Makeshift Angel
(A short, short story)
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Jean Louise
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Copyright 2014, All Rights Reserved
Published by J. Y. Harris Books
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Makeshift Angel…
The power of wishing.
“Aunt Jen, what’s a snow angel?”
“A snow angel?” Jen looked up from the towel she was folding. “That’s when you go outside and lay down in the snow, and move your arms and legs. When you stand up again, it looks like an angel has been there. Why, Emily? Why are you asking about snow angels?”
The little girl shrugged. “Amy Willis talked about snow angels at school yesterday. She says snow angels help take wishes to Santa.”
Aunt Jen smiled. “I hadn’t heard that.”
“And she says that she’s gonna make lots of snow angels when she goes to Connettatuck for Christmas.”
“When she goes where?”
The little girl focused on repeating the word. “Connettatuck. That’s where she’s going when school’s out for Christmas.”
Her aunt couldn’t help smiling again. “I think you mean Connecticut.”
Emily ignored the correction. “Can I make snow angels, too? I want to be sure Santa knows my wishes.”
“Sweetie, you know we don’t get snow here in Florida. I don’t think anyone’s going to be making any snow angels here.”
She watched in dismay as tears pooled in Emily’s eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But I happen to know that Santa hears our wishes and prayers, no matter what. You’ve already written your letter to him, and sat on his lap.”
Emily nodded, even as the tears threatened to spill.
Aunt Jen knelt to look at the little girl at eye-level. “I know you miss your daddy, and the best present in the world would be to have him here. But you know he’s far away, where the soldiers are, don’t you?”
Emily nodded again. “But he’s been there a long time. Can’t he ask the soldier boss if he can come home?”
“It doesn’t work like that, Emily. Your daddy isn’t a soldier, he just helps the soldiers. He makes sure they have what they need to do their jobs. Remember? Uncle Brian and I told you about this before.”
“I remember. You said that daddy is a compactor.”
Jen tried not to smile. “Close. He’s a contractor. His company has a contract to get supplies to our soldiers, to help them keep the peace. Your daddy would be here if he could, you know that.”
The girl sighed. “I know. His job is a-portent.”
“Yes, it is important. But not as important as you. He’d be here in an instant if he could, because he loves you more than anything. But while he’s working, he knows you’re safe and snug with us, so he doesn’t have to worry. And we don’t want him to worry, do we?”
“No.”
“Right. And in another day or so it’ll be time for you to talk to him on the computer, remember? Like last time. He could see you and you could see him, and it was almost like being with him, wasn’t it?”
Emily nodded again. “Almost. ’Cept I couldn’t hug him.”
Jen’s heart almost broke. “I know. But you know, your daddy is my brother, so hugging me is sort of like hugging him. Not as good as hugging him, of course, but sort of close, isn’t it? Although, I don’t have the itchy whiskers on my face that scratch at your cheek, or your dad’s short hair that shows his funny ears sticking out, right?”
As she’d intended, Emily began to giggle at Jen’s silly pantomiming of scratchy cheeks and wiggly ears. “Now, come on,” she continued, “why don’t you help me with Ethan’s bath. He loves it when his cousin Emily makes funny faces at him.”
That evening after dinner Jen and her husband cleaned up the kitchen, then he led her to the living room. Little Ethan was in his bouncy seat, making appropriately adorable baby sounds.
“Where’s Emily?” Brian asked as they settled on the couch for a brief respite.
“Up in her room, I guess,” Jen replied. “She told me she asked Santa to bring her father home for Christmas.”
Brian sighed. “Poor kid. I wish we could make her understand. Scott would like nothing better than to be here with her.”
“I know. Brian, have I told you how wonderful you are?”
He turned to look at her. “Not in the last twenty-four hours, no. Where’d that come from?”
She laid her head on his shoulder. “It came from me, loving you all the more because you were willing to take Emily in when her mother—well, after the accident.”
“Jen, Emily’s mother was no prize. But Scott really is a good guy, and he fought for custody of Emily as soon as she was born.”
“I know. It’s a miracle he got to spend as much time with her as he did, considering the situation.”
Brian kissed the top of her head. “The important thing is, he loves Emily, and she loves him. You know, sometimes I feel that she instinctively knows that Scott’s a better parent than her mother ever was. And as for us taking her in.... Jen, there was no question about it. She’s family. She doesn’t belong anywhere else while Scott’s overseas. Besides,” he added, “having her around will be good practice for when Ethan gets a little older.”
As if on cue, Ethan gave a loud exclamation that sounded suspiciously like “Foo ma gah!”
Jen laughed and looked up at Brian. “He has a silver tongue... just like his father.”
* * *
The following day Emily helped her Aunt Jen and Brian decorate the Christmas tree, oohing and aahing at all the ornaments and lights. Afterward she’d gone off to bed without argument, although Jen thought she saw a light under the little girl’s bedroom door.
“Where’s yesterday’s newspaper?” Jen inquired when she returned downstairs. “I heard there was a review of that new restaurant on Twelfth Street, and I wanted to read it.”
Brian looked up from his laptop. “I haven’t seen the paper. In fact, when I took the recycling out, I don’t recall there being too many newspapers in it.”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I misplaced it. Wouldn’t be the first time; last week I found my toothbrush in the silverware drawer. Although, that could have been courtesy of little Miss Emily.”
“She’s been spending a lot of time in her room lately, hasn’t she? Should we be worried about that?”
“I don’t think so. We’re supposed to Skype with Scott tomorrow, and she said she was making a special drawing for him, so that’s probably what she’s doing. She’s practically banished me from her room for the duration.”
Brian sighed. “I hope she’s not too disappointed on Christmas morning. She misses Scott so much, and no matter how much we love her, it’s just not the same.”
* * *
Finally, it was Christmas morning. Not the kind that Jen had experienced while growing up near the Catskill Mountains of New York, but still, Christmas in Florida had its charms. She was up early with Ethan to give him his breakfast, and she glanced at the tree in the living room. Brian had retrieved Emily’s presents from their bedroom closet late last night, and Jen had filled her stocking with a little bit of candy, some tangerines, crayons, and a Matchbox fire engine and paramedic truck.
Two hours later, that same living room was the scene of controlled chaos, as everyone took turns opening prettily-wrapped packages, with Emily having to open two to everyone else’s one. She was t
hrilled with her gifts—almost as thrilled as if she had everything she wanted.
Finally, all the gifts had been opened, and a happy pile of torn and crumpled paper in festive colors sat in a corner of the room. Brian had popped his new game into the PlayStation, Jen was busy perusing e-books to download to her new tablet, and Ethan was delighting in the brightly-colored stacking cups in front of him.
As for Emily, she’d created a mash-up of dolls and Matchbox vehicles which involved both rescuing soldiers who were dangling from cranes as well as driving an ambulance to ballet class.
The doorbell’s unexpected chime added to the general pandemonium of the morning. Brian disengaged himself from his game to go to the door, and Jen vaguely heard him utter a surprised exclamation before she again became immersed in browsing indie authors.
A moment later Brian stood in the doorway. “Jen, you might want to hear this.” When he had his wife’s attention, he continued. “Emily, was there one thing you really, really wanted for Christmas that wasn’t under the tree?”
Emily looked up at her uncle. “I love my presents, Uncle Brian.”
“I know you do, sweetie, but wasn’t there just one more thing you wished for? Something that wouldn’t fit under the tree?”
The little girl nodded, her eyes wide as she tried not to cry. “I wanted my dad to come home from the war.”
“Would that make you happy? Really, really happy?”
Jen stood up, and gently took Emily’s hand to help her to her feet.
Emily nodded again. “I asked Santa special to send my daddy home.”
Brian squatted in front of his niece. “Well, guess what? Santa dropped something off on our doorstep just a minute ago.”
Jen’s hand flew to her mouth as her brother Scott stepped around the corner from the entryway. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and looked like he hadn’t shaved—or slept—in three days, but he was here.
Scott threw his arms wide and scooped up the little girl, who ran, sobbing, into them. He was laughing, she was crying, and Ethan chose that moment to loudly demand attention. Brian picked up his son and hugged Jen, who was also crying and waiting her turn to welcome her brother home.
A few minutes later, after all the greetings had been shared and some semblance of calm had returned to the living room, Scott explained that on December 22 his boss had approached him about a transfer to a job back in the States. After hearing the details of the salary and location, he hadn’t hesitated in accepting the new position, and caught the first military transport he could.
“It worked, aunt Jen!” Emily said from her perch on her father’s lap. “It really worked!”
“What worked, sweetheart?”
“The snow angels. Amy Willis was right, snow angels help take wishes to Santa.”
Scott gave his daughter’s belly a loving poke. “You can’t make snow angels here, baby girl; not in Florida.”
“But I did, daddy. I’ve been making snow angels every night.”
The grown-ups looked at her and then looked at each other.
“Emily,” Jen asked, “where have you been making snow angels?”
“In my room, a’course.”
“In your room?”
The little girl nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Jen picked up Ethan and everyone followed Emily upstairs. She stopped outside her bedroom door, which, as usual, was closed. “Here’s how,” she said matter-of-factly.
Opening the door, Jen gasped. On the floor of Emily’s room were hundreds, if not thousands, of snowflakes—cut out of newspaper. Most were about an inch or two in diameter, and weren’t snowflakes so much as they were simple hexagons. But there were also dozens of classic cut-out snowflakes, the kind made with folded paper and clever snipping to create a six-pointed design. Regardless of size, the mass of snowflakes covered the whole floor.
Except in the middle, where the carpet was clean and bare—in the shape of a little angel.
~ The End ~
From the Author:
I hope you enjoyed Makeshift Angel, and I hope the optimism of the holiday carries on. Feel free to leave a review of this story or let me know if you enjoyed it.
[email protected], or J.Y. Harris on Facebook.
Additionally, below is a list of other books/stories I’ve written.
Thank you!
~ Jean Louise
Contemporary fiction:
Nobody’s Perfect (written as Dana Hayes)
Fool Me Once
It Takes a Thief It Takes a Thief
Shiny, Sparkly Things It Takes a Thief
Artless It Takes a Thief
Arrest Me Boys in Blue
Officer Down Boys in Blue
Under Suspicion Boys in Blue
Middle-grade/Young-adult adventure:
(written as J.Y. Harris)
Timekeepers: A Revolutionary Tale
Timekeepers: Civil Disturbance
Timekeepers: Good as Gold
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