Read The Christmas Portrait Online

Authors: Phyllis Clark Nichols

The Christmas Portrait (5 page)

I knew Chesler didn't get it, and he was probably still thinking about that robot turning into a dinosaur, but I got it. I turned around and reached for the matches on the hearth. “Granny, can we light the Christ candle now, sort of like it's Jesus's birthday candle?”

Before Granny could answer, Aunt Susannah Hope said, “I don't think that's a good idea. It could set the straw on fire.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I didn't want to, but I put the matches down.

“Speaking of gifts, I found something for you kids, and I just can't wait till Christmas to give it to you.” My aunt stepped into the kitchen and came back holding something that looked like a bucket covered in an old sheet. “I hope you like it. You can hang it near the kitchen window, and you don't even have to take it down after Christmas. Chesler, would you like to take the drape off?”

Chesler looked at Daddy to see if it was okay. Daddy nodded his head. Normally Chesler would have snatched that sheet off in a hurry, but he didn't. Maybe like me he had a funny feeling about what might be inside.

Chesler pulled the drape off slowly, dropped it on the floor, and stared at what he'd uncovered. Then he backed up, bumped into Daddy's leg, and buried his face in Daddy's khakis.

I stared too and clenched my fists. Why would Aunt Susannah Hope think we'd want a dead-looking stuffed redbird in a gold cage? I took the sheet and covered up the cage so we wouldn't have to see it anymore. Then I turned on my aunt.

“We don't want it.” Aunt Susannah looked shocked and nobody said a word, so I turned to Daddy. “Take it, Daddy. Chesler and I don't want it. Please get it out of here.”

Daddy grabbed me. “No, Kate. This is a gift. Your aunt thought you'd like the redbird, to remind you of your mama just like I thought you'd like the redbird painted on your Christmas ornament.”

Chesler was still holding on to Daddy's leg. “But it looks real, and it looks dead.”

“And it can't fly or sing, and it's in that stupid cage,” I said.

Then Chesler started crying, and I couldn't stop shaking and started crying too. “Chesler's right. The bird in that cage is dead and cold and stiff.”

Granny took my hand. “We hear you, Katherine Joy. Don, maybe it's best if you take that out of here for now.”

But even when the cage was gone we kept crying, and Daddy didn't seem to know what to do or say. Finally he pointed straight up the stairs. “That's it. Both of you to your rooms right now. I'm not having this kind of behavior.” His face meant business.

I ran up the stairs and dove into my bed. I didn't wait for Chesler. I just heard his door slam. I didn't care if he was crying or not, and I didn't care if Daddy was mad, and Aunt Susannah Hope was upset. I just wanted Mama. Why couldn't Aunt Susannah have died instead of Mama?

It wasn't long until I heard the front door close and Uncle Don's truck pulling out of the driveway. I lay still until I heard Granny talking loud to Daddy downstairs. She wasn't mad; she just talked loud 'cause she couldn't hear too good. I got up and went to my door to listen.

Granny said, “It's all right, John.”

Daddy's voice was all choked up. “No, it's not. Nothing's all right anymore. I don't know how to do this without Diana. The kids, the work, the house. And Christmas. What is Christmas without her?”

They talking stopped 'cause Daddy was crying so hard. Just hearing him cry made me cry too. Then Daddy said, “I don't know what came over Kate tonight. I thought she was handling Diana's death so well.”

Granny said, “Grief came over Kate. That's what came over her and you too. Just let her cry, John, and it's okay if you cry too.”

“I do, but sometimes I'm afraid I'll upset Kate and Chesler.”

“They need to see you grieve, John. Find yourself some time to cry, and let Kate do the same. She's trying to be your rock just like Diana Joy told her to, but she's still a little girl who's missing her mama.”

I couldn't stand it anymore and just went back to my bed and put the pillow over my head. In a little while Daddy came into my room with Chesler. He sat down on the side of my bed and put Chesler in his lap. “Hey, little peep. You asleep?”

I moved the pillow from my head and sat up. “No, sir.” Then I started crying all over again. “I don't want to be here, Daddy. I don't want to be anywhere if Mama's not there.”

