Read One Snowy Night Before Christmas for Free Online Page B

to make her feel better, but
he knew one didn’t exist. Unfortunately, he’d seen too many families like hers
and understood the permanent scars poverty and neglect could leave on a
person’s soul. A sliver of worry needled him as he considered the sad little
girl sleeping upstairs, and the fact he didn’t know what to do to lift her
spirits, either.
    “I would never go to one of those places. Cheap toys from
strangers, crappy dinners in cafeteria food lines with the homeless… It wasn’t
for me.”
    Too much pride. Somehow he knew that about her. Jessie
repositioned herself on the chair as it seemed she tried to get comfortable on
the inside, too.
    “I grew up dreading Christmas, but I didn’t really hate it
until I was fourteen.”
    Tom’s stomach lurched. He knew he was about to hear
something really terrible, and having already learned to care about this sad
stranger, it hurt him inside.
    She leveled those piercing eyes on him. They shone in the
soft light of the living room, as if tears lingered somewhere just behind an
invisible barrier she’d erected at the edge of her emotions. When she mustered
that impish half smile, this time the dimple didn’t show.
    “My mother had worked for almost the whole year. We finally had
the tree, the turkey, and the presents. She’d been dry for the most part, I
could tell, because she’d been interested in my grades and my desire to go to
college.”
    She must have noticed his quizzical expression. “You don’t
have any drunks in your family, do you? They don’t care about stuff like
prosperity.” This time, when she smiled, the dimple came back. “She made this
wonderful dinner without burning a thing. The house smelled so good, and looked
so bright. We’d made our tree decorations out of ribbon bows and popcorn
strands. It was so beautiful. I’ll never forget it.”
    “Looks like I just won the bet.”
    She stopped and matched his smile, but hers held great
sadness. Even across the space dividing the couches, he could see the tears
swimming in her eyes. Too late, Tom realized reliving the good things probably
hurt her a hundred times more than remembering the bad.
    “Yes, you did.” One tear slipped free and left a silvery
trail down her cheek. Tom rose and made his way over. He knelt beside her chair
and took the coffee cup from her. He placed it on the empty entertainment
center, and took her hand. It was a forward gesture from someone she hardly
knew, but selfishly he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stand the pain he saw
in her eyes.
    “I’m sorry, Jessie. This is none of my business. You don’t
have to tell me anymore.”
    “Oh, but the story gets so exciting,” she said with an edge
of sarcasm. In an instant the hardened girl overcame the vulnerable one trying
to get out. “We were robbed. Cleaned out.”
    “No,” Tom said. “It’s unbelievable.”
    “That was what we thought. I remember standing there in the
hallway off the living room and staring at an empty living room. They took
everything—even the tree.” She choked out a pathetic laugh. “My mother’s
bedroom was closest to the living room. She didn’t hear anything because she’d
gotten drunk after I went to bed. I was foolishly dreaming about Santa and
elves and brightly wrapped boxes with wonderful gifts inside, and she was back
to her old ways, drinking her Christmas present to herself.”
    He squeezed her hand, surprised to find his own shaking.
“I’m so sorry somebody did that to you, Jessie. I don’t know you very well, but
I know you don’t deserve that. Nobody does.”
    She pulled her hand free and he worried he’d crossed a line
with her, but she reached out and brushed his cheek. She smiled, and this time
the silence that stretched wasn’t uncomfortable.
    “None of that mattered to me, though, because the worst part
was the thieves stole the locket my father had given me when I was a little
girl. He died when I was eight. It was the most significant gift