An Unexpected Gift

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
NEW PROMPT:
You receive a package in the mail, addressed to you, with no return address. Inside is a wrapped gift with a note that says "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" -- but it is not signed. And it's not your birthday. Write the STORY or POEM about what the gift is, and how you try to figure out who sent it.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Anne,” yelled Birdie up the stairs to her daughter, “get down here. You’ve got mail.”

Nine-year-old Anne, not at all curious about who would be sending her mail, waited almost five minutes before clumping down the stairs. In the last few weeks, she had become even more sullen and quieter than ever. Birdie had given up trying to find what was wrong with her youngest daughter. Forgotten was what the once-trusting child had confided in her over a year ago.

Anne finally walked into the kitchen where her mother was washing the breakfast dishes, after waiting impatiently for her daughter to come downstairs. Birdie had placed a box wrapped in brown paper on the kitchen table, and Anne looked at it with a bored expression.

“Well,” complained her mother, “aren’t you going to open it?” She dried her hands and stood by the sink, watching Anne nod her head before picking up the box and shaking it. Without further acknowledging the older woman’s presence, Anne silently left the kitchen, the package held carelessly in her hands.

Only after she reached her bedroom and closed the door did Anne show interest in the package. She tossed it on the bed and sat down to stare for a few seconds at the box. She noticed there was no return address on the brown paper, and above her address was only the one word, “Anne.” There was no last name.

Unable to stifle her curiosity any longer, Anne ripped the paper off to reveal a present covered in birthday wrapping paper. “Birthday paper?” she said out loud, a bit confused. “My birthday was months ago. Who would send me a gift this late?” No one, of course, answered this rhetorical question.

Revealed after Anne removed the fancy wrapping paper was a medium-size, cardboard box. When she took off the cover, the first item that she saw was a note. The small card was lying on top of what looked to be a stock of writing paper. On the card in big block letters were two words, and only two. “Happy Birthday and unsigned? Who sent this?” Anne again asked this of the empty room.

Putting the mysterious note beside her on the bedspread, Anne next focused her attention on the writing paper. She traced one finger over the top sheet, fascinated by the feel of the expensive and high-quality vellum paper. Lifting the stack of what turned out to be 100 sheets, she found two piles of matching envelopes.

The only clue to who might have sent this remarkable gift was the embossed coat of arms on the top of each sheet. Why was I sent something about the Carrigan family? Do I know anybody with that name? Anne’s confused thoughts whirled around her mind while she tried to remember anyone with that name.

A quick knock on her door interrupted her, and Birdie walked into the bedroom without waiting for permission. Anne frowned at this lack of manners, privacy being very important to young children. She said nothing, though, and simply watched Birdie slowly cross the room to look down at the open box of writing paper.

Her mother’s whisper of “Oh, no!” confused her. Seeing her mother’s face turn pale in shock confused her even more.

“What’s wrong? Do you know someone named Carrigan? Who are they? Why did I get this from them?” Anne peppered her mother with these questions, but Birdie didn’t answer.

Birdie looked at her daughter, anger replacing her shocked expression. “I can’t tell you. You were never meant to find out. He shouldn’t have sent this. He promised to stay away. He promised he would, and now he’s back.” Those last few words were filled with such spite that Anne was frightened. Birdie had a terrible temper and often took it out on her children. This time, though, Birdie just glared at her trembling daughter before leaving the bedroom, still complaining loudly about the man’s return.

Anne knew better than to ask her mother for an explanation. Instead, when Birdie left to do some shopping, Anne came downstairs to go through her mother’s desk. The desk was off limits to the children, but Anne knew her mother kept important papers in the bottom drawer. She sat down on the carpet to explore the contents of that drawer.

Inside, she found papers related to the purchase of their home and other legal forms. Old receipts and pink slips for their cars over the years were intermingled with other papers of no interest to the curious girl. At the very bottom of the messy pile, Anne discovered three birth certificates. The top one was for her stepsister listing Evie and Anne’s stepfather as Jean’s parents. Next was her sister Mae’s birth certificate. There was no surprise there with Birdie and their biological father listed.

Finally, and of most interest to Anne, she pulled out her own birth certificate. Her eyes widened in surprise at not seeing the name of the man she’d always thought of as her biological father. “Bruce Carrigan,” she whispered. “My father is someone called Bruce Carrigan?”

“I remember him.” Anne jumped up in shock at hearing her sister’s voice only inches behind her. She had been so intent on finding out her mother’s secret that she hadn’t heard Mae coming into the room.

“He used to come for coffee with Mom when Dad was at work.” Mae continued to share her memories with Anne. “They laughed a lot, more than Mom did with Dad.” She started smiling when she saw her younger sister eagerly leaning forward to hear more. For the next half hour, Anne learned more about the man who obviously was her real father.

Anne asked one last question. “Our father knew I wasn’t his, didn’t he?” She hoped that might explain why he ignored her on his rare visits.

Mae didn’t answer and simply walked from the room. Her malicious laugher left Anne wondering what her sister wasn’t telling her.

The fourth part of this story continues in the following entry:

ID: 1470154   (Rated: 18+) The Favored One's Party  This story is set a few months after "An Unexpected Gift." by J. A. Buxton

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Microsoft Word count = 1,000

"The Writer's Cramp"  daily entry for 09/03/08
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////