This afternoon I dreamed I saw Camilla, my 6-year-old, lying in an open casket. Her hands held a large gold-plated belt buckle and her lifeless eyes stared back at me. I heard a shriek and when I awoke I realized it came from me.

What’s wrong, Mommy? Camilla said, pressing against me. I forced a smile but as our eyes met, I knew she didn’t believe that everything was all right.

Just a silly dream, that’s all, I said. Camilla, I’ve got to get up so I can get some things done. After all, it’s Christmas Eve and I haven’t had time to buy groceries.

Think he’ll come? she asked.

Who?

Santa Claus. Do you think he’ll get it for me?

I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her curly blond hair. We’ll see. I wish she hadn’t seen that gold-plated eagle belt buckle in the store. Yes, it looked exactly like the expensive buckle my husband, Steve, once wore, and it was the only thing Camilla wanted for Christmas.

Camilla danced her way to the living room while I got dressed. I stuck my hand in my worn purse and fished for money. Exactly five dollars and twenty-two cents was all I had left after paying the rent. Well, at least food stamps would help get us through to the end of the week. Then what?

I’m ready, Mommy. She had on her torn blue coat, the one I’d been hoping to replace. But after losing my job at the diner, I applied for welfare. It would take a while before I got my first check, the welfare agent told me. A while? What do I do in the meantime?

I took Camilla by the hand and left the apartment. Jacob, the handyman, spotted me in the parking lot.

I nodded my hello to him and headed for the car.

Busy day for me, he said. Gotta take care of these empty apartments. No new tenants for the past three months.

I nodded again. Camilla and I are going to the supermarket, I said.

Meaningful encounter

It was a 10-minute drive to the store. Dillons was decorated with tinsel, lights, Happy Holidays signs, and caricatures of fat, smiling Santas. But I resented having to see this in a supermarket when I simply wanted to forget about Christmas. Ever since Steve was killed in an automobile accident coming home drunk from a Christmas Eve party, I hated Christmas. It was a meaningless holiday, and now that I lost my job I was even deprived of being able to support Camilla and myself.

As I left the store, holding groceries with one hand and Camilla’s tiny fingers with the other, I bumped into a woman wearing a white ski jacket. She appeared to be in her 40s, with brownish hair and beautiful blue eyes. Her skin was smooth and her smile soft and reassuring. She didn’t seem upset by the collision.

I’m terribly sorry, I stammered.

Think nothing of it, she said. I’m glad your bag of groceries didn’t take a tumble.

Before I could say anything else, she stooped and gave Camilla a hug. You’re a pretty little girl, Camilla.

I frowned. How did she know her name? Did I mention it?

I just love little children, the stranger said.

I took Camilla’s hand. Well, I must be on my way.

She gently touched my arm. I should introduce myself. My name’s Hadraniel, but you can call me Hadry. May I ask a favor of you?

Sure.

I recently moved into an apartment, she said, and I ordered way too much food from a caterer as I was expecting company. I don’t think they’re going to show up so I wondered if you and your daughter could join me for dinner tonight.

I paused, not knowing what to say.

Hadry blinked with anxiety. Please. I really hate to eat alone.

I turned to Camilla. What do you say? Would you want to have dinner tonight with this nice lady?

Camilla smiled broadly and nodded.

Then it’s set, Hadry said. See you at seven?

Sure. Oh wait, where do you live?

At the Willows. Apartment 315.

I took in a deep breath. That was my apartment complex. And 315 was just upstairs from me. I shrugged and took Camilla home, glad that at least tonight we wouldn’t have to eat rice and toast again like we did last night.

Festive feast

Seven o’clock found me hesitating at the door to Hadry’s apartment. I found it embarrassing not to have anything better to wear than the same denim skirt I wore at the supermarket. As soon as I knocked, the door opened and Hadry welcomed us inside.

The windows had red drapes, the floor plush blue carpeting, and the walls were decorated with landscape paintings. In the corner of the room was a Christmas tree. I must have stood with my mouth agape for a while because Hadry asked me if anything was wrong.

Why no, I answered. I can’t believe what you’ve done to this apartment. And Jacob said we hadn’t had any new tenants.

Hadry entered the kitchen and emerged with plates and silverware. If you want, she said, you can help me bring all this food to the table.

I’d be more than happy to, I answered. I was amazed at the array of dishes she had — roast turkey with chestnut dressing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. I wanted to ask her whom had she been expecting for company with all this food, but I figured it was probably none of my business.

I thought, however, there’d be no harm in asking her what she did for a living.

She tilted her head in thought about my question. I’m a consultant for people who are facing serious problems, she said.

Like a social worker?

Sort of. By the way, you haven’t touched your pie yet.

I’ve eaten more than I have for some time, I said. It was very kind of you to invite Camilla and me. Your tree looks wonderful.

Hadry turned to look at it. Yes, it does, doesn’t it? Did you notice there are some presents under it?

I hadn’t noticed. Yes, there were two gifts under the tree.

Hadry excused herself from the table and went to pick them up. Both presents were wrapped in white tissue and tied with red ribbons.

Here, she said, handing me the larger of the two gifts. This one is for you.

Hadry winked at Camilla. And this one, she added, is for you, my child. Camilla looked at me as if asking for my permission to accept it. I nodded my approval.

The only thing I ask, Hadry said, is that you wait until Christmas day to open them.

But I don’t have anything to give you, I protested.

Nonsense. You’ve given me your companionship and the pleasure of having your cute little girl at dinner. But if you’d like you can join me on the sofa and we’ll sing a few carols.

While I agreed, I wondered if I could get myself to sing. After all, I’d turn the radio off whenever I heard a Christmas carol. But tonight was different. I felt changed, more alive than ever.

Soon I was singing “Silent Night” and “Little Town of Bethlehem” and “The First Noel” as if I had been auditioning for a church choir. Through the window I could see drifting snowflakes and it reminded me of the days Steve and I would sit by a fireplace on a cold winter night and just enjoy the moment.

Christmas presence

The next morning Camilla, excited, woke me. C’mon, Mommy, it’s Christmas. Get up.

I had forgotten the gifts Hadry gave us until Camilla mentioned them.

OK, we’ll open them, I said.

Open yours first, Mommy.

I unwrapped it and froze when I saw a pile of hundred dollar bills. There must be some mistake, I thought, my heart pounding. Hadry must have given this away by accident.

Look, Mommy.

I turned to see Camilla holding up a gold-plated belt buckle, just like the kind Steve wore.

Mommy?

What?

How did she know?

That was a good question. Honey, let’s go up to her place right now and find out.

I knocked on the door several times. No answer.

About to give up, I noticed Jacob nearby. He looked puzzled. What are you doing? he asked.

What do you mean?

This apartment’s empty. He opened the door. See for yourself.

The room was vacant. No sofa. No chairs. No fancy drapes. No carpeting.

But I don’t understand.

Here, Mommy. You should read this. It was with my present.

Camilla handed me the note. It was a message from Hadry….

MERRY CHRISTMAS, CAMILLA! YOUR DADDY TOLD ME HE HOPES YOU LIKE THE BELT BUCKLE.

Tom Mach, a Lawrence resident, is the author of two prize-winning historical novels, “Sissy!” and “All Parts Together.” In addition to his collection of short stories, “Stories to Enjoy,” he won the Nelson Poetry Book Award for “The Uni Verse.” His website is: www.TomMach.com