Her Gift

Months of pain and agony had finally ended and they had delivered a miraculous beatitude in the lives of John and Elena Hall. John, the blissful new father, carefully held his daughter in his arms. His eyes were melting with sweetness and he could not have been happier. Nonetheless, the happiness did not last long, for concern over his wife's condition stole his mirth. The labor had weakened her spirits and her lackluster eyes were surrounded by a pale and tired face.

Elena slowly recovered after resting several weeks at home. She was able to assist her newborn child named Jasmine. The little girl was the light of the house. Her mellifluous laughter warmed her parent's hearts, but this transient joy was about to be blown away by a tremendous hurricane.

On November twenty-first, Elena had an accident at work. She had fainted and hit her head—a concussion was the result. She was advised to stay at home with her now three-year-old daughter, but her condition only got worse. Nausea, high-fever, body fatigue, and other symptoms took hold of her health. With every day that passed, the weaker she became. John was distressed by Elena's condition.

The doctors attempted to help Elena, but she began to lose consciousness and her heartbeat decreased to such a low pace that she barely had enough oxygen in her blood to continue functioning. On November thirty, the doctors lost control over everything. Her immune system stopped responding and her heartbeat finally came to a stop.

John was devastated. He clutched little Jasmine close to his chest and wept bitter tears for hours in the hospital's waiting room. "Why? Why did you take her away? How am I supposed to raise a daughter by myself?" he exclaimed painfully as he stood by his wife's deathbed. Little Jasmine, though quite oblivious to the meaning of the situation, observed her father from her aunt's arms.

Jasmine entered her father's bedroom silently. On her hands she carried a tray with freshly cooked pancakes and a glass of apple juice. Her father was sitting on his half-empty bed reading a book. She walked up to him, her light footsteps barely distracting her father from the book.

"Good morning, dad. Did you have a good night sleep?"

He tenderly looked up from the book, "Good morning, darling. Yes, except for the fact that a couple of cats decided to have a dispute right under my window," he said playfully.

Jasmine smiled at him and sat on the other side of the bed and watching him nibble the pancakes.

"Dad, I wanted to tell you about the event I promoted in school," she paused, "I proposed donating toys to the Hill Side orphanage."

"These are excellent news, sweetie. I will remember to ask the neighbors if their children are willing to donate some toys," he asserted.

The girl smiled at him thankfully.

Later in the morning, John announced that he would be working until late at night. Jasmine sadly contemplated his words. He meant everything to her. He was her loved father, the one figure who imbued her with strength, security, respect, but, today she would have to do without him. So, the girl decided to pay a visit to her Aunt Maria. She was her mother's sister and over the years, she had become the mother figure in Jasmine's life. Her sweet and youthful disposition had filled the girl's heart too.

Once at her aunt's house, Jasmine asked her aunt if she had any toys that she would be willing to donate.

She told her niece, "Explore the vast world of the attic and its buildings made of boxes. You can take whatever you desire."

She climbed the unstable ladder to the attic and found herself surrounded by a dark, dank little crowded room with a low ceiling. She began to search the contents of an interesting-looking box which had the word "memories" written on it. Her hand reached into the box and pulled out a beautiful, quaint lilac-colored dress. She kept pulling out several pieces of a young woman's wardrobe, until her hand traced the shape of a rectangular object.

"It is probably an old book," she said to herself, but when her eyes caught sight of the object, she was instantly filled with curiosity. She carefully turned to the first page of what seemed like a book and found a picture of a familiar face. It looked like her. Honey eyes, light brown hair, and her father? She gasped and closed the book. Her aunt called her to come down and eat lunch. Jasmine quickly wrapped the book in the lilac dress and climbed down the ladder.

Late at night, John came to pick up his daughter. She anxiously waited to tell her father what she had found in Aunt Maria's attic.

"How was work?" she asked to disguise her impatience.

"To be honest," he sighed heavily, "terrible."

"Why? What happened?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "Somebody in the office stole a portion of the money that was meant to be invested in the infrastructure of the project. Some of my co-workers—I now not who—accused me of taking the money. I cannot believe they are doing this to me! I, who for many years, have contributed to the well-being of this company. I have invested time and effort in this stupid project!"

