Page 24 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
Meghan gestured toward the kitchen. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem to like women at all. How he ever found someone to marry him is a mystery to me.” She held the door open for Clare.
“I think he snatched her up before she got a chance to meet anyone she could compare him to.”
“You know, I think you’re right. One mystery solved.” Meghan lifted a rawhide cord threaded through a silver whistle from the key hooks by the kitchen door. “Okay, I’m hungry. Let’s whistle up our men.” She stepped outside and blew three piercing blasts.
“Should we start bringing the food to the table?”
“No. It’ll stay warmer inside. If they’re showing off to each other, it might take ’em a while.” Meghan descended the steps to the patio.
Clare joined her at the table. Between the sunshine and the heaters, it was more comfortable than the over-warm kitchen. Ethan crowed with pleasure as he began cruising the low wall. It made her think of the baby strapped in the car seat. “Tiny said she and her husband are trying for another. I can’t imagine having a newborn and a”—she did the mental math—“baby less than a year and a half. That seems like alotof work.”
Meghan dunked a piece of bread into the hot dip. “I guarantee you that’s his idea, not hers. Calvin’s got this dumb idea that if white women have enough babies, we can stop the illegals from taking over our country.”
“Wha-at?”
“I know!” Meghan popped the bread into her mouth. “There are like, what, five hundred million people living down there? The way to keep Americans from being replaced is to stop ’em hard at the border, not to turn women into baby machines.”
“Um. If immigrants become legal, though, then theyareAmericans.”
Meghan shook her head. “You know what I mean. Real Americans. Like us. They bring ’em into this country, set ’em up with money and apartments and cars and stuff, and then they own them. They can make ’em do anything they want.”
Clare didn’t really want to ask, but something compelled her. “They?”
“The Jews.” Meghan dunked another piece of bread into the dip.
Clare looked out to the tree line, where Russ still hadn’t shown up.Honey, have you checked in with Mom?
10.
When he saw the men near a makeshift structure, his first reaction was annoyance. A birder had reported hearing what sounded like fireworks in this area, so he had taken the day to check it out, but honestly, any birder who trekked this far into the Adirondack Park at the beginning of December to knock a few nuthatches off their list couldn’t be all that reliable. Althoughhehad spotted a golden-crowned kinglet when he disturbed a spruce thicket. That was cool.
No, he was annoyed because he’d been enjoying his so-far-perfect day in the woods, and now these guys were going to get up his nose when he ticketed them. It was one day past deer season, and there were always sports who couldn’t get away from the office on Friday and figured it was no big deal to show up on Saturday afternoon instead. These yahoos didn’t even have blaze orange on, and he’d have to write them up for that as well. He liked hunting as much as anyone, but rules were rules for a reason, and letting one day slide became one week, and then you had fools trying to harvest deer in January, and likely getting lost and frostbit to boot.
“Hey there, fellas.” He emerged from the brush he’d been using to get the lay of the land and waved. He wasn’t worried about them bolting—there was no sign of an ATV anywhere, and half of themdidn’t look fit enough to make it more’n a few dozen yards at top speed. Even dirt roads were scarce in this part of the High Peaks—he had left his four-wheel drive over a mile away. “Season ended yesterday, and you’re not properly dressed. I’m going to have to see your IDs and hunting licenses.”
They turned, and their rifles came up, and he heard aBOOM-crackand a blow like an oak tree splitting and he tilted over and fell into the leaf mold and the long pine needles and saw the birds, more birds than he would have imagined, fleeing and shrieking into the dimming sky.
THE SECOND SUNDAY IN ADVENT
Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
1.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7
“Is he down for his nap?” Clare shucked her coat and unbuttoned her clerical collar.
“Like the proverbial baby, conveniently in time for the meeting.” Russ heard a vehicle pulling into their short driveway. “Is that Knox?”
Clare looked out the kitchen window. “Yep. And there’s a car parking on the street. I think you’re getting the whole gang at once.” She leaned against the glass to see more. “Why do so many young people drive those tiny things that look like Little Tikes cars?”
“Says the woman who had a roomy and practical Shelby when we met.”
“That was different. It hadstyle.” She opened the door. “Come on in, Hadley. And you must be Yíxin Zhào. I’m Clare Fergusson.”
His wife certainly pronounced the attorney’s name better than he had when briefing her on their Sunday conference. Knowing Clare, she had practiced.
Zhào smiled. “Thank you for getting my name right!” She looked even more like an undergraduate in jeans and a sweater. Instead of a briefcase, she hoisted a backpack and unzipped it, revealing a stack of papers. “Here we are.”
