A Letter to the Giftmaker - Chapter 22

It took Edwin several minutes to realize why everything seemed so much darker. At first he had thought it was just the growing snowstorm blocking out the moonlight, but then he noticed that Jo had abandoned him. That golden light which had been encouraging him from behind had turned around to leave him alone in the woods.

Well, if he gives up that easily, Jo is obviously not a true friend, he thought, although another part of his mind disagreed. More likely, they'd gotten separated due to the weather or Jo had gone to search somewhere else in the forest.

Ahead, the trees seemed to spread out at the edge of a large clearing. When he reached the treeline, though, he realized it was a large cliff. A jagged wall of boulders led down into a dark canyon. He could hear the violent crashing of water and ice on rock from an unseen river. The far side of the canyon was at least twenty yards away.

A gust of wind pressed against his back and he braced himself before he toppled over the cliff. The flakes which once danced through the air now whipped past his face. The snow was already gathering on his coat and his pant legs were soaked through.

He shuffled over and sat against a tree, which shielded him from most of the wind. His breath was heavy and sweat dripped down his forehead despite the cold. He was lost in the growing blizzard.

With a weary sigh, he stuck his hands into his coat pockets. His fingers traced the hole in the left pocket, the one he never used. In the right pocket, he felt the pen that Jo had given him. That felt so long ago despite being less than twenty four hours. Next to the pen was something thin and smooth.

He pulled it out and the scrap of paper fluttered between his fingers. That scrap he'd torn off when he'd given a line to Silas. It was the size of his thumb, but still seemed to shimmer with magic.

Thirty six hours ago, he hadn't even seen wishpaper before and now this was all that was left. Maybe Harriet was right to take it for herself. It had never done him any good and it seemed he was cursed to never deliver it. At least someone should have happiness.

He shook his head. No, not her. She caused all of this. Perhaps this was even her plan from the beginning, to steal the wishpaper for her own selfish means. He had believed her, but now after all the lies she admitted, what would one more be?

This kindness and optimism is exactly what got him into this situation. It was just five days earlier, when he still had his job at Pittman's Grocery. He had shown up early that morning to help stock, since Jerrod had felt sick. It was a long day, and he was exhausted by the time he was working the register that evening.

It had just been a moment of weakness. The woman looked as tired as he felt, and the child was crying, and she was only 2 coppers short.

"Take it," he'd said. "What's one apple?"

He remembered trying to smile in a comforting way, though he didn't know if it paid off. She had certainly given him a weary smile back with her quiet "Thanks" before hurrying off with her groceries.

Had he known Mr. Pittman was watching, he never would have done it. But, unfortunately, the grumpy old man had seen everything. He had crossed his arms, waggled a finger, and fired Edwin right then and there.

Maybe if Edwin had begged, or groveled, or offered to work for free for a week, he could've kept his job; but at that point in time, he had been convinced he had done the right thing. It wasn't until four days later, his own food gone and his pockets empty, that he had realized his mistake. While he was dumb enough to help her, no one else was going to help him.

Yesterday morning, as he walked past the market stalls hoping for a dropped piece of fruit or forgotten loaf of bread, the wishpaper had fluttered out of the alley. At the time it had seemed like fate was giving him everything he deserved. He had to take it, right?

The wind gusted past and he shivered. He'd been so excited, writing all his wishes down. Now, he was lost in a forest during a blizzard.

He looked at the scrap of paper in his hand. There was very little room on it, only enough for a single short sentence. There was so much he could wish for, but there was only one thing he really wanted at that moment: for everything to go back how it was.

In small, angular letters he wrote: 'My job back.'

Why wish for more than he deserved? His mistake had been kindness, and this would fix his mistake. He could go back and do a better job.

He looked out into the darkness. The snowflakes flew past like cottonwood fuzz blowing down the street in the spring. He remembered chasing those tiny fuzzes with friends, making a wish, and then letting fly off.

His friends. He looked back at the forest. Jo and Harriet were in danger out here, either from the cold or from not noticing the ravine. Right now, the right thing to do is to get back to the gate. Then, together, they can take this final scrap to the Giftmaker.

The tree bark was rough against his red and blistered fingers. The wind blasted into his face as he rounded the tree. He lowered his head and trudged back through the snow.