I picked up the shovel the congressman’s wife had brought me and started shoveling my way up the walk through thirteen inches of snow. Church bells rang from the direction of O Street, probably Christ Church. From the other direction, more bells, probably Mt. Zion.
More than ever I felt like I was part of something that was staining the celebration, and as I rapped on the front door, I felt ready to do some cleaning up. But was I right? Would my plan work?
I heard the creak of floorboards, and my resolve grew weaker.
The door opened. I stepped inside, hands raised. Fowler kicked shut the door, pushed me face-up against the wall, and frisked me again. “Not a good idea, Cross,” he said as he searched me. “Coming back in here.”
“Why’s that?”
“I can’t let you leave now.”
CHAPTER
33
BECAUSE IT WAS CHRISTMAS MORNING, A SPECIAL DAY, NANA AGREED TO MAKE her sweet bacon. The recipe: thick bacon fried in a cast-iron skillet, then covered with brown sugar and baked in the oven.
“I only cook sweet bacon for a holiday or a birthday,” she had always said. That used to be the rule of the house. Her house, she insisted, even though Alex had bought and paid for it. But once, Damon had insisted that Arbor Day was a real holiday, and Nana had agreed with him. And after that, she changed the rule. Now she said: “I only cook sweet bacon for a major holiday or a birthday.”
Waffles. Pancakes. Cheese grits. And sweet bacon.
“There may be no need to cook the turkey later on,” Bree said. “This meal could last me the whole day. Maybe the whole week.”
“You speak for yourself,” Damon said. “I’ll be ready for turkey and mashed potatoes. And those yams I love with the mini-marshmallows.”
The maple syrup was soaking into the waffles and pancakes. The sweet bacon strips were crunchy-crisp. And the mood was finally cheerful.
Then Jannie spoke. “You know, it seems to me there’s only one thing missing from this breakfast table,” she said.
They all immediately thought of Alex. A somber mood reinvaded the room. There was quiet. Nana squeezed her lips together to keep from tearing up. Bree looked out the window of the kitchen door.
Damon shot a why’d-you-make-everyone-feel-bad-again look at Jannie. She realized that her innocent comment had been misinterpreted and had upset everyone.
Jannie said, “Oh, no! Listen. Listen. What I meant was, what’s missing are those ridiculous reindeer antlers and the flickering electric red nose that Damon puts on every Christmas.”
“Oh, I forgot all about those stupid…those stunning antlers,” Nana said.
“Get outta here,” Damon said. “That’s not happening. You wear the antlers. Nana can wear the antlers.”
“Nobody wears those antlers like you,” Jannie said and giggled.
“Oh please, can I see them on you? Oh please,” said Ava.
“I don’t even know where those dumb things are,” Damon said.
“Lucky for us I do,” said Jannie. “I’ve got them right here.”
And she produced from under her chair a pair of cloth antlers attached to a headband and decorated with a sprig of plastic holly. She also had a tiny red lightbulb fixed to a big rubber band that would fit snugly around Damon’s head.
Then Nana said, “Before we see Damon dressed like a reindeer, let’s join hands and say a prayer.”
They held hands and bowed their heads. Nana spoke.
“Dear Lord, Who on this blessed Christmas Day brought Your Son into the world, we ask You to look with kindness on another son. Your son Alex. As he strives to help others, we ask You to help him. To keep him from harm. To protect him from evil. According to Your holy will.”
Then together the Cross family said, “Amen.”
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