Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [88]
But that was also the year Rav had suddenly paused in her candy chore and stared out the window. Then she turned and gazed at the Christmas tree, and her eyes seemed to focus on the star at the top. Finally she seemed to study the cheap Nativity scene Grace helped her set out each year.
The stable was made of cardboard and the figures of plastic. But Rav had always enjoyed arranging them just so. As Thomas watched, determined not to interrupt her reverie, she carefully moved aside the wise men and the shepherds and a cow to reach into the manger and pull out the tiny Jesus.
Ravinia held it before her eyes for the longest time, then began humming “Away in a Manger.” Finally she replaced the baby and set the figures back in place, and when she turned to face her father, she appeared surprised to see him.
He smiled.
“You know what, Daddy?”
“Hm?”
“I really, really love Jesus.”
Thomas recognized a teaching moment. “The baby Jesus, because He was so cute and His birth so special?”
“No. Well, yeah, that too. But I really love the grown-up Jesus who died for my sins.”
Thomas, normally stoic, had dissolved into tears as he embraced his daughter.
Oh, God. Oh, God, he prayed silently now. Bring her back!
Leave it to God, he decided, to arrange that the very first thing on the program that night was the preschoolers singing “Away in a Manger.” Thomas hoped Grace wouldn’t look at him. He refused to hide his face, but tears ran as he forced his lips together and fought not to sob aloud.
Addison
Brady’s Mexican housemates were going to Mass and then to get drunk. Brady had a quarter kilo of grass stuffed into his belt at the back and was heading to Stevie Ray’s to share a joint with Stevie and his wife—who indulged only on holidays—then go with Stevie to a midnight gig. He and his band were playing a local rich guy’s party until 2 a.m. But first, Brady wanted to stop by his mother’s trailer to give her and Peter each a cheap gift.
Where’s the wench now? Brady wondered as he crossed the empty carport and mounted the steps to the trailer he had hated for so long. He found Peter watching television and eating something he had clearly prepared himself. Peter reported that their mother was at a party.
“Shocking,” Brady said flatly. “She forgot we were going to do Christmas tonight?”
“She said you could wait.”
“Till when?”
Peter shrugged.
“So she just leaves you alone on Christmas Eve,” Brady said.
“She knew you were coming.”
“But that’s just it. I can’t stay. I have plans.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Brady put a wrapped carton of cigarettes on the kitchen table for his mother and tossed a festive envelope to Petey. The boy tore it open and smiled. “Ten Burger Boy bucks! Cool!”
“Just promise not to come when I’m working so you don’t see me dressed like a dork.”
That made Peter laugh as he ran to the back and brought out his gift for Brady, a huge color photo book about Academy Award–winning movies.
“I didn’t know what else to get you.”
“It’s perfect, but how’d you afford it?”
“Mom still gives me a dollar a week. I saved up.”
“Thanks, man. This had to cost—”
“Only $6.95 on the bargain table. Regular price is over thirty bucks.”
“That’s a really cool present, little man.”
Brady heard a car pull up and hoped it wasn’t his mother. She had already missed the gift exchange, and she’d probably come in drunk anyway. He didn’t need that. He pulled back the blind.
Oh no! “Petey, kill the TV and go play a video game, will ya? I’ll handle this.”
“Who is it?”
“Just go!”
As soon as Peter was out of sight, Brady yanked the grass out of his belt and tossed it high into a kitchen cabinet. A rap came on the door.
Two uniformed officers.
“Hey, how you doin’?” Brady said. “I was just leaving.”
“We could use a few minutes if you could spare them,” the larger of the two said.
“You got a warrant?”
“Do we need one?”
“No, I’m just saying