Daddy just grabbed me and rocked me and Chesler right there on the side of my bed. “I know, Kate. I know. Sometimes I feel the same way. But I think if I weren't here, I'd be even sadder about what I'd miss. I'd miss you and Chesler, and decorating the Christmas tree, and so many other things. And look at all the things you'd miss if you weren't here.” Daddy just kept rocking back and forth.

Then I thought about what Mama said about the rocks. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm so sorry.” I moved over next to him, and we just sat huddled together like Granny's chickens did when a big storm's coming.

“No, Kate, I'm the one who's sorry. I'm sorry that I sent you to your room. I should have understood why you were so upset. And that bird in the cage? I don't blame you. It was creepy, but it's gone. We like redbirds that fly, and sing, and sit in the cedar tree, and peck on the window, don't we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Everything's okay now, and I'll try to do better.”

“Me too, Daddy. I'll try to do better too.” Chesler was sniveling.

“Hey, Ches,” Daddy said, “you remember when Granny's dog, Grady, got hit by the car?”

“I remember,” Chesler said.

I curled up closer to Daddy, wondering why he was talking about another sad day when we had enough sadness to last us forever.

“Do you remember how he was a sweet old dog, but when he got hurt, he growled at us and wouldn't let us get near him?”

Chesler perked up a bit. “Yeah, I was just trying to help him, but I thought he was going to bite me.”

“Well, people are like that too, trying to protect ourselves when we hurt. When your Mama went to heaven, it was like we were all wounded, and sometimes we act like Grady. We get angry and snap at the folks who are just trying to help us.”

“So that's why I snapped at Aunt Susannah Hope.”

“That's right, and that's why I snapped at you too. We're just all hurting, missing your mama so much. But we still have each other.”

We did a group hug, and Daddy kissed me good night. When he and Chesler left my room, Daddy started to turn out the light.

“Not yet, Daddy. I need to get ready for bed. I love you, and you too, Chesler.”

“Love you too, little peep.” Daddy closed the door.

I put on my gown, turned out the light, and crawled into bed. I turned my pillow over because it was wet. I lay there thinking about Grady and how he got sweet again when his leg got better. And then for some reason, I thought about what Granny said about giving Baby Jesus a birthday present.

That was when I got my idea.

Mama always said ideas were a lot like cars. “Most folks have them,” she said, “but some of them you can't crank up and get out of the garage, and then others just fly.” My idea had to fly. I just didn't know how to make it go.

C
HAPTER
T
HREE

I
WAS GLAD TO
go back to school. It was the only place that felt normal without Mama around. At school I could see my best friend, Emily, and go to art class, and I could even draw when Mrs. Maxwell wasn't looking. And sometimes I got to fill up the bird feeders.

Daddy put up bird feeders at the school and said it would be good for the children to watch the birds and take responsibility for filling the feeders, but I knew why he really did it. He brought a big sack of feed every week to school, and we took turns filling up the feeders every Monday morning. Just before Thanksgiving I saw the redbird for the first time at school, just sitting on that limb all by herself, waiting for the sparrows and chickadees to clear off the feeder. That's when I asked Mrs. Maxwell if I could move to a desk by the window. She let me. And since then I'd seen the redbird at the feeder almost every day.

Monday morning during math class, I was surprised when Laramie poked me with her pencil and pointed to the window. A redbird! My eyes stayed glued to that redbird perched on the feeder, ideas churning in my head.

Laramie poked me again. “You like cardinals, don't you?” she whispered. Everyone else was bent over their math sheets, scribbling away.

“How did you know?”

“Kind of obvious.” Laramie pointed at my notebook covered in redbird stickers. “And you're always staring out the window at them when they're nearby.”

“Yeah. So?”

Then she turned her head, and I could tell Mrs. Maxwell was looking at us. So we started doing long division again and acted like we'd been working on our worksheets the whole time.

“Kate?”

I was looking at that redbird and thinking, so I didn't hear Mrs. Maxwell the first time she called me.

“Katherine Joy? Are you drawing again when you're supposed to be listening? I don't want to have to call you the third time.” If Mrs. Maxwell had used her playground voice, I would have heard her, but I wasn't sure she had one. She was so old I think it just wore out.