Jasmine interrupted him "Dad, dad. Calm down, please."

He was immediately appeased by his daughter's worried tone. For a few minutes, they drove in silence until Jasmine decided to take a chance.

"Dad, I have some news that might cheer you up," she hesitated "it is about Mom."

John slammed on the brakes and screamed at her with rage.

"Jasmine, I am too stressed out to hear about more life-depressing news! Isn't it enough that I carry this burden? Do you have to add more to this? I do not care what news you have. Keep them to yourself, I do not wish to know anything about your mother!"

The car came to a stop before parked their house and Jasmine's eyes welled up with tears and she ran crying into the house. She locked herself in her bedroom and wept. John was enraged. He hit the car with his bare hands causing him to become further enraged. The night ended and neither of them dared to speak to each other.

Next morning, John left home early. Jasmine, deeply wounded by her father's reaction, sadly kept indoors. Nevertheless, she was willing to make up for her impulsive decision. An idea struck her. The book shed had found in the attic was indeed her Mother's journal. She would look for a place where it could be repaired and restored to perfect conditions. It would require gargantuan effort on her part to keep it a secret, but it would be worth the effort.

At nine o' clock, she hurriedly ran up to the street. It was late!

"Dad will arrive any minute," she thought with anxiety.

Jasmine crossed the street lamp that illuminated the driveway. The black Honda was parked there.

"No…" she mouthed softly.

She walked up to the porch, opened the door, and walked into the kitchen.

"Where have you been? I have been calling you like an idiot these past four hours," his tone increased.

"Dad, I—" she gulped nervously. He had never been so irascible.

"I was running some errands."

"What errands exactly?" his stern voice made her shudder.

"Some errands, father. It is no big deal."

She pushed the wrong button. John was incensed by her careless attitude. He was worried for her and she did not care. His cheeks turned red and his words took her by surprise. He screamed at her for the second time in her life and told her she was an inconsiderate and irresponsible young woman.

"I cannot believe what you have turned into," he whispered audibly. Jasmine was struck like a statue and her façade crumbled.

"You leave me no choice Jasmine; you are punished," and with this he left the kitchen.

His daughter truckled obediently. She did not complain, but her heart had been beaten like a punching bag.

"Is this the price I have to pay for trying to make up for my actions? Am I supposed to remain indifferent the way he has spoken to me?" Her thoughts sank slowly into her soul and she ran to her room sobbing.

In the middle of the night, Jasmine woke up and walked out of her bedroom to get a glass of water. She noticed light coming from under her father's bedroom door.

"That is strange. He usually falls asleep at ten."

She softly knocked on the door and it moved slightly. She peeked in and saw her father on his knees with his head laid on the bed. His eyes were closed. Jasmine was overwhelmed with tenderness and she carefully helped him climb his bed.

She kissed his forehead, said "I love you Daddy," and turned off the light of his bedroom. She was willing to ask him for forgiveness. She would not lose her father's trust.

Finally, after a few days of evasive strategies, Jasmine was able to complete the surprise she prepared for her father, but she had yet to conceal it from him until Father's Day celebration. Jasmine was nervous about how he might react, but she believed he will be pleased by the lagniappe she fixed with so much detail. On the other hand, John was frustrated by the catastrophic events occurring in his job and he vented his anger by screaming at Jasmine for stupid things that did not deserve philippics, but Jasmine opted to patiently wait for the storm to calm down.

At last, Father's Day arrived. Jasmine and Maria prepared a small dinner for John. They cleaned up the house and baked John's favorite dessert: fudge brownies accompanied with vanilla ice cream. As John arrived home, Jasmine ran up to him in the drive way and almost knocked him down with a hug.

"Happy Father's Day!" she softly murmured into his father's neck.

John's heart was once again warmed by her delicate way of expressing affection. He hugged her tightly.

"Dad, close your eyes. I will help you get to the house." He nodded.

