Jillian's Gift

1500 words

         The snowball came from out of nowhere and slammed into the window of Jack’s car. He jumped in his seat, muttering under his breath. Several more snowballs hit as he turned into the driveway. Safely within the garage, he looked sadly at the deserted street. This used to be such a nice place to live, he thought. Glancing across the street, at the two-story brick house that belonged to the Murphys, he added, until they moved in.

         The house was a reflection of the people that lived inside. Christmas decorations hung from every possible place. In the front yard a little girl played fetch with a collie. Both were dressed in red sweaters adorned with snowflakes. People were always coming and going from that house and the walls seemed to swell with the laughter and love that was within.

         Tossing his briefcase on the counter by the door, Jack placed the teakettle on the stove and went to get the mail. When he was halfway down the walk the little girl saw him and waved. He didn’t wave back. Walking back up on the porch he glanced back. The little girl was standing there watching him while the collie begged her to throw the stick. He closed the door and headed toward the kitchen and the whistling teakettle.

         Sitting at the table sipping his tea and sorting the mail, Jack stopped when he came to an envelope from the local medical supply company. It was addressed to his wife, Mrs. Priscilla Johnson, and he knew what was inside. It was a Christmas card. They had sent one every year for the past six years. Trouble was, Priscilla died four years ago. He called them one year and told them. They said they would take her name off the mailing list. They never did. He stared at the envelope for several moments and then tossed it into the garbage.

         The house was quiet. It never used to be that way. Not when Priscilla was alive. She would meet him at the door, hug him, kiss him and they would laugh and talk about how their day went. They would throw parties for their friends and in the summer they would barbecue in their backyard. At night they would sit on the porch swing, snuggling, listening to the crickets and the owl that lived in the big pine tree. Jack looked around at the quiet house. All that was gone now.

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         Jillian liked playing with their collie. His name was Fred. Earlier in the afternoon she had watched from the front window of their house while her brothers made piles of snowballs and stashed them under the bushes at the front of the yard. The snowballs were to throw at Mr. Johnson’s car. Her brothers had been doing it every year since they moved in. Ever since he had refused to pay them for mowing his lawn and shoveling his snow. From that point on it was war.

         Jillian watched as Mr. Johnson drove down the street, and her brothers, hidden in the bushes, pelted his car. Later, when he came out for his mail, she smiled and waved. He didn’t seem to notice. It must be sad, she thought, to be alone at Christmas.

         The Murphy house was a bundle of activity on Christmas Eve, with everyone running around, getting ready for tomorrow’s festivities. The last minute wrapping of presents, the aroma of fresh baked pie and the mad dash to make it to church for Christmas Eve service were family traditions. Getting ready for bed, Jillian watched from her window as Mr. Johnson shoveled the snow from his walk. Occasionally he would pause to get his breath and stare at the brightly lit house across the street. She wondered what he was thinking. After everyone had gone to bed, she tiptoed down the stairs and wrapped one more present.

         Christmas morning dawned bright and early in the Murphy house and in keeping with their traditions, wrapping paper and bows were scattered throughout the house. Even Fred got a brand new collar and a bone from Santa. Jillian played happily with her toys, and every once in a while, she would look out the front window at Mr. Johnson’s house.

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         Christmas morning at Mr. Johnson’s was much the same as any other morning, except that there was no newspaper to read. He didn’t like that. It wasn’t until he looked out his front window that it became apparent that this morning was different. There, underneath the spruce tree that Priscilla use to decorate with lights every Christmas, was a present. A single box wrapped in holiday paper with a green satin bow on top. There was no mistaking it. It was a Christmas present. A single set of small footprints led up to the tree and then away. Jack studied it from his window for several minutes. Shrugging his shoulders, he went about his business for the day. Several hours later, he glanced out the window again. The present was still there.

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         In the Murphy house children played with new video games and Mom was busy baking a turkey. The tree, with all its decorations was lit and Christmas music played. The table in the dining room was set with one extra setting, a tradition handed down through Mom’s Eastern European heritage. Her mother had taught her to always set an extra setting in case a stranger came to visit on Christmas, but no one ever did.

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         Jack’s curiosity finally got the better of him. Cautiously he opened the front door and covered the twenty or so feet to the spruce tree. He picked up the present and went back inside. He set the present on the coffee table in the living room and sat, studying it. It was not the nicest wrapping job he had ever seen. He picked it up and shook it slightly. Something rattled inside. He unwrapped the box. Inside was a Christmas card. Opening it, he found a letter printed in pencil.

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         The Murphys were preparing to sit down for Christmas dinner when the doorbell rang. Mom went to answer it. Pretty soon she called out for Jillian to come to the front door. When Jillian rounded the corner she found Mr. Johnson standing in the hall and he was holding the present from under his tree. In her Mom’s hand was the letter. Her mom said, “Jillian, would you please show Mr. Johnson to the dining room. It appears we have a stranger," catching herself she said, “I mean, a friend joining us for Christmas dinner this year.”

         Jillian sat across from Mr. Johnson and her two brothers sat nervously to his side. Later, as he was leaving he spoke to the boys. “We’re suppose to get some more snow tonight. Do you boys think you could shovel my walk tomorrow?” Looking at each other, they simply nodded yes. Picking up his present and kneeling in front of Jillian, Jack said. “It has been an extra special Christmas for me. The most special in a long time and I have you to thank. I have a favor to ask of you. Can I leave my gift here with you so I can come visit it every now and then?” Jillian looked at her Mom, who smiled and nodded. “Sure, Mr. Johnson,” reaching out to take the present from his hands. Jack smiled. “And you know, Jillian. It would be all right if you wanted to come visit me, too. You know, like friends often do.” Jillian set down the present reached out and hugged him. Wiping a tear from his cheek he stood up and left.

         After the kids had gone to bed, Jillian’s Dad asked in exasperation “Could you please explain what happened here tonight?” Her mom, saying nothing, simply handed him a copy of Jillian’s letter.

         “Dear Mr. Johnson,

         Merry Christmas. You don’t know me. My name is Jillian Murphy and I live across the street from you. I am 10 years old. I waved to you yesterday but I don’t think you saw me. My Mom says that you live all alone and that you have no one to spend Christmas with. Dad says Christmas is for family and friends to spend together. I don’t think I could be your family but I could be your friend if you want me two. Everybody needs friends, don’t you think? Our preacher says we should all be friends. I think he is right. Almost every Sunday in church we sing What a Friend We Have in Jesus, so I’m giving you this present so you’ll have a friend.

         Your Friend?

         Jillian

         Oh yes, I promise I’ll never throw snowballs at your car.”

         Finishing the letter, Jillian’s Dad asked his wife what the present was. She handed him the box. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was the baby Jesus from the Nativity under their tree.