Free The Christmas Portrait by Phyllis Clark Nichols

telling Granny what to put on that list. New skates, a reel and rod, a cassette tape player for his room, and a sled. He just kept going, and Granny finally told him to slow down because Santa wouldn’t have room in his sleigh for any other children’s gifts.
    I didn’t believe in Santa. I knew Granny Grace bought us the presents under her tree and the ones at our house would come from Daddy. But to play along, I took my pen and in my very best handwriting, I thanked Santa for all the art stuff he brought me last Christmas, the easel and drawing pencils and paint stuff and a sketch pad. And if Daddy was Santa, maybe my note would make him smile. Then I sat there a long time thinking, and finally I put only one thing on my list. Chesler was still telling Granny what to put down and what to erase, and Daddy just sat there quiet like, but I knew he was looking at my paper. He saw the word camera and my name at the bottom.
    “What kind of camera do you want?”
    “It doesn’t really matter, just one that takes pictures.” I liked to draw, but I couldn’t draw much yet from just thinking about it or trying to see it in my head. But I knew if I had a camera, I could take pictures of things I wanted to draw, things like the redbird sitting in the cedar tree, or the daisies growing in the backyard, or maybe even a person.
    “Santa ought to be able to find the best camera. Is there anything else you want to put on the list?”
    I knew what I wanted most of all, but putting it down on a list for Santa Claus wouldn’t do any good. I just wanted Mama back. I wanted it more than anything.
    When I was real young, I told Grandpa one time before he went to heaven that I wanted some ice cream. When he said he didn’t have any, I started crying and fussing. But he just said, “I don’t have any ice cream, Kate, and I’m sorry you’re not old enough yet for your wants not to hurt you.”
    Grandpa was smart, but what he said didn’t make sense. What I wanted—Mama to come back—hurt a lot. And Daddy wanted the same thing, and his want made him sad. How old did you have to be not to hurt when you didn’t get what you wanted? Granny Grace was old, real old, but not getting what she wanted still hurt her. That was why she put that redbird on top of her tree.
    Me and Chesler folded our letters and put them in an envelope. Daddy said he would address and mail the letters first thing in the morning. “Okay, go get your things together. We need to hit the road.”
    We went to get our things, and I finished before Chesler. Daddy was helping Granny clear the table when I got back to the kitchen door. They didn’t know I was listening.
    “I blew the car horn, and if Kate and Chesler hadn’t been with me, I think I would have stopped and had a talk with that guy. Nobody yanks on a little girl like that.”
    “I can’t imagine what that child’s living in, her mother gone and her daddy treating her like that. Did you ever hear any more about her mother?”
    “All I know is that no one’s seen her since she left in August. Rumor has it that she went back to her family in upstate New York. Nobody around here seems to know much about the Fields.”
    “That’s got to be hard on a little girl. She really needs a friend. I’ve already talked to Kate about her, and she’s agreed to invite her over sometime during Christmas break.”
    “You’re a good woman, Grace, and I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
    “I don’t say it enough, John, but I want you to know you’re doing a great job with the kids. What you’re doing is not easy.”
    “No, it’s not. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I just never dreamed I’d be without Diana. Sometimes I reach for her in the middle of the night, or I think I hear her voice and turn to see. I look at the kids, and I still can’t believe she’s gone, and they’re growing up without her. Kate’s having to grow up fast without her mama, Grace.”
    “I know, I know. She