Gideon's Gift (5 page)

The girl’s question did unexpected things to his heart. His throat grew thick. He had to set his roll down and take a swig
of water. The perfect Christmas… For the briefest instant he could see it all the way it had been, year after year after year.
Him and his family around the Christmas tree, celebrating and—

A burning anger rose up and stopped the memory short. Earl stared at the girl one more time. Who was she, anyway, and what
right did she have asking him questions? “Get lost, kid.”

The child blinked, but her eyes remained the same. Deeper than the river that ran through downtown.

“Daddy and I prayed for a Christmas miracle. My teacher says Christmas miracles happen to those who believe. If I can’t have
a new dolly, a miracle would be pretty good, don’t you think?”

“Listen.” A stale sigh eased between Earl’s weathered lips. “I eat my meals alone.”

“Oh.” The child pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll leave.” There was a sorrow in her expression that hadn’t been there
before. Something about it gave Earl a pinprick of guilt. Like he owed the child an apology.

The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

As she turned to leave, the girl tried one last time. “Maybe if you believed, God would give you a Christmas miracle, too.”

This time Earl raised his voice. “I don’t believe in anything.” He slammed his cup down. “Now leave me alone.”

F
rom across the mission mess hall, Brian Mercer worked the food line and kept an eye on Gideon. She had lived up to her promise,
finding ways to make the tired, weary street people smile as she moved from one table to the next.

But not the old man.

Brian had watched Gideon as she got the man a few dinner rolls and then as she sat down across from him. Clearly the man didn’t
want Gideon’s company. But how dare he shout at her? Brian had to fight back his own anger.
What type of miserable man could do that to a child? A child who’s only trying to help?

Brian was about to go find out when D. J. came up beside him. The two of them had gone to high school together and been friends
as far back as Brian could remember.

D. J. pointed in the old man’s direction. “That’s Earl.”

“Oh, yeah?” The frustration in his friend’s voice told Brian everything he needed to know about the man. “He yelled at Gideon.”

“I know.” D. J. frowned. “I saw it.”

Brian shifted his attention to his daughter. She had crossed the room and was working beside Tish. Her energy seemed half
what it had been before. “She wanted to make him smile.”

D. J. pursed his lips and exhaled hard. “No one ever reaches old Earl.”

“If he can yell at a kid like Gideon, no one ever will.”

Gideon crossed the room and came toward them. Brian wanted to shake the old man for taking the bounce out of her step.

“I tried, Daddy.” She pointed at the man in the corner. He was hunched over his food, shoveling it in as though the table
had a time limit. “But I can’t make Earl smile.”

Brian clenched his jaw and waited until his anger subsided. “Forget about him, Gideon. Look at all the people who did smile.”
He lowered himself to her level. “You were great out there. Those people came for a plate of food and instead they got a cup
of happiness.”

Gideon’s dimples deepened and her sorrow lifted somewhat. “Earl needs a whole bucketful.”

D. J. took a step closer. “Don’t worry about him, Gideon. We’ve all tried to reach old Earl. He’s not a happy man, honey.
Believe me, it would take a miracle to make him smile.”

Gideon’s mouth hung open for a moment, her eyes wider than before. She turned to her father, her voice filled with awe. “What
did he say?”

Clanging came from the kitchen as volunteers washed the dishes. Brian moved closer to his daughter so she could hear him.
“He said it would take a miracle.”

“Good.” Gideon’s eyes lit up and she turned to look at Earl again. He had dropped his plate in the tub of dirty dishes and
was making his way out into the cold, dark night. “That’s what I thought.”

And with that, she skipped off toward another table of street people. Her energy seemed to have returned as quickly as it
had left. Brian wondered why. Whatever thoughts were going through Gideon’s head, he hoped they had nothing to do with old
Earl.

A bitter man like that didn’t deserve the attention of anyone.

Least of all his precious Gideon.

G
ideon waited until Dustin was asleep before she did it.

When she could hear his soft breathing and she was sure he wasn’t going to wake up, she slipped out of bed and dropped to
her knees. The floor felt bumpy through her worn nightgown, and her knees hurt. They’d done that ever since she got sick.
But right now the hurt didn’t matter.

She’d been planning this since they left the mission.

The idea had come when she’d heard her father’s friend talking about Earl. What was it he’d said?
It would take a miracle to make Earl smile.
Yes, that was it. It would take a miracle. Gideon had thought about that ever since.

At first when Earl yelled at her, she’d been sad. Like maybe she had said something to make him angry. But that wasn’t it
at all.

