The Christmas Box Read Online Free PDF

and went bac k t o my catalog. Her eyes never left me.
    "No, right now. Read it to her now,"
    she coaxed. Her voice was fervent , wavering only from her age. I laid m y t ext down, examined the book again , then looked back up into her cal m f ace. Her eyes shone with the importance of her request.
    "All right, Mary."
    I rose from the table and walked u p i nto Jenna's room, wondering when I would catch up on my orders and wha t m agic this old book contained to command such urgency. Upstairs Jenn a l ay quietly in the dark.
    "Still awake, honey?" I asked.
    "Daddy, you forgot to tuck me i n t onight."
    I switched on the light. "I did, didn't I . How about a bedtime story?"
    She jumped up in her bed with a s mile that filled the tiny room. "Wha t s tory are you going to tell?" she asked.
    "Mary gave me this book to read t o y ou."
    "Mary has good stories, Dad."
    "Then it should be a good one," I said. "Does Mary tell you storie s o ften?"
    "Every day."
    I sat on the edge of the bed an d o pened the old book. The spine wa s b rittle and cracked a little as i t o pened. I cleared my throat an d s tarted reading aloud.
    The little girl came into her papa's study, as she always did Saturday morning before breakfast, and asked for a story. He tried to beg off that morning, for he was very busy, but she would not let him . . .
    "That's like you, Dad. You're rea l b usy too," Jenna observed.
    I grinned at her. "Yeah, I guess so."
    I continued reading.
    "Well, once there was a little pig--" The little girl put her hand over his mouth and stopped him at the word. She said she had heard the pig stories till she was perfectly sick of them.
    "Well, what kind of story shall I tell, then?"
    "About Christmas. It's getting to be the season, it's past Thanksgiving already."
    "It seems to me," argued her papa, "that I've told as often about Christmas as I have about little pigs."
    "No difference! Christmas is more interesting."
    Unlike her story's counterpart , Jenna was long asleep before I finfished the tale. Her delicate lips wer e d rawn in a gentle smile, and I pulle d t he covers up tightly under her chin.
    Peace radiated from the tiny face. I lingered a moment, knelt down near he r b ed and kissed her on the cheek, the n w alked back down to finish my work.
    I returned to the den to find the lavish drapes drawn tight, and the tw o w omen sitting together in the dim , flickering light of the fireplace talkin g p eacefully. The soothing tones of Mary's voice resonated calmly throug h t he room. She looked up to acknowledge my entrance.
    "Richard, your wife just asked th e m ost intriguing question. She aske d w hich of the senses I thought wa s m ost affected by Christmas."
    I sat down at the table.
    "I love everything about this season," she continued. "But I think what I love most about Christmas are it s s ounds. The bells of street-corner Santa Clauses, the familiar Christmas records on the phonograph, th e s weet, untuned voices of Christma s c arolers. And the bustling downtow n n oises. The crisp crinkle of wrappin g p aper and department store sack s a nd the cheerful Christmas greeting s o f strangers. And then there are the Christmas stories. The wisdom of Dickens and all Christmas story - tellers." She seemed to pause fo r e mphasis. "I love the sounds of thi s s eason. Even the sounds of this ol d h ouse take on a different character at Christmas. These Victorian ladie s s eem to have a spirit all their own."
    I heartily agreed but said nothing.
    She reflected on the old home.
    "They don't build homes like this anymore. You've noticed the double set o f d oors in the front entryway?"
    We both nodded in confirmation.
    "In the old days before the adven t o f the telephone . ." She winked. "I' m a n old lady," she confided, "I remember those days."
    We smiled.
    ... Back in those days when peopl e w ere receiving callers they woul d o pen the outer set of doors as a signal.
    And if the doors were closed it mean t t hat they were not