The Christmas Doll

Tom Billings wrapped the porcelain doll with tissue paper and put it into his leather briefcase . He then gathered up the rest of his belongings and proceeded to check out of the hotel.

He had been away on business quite often the past year, missing most of the major holidays with his wife Liz, and their six year old daughter, Violet. At least he knew that he would be home in plenty of time to spend Christmas with his family.

In a phone conversation, Violet had told her father that she wanted a pretty doll for Christmas. Tom felt so guilty for being away that he spent an entire night scouring Washington DC for just the right one. What he found wasn’t something that she could play with like one of those plastic toys, but instead it was a work of art that could be cherished forever. It was very expensive also, but money was no object when it came to Violet.

Tom hailed a cab and then made his way to Union Station. He was not a big fan of flying and took the train whenever the opportunity arose. It was a long ride to Chicago, but the seating was spacious and he usually found the trip quite therapeutic.

He made it to the station just in time to catch his train, dragging one large piece of luggage and his briefcase. As he was about to board, Tom was detained by security.

“We need to check your luggage , sir,” a stern looking official stated.

“The guy in front of me had two briefcases and no luggage, and I’m the suspicious one?” Tom asked, sarcastically. “You guys check so few people that it’s really just grasping at straws. If someone wanted to bring a bomb into DC, the train would be the way to do it. I went from Rocky Mount to here a few weeks back and not one bag was inspected.”

“Please open your bags, sir, or you’ll be detained.”

Tom gave in. It wasn’t that he minded security checks, but he hated the idea of strangers handling the special gift that he had bought for Violet. He was weird in that respect.

He opened his bag, showing the security team that there was no reason for concern. He then popped open the briefcase. The tissue paper immediately caught the officer’s attention.

“What’s that in the paper, sir?” the officer asked.

“It’s a doll for my daughter, please be careful with it. It means everything to her.”

The man pulled the tissue back, exposing the doll’s rosy cheeks and blue eyes. He stopped right there, sensing that he had intruded between a father and his child, and let Tom pass.

“Have a Merry Christmas, sir,” he said, as Tom climbed into the passenger car.

“Thank you. You do the same,” Tom replied.

He found his assigned seat and ended up sitting next to the man who had been right in front of him boarding the train, the one with two briefcases.

“Tough luck, huh?” he asked Tom.

“Yea, like a middle aged business man is gonna be an international terrorist or something. The whole thing is ridiculous if you ask me.”

“Well, at least the trains are looser than the planes. You can hardly bring toothpaste on those things.”

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” Tom said, trying to end the conversation with the stranger.

After a few minutes the train started to move. He propped a pillow up against the window and nestled his head into it, hoping to sleep. The man next to him put a briefcase on his lap. Tom assumed that he was going to have to deal with a computer geek for fifteen hours, so he just closed his eyes and tried to nap.

As he began to fall into a light sleep, he heard the man say something out loud about praising someone and then there was a click.

That was the last thing that Tom Billings heard before the passenger train bound for Chicago exploded into a fireball of twisted metal and burnt bodies. With the exception of 9/11, it was one of the worst terrorist acts ever on American soil. Tom and everything that he possessed was instantly incinerated. He never made it home for Christmas.

Liz Billings was watching TV when the news report of a terrorist attack broke. She always worried about her husband because of how much he traveled, but also knew that security provisions were more stringent than ever before. Viewing the fireball on the screen in front of her, she felt a sudden chill creep down her back. Liz immediately dialed Tom’s cell phone number and it went straight to voicemail. His phone rarely did that, and it caused her to panic, prompting her to dial repeatedly, getting the same result.

She then made her way into the kitchen to look for the slip of paper that had Tom’s traveling information on it. She recalled his arrival time but couldn't remember the train’s number. It only took her a minute to locate it, and that’s when her world came crashing down. The number on the paper was 705, the same number that was on the TV screen.

Liz fell to her knees in the kitchen, screaming hysterically. Violet rushed in from her playroom.

“Mommy, what’s the matter?!” she cried, panicking at the sight of her bawling mother.

At first Liz couldn’t get a single word out. She grabbed Violet and drew her close, almost crushing her with the embrace.

