The Unfinished Gift Read Online Free PDF

stairs, the boy right behind him. As he walked past the boy’s bedroom, he noticed the bed was made, with almost perfect military trim.

Seven
    Patrick had only been in one other attic before. It had been a wonderful experience, ranking up there somewhere between the toy store and candy shop. He followed closely on his grandfather’s heels. The steps were steep and narrow, so he pretended he was climbing the face of a cliff.
    “Mind yourself, now,” his grandfather said. “I’ll get this light on in a minute. Stupid fool thing putting the switch at the top of the stairs.”
    When they reached the top, his grandfather opened the door. It was just as Patrick had imagined. At first it was dark, but his eyes soon adjusted. Boxes of every shape and size came into view, overflowing with bounty, like pirates’ treasure. Every metallic object sparkled from bright rays of sun pouring in from two dormers. It was like a page out of a storybook. Collins shuffled away from the stairs toward the front of the house. Patrick had stopped following, mesmerized by the scene.
    Collins turned and snapped, “Now, don’t go getting any ideas. You go messing around, something’s liable to come down on your head, get that government lady all over me.
    Get over here and stick by me. Only one box up here we’re after.”
    Patrick sighed. The adventure was over. His mother had never yelled at him like that. Not once in his entire life. There was just enough room to walk in between the boxes if he turned sideways. He obeyed and soon stood a few feet behind his grandfather.
    “Where’d I put that stupid thing?” Collins said. He started lifting boxes, putting them here and there, setting off little dust explosions.
    Patrick wondered how anyone could call a box of Christmas decorations a stupid thing. Collins continued muttering as he searched. It was hard for Patrick not to let his attention drift, but he didn’t want to get yelled at again. Every now and then, he moved one of the boxes Collins set near him an extra inch to the left or right, just to make a contribution.
    “Don’t touch,” Collins snapped. “You trying to knock something over?”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Just leave everything alone.” Collins turned back toward the boxes.
    Patrick bit his lip. Tears wanted to come, but he wouldn’t let them.
    “Just stand over there if you can’t keep your hands off things.”
    “I won’t touch anything again, I promise.”
    Collins turned back around. “Where is that box?”
    Patrick stepped back into the shadows; even a few feet felt safer. His eyes wandered around the room. He quickly noticed an army uniform hanging on a rack next to an oval dressing mirror. A real army uniform. Was it his grandfather’s? His dad wore one just like it. He remembered him standing at the train station, a thousand people pushing and shoving, crying and hugging good-bye. Then it was time for his dad to say good-bye. His mom was crying, and then he was too. His dad picked him up, high in the air. “You’re in charge, Patrick. You take good care of Mommy till I get back, okay?” But he hadn’t taken good care of Mommy, had he? His dad had given him just one thing to do, and he couldn’t even do it.
    “There it is, son-of-a-gun.”
    Patrick turned back toward his grandfather, glad for the distraction.
    “Had to be under ten other boxes.” He groaned as he pulled the box free. “Yep. There’s Ida’s writing. You could spell better than her. Look at that . . . orma-nents . . . Christmas orma-nents.”
    He was smiling, the first time Patrick had seen him smile. Billy’s grandfather always smiled, even gave horsey rides and told knock-knock jokes.
    “Okay, Patrick. Come here.”
    His grandfather had just pried the box lids loose and bent them back. Patrick looked inside and saw . . . Christmas. A bright gold star lay on top. Boxes of shiny glass ornaments were stacked around the sides. He saw the roof of a nativity scene, with wooden