The Christmas Portrait by Phyllis Clark Nichols Read Free Book Online Page B

love that, Kate. You know how he loves fishing. What else do you have in there?”
    Emily touched the bubble wrap. “Yeah, show us. We’re good at keeping secrets.”
    So I decided to let them see the box.
    “Oh, that’s really pretty,” Mrs. Peterson picked it up. “Who’s it for? Your Granny Grace?”
    I paused a minute, and then decided to tell them straight out. “I made this one for Mama.”
    Mrs. Peterson’s face got a wrinkled-up look and she set the box down. “Oh, my goodness!” Adults said that when they didn’t know what to say and thought something was weird. Emily just acted like she hadn’t heard me. That was how she acted when Mama died too, like it didn’t happen.
    Then Mrs. Peterson got her perky smile back. “Would you like me to get the Christmas wrapping paper? You can do your wrapping here.”
    Emily said, “Yeah, Mom. Let’s use my favorite paper.”
    I nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I would like to wrap the fish bowl.”
    Mrs. Peterson looked a little relieved that I didn’t want to wrap Mama’s box. She probably thought I changed my mind about giving my mama a present, but I hadn’t. I had plans for that empty, painted box.
    Mrs. Peterson brought in two rolls of Christmas paper, one of them silver with pink and purple Christmas balls, and the other gold with pine needles and pine cones. She put them on the table and looked at me. “Here, Kate, you get to decide which one your daddy would like.”
    I knew which one was Emily would choose, but I couldn’t wrap Daddy’s fish bowl in pink and purple. I took the one with pine cones. “Thanks, Mrs. Peterson. Emily’s lucky to have you as a mom.”
    Mrs. Peterson smiled ’cause what I said made her a little bit happy, but somehow the smile didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. They looked kind of sad and worried still. Anyway, I tried to make her happy. But lately, lots of people looked sad around me, as if I had a sign around my neck that said, “Be sad around Kate, her mama went to heaven.” But at least I made her smile enough so I could put another smiley face on my calendar tonight.
    After I finished wrapping Daddy’s present, Emily and I went up to her room. Her room was pink like bubblegum. The walls, the carpet, the curtains, almost everything was pink. What wasn’t solid pink was white polka-dotted. I didn’t know how Emily lived in that cotton candy room. I liked my yellow sunshine room better.
    Emily perched on her bed, and I flopped down beside her. “So,” she said, not looking at me too close, “why did you make a present for your mama?”
    “I always make a present for Mama at Christmas, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, I do. But my mom’s here to get hers. Your mom isn’t. So what’s the use in making it?”
    I moved away from Emily. “But Mama would want it. It would make her so happy.”
    Emily traced the polka dots on her bedspread with her fingers. “Okay, but how are you going to get it to her?”
    “I don’t have that part figured out yet. Putting it under the Christmas tree won’t work.”
    Emily nodded. “Maybe you could leave it at your mama’s grave in the cemetery and put a card with her name on it, sort of like the daisies you and your daddy take there.”
    “I already thought of that, but it won’t work either, because Mama’s not there, not really. Just because that’s the last place I saw her doesn’t mean that’s where she is.” I didn’t like putting Mama in the ground because I knew Mama liked sunshine and flowers and warm weather. Daddy told me it wasn’t really Mama there in the ground. He said Mama’s body was like some old clothes she took off, sort of like butterflies leaving their cocoons behind. He said Mama, the real person she was and all that she felt and knew inside, now had on bright new clothes in heaven.
    I didn’t tell Emily all that. I just said, “There just has to be a way to get it to heaven. Maybe I could leave the box in the cedar tree outside the kitchen