“O…oh…V..iol..et, Daddy’s d…d…..” she started to say, but then restrained her urge to share the dismal news with her young and innocent child.

“Daddy’s coming home tomorrow with a doll for me, Mommy,” Violet said, wiping her own tears away.

Liz just continued to hug and cry, confusing the little girl even further. After an hour of sorrowful tears, the anguished mother released her daughter and began making phone calls. She wanted confirmation of what she already knew in her heart.

In the remaining fourteen days leading up to Christmas, Liz Billings had to bury her husband (or at least the tiny bit that remained of him), and tell Violet that her daddy was never coming home again. It was a terrible memory for a young child to have of such a wonderful holiday.

On December twenty-fourth, Liz was sitting in the quiet of her den, just trying to come to grips with her new life. Violet had been playing in her room, but decided that she wanted to talk to her mother. She climbed up on the couch and put her head on Liz’s shoulder.

“Mommy, is Santa still coming this year?” she asked.

“Oh Violet baby, of course Santa’s coming. He wouldn’t miss your house,” Liz responded, hugging the fragile child.

“If I ask Santa to bring Daddy home, can he do it?”

“Honey, Santa brings gifts and toys. He can’t bring a person home.”

Violet looked dejected, but not overwhelmed with grief. It was obvious that she didn’t yet grasp the concept of death.

“Will he bring me a doll, then?”

Liz had not done any Christmas shopping in the wake of the tragedy, but had bought quite a few items right after Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, there were no dolls that she could wrap and it was way too late to find a sitter so that she could make a last minute purchase.

“I don’t think that Santa can bring a doll tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure that he’ll give me the power to get you one the day after. Is that okay, sweetie?”

“Okay, I guess,” Violet answered with a child’s pout.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Liz said, starting to whimper once more.

“Mommy, you cry too much. I hate it when you’re sad.”

“I know, honey. I’ll try not to do it so much. I just miss your Daddy.”

“Me too, Mommy.”

They both stayed on the couch for a little while and eventually Violet went to sleep. Liz put her in bed and then pulled her daughter’s gifts out of the locked storage closet, arranging them under the tree. It was so painful to see the presents she had purchased for Tom. She almost couldn’t bear the pain of sorting through them, but did it for her little girl. In the end, Liz took a sedative and dozed off.

Morning came and Violet woke up first, as all children seem to do on Christmas morning. She ran into her sleeping mother’s room.

“Santa came, Mommy, Santa came!” she shrieked.

Liz rolled out of bed and Violet grabbed her hand, guiding her into the living room. Upon first glance, something seemed different than it had the night before. The gifts were not set up the same as she had arranged them.

“Did you move any presents, Violet?” she asked her daughter.

“No Mommy, honest.”

Liz stared at the gifts and noticed something else unusual. There was something behind the decorative packages that was not wrapped. She moved the multi-colored boxes out of the way and almost fainted. Tom’s briefcase, the one that he always carried with him on trips, was there in the midst of everything. There was a shiny gold bow stuck to the brown leather.

“Can I open it, Mommy, please?”

Liz had no idea what to say. The whole thing seemed impossible. She decided to let Violet see what was inside. They both sat on the floor as the little girl popped the latches and the top flipped open. Liz’s jaw was agape as her daughter reached into the case and removed something wrapped in tissue paper. It was a beautiful porcelain doll, just like the one that Tom had told her about.

Tears flowed once again, this time for different reasons. They were tears of hope.

“Santa did bring my doll,” Violet said, “I just wish that he could’ve brought Daddy home.”

Liz smiled for the first time in weeks as she grabbed her child and held her tight.

“I was wrong, Violet. Santa did bring Daddy home last night, but not to this house. He stopped by here on his way home to God. It was Daddy’s way of letting us know that everything’s okay with him and for us not to worry. We’ll all go to God’s house someday and we’ll see Daddy then, I promise.”

That made the little girl smile.

“Merry Christmas, Mommy,” Violet said as she stared at her pretty porcelain doll.

“Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you……and Merry Christmas to you, Tom. You'll always be my gift.”