But I had to dosomething.
Aurora stirred, covering her face from the light. I couldn't turn it off with Anna so frightened.
“Come with me,” I said to Anna.
“Where?”
“Let’s go somewhere else so we don’t wake your sister. And if you want, you can tell me about the nightmare.”
She lowered her head, trying to stifle her tears and put back on her tough facade. For a moment, I thought she would refuse. I was surprised when she took my hand and pushed the covers back to stand up.
I led her into the living room. We hadn't finished decorating the tree, but the strings of fairy lights were draped over its lower branches. I left Anna facing the tree, walked over to the socket, and plugged it in. The room was instantly bathed in a soft, colorful, twinkling glow.
I came back and sat on the rug facing the pine tree, patting the space beside me. She remained stubbornly standing for a moment, wiping her face with her hands.
“Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?” I asked.
“No. It was just a silly dream.”
“But silly dreams can be scary, too. I had them when I was your age.”
“That was a long time ago.”
I tried not to look offended by the comment that so clearly called me old. “Yes, a long time ago. But Iremember a lot from being a kid. One thing I remember is that around the holidays, I liked to sit by the Christmas tree in the dark and just look at the lights. It always calmed me down. You should try it.”
She was silent, but I could tell she was thinking about my words. Then, hesitantly, she sat down next to me. But as soon as she did, she immediately shuffled a few inches away, making it clear she wanted to keep her distance.
We sat in silence for a while before I spoke. “We’ll finish decorating the tree tomorrow. You can help us.”
“I hate Christmas,” she replied.
I found that curious. A five-year-old shouldn't have such a long history of bad Christmases. “Why do you hate it?”
“The teacher at our preschool told us to write letters to Santa Claus, with a drawing of the gift we wanted.”
“What did you draw?”
“A bike. Rory drew one too, but hers had a ballet outfit on it. Then, when we got home, Grandma said it was stupid. That Santa Claus isn’t real, that we couldn’t afford bikes, and that…” Her voice trailed off, thick with distress.
“And what, Anna? What else did your grandmother say?”
“That Rory will never be able to dance ballet because she’s deaf. Mommy got really angry and argued with Grandma, and then she told us that everything Grandma said was a lie.”
“And your mother was right. It was all a lie.”
“I know Santa Claus isn’t real. And I know we don’t have money for bikes. But I didn’t care about that. I was sad because Rory cried so much. She really likes to pretend she’s dancing ballet, even without hearing the music. And since that day, she hasn’t danced again. After that, Mom packed our things. She showed us your picture and said you were our daddy and that we would stay with you. Then Uncle George put us in the car and took us to that place where you were.”
“To the hotel?”
“Yeah. I thought Mom would come back for us. But she’s taking a long time.”
“I’m sorry, Anna. But I promise you, even if it didn’t start off well, I will take care of you.”
“Until Mom comes back?”
“Even after your mom comes back. I’m your father. I’ll be your father forever.”
“Why were you never our father before?”
