The river was frozen.
It was only a thin layer on top, and slowly it was being buried in snow as the flakes fell steadily that day.
As she stared down at it, knowing it was razor thin ice, knowing its inviting sheen masked only icy waters, Allison could only wish for her skates.
She knew it was pointless to dwell on her ice skates. They were ashes now. Not even ashes. They were particles, joined with the rest of the universe, a wind across the Sahara, a rotting log in the rainforest, eyelashes on a child playing in the dumps in some third world country. No longer an object to be longed for.
But she longed for her ice skates. They had been unremarkable in of themselves. Her memories of the actual things were unclear. Her memories of the time spent at the rink, laughing with her friends, sipping hot chocolate and skating by the sculptures were faded now too.
She longed now for the feeling of gliding on the ice, the freedom to skate away, leave everything behind her in a cloud of sparkling flurries. Every time she saw the river, she felt the faint echoes, but she usually ignored them. She was strong enough, well trained enough, capable of making herself deal with the here and now, and not indulge in fantasies about escaping.
She knew, in her mind, that here was where she was needed. Her family had struggled and fit themselves into this strange place. She too had made a fit for herself in a place that seemed designed for farmers' kids and shopkeepers' kids, kids who had been born here and who would marry each other and have their own kids here and die here. She had fought with it at first, with the idea that this was where she was to make her life. But she was brave, her father reminded her. Brave enough to look directly into everything that came her way. And she was strong, her mother would say. Strong enough to take all those things and adapt to them.
She looked to the north, staring at the river as it curled its way along the land, oblivious to the fighting, screaming, killing people on either side of it, flowing through every day, month, year. She wished she had the freedom to move as it did, outside the rules of humanity, through any disaster.
She imagined the people living along the river, tried to guess how many of them there were. How many of them came to stare at its icy surface, and how many wished they too could skate away to a better place?
She scoffed to herself. Where would you find a better place? She understood listening to the instinct in the back of your mind that tells you that there is somewhere warmer, happier, away from whatever it is that bothers you here. But from everything she'd seen, and everything she'd heard, there were worse places. Places where neighbours didn't invite you to stay at their house without asking too many questions, just because they knew you needed them to. Places where the people didn't stick together in the face of outlaws, food shortages, and attacks from other towns. Places where people no longer had friends, families, or voices.
She couldn't quite silence the part of her that wanted to skate away from everything, but she liked to think that the part of her that understood that Jericho, Kansas was a good place to stay was stronger. Skating away was a wish, a hope, a dream. Staying was real, brave, and strong.
“Hey, Allison!”
She turned. Sam was grinning as he pointed to a tall fir tree. Woody looked nearly giddy as he hopped up and down pointing as well. Sally shouted, “Can we get this one?”
Grinning, shaking her head, and carefully holding the saw as she trudged through the snow towards the three children, she said, “No.”
She rolled her eyes at the chorus of disapproval.
“Aw, man!”
“But this is the best!”
“Why not?” asked Sally.
“This one stays by the river. Come on you guys, we're supposed to go to the Kings' farm to pick it out.”
Quickly, Woody, Sam, and Sally began to talk amongst themselves about the fantastic tree they would find at the farm. They traipsed along the path, Woody and Sam pulling the sled in between them and Sally stomping on the tracks they made. Allison followed, turning to glance back once at the tree. It was a beautiful tree, standing beside the frozen river. It was solitary, its strong branches holding up the snow that had covered them. Even if she hadn't known better than to cut down a tree along the river, she would have made sure they left it standing. It was meant to stay there.
It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and Gracie's market was moderately busy. Dale stood behind the counter, rubbing his hands together. He noticed his customers were keeping themselves moving, trying to stay warm.
“So, I'll take that case of the Budweiser, and a few bottles of Jack, and do you have anything I can give the kids?” asked Mary, leaning against the counter from the other side and glancing down at her pad of paper.
“I'll give you the stuff, but you know, I probably won't be able to get any more for a few weeks,” he said, stepping around the counter to pick up the pile of firewood that Lucas Ebersole had just knocked over, nodding as Lucas' mother apologize profusely. “Not planning on making a run to Devenport til then, and you know the stuff they're selling at Sandy Hill is crap.”
“That's fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “I'll make do the rest of the month. I've got the still working.”
“You'd serve turpentine the rest of the month for one party?” he asked.
She swatted him lightly with her notepad. “It's not that bad now, and yes. It's Christmas. Now, anything for the kids?”
He could think of one thing. A case of cream soda. But that was not to be given away - it was a Christmas present. “Colouring books?” he asked.
She shrugged. He quickly scanned the room. Lucas and his mother were still inspecting the light bulbs he'd recently picked up on a miscellaneous run, but there were no other customers. “Will you watch the place?” She nodded. He went to the storage room in back.
A few seconds later, the front door swung open. A man entered, a little girl trailing behind him.
“Russell, hi!” said Mary. “And Hailey, right?”
The little girl standing beside Russell nodded solemnly. Russell looked tired. “Hi Mary. Last minute shopping?”
They both laughed half-heartedly. Hailey stayed silent.
“I'm just firming up with Dale what he can part with for my Christmas party tomorrow. He's checking for something to give the kids,” explained Mary.
“A party,” said Russell in a weary tone.
“Lots of people are coming, bringing their families. Do you have plans tomorrