The Perfect Gift

Chapter 20

Their father didn't come into the bedroom, at least, Mary didn't think so. She was awfully tired and it was possible she was fast asleep when her father came in. I hope that's what happened. He rarely has time to say goodnight to us anymore. Although she was twelve, a little too old for her father to tuck her into bed, she missed it.

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She woke, yawning and stretching her arms, similar to what she's seen John do every morning. She looked over to where his bed sat, surprised that the bed was made and no imprint was left on the sheets. Where is John? she asked herself. She heard a door shut somewhere downstairs in the mercantile. She got up quietly and tip-toed out of her room and down the stairs. Hopefully the creaking of the stairs didn't wake up anyone else. She stood in the living room, silently, straining to hear something that would guide her to John. It took a minute, but then she heard another sound, similar to the first one; like someone was scrounging around for something lost or hidden. She soon realized the sound was coming from a door that led to the small room that was underground. She hadn't been down there in so long. Since Ma died, Mary figured. This room had been a refuge for her mother. She would go down and sketch beautiful things; butterflies, flowers, rainbows, oceans, and animals. She was amazing. Mary loved seeing her work. She wasn't sure if she was ready to go down. It would bring back so many memories. She didn't want to cry. I can do this! she told herself! I can! Mary opened the door and as quietly as possible, walked down the stairs. Once down far enough, she could see John pushing things away, looking for something, just as she had predicted. He hadn't heard her come down.

"Our parents room and now this? What are you doing here, John?" Mary questioned.

"I'm looking for wood," he replied.

"Wood? Down here? You know this was ma's studio, right?"

"Of course I know, but you know how our great, great"-

"Yes, our grandmother's great, great, great, grandfather?" Mary was proud she got that first try.

"Yes, him. He used to carve and make things out of wood. Probably his children too. I thought there would be leftover wood in here or something."

"After all these years?"

"I mean, it's worth checking."

"Hold up. Why do you need wood in the first place?"

"I, for a fact, thought we could make grandma a cane out of wood. Ourselves."

"Because we don't have the money to afford a proper one, you mean?"

"Yes. Don't you think it's a great idea?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so, but we don't even know how to work with wood!" Mary said.

"No, WE don't, but maybe Pa does."

"You think?"

"I think so. If the woodworking skill passed down through generation to generation, then he should know how." John said. "Plus, I think you can agree that Pa's growing farther apart from us... so if I could get him to teach me how to work with wood, then that may help a little."

"Hmm. Shall we ask him later then?" Mary asked.

"Yes. First, some sweets. Remember we're going to Ned's today and somehow I got forced into taking you?"

"Yes, I know, John."

"Good. Are you ready to go?"

"I need a few minutes, but I'm almost ready. If Pa comes down, let him know we're going, okay?" Mary asked John.