Christmas Magic Emma Sandborn lay on her bunk curled around a faded and torn tan teddy bear with one button eye. Katie Jennings smiled, reached down and gently removed the envelope from the sleeping child’s hand, then pulled the blanket up around her. For a moment, she gazed at the beautiful eight-year-old, smoothing back a few auburn strands. Emma stirred, pulled the bear closer and settled. Emma had been an infant when her parents died and now held the record as both the youngest and longest tenant at The Jenning’s Home for Orphaned Children. Most children weren’t at the Home for very long – some found adoptive parents, others foster homes. For reasons still unclear to Katie, Emma fared differently. She’d been passed over for adoption every time the opportunity arose. To make matters worse, whenever Emma’s turn for foster care arrived, there’d always be something – too many children, wrong nationality, too young, too old, wrong jurisdiction, a judge with a bad-hair day. The excuses were endless. Katie dropped the envelope into the sack with the others. Over half the children wished for the one thing she could never promise them: a permanent home. In truth, adoption of children over five was rare. Katie glanced at Emma one last time, backed out of the room, and pulled the door quietly closed. She heard the grandfather chiming quarter past ten. In her office, Katie opened and read Christmas letters. Most asked for a new family, but there’d always be a P.S. – cars, games, movies, various dolls or action figures – almost as if these kids didn’t believe Santa could bring presents to children without proper homes. She glanced between the Christmas list she’d made and the itemization from the Home’s Christmas store room. Perfect, she thought, a gift for every child. Katie laid a tentative hand on the last Santa letter – Emma’s letter. She picked it up and opened it. As she read, tears welled in her eyes. She glanced from the letter out of the office window into a darkness powered by a bright full moon and swiftly falling snow. Her days of believing in Santa had been gone now for thirty years; her belief in Christmas magic, a sense that people behaved differently, more kindly, had ceased three years into her fifteen year management of her orphanage. Katie rose and tossed Emma’s envelope, along with others and the letters, onto the fire, then walked to the window. This place was her life, her whole world. She’d thought she could change that world one child at a time, but for all her money, time, effort, and love, she hadn’t been able to. Katie unlocked the window and lifted it. A crisp wind swept in, ruffling the curtains and bringing in flurries of snow, whipping her hair. She stared at the letter in hand, tears spilling. “Dear Santa, I guess I wasn’t meant for a family. Ms. Katie’s tried. You tried, I’m sure. Anyways, I like it here with Ms. Katie. So, please could you give Ms. Katie whatever her secret wish is for Christmas? Emma P.S. Can you also please bring me a new button eye for Teddy?†Katie’s own mother used to open the window on Christmas Eve and let the wind carry off letters to Santa. She would say, “There’s nothing like a little Christmas magic.†One more time, for old time’s sake. Katie leaned out the window and held the letter in the wind, its edges flapping. She closed her eyes. “I wish Emma had a family for Christmas.†The wind snapped the letter from Katie’s fingers. Somewhere distant, she heard the clock strike midnight. Early the next morning, the house bustled with the activity of thirty young boys and girls. Aromas of turkey and bread filled the air. Katie dressed, stuffed a pair of buttons into her front pocket, and headed for the common room to hand out presents. As she passed her office, she stopped, stepped back into the doorway. A big red bow sat in the middle of her desk. Stepping closer, she noticed the bow sat upon an envelope. She recognized the handwriting as Emma’s. But, she’d burned . . . Katie turned to the fireplace. Clean. She opened the envelope – not Emma’s letter, but papers. She scanned through the pages: “Adoptive Child: Emma Sandborn. Adoptive Parent(s): Katie Jennings.†A small slip of paper slid from the envelope and landed face-up on the desk. “Dearest Katie, Your Christmas happiness is but a signature away.†Emma tore into the office. “Ms. Katie. Look. Look what Santa did.†“What?†Her brown eyes lit as she pushed Teddy toward Katie. “He put two new perfect eyes on Teddy.†“That’s . . . wonderful.†Katie reached into her pocket and scooped out the buttons. She glanced from the buttons to the bear, from Emma to the papers. “Emma, can we talk?†Emma nodded. Katie set the papers and the buttons on the desk, then sat on the chair. “Come sit with me.†Emma climbed into Katie’s lap. “Do you like being here with me?†Emma nodded. “You know I love you, right?†Emma nodded again. “Well, I was thinking maybe you and I could stay together.†Emma gazed up into Katie’s eyes. “You mean, like forever?†“Yes, like forever. Would you like that?†Emma threw her arms around Katie’s neck. “Would I ever.†She pulled back a little. “Does this mean no one — will ever want me?†“No, no.†Katie gently held Emma’s chin. “I want you.†“You mean like in being a mommy?†“Yes. Like being a mommy.†“More than anything.†Emma turned and looked out the window. “Thank you Santa.†936 Words. Inspired partly by how Santa receives his mail, the idea of Christmas magic, and partly by the countless children without parents or permanent homes in need of a little Christmas magic.