I looked up. “Yes, ma'am. I mean, no, ma'am, I'm not drawing.”

“Put your notebook away, and come get your papers, please.”

Mrs. Maxwell was still going through stacks of papers when I got to her desk. Eric was waiting too. He could annoy you just by looking at you. Mrs. Maxwell said his name more than anybody else's in class, even Laramie's.

“Look a here, Kate.” He picked up the snow globe on her desk, turned it over, and watched the snow falling on a little manger scene.

Mrs. Maxwell said, “Eric, put that down. You know better.”

I shook my head. Now why would a teacher put a snow globe on her desk and then not let anybody touch it? What good was a snow globe if you didn't turn it over to make it snow?

Mrs. Maxwell found the papers before it stopped snowing over the manger. She handed my papers to me and told me to put them in my take-home folder.

I said, “Yes, ma'am,” and walked back to my desk. I put the papers away and got in line to go down the hall to the art room. Laramie was in front of me. I knew Emily didn't like her, but I wanted to talk to her. “Where'd you get the name Laramie, by the way? I always wondered. It's really pretty.”

Laramie smiled just a little when I said that. She had been my classmate since second grade, but because I always played with Emily I hadn't gotten to know her very well.

“Oh, my mama and daddy were camping out in Laramie, Wyoming, when they thought it up.”

“I guess you're lucky they weren't camping in Louisville.”

She looked at me quick like she might be getting mad, but when she saw I was grinning, she smiled too. “Yep, real lucky.”

“I can't wait to get to art class. Do you like art?”

Laramie turned around and smiled again. “It's my favorite class.”

“Mine too, and I just love Miss Applegate.”

“Yep, she's really nice, and she lets me do the kind of art I want to.”

“What kind of art do you like to do?”

Laramie's face looked different, not like she was so mad like it did most of the time. “I really like to sew and make things out of fabric.”

“Cool. My mama liked to sew too, but I don't know how. I just like to draw.” We were almost at the door. “Have fun making whatever it is you're making.”

“You too.”

Miss Applegate was everybody's favorite teacher. She was young and pretty, like a cheerleader, and she said I had real artistic talent. She'd been teaching me to draw after school. Uncle Luke, Daddy's brother, liked her a lot. I saw them kissing last summer when we were all out at Granny's for a fish fry, and she came with Uncle Luke to Mama's funeral. I could call her Miss Lisa when she was with Uncle Luke, but I called her Miss Applegate at school.

When Daddy told Uncle Luke he should marry Miss Lisa before somebody else did, Uncle Luke said, “I need to finish medical school first. Then I'll think about it.” I hoped he thought about it in a hurry. I'd like an Aunt Lisa.

When we got to art class, Miss Applegate already had the plastic containers with our names on them on the art table. I tugged at the lid to lift out what I made for my daddy. He liked anything to do with fishing, so I made him a bowl that looked like a fish. It could go on his dresser, and he could put his keys and change in it at night when he emptied his pockets. Miss Applegate showed me how to draw fish scales in the soft clay with a toothpick. And then she baked it so it would get hard and gave me some special paint to make the scales look shiny. She thought of everything, just like Mama.

After I finished Daddy's gift, I put it aside and lifted up a small wooden box. I had planned to decorate the box for Granny Grace, but her talking about a gift for Baby Jesus had given me a new idea. I needed that box for something special. What, I didn't know yet. But I would think of something.

First I painted it red. After I had carefully painted around the edges, I set the box on a piece of newspaper. When the paint was dry enough, I planned to put on some redbird stickers. After that Miss Applegate would spray it, and then it would be finished and ready for Christmas.

Eric sat across the table, painting a giraffe on a Christmas ornament. He pointed at the bowl I had made and mumbled, “I like that fish.”

“Thank you. It's for my daddy.”

He pointed at my red box with his dripping paintbrush. “Who gets that?”

I nearly snatched the paintbrush right out of his hand before it dripped on my box. “It's a special gift for somebody.”

“For the teacher?” Eric dabbed some more spots on his giraffe.

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