A Christmas Wish by Joseph Pittman

week, here now was further proof of the daunting task before me. Janey had once belonged to a loving family, a whole family, and circumstances, maybe destiny, had taken that from her, leaving her alone in the world, except for me. Was I constantly to be haunted by these memories, by all that Janey had lost? The past was a place you couldn’t avoid, the littlest reminiscence able to spark them into the present. Like a painting, a ceramic windmill, even a shiny glass ornament. How was I supposed to respond to these memories? Try and hide them from her as a way of protecting her? Or was I just protecting myself, avoiding the pain? My own history claimed me as an expert at avoiding issues.
    That’s what I did, at least for now. I returned the portrait to the drawer, closed it to my eyes, though not my mind. Then I closed off the windmill, too, locking the door behind me as I retreated back up the snowy hill. Once I returned to the farmhouse, a surprising sight awaited me. Janey was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, clutching at her stuffed purple frog.
    â€œHey, Janey, what’s wrong?”
    â€œYou weren’t here.”
    â€œOh, honey, I’m sorry,” I said, immediately going to her side. “I went to put away the gifts and wasn’t planning on being gone long. I guess time got away from me. But, Janey, you were sound asleep—and you never wake up once that happens.”
    She nodded her head slowly. “I know, but, well, I felt bad, Brian, that’s why I couldn’t sleep. I keep telling you these things, you know, ways Momma and I celebrated Christmas. But maybe you have your own ways of doing things. You don’t have to hide the gifts in the windmill, and you don’t have to chop down a tree for me, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
    â€œNo, no, Janey, that’s the last thing I want. I want to do what makes you happy. I enjoy learning about your Christmas traditions,” I said, my mind blown by what she’d revealed. Here I had let slip my responsibilities by getting lost in the past, leaving her alone, and she was apologizing to me. I hugged her tight, trying to figure out a way I could take back my mistake. And then an idea came to me. “I’ll tell you what, Janey, if it will make you feel better, how about I show you some of my holiday traditions?”
    Her eyes brightened. “Like what?”
    â€œWell, remember that big tree in New York we just saw being lit on the television?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œHow would you like to see it for real?”
    â€œThat big tree, really?”
    â€œIt’s where I used to live—New York City. I saw it every year when I lived there,” I said. “So what do you say?”
    She didn’t answer immediately, but then said, “Can we go ice-skating?”
    â€œJaney Sullivan, we can do anything you want to do,” I said, silently adding that I would do anything for her. No matter what.

C HAPTER 12
    â€œJaney, come on, we’ve got to get going,” I said, running up the stairs to her room. I had my coat on, and my car keys were dangling from my fingers. Our latest adventure was upon us, and where was Janey? Not in her room, it appeared.
    Maybe she was playing a game of hide-and-seek with me? I checked her closet, but came up only with a big mess of clothes and toys. I’d been lax about keeping her room clean, but maybe I’d been too easygoing. When we came back, she had some work ahead of her. I called out her name again, and again I got back nothing but silence. Not even one of her famous giggles. So, she wasn’t playing, was she?
    Still, I crouched down, my knees cracking. I didn’t find Janey, but what I did discover took me by absolute, stunning surprise. I peeked beneath the bed, and tucked behind the rear front post was a familiar-looking box. It was obscured by some other stray clothes and toys. This messy room was very unlike Janey. Perhaps