Pet Sematary - Stephen King [82]
Gross-OUT! Louis said, imitating Ellie.
Well, come on to bed, Rachel said, and Ill give you a present early.
Woman, Louis said, drawing himself up to his full height, that is mine by right.
Dont you wish, she said and laughed through her hands. In that moment she looked amazingly like Ellie and like Gage.
Just a minute, he said. Theres one other thing I gotta do. He hurried into the front hail closet and brought back one of his boots. He removed the fire screen from in front of the dying fire.
Louis, what are you-
Youll see.
On the left side of the hearth the fire was out and there was a thick bed of fluffy gray ashes. Louis stamped the boot into them, leaving a deep track. Then he tromped the boot down on the outer bricks, using it like a big rubber stamp.
There, he said, after he had put the boot away in the closet again. You like?
Rachel was giggling again. Louis, Ellies going to go nuts.
During the last two weeks of school, Ellie had picked up a disquieting rumor around kindergarten, to wit, that Santa Claus was really parents. This idea had been reinforced by a rather skinny Santa at the Bangor Mall, whom Ellie had glimpsed in the Deering Ice Cream Parlor a few days ago. Santa had been sitting on a counter stool, his beard pulled to one side so he could eat a cheeseburger. This had troubled Ellie mightily (it seemed to be the cheeseburger, somehow, even more than the false beard), in spite of Rachels assurances that the department store and Salvation Army Santas were really helpers, sent out by the real Santa, who was far too busy completing inventory and reading childrens last-minute letters up north to be boogying around the world on public relations jaunts.
Louis replaced the fire screen carefully. Now there were two clear boot tracks in their fireplace, one in the ashes and one on the hearth. They both pointed toward the Christmas tree, as if Santa had hit bottom on one foot and immediately stepped out to leave the goodies assigned to the Creed household. The illusion
was perfect unless you happened to notice that they were both left feet and Louis doubted if Ellie was that analytical.
Louis Creed, I love you, Rachel said and kissed him.
You married a winner, baby, Louis said, smiling sincerely. Stick with me and Ill make you a star.
They started for the stairs. He pointed at the card table Ellie had set up in front of the TV. There were oatmeal cookies and two Ring-Dings on it. Also a can of Micheloeb. FOR YOU, SANNA, the note said in Ellies large, sticklike printing. You want a cookie or a Ring-Ding?
Ring-Ding, she said and ate half of it. Louis popped the tab on the beer.
A beer this late is going to give me acid indigestion, he said.
Crap, she said good-humoredly. Come on, Doe.
Louis put down the can of beer and suddenly grasped the pocket of his robe as if he had forgotten something-although he had been aware of that small packet of weight all evening long.
Here, he said. For you. You can open it now. Its after midnight. Merry Christmas, babe.
She turned the little box, wrapped up in silver paper and tied with wide satiny-blue ribbon, in her hands. Louis, what is it?
He shrugged. Soap. Shampoo sample. I forget, exactly.
She opened it on the stairs, saw the Tiffany box, and squealed. She pulled out the cotton batting and then just stood there, her mouth slightly agape.
Well? he asked anxiously. He had never bought her a real piece of jewelry before, and he was nervous. Do you like it?
She took it out, draped the fine gold chain over her tented fingers, and held the tiny sapphire up to the hail light. It twirled lazily, seeming to shoot off cool blue rays.
Oh Louis, its so damn beautiful- He saw she was crying a little and felt both touched and alarmed.
Hey, babe, dont do that, he said. Put it on.
Louis, we cant afford-you cant afford-
Shhh, he said. I socked some money away off and on since last Christmas and it wasnt as much as you might think.
How much was it?
Ill never tell you that,