. I remember you loved to pound up those stairs and then more often than not, slid down the banister.” She chuckled in remembrance.
“I don’t think you’ll catch me on the banister anymore.”
“No, but we don’t want to give Emma an excuse to repeat your antics, do we?”
“Emma’s not well enough to…” His voice faded and he wondered if his daughter would ever be well enough to enjoy the simple pleasures of being a child.
“It’ll be all right, Ryan. You bide and watch. We’re all going to be just fine.” Aunt Mary patted his cheek; like she had all those years ago as he grew up in her house in Snow. Ryan held her hand against his face, appreciating the warmth of it, recognizing that age and time had made it frailer. Still, it was a comfort.
He hadn’t known what to do after hearing the doctor’s latest prognosis. He had a sick child who may never recover, a stressful job that demanded too much of his time, and Houston had been too far away from family. Within a week, he had sorted and packed the furniture and taken a leave of absence, piling Emma and their clothes into the car and driving north. He needed to be somewhere familiar.
“Nothing’s changed in twenty years,” he said as he scraped back a chair and sat at the table.
“Why change? We always seemed happy this way.” Mary put a large bowl of stew in front of him, accompanied by a glass of milk and a plate of hot biscuits and butter. “Will Emma eat something?”
“If she wakes. The medicine she takes makes her pretty sleepy. Besides, we stopped an hour ago and she drank most of a milk shake. She still doesn’t have much of an appetite. At this point, I let her eat when she wants and pretty much what she wants.”
“Ryan Diantelli, you know better. That child needs fruits and vegetables and plenty of milk if she’s going to get well.”
Ryan’s gaze darted to the ceiling as the sharp sting of tears threatened. Damn. He was the father. He was supposed to be strong, to know all the answers, to protect and save. Yet he was ready to lose it. How was he going to manage everything life had thrown at him lately?
“I know Emma’s very sick, honey, but you never did tell me exactly what she has or what her prognosis is and how we can help.” Mary covered his trembling hand as she talked. “If you don’t want to talk tonight, that’s fine. But Ryan, you know running away isn’t going to solve the problem. We have to stand together and fight this.”
She was right and he smiled at her continued use of the word we. When he had called and told her Peggy and he had separated because his wife’s drinking had worsened and she had gone into detox, Mary had hoped they would reconcile. But when he’d had to call and tell her about the accident that crushed Emma’s leg and put his ex-wife in jail, Aunt Mary hadn’t minced words telling him exactly what she thought of Peggy’s negligence. She was totally protective of those she considered her family and Ryan regretted not having stayed in closer touch during those rough patches. He had thought he had to do it all himself.
“At the time of the accident, not only was her leg crushed, causing a comminuted fracture, but windshield glass cut the skin and bacteria entered the bone, causing osteomyelitis. Usually it can be cured with antibiotics, but Emma’s leg isn’t healing. The latest tests also showed trauma to the epiphyseal plate – the growth plate -- at the end of the bone.” He scrubbed his hands over his face.
“She’s stable now, otherwise I wouldn’t have considered moving away from her doctors in Houston. They’ve given me a referral to the children’s hospital in Pittsburgh. Once the doctors here examine Emma and recommend treatment, it’s still a matter of waiting.”
The complexities of Emma’s disease were sometimes more than even Ryan could wrap his mind around. “The bottom line is that the fracture in her leg isn’t mending.”
In the year since the accident, they had had to fight for her life three times, and every time Ryan had damned his ex-wife for letting Emma ride in the front seat instead of the back where she belonged. After each operation, it had taken Emma longer to recover, leaving her weaker and more fragile than before, and leaving Ryan physically drained and emotionally devastated.
Yet Emma had always fought back, her indelible spirit eventually allowing Ryan to smile again. There were times when Ryan was well aware of the reversal in roles. Emma buoyed him and kept him going, instead of the other way around. And now he realized why that was.
“Emma is a lot like you, Aunt Mary.” At her look of surprise, he continued, “She never seems to get down. When she was in the hospital, sick as a dog, she would always smile when I came in; always ask me if I had bought her a ticket on the space shuttle yet. It was our joke, and sometimes when I wanted to cry, she was the strong one. For an eight year old, she acts much older.”
“Are you saying I’m old for my age?”
Ryan knew she teased. “You will always be ageless to me. But I think Emma’s very lucky to have inherited your happy spirit and positive outlook on life.”
Ryan helped his aunt straighten the kitchen before he went to the car and brought in their luggage. He had sold the house in Houston and most of the furnishings, putting only a few keepsakes and Emma’s furniture in storage. There was a lot left unsettled, but it would sort itself out. Emma was – always would be – his first priority. He had learned that lesson the hard way when he almost lost her, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.
He stood at the kitchen sink listening to the wind howl long after his aunt had gone to bed. He glanced out the window but the night was dark. A stained-glass dragonfly, hung on the window with a suction cup, rattled against the glass on the next gust of wind. Tonight’s weather caused him to wonder at the wisdom of moving from Houston to Snow, especially with winter right around the corner.
A sudden burst of rain pelted the window, jarring Ryan from his musings. He watched the water sluice down the pane in a continuous sheet. Sighing, he topped off his cup of coffee, flipped off the switch on the pot and turned toward the living room. He peeked through the bedroom doorway to check on Emma then slouched in an oversized chair next to the small gas fireplace. He stared into the flames as he sipped his coffee.
He missed having someone to talk to and cuddle with on nights like this. He loved Emma to pieces and regardless of his periodic misgivings, he knew they were in the right place for this time of their lives. But he was a healthy male in what should be the prime of his life, and he longed for an adult relationship, even as he felt guilty thinking it was because of Emma that he d
idn’t have one.
He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, flipped it open and hit speed dial.
“’Lo?” The voice was husky and drowsy and Ryan smiled.
“Hey.”
“Ryan! Where are you? Are you and Emma all right?”
Ryan smiled at Alexis’s questions. She always asked about Emma. She and Ryan had dated for over six months and more often than not, Emma was in the middle of it, by Alexis’s request.
“We’re okay. We finally made it to Aunt Mary’s. I’m exhausted.”
“Why are you talking to me then? You should be asleep.”
“I miss you. I wanted to hear your voice. Now that I’m here, I’m not sure—”
“Yes you are,” she interrupted. “It was the right thing to do. You’ll see.”
The women in his life always had such positive attitudes. “Alexis, I…”
“Sh, I know. Get some sleep.”
When Ryan crawled into bed under the sloping roof of the old Victorian, he chuckled. Aunt Mary hadn’t changed a thing, including the single bed that now didn’t quite fit his six foot, two inch frame. Regardless, he slept soundly for the first time in too long. He and Emma were home.
* * * *
Laughter. How could such an innocent sound cause Ryan’s heart to soar? He followed the chatter to the kitchen, where Emma sat at the table with a bowl of cereal while Aunt Mary peeled apples at the sink. Ryan watched from the doorway as Emma lifted the spoon to her mouth, paused, and then put it back in the bowl. He frowned.
If Wishes Were Magic Page 16
