A pretty little dolly
For pretty little Molly
Makes her face shine
Like the old times
13-year-old Molly limped to the front door. She opened it to see a pink gift bag sitting on the welcome mat. A foil tag hung from one handle, bearing the inscription. “For Molly.”
Molly tore away the tissue paper to reveal a pretty china milkmaid. She gasped. It was one of two dolls she needed to complete her collection. Hot tears brimmed in her eyes.
Summer was depressing enough with a broken ankle, but with no visitors, it was horrible. No one had come to see her. Not after the first week anyway.
But somebody cared.
Poor old Mr. Brady
Lost his dear lady
Give them some candy
They’ll be fine an’ dandy
Mrs. Brady yanked the door open, lugging her suitcase after her. Her scowl deepened when she caught sight of the cheerful, yellow gift bag. She eyed it suspiciously before examining the contents. A chocolate heart and a bottle of red nail polish.
A slip of paper bore the words. “For Mrs. Brady.”
She’d been married for fifty years. After all that time, she’d expect Mr. Brady to remember her birthday. The scowl softened.
The absent-minded darling. She looked at the suitcase. No one listened when she’d complained of her troubles. But maybe, just maybe, she could give it another go. Chocolate and red nail polish could pull a woman through anything.
After all, somebody cared.
A cute new teddy
For cute Miss Sadie
A special little kitty
So fuzzy and silly
Sadie wearily shuffled to the front door. It’d been day several hours too long. She opened the door, a piece of her mind at the ready. Her temporary anger was misplaced at the sight of a blue gift bag.
The tag on the handle read. “To Miss Sadie.” Cautious fingers extracted and adorable whiskered beanie baby. The same calico color as her dear kitty, Tick-Tock.
She’d come home a few weeks ago, barely in time to say goodbye. The vet said there was nothing more she could’ve done. Nothing she could do to fill the nook he’d occupied.
Tick-Tock nearly drowned in the local pond before she’d rescued him. He’d thanked her with loving brown eyes and a raspy purr that made her smile.
Someone had remembered. Someone cared.
I closed the mini-blinds and reached for my journal. They’d all got the gifts. That was good. My fingers traveled over worn leather as I picked up a pen. I was tired of all the talk.
Everyone knew Molly, Sadie and the Bradys. Somebody needed to do something before Molly gave into her depression. Something before Mrs. Brady left her husband, and somebody needed to remind Sadie that she wasn’t alone.
Dear Heavenly father, it’s Marina. I did something about it. Please give them a happy ending.
I scrawled the words across the page and yawned. Happy endings. I could live with that.
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