12 Days of Writing

Gingerbread Cookies

Summary: After a depressing and scary morning, Maya and Joe eat gingerbread cookies to calm their troubled hearts.

Maya, in all her five years of life, had never, under any circumstance, seen Joe cry. Well, mostly because she had only been with Joe for one of those years, but that didn't matter. He hadn't shed one tear the entire time, and now he was practically sobbing as he cradled the adopted baby in his arms.

It had died overnight.

It was an incurable disease, they told him. The baby wouldn't last more than a few months.

But Joe had adopted it anyways, because he said he felt a bond. And so what if it died, at least it would be in a happy and warm home.

But now Joe was grieving, and Maya didn't know what to do about it. Sure, being a five-year-old genius helped, but she couldn't think of anything.

Wait, what was Joe's favorite dessert again?

She ran to the kitchen.

*/\*

Joe ran about in fear, his eyes scanning every nook and crannie of the house, the garden, even some of the neighboring homes, his face pale and chest tight. He couldn't find Maya.

After a very distraught and grieving morning, he had taken the--he couldn't say it--to the funeral home after contacting the police and going through questions. Upon returning home, however, Maya was nowhere to be seen.

She had left the oven on, much to Joe's immediate distress; Maya knew better, and was probably smart enough, to know that leaving the oven on was a hazard. So, his next conclusion? Something horribly wrong had happened to his adopted daughter.

She may be brilliant, but she's only five. He thought. Where on earth could she have gone? Did she go to play at a friend's house? Was she at the playground?

Another thought chilled him to the bone.

Was she kidnapped?

Joe ran for the phone, ready to dial 911 when the door was suddenly swung open. Joe whirled, thinking it to be another, if not the same, intruder that may or may not have kidnapped his daughter when he saw Maya, grocery bags in hand.

It took him less than five seconds to wrap her in a tight hug.

"J-Joe?" she stammered. "What the--What's wrong?"

Joe pulled her away, but held onto her shoulders. "Where were you?" he almost shouted. "I was so worried . . ."

Maya's face fell and she looked ashamedly at the floor. "I'm sorry . . ." she whispered. "But I thought that if I got you your favorite treat, you might feel better."

Joe looked to the bags. It looked like two boxes of cookies and a bag of chips. "The chips were for me, since I don't like gingerbread as much. But I'll eat some with you."

Joe's heart warmed and he pulled her back into a hug. "Okay," he said, a few stray tears glistening in his eyes. "Okay, let's eat at the table, okay?"

Maya smiled and nodded, relieved that she had been forgiven (and that she wouldn't be punished right away). The two sat at the table and Maya opened up a box of the cookies.

Nibbling on his favorite treat, Joe felt tears well up again. In alarm, Maya asked, "Joe, are you okay?"

"I'm so happy . . ." he whispered. "I'm so happy to have such an awesome daughter."

Maya was shocked for a moment before Joe felt arms wrapped around his neck. "I love you . . . dad."

"I love you too, Maya," he replied as his arms wrapped around her small frame.

It had been a long day.