The old man was worse than a person who didn’t smile, and Gideon knew why: Earl didn’t believe.

And her dad’s friend said it would take a miracle to change that.

Gideon’s heart bumped around inside her the same way it did on the first day of school. She folded her hands and bowed her
head. Sometimes she prayed quietly, in her own heart. But not tonight. This was a big prayer—one of the biggest she’d ever
prayed. That’s why she’d had to wait for Dustin to fall asleep. So she could whisper the words out loud.

“Dear God. Hi. It’s me. Gideon.”

She waited, just in case God wanted to talk.

“Daddy and I asked you for something so big it could only be a Christmas miracle.” The air was cold around her legs, and she
began to shiver. “Well, God, I think I found something. You see, there’s a man at the mission named Earl. He’s old and mad
and he doesn’t remember how to smile. Worse than that, he forgot how to believe.”

She shifted position so her knees wouldn’t hurt. “My teacher says Christmas miracles happen to those who believe. If that’s
true—if it’s really true—then please, God, please help Earl believe again. That’s something very big, but I know you can do
it. And when you do, it will really be the best Christmas miracle of all.”

I
t was time to face reality.

Christmas was only twelve days away and Brian Mercer had no choice but to admit the obvious: There simply wasn’t enough money
to make this Christmas the perfect one Gideon dreamed of. There would be no real tree, no shiny new fire truck for Dustin,
and no new doll for Gideon.

D. J. had found a bag of donated items—a well-loved stuffed cow for Gideon, a bag full of Matchbox cars for Dustin, and a
stack of books that looked barely read. And he and Tish had saved up and bought the kids new shoes and socks. It would be
a more extravagant Christmas than some. But far from perfect.

Tish had tried to comfort him about that fact. After all, Gideon was in remission. What more could they ask for? Gideon’s
illness had cost them every spare dime. If she stayed well, if work at the mill picked up, then maybe they could pull off
that kind of Christmas next year or the year after that.

He made his way through the front door and slung his coat over an old chair. He felt tired and defeated. “Tish?” He dropped
to the old sofa as Tish and Dustin bounded down the stairs.

“Hi, Daddy! Guess what?” Dustin jumped on his lap. He was small for six, but he had enough energy for two boys his age. “Me
and Mommy are making Christmas strings.”

Christmas strings.
Brian hid his frustration. Every year Tish saved up junk mail and old magazines so the kids could cut them apart, twist them
into colorful wads of paper, and sew them onto long pieces of string. Christmas strings, they called them. They draped the
strings around the apartment as a way of preparing for the holidays.

Couldn’t they have real decorations? Just once? Brian kissed Dustin on the cheek. “Good for you, buddy. I’ll bet they’re the
best yet.”

Tish leaned down and hugged Brian. She was so beautiful, so happy despite their means. He breathed in her optimism and smiled.
“Where’s Gideon?”

“Stacking newspapers for Mrs. Jones in 2D.”

“Again?” He slid to the edge of the sofa. “Didn’t she do that last week?”

“Hmmm.” Tish lowered her chin. “I’d say someone’s been a little preoccupied.”

Brian’s mind went blank. “What do you mean?”

Dustin slid down and ran upstairs to play. When he was gone, Tish sat on one of Brian’s knees and wove her arms around his
neck. “I mean Gideon’s been working for the neighbors ever since that first night at the mission.”

“What? How come I didn’t know about this?”
Why is Gideon working for the neighbors?

“I think she wants it to be a surprise.” Tish nuzzled her face against his. “She makes a quarter every time she brings the
mail up for Mrs. Jones and fifty cents for stacking newspapers or dusting.”

Brian’s frustration doubled. “She’s only eight years old, for heaven’s sake, Tish. We can’t have her out working like that.
What’s she trying to do?”

“She must need money for something.” Tish gave the end of his nose a light tap. “Don’t worry about her, Brian. She wants to
do this. Whatever she’s up to, I figure let’s let her do it. She probably wants to buy a present for someone. If it matters
to Gideon, it should matter to us.”

T
he following Monday, Gideon brought a tattered paper bag of change to Brian and made an announcement.

“I need to go to the store.”

Brian kept his expression neutral. “What for, honey?”

“I wanna buy a Christmas present for Earl.”

A strange mix of awe and frustration shot through Brian. “Old Earl, the man at the mission?”

“Yes.” Resolve was written across Gideon’s earnest face. Her excitement was palpable. “For the Christmas dinner at the mission
tomorrow. I asked God to make Earl believe again and I decided maybe he needs a present. Maybe no one’s ever given him something
for Christmas.”