Once inside the house, his eyes were astounded by how exquisitely arranged was the dinner table.

"Do I smell chocolate?" he said lifting one eyebrow.

"Yes. Aunt Maria and I bake it especially for you. Please, sit. Tonight I will be serving you."

The entire burden from work was forgotten due to this long-awaited demonstration of affection. His heart was burning with guilt. He had been unfair with his daughter.

The meal was enjoyable and they were enjoying family time, though Maria was not exactly family, she was the only person left that was close to Elena. The food was gone and it was time to delight on a delicious dessert.

Jasmine was debating whether to uncover her surprise or leave it for later. Meanwhile, John began thinking about what his boss had said,

"Mr. Hall, I am sad about the news I have been commanded to communicate to you, but I have taken a decision and I will not change my mind. You will be removed from your position and the emolument you used to receive will pass on to David, your partner. From Monday on, you will no longer be part of this project."

These words punctured his heart. No money equaled no resources. The burden settled in once more.

"John," Maria interrupted his train of thoughts, "Jasmine has something to say to you."

"Well, Dad… I…I," she stuttered, "have a gift for you. It is something that belonged to Mom and I wanted you to—". Her father's hand struck the table and the glass of apple juice fell on the floor shattering into tiny pieces.

"I do not want to hear anything about your mother! Why do you insist? You cannot revive her so forget her and stop reminiscing about the past!"

He was screaming at the top of his lungs and Maria, infuriated by his words, began to scream at him too. In the midst of his rage, John wisely withdrew from the fight and drove away from home in his car.

He came back at midnight, entered the house and felt it was awfully quiet. He directed himself toward his daughter's bedroom and found the closet doors open. He threw the doors open and saw they were empty. Fear invaded his thoughts. He turned around and his eyes fell on folded sheet of white paper which was on top of Jasmine's desk. Maria had threatened to take away Jasmine. He was taken aback. Then, he desperately ran to his room and found everything in place except for an object that on his pillow. A familiar wooden cover diverted his attention. He opened what he thought was a notebook and found it was a journal and in the middle of its pages there was a picture and a note from his daughter. He read the note, fell on his knees, and began to weep. "What have I done? I am a monster!" he articulated through sobs. He cried for about half an hour until he realized he had to do something.

The two hour drive to his sister-in law's house gave him time to think. It was one o'clock in the morning when he set up to driving and he arrived to the town at three o'clock. He decidedly walked to the front door and knocked loudly. Maria, who was watching him from the living room, opened the door immediately in order to evade Jasmine from hearing the noise.

"You cannot take her away from me," he asserted rather forcefully.

"Yes, I can and I will. You have been using her as a punch bag. She is a young woman who needs love and care, not anger and hatred. She needs the guidance of an adult woman. You are longer capable of contributing to her well-being."

"You will not order me to leave the reason of my existence. She is everything I have." Maria was shocked by his words, but she continued.

"She does not need you anymore, you only hurt her…" The fight was becoming intense and the commotion from the discussion woke up Jasmine. She ran to the front porch and broke their dispute.

"Stop it!"

As soon as John saw her he threw himself to the floor asking his dear daughter for forgiveness. Jasmine's empathy was overwhelming and she threw herself on her knees asking her father for forgiveness too.

"I love you, Jasmine, my dear little girl. Please forgive me."

"I do forgive you father, how could I love you, but not forgive you?" They kept crying for a couple of minutes until they had vented each other's thoughts and feelings.

Maria, moved by the scene, told John she would not attempt to take Jasmine away from him. Then, she offered them to come into the house, for she would prepare hot chocolate. Once the resentment and pain was wiped away by forgiveness, John took out Elena's journal. He held it in his hands as he would have held Elena's hand, like a delicate flower. He opened the journal and began to read to Jasmine the passage where Elena had written about their first fight. They kept reading entry after entry until the sun rose. By that moment, the warm presence of pleasant memories had permeated their hearts. Their mother and wife's presence was alive in her words. The journal's experience gave them strength and reminded them that their bond could not be broken, even if she was not here. It was her gift that had brought them together again.