Christmas in My Heart, a Third Treasury by Joe Wheeler

Author:Joe Wheeler [Wheeler, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-82264-2
Publisher: The Crown Publishing Group
Published: 2012-07-04T00:00:00+00:00

Alma Carston was writing a list of names when the bell rang. The day before had been the first in years that she had known peace, or even approached happiness. The list of names included old friends whom she had long neglected, lovers of books to whom she could deliver her gifts on Christmas morning; then she planned to go to church—she had not been there on Christmas Day since she was a little girl.

With every thought of dread of the day came the soothing memory of the star that she had paid to see. Not hearing the doorbell, she was astonished to hear the exclamation of her maid and then a child’s laugh. A moment later found her in the hall. The surprise was almost too much but she heard it saying, “Daddy sent me. I’m a Christmas visitor, a surprise, and the tree will come at noon ’cause I wanted you for my Christmas tree.” Had it not been for the child’s evident joy and his insistence that the suitcase be unpacked, his questions about where they should put the tree, what should be on it, whether Carl the scout might come to it—a perfect volley of questions that gave her no time to think—she could not have controlled the emotions that surged over her. At noon, as they sat down for lunch at the little table she always used for him at the lake, he looked over at her, his face beaming, and said, “It’s nice isn’t it, Mother. Just like summer only it’s almost Christmas.” She could keep back the tears no longer and fled to her room, but he followed her, calling, “Has it come? Has the tree come? Daddy said it would.” And it had. It must be attended to and there was no time for tears when a Christmas tree had to be looked after. A box filled with all sorts of decorations came with the tree and it was nearly four o’clock when tinsel and gay balls, colored chains of every sort, candles that must be lighted, Santa Clauses little and big, and a wonderful electric star were fastened to the branches to the satisfaction of both the decorators.

The child was tired and content to lie quietly in his mother’s arms listening to “The Night Before Christmas.” “Tell it to me, Mother,” he begged. “Daddy doesn’t know it and Auntie doesn’t say it like you do.…”

Two or three times he had said, “Is it half past four?” and as the story closed he asked again. “Why do you want to know, darling?” she asked. “Cause then every day I telephone Daddy. I mustn’t forget it,” he answered. “It’s half past four now,” she said and he ran to the telephone. He seemed such a baby to her that she listened in astonishment as the clear little voice gave the correct number. She did not know how often he had interrupted important business interviews since he had learned the call.

“Hello, Daddy. It’s come. Yes.

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