Forty

It was late afternoon on Christmas Day.

After enjoying a wonderful night of restful sleep and a very pleasant Christmas morning, Ian Collins, Patrick, Mrs. Fortini, and Katherine all sat down to a Christmas feast prepared by Mrs. Fortini. Patrick was sitting next to his grandfather, laughing and talking as if there had never been anything between them but love and affection. If Katherine hadn’t seen such things with her own eyes, she would never have believed them possible.

She looked toward the living room at the wooden soldier stationed proudly once more on the coffee table. Except for meals, he hadn’t left Patrick’s side since the moment his grandfather had given it to him.

Patrick asked her something, and she was just about to turn toward him when she heard a noise outside in the vestibule. Then a shadow appeared in the door window. Then a loud knock.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Mrs. Fortini asked Collins.

“No.”

“Did you give the extra reward money to the policemen?”

“They came back for it last night after they dropped off Miss Townsend.”

Once again, a knock at the door, a little louder.

“I’ll get it,” said Patrick. He jumped up and ran to the door before anyone said a word. He opened the door and screamed, “Daddy!”

Mrs. Fortini gasped.

Collins’s eyes opened wide, and he dropped his fork.

Katherine looked up. It was almost beyond taking in. How could this be? But she recognized Captain Shawn Collins instantly from his picture.

“I knew God would find you,” Patrick said as he buried his face in his father’s overcoat.

“I’m sorry if I surprised you,” said Shawn as he picked Patrick up in his arms. “I sent two telegrams, but I guess they didn’t get through with the storm.” Shawn looked down at the wooden soldier on the coffee table. He shook his head slowly back and forth, then looked up at his father, tears welling up in his eyes. For a few moments, no one spoke. “Dad . . . he’s beautiful.”

“Grandpa made him for me,” Patrick announced.

“Did he?”

Ian Collins got up from his chair and all but ran toward his son. “Shawn,” he said, erupting in tears. Shawn gently put Patrick down and they embraced, the elder Collins’s shoulders now heaving with sobs. “I’m so sorry, Shawn. So very sorry . . . for Elizabeth, for all I’ve done, all of it. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I love you, Dad,” Shawn said, now crying too.

Patrick came beside them both, hugging one leg each.

By now Katherine and Mrs. Fortini had joined in the tears, holding each other up as they watched the scene unfold. After several minutes, Mrs. Fortini said, “So, Shawn, you must be hungry after your long trip.”

“I am starving. I haven’t eaten all day, just trying to get home.”

“Well, you’re home now,” the elder Collins said, making good use of his already wet hankie. “Mrs. Fortini’s made a wonderful Christmas dinner. Come and get some.”

As Shawn walked into the living room, he stopped as he passed by Katherine. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” said Collins. “Where’s my manners?”

“This is Miss Townsend,” Patrick blurted out. “She’s been taking care of me while we waited for you to come home.” And then added, “With Grandpa and Mrs. Fortini too.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Katherine said, wiping her tears in a handkerchief. “Please, call me Katherine.”

“Hello, Katherine. I’m Shawn. Thank you so much for all you’ve done for Patrick.”

“Really, it’s been my pleasure,” she said, letting go of his hand. “No, that’s not enough.” She looked down at Patrick. “You have the most remarkable boy I’ve ever met.” She felt the tears about to unleash again.

“Well, I want to hear all about it,” he said as they made their way to the table. He picked Patrick up again. “I have missed you so much, my little man.”

“I’ve missed you too, Daddy.”

“I hope you’re going to tell us about how you made it home,” Katherine said. “When you’re up to it, I mean. It must be an amazing story. The last thing we heard was a telegram saying you were shot down and missing. Somewhere over Germany.”

“I’m really sorry you didn’t hear what happened next,” Shawn said, taking his seat. “Actually, I’ve been safe for a couple of days now. After our plane went down, we made it back through enemy lines to England. That’s when I found out about . . . about Elizabeth. After that, I caught the first plane home. It’s really a long story, and I promise I’ll tell you all about it some other time. But tonight . . . tonight I’d rather just think about Christmas.” He looked down and said, “I can’t believe I made it home for Christmas.”

“I know why, Daddy,” Patrick said.

“You do?”

“I prayed harder than I ever prayed. And I told God I didn’t care if I got anything else for Christmas except you. And look what he did. He gave me you and the only other thing I wanted . . . the wooden soldier Grandpa made.”

The Unfinished Gift
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