A Family for Christmas by Birdie Stewart

Author:Birdie Stewart [Stewart, Birdie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Porete Press

9

The next day, the temperature dropped into the low twenties. Outside chores were limited to feeding the farm animals, gathering eggs and milking the cows. Frank couldn't get much done without harnessing the horse and wagon. It was useless to try, anyway. He wouldn't risk injuring Buck pulling a wagon from town and back. He gave everyone leave to stay inside for the day. Surely tomorrow it would be more hospitable.

Holly didn't have to worry about what was going to keep Emily occupied. She had seen Emily gather the rag basket and the sewing bag and head back to her bedroom and shut the door. However, Jake was another matter. He sat at the table, wiggling his legs and looking dreamily out the window. She spied a block of wood in the kindling box. She walked over to him and quietly asked if he knew how to whittle.

"Of course. I have handled a knife since I was five," he assured her.

"Well then, I need your help on a project. Can you to make us a nice round shaped oval out of this block? Keep it mostly the same size, just round out the edges. After you do that, it needs to be sanded smooth as silk. Do you think you could do that?"

Jake took the block of wood out of Holly's hand. "Of course I could. It might take me a few hours but I could do it."

"Could you just work quietly on this project? I happen to know that Emily needs an object just like this. Why, you could even give it to her for Christmas. It would make a very nice present. Would you like to do that?" Holly asked innocently.

Jake's expression turned thoughtful. "I was wondering what to get her. Do you think she is gonna give me a present?"

Holly smiled. "Yes, I'm sure she's going to give you something for Christmas."

The boy grinned from ear to ear. He walked to the stove and took out a buck knife from a tin box. Then, he moved his chair over to the fire and began to whittle away little strips of wood. Soon, a nice little pile had gathered at his feet.

Frank was seated in a chair reading. Every once in a while his eyes peeped over the pages to watch their exchange.

The house was quiet and Holly had a pot of soup going on the stove. She took a moment to envision where the tree would stand in the room. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and imagined how the house would smell like green like sap.

Her eyes whipped open. Wait, how would they decorate it? There were no glass ornaments, nor any little candles that one could clamp onto the branches.

Holly's first Christmas at the orphanage had been the first Christmas she could remember. She wasn't certain how Sister Maybelle had managed to convince her uncle to let her run the old, rundown tenement house in a rough part of town, but she had. At the age of five, she'd joined four other children who took shelter there under Sister Maybelle's care.

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