Page 84 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
She sat silent for a moment. “Does that include you, too?”
He started to say,That’s different, it’s my job.Then realized of course it wasn’t different. It wasn’t his job anymore. “I guess it does.”
“It’s not that I don’t think of him, and you, and our family.” She made a sound. “I was so scared when Cal March forced his way into Margy’s house.”
He wiggled his other arm free and put it around her shoulders.
“It’s more like I take one small step, and then another, and then before I know it, I’m off solid ground, swaying on a rickety bridge with no railings.”
“We both have that in common.”
She puffed a laugh. “We sure do.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Helping people is baked into my job. And no matter what you do or don’t do to make a living, keeping people safe is part of who you are.”
He pressed his nose against Ethan’s head and breathed in the baby smell; powder and spit and the indefinable something that said,I’m yours. He wanted his son to be sheltered, and secure, and he wanted to see him grow into a strong young man. But he also wanted that for whoever else the militia had in their malignant crosshairs. He already knew, even in this moment of peace, that he couldn’t let their plans unfold without trying to stop them.
“Maybe…” He hesitated. “Maybe we don’t have to come up with some hard-and-fast rule. Maybe it’s enough to center our family, and then take one action at a time.”
Snugged in close to him, Russ couldn’t see Clare’s face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “You realize that’s the same as my ‘one step at a time,’ right?”
“Can you stop trying to help Tiny and her kid? Just drop the rope?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then I think it’s the best we can do for right now.” He glanced toward the younger couple. Paul was tiptoe on the folding stool, trying to get the star clipped on the top of the tree, and Yíxin, her arms draped with garland, was laughing. “We make Ethan our lodestar, and think of him when we’re making decisions going forward.”
Brilliant multicolored lights came on outside, shining through the picture window, framing the matching lights on the tree. Paul and Yíxin clapped wildly. Knox came in the front door, accompanied by a swirl of icy air. “Ta-da! Am I good, or am I good? Clare, is there more of that hot cider?”
“For the hero of the front porch, anything.” Clare stood up, stretched, and laid her hand lightly on Ethan’s head. “We hold on to all three of us, now.”
Russ smiled up at her. “And we don’t let go.”
THE FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT
Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
1.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21
Hadley had to admit, she wasn’t doing her best during the final hymn. Granddad, who had come to see the pageant’s final dress rehearsal, was booming out, loud and off-key. When he hit the high note at “The bridegroom is a-RISING,” she saw Mrs. Marshall, standing at the end of their pew, wince and look at her sympathetically.
Hadley was mouthing along, hitting a few words, but her focus was on everything she needed to accomplish today. Thank God the dep had let her keep her usual Sunday-off schedule. She had to get the turkey today, or it wouldn’t be defrosted by Wednesday and she still needed stocking stuffers. Maybe Walmart for both. Genny’s angel costume was all set, but she hadn’t found costume jewelry for Hudson’s king outfit. She didn’t have anything wrapped, and that had to get done if they were going to be opening presents Christmas Eve. She knocked baking off her mental list; that just wasn’t going to happen this year. She’d make better use of her time with some make-ahead sides she could prep today and cook later. And she’d better sit down with Hudson and make sure he finished his English paper—who assigns middle schoolers a paper due four days before Christmas?
“Thanks be to God,” Granddad shouted. The service was over. She slipped the hymnal back in the book holder and gestured to the kids. “Okay, guys, the costumes are in the parish hall. Head on back and I’ll be there in a sec to help you.” She turned to Granddad. “Are you good with bringing them home afterwards?”
“’Course I am. You go ahead, finish up your shopping.”
“Hudson has homework.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it done.”
He wouldn’t make sure it got done. He was just a little too soft-hearted with his great-grands. For a moment, her mind turned to Flynn, running flashcards with Genny while visiting their house, quizzing Hudson on history facts at cross-country meets. She slammed the door on those recollections. Their last meeting had gone badly, and God knew if she’d ever even see him again if he’d fallen for that militia crap. No. She had more than enough to focus on in her real life.
The various costumes were in boxes lined up against one wall, mobbed by kids and parents. The other half of the room was taken up by congregants drinking coffee, nibbling cookies, and reminiscing about whentheirkids were in the pageant. Hadley used to worry about growing old; now she couldn’t wait to be one of those well-groomed fifty-somethings who didn’t have to carry crayons in their purses and who had spontaneous brunches after church.
