Free All She Ever Wanted by Lynn Austin

chop one down. But I couldn’t disobey my father, could I?
    I zipped up my coat all the way to my chin and tried to scrunch down inside it as I stepped from the car. The words to “Silent Night” kept playing over and over in my mind as I tried to summon the peace and contentment I’d felt in church earlier that night: All is calm… all is bright. …
    “Stick your hand through the branches, Kathy, and hang on to the trunk for me. Like this…” Neither of us wore gloves, and the pine needles pricked me like pins as Daddy guided my hands through the branches and showed me where to hang on. The trunk felt cold and sticky. “Try to hold it steady, honey. This should only take a minute.”
    Daddy crouched down and started chopping away at the trunk of the tree. I wanted to burrow into a snowbank and hide. I kept my eyes glued to the farmhouse at the end of the driveway, waiting for the front door to burst open and a shotgun-wielding farmer to run out with his pack of snarling Dobermans.
    … Sleep in heavenly peace. … Why had I ever mentioned a Christmas tree?
    “We’ve almost got it now,” Daddy said cheerfully. “Hang on tight.”
    The trunk vibrated beneath my hands as he switched from the axe to the saw. My toes were starting to go numb.
    Hur-ry up, I silently sang to the tune of “Silent Night.” Please, hurry up. … I was afraid I might wet my pants.
    “Wait!” Daddy said at the last minute, “the lights are still plugged in.”
    He crawled around searching for the extension cords, and the lights abruptly blinked off—not only the lights on our tree but on all the trees and bushes to the left of it.
    “Oops!” Daddy said, stifling a laugh. “Guess we’d better hurry!”
    I wished he would stop saying “we.”
    Daddy sawed as if he were in a race with Paul Bunyan, and suddenly the tree started to fall over, pulling me with it. “Daddy, help!” I squeaked. He grabbed hold of it just in time, saving the tree and me from crashing to the ground. He started to laugh, and it was such a rollicking, joyful sound that I couldn’t help giggling along with him. My laughter verged on the hysterical side at first, but once we’d finished stuffing the tree into the trunk of the car and had roared off down the road, I felt genuinely happy. We had a Christmas tree! With lights!
    We were flying high, and my wonderful, happy-go-lucky daddy began to sing: “Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh. …”
    I joined him on the chorus and we roared into Riverside with a Christmas tree bouncing in our trunk, singing at the top of our lungs: “Jingle bells, jingle bells… jingle all the way. …” We were still laughing and singing as Daddy carried his prize up the porch steps, and we crammed it through the front door.
    “Merry Christmas!” Daddy crowed. He set the tree trunk down on the floor with a triumphant thump. Poke and JT started dancing around the tree like two little pagans. The commotion set Annie wailing.
    “It’s covered with snow, Donald!” Mommy said. “You’re getting the floor all wet.” As if that would be a disaster in our house.
    “How are you going to keep it up without a tree stand?” Uncle Leonard asked. “Or are you planning to stand there until Christmas is over?”
    “It even came with lights,” Daddy said with a grin. “Plug them in, Kathy. Show everybody how nice it looks.”
    I got down on all fours and groped around for the plug, then crawled over to the wall socket. It was already overflowing with wires and plugs and extension cords, and I hoped we wouldn’t blow a fuse. That was a regular occurrence at our house. I unplugged a floor lamp, just to be on the safe side, and a moment later our glorious tree sprang to life.
    “Ta-da!” Daddy sang.
    “The capitalists at the power company will be delighted,” Uncle Leonard said. “That’s why they invented this pseudo-holiday.”
    I refused to let my uncle spoil this great moment. “Christmas is