The Gift of Christmas Present by Melody Carlson Page B
Authors: Melody Carlson
Tags: Romance
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seams and create a large red and white bow to go on top. Not bad , she thought as she carried it into the kitchen.
Next she went to the desk where she usually sorted and set the daily mail. Sheâd never opened a drawer before. To her, a desk seemed a private place, and something a person should never go snooping in. As instructed, she pulled open the second drawer down and saw embossed stationery and envelopes and stamps and even some postcards and pretty note cards. But no box of greeting cards. She decided to try the next drawer down. Surely, this couldnât be considered snooping. But that drawer revealed only some old, yellowed typing paper and notepads with the university logo on them. Maybe the box was in the bottom drawer. She felt slightly guilty as she tried the drawer. She knew she was looking for more than birthday cards now, but she couldnât stop herself. The drawer stuck at first, but with a harder pull it came open.
There, lying face down in the mostly empty drawer, was what appeared to be a framed photo. She knew she should close the drawer immediately, that she had definitely crossed over the line and this would be considered snooping, but it was too late. Glancing over her shoulder once, she picked up the frame, then turned it over and stared in astonishment.
The pretty brunette girl in the picture had to be Lenore. Christine had never seen a picture of her birth mother before (her father had explained that Lenore had claimed to be camera shy and never allowed them to take even one photo). Just the same, Christine instinctively knew this young woman had to be her birth mother. It was probably a high school graduation picture. And it wasnât so much that the woman in the photo looked like Christine, although she sensed a familiarity in the eyes. They were brown and big and had another quality she couldnât even be certain of. But everything else about the two young women seemed to be different. Where Lenoreâs hair was dark and straight, Christineâs was auburn and much too wavy. Their faces were entirely different too. Lenore had a sweetly rounded face with a cute little nose, where Christineâs face was more angular and her nose straight and narrow and, in her opinion, slightly too long. Not so unlike Mrs. Danielsâs. Christine heard a sound and quickly replaced the photo, closed the stubborn drawer, then stood up with heart pounding fast.
She waited a full minute before she moved. Then, walking casually toward the living room, she prepared herself for Mrs. Danielsâs accusations and questions. But the old woman was still asleep in her recliner, snoring peacefully.
Probably as an act of penance, Christine got out the mop and bucket and gave the kitchen floor a good cleaning. She felt guilty and nervous about her snooping, but at the same time she didnât completely regret it. Even though it was unsettling to look into the eyes of the woman who had birthed her, it seemed right too. After all, Lenore was her mother. Didnât she have every right to know what the young woman had looked like? She knew so little about her short and tragic life. Suddenly Christine felt hungry to know more. But how could she find anything out when her grandmother was so reluctant to talk? And how could she go around snooping and still live with herself?
Christine scrubbed hard as she considered ways to find things out and how she might get her grandmother to open up and talk about her daughter. She paused as she rinsed out the mop. When had she quit thinking of that old woman in there as âMrs. Danielsâ and begun considering her a grandmother? Perhaps it had to do with seeing the photo of Lenore. Or maybe Christine was actually becoming fond of the cranky old woman. Whatever it was, she decided not to think about it too much. She poured out the dirty mop water and turned to see the tile floor gleaming as a result of her energetic scrub down. Perhaps this would help
Next she went to the desk where she usually sorted and set the daily mail. Sheâd never opened a drawer before. To her, a desk seemed a private place, and something a person should never go snooping in. As instructed, she pulled open the second drawer down and saw embossed stationery and envelopes and stamps and even some postcards and pretty note cards. But no box of greeting cards. She decided to try the next drawer down. Surely, this couldnât be considered snooping. But that drawer revealed only some old, yellowed typing paper and notepads with the university logo on them. Maybe the box was in the bottom drawer. She felt slightly guilty as she tried the drawer. She knew she was looking for more than birthday cards now, but she couldnât stop herself. The drawer stuck at first, but with a harder pull it came open.
There, lying face down in the mostly empty drawer, was what appeared to be a framed photo. She knew she should close the drawer immediately, that she had definitely crossed over the line and this would be considered snooping, but it was too late. Glancing over her shoulder once, she picked up the frame, then turned it over and stared in astonishment.
The pretty brunette girl in the picture had to be Lenore. Christine had never seen a picture of her birth mother before (her father had explained that Lenore had claimed to be camera shy and never allowed them to take even one photo). Just the same, Christine instinctively knew this young woman had to be her birth mother. It was probably a high school graduation picture. And it wasnât so much that the woman in the photo looked like Christine, although she sensed a familiarity in the eyes. They were brown and big and had another quality she couldnât even be certain of. But everything else about the two young women seemed to be different. Where Lenoreâs hair was dark and straight, Christineâs was auburn and much too wavy. Their faces were entirely different too. Lenore had a sweetly rounded face with a cute little nose, where Christineâs face was more angular and her nose straight and narrow and, in her opinion, slightly too long. Not so unlike Mrs. Danielsâs. Christine heard a sound and quickly replaced the photo, closed the stubborn drawer, then stood up with heart pounding fast.
She waited a full minute before she moved. Then, walking casually toward the living room, she prepared herself for Mrs. Danielsâs accusations and questions. But the old woman was still asleep in her recliner, snoring peacefully.
Probably as an act of penance, Christine got out the mop and bucket and gave the kitchen floor a good cleaning. She felt guilty and nervous about her snooping, but at the same time she didnât completely regret it. Even though it was unsettling to look into the eyes of the woman who had birthed her, it seemed right too. After all, Lenore was her mother. Didnât she have every right to know what the young woman had looked like? She knew so little about her short and tragic life. Suddenly Christine felt hungry to know more. But how could she find anything out when her grandmother was so reluctant to talk? And how could she go around snooping and still live with herself?
Christine scrubbed hard as she considered ways to find things out and how she might get her grandmother to open up and talk about her daughter. She paused as she rinsed out the mop. When had she quit thinking of that old woman in there as âMrs. Danielsâ and begun considering her a grandmother? Perhaps it had to do with seeing the photo of Lenore. Or maybe Christine was actually becoming fond of the cranky old woman. Whatever it was, she decided not to think about it too much. She poured out the dirty mop water and turned to see the tile floor gleaming as a result of her energetic scrub down. Perhaps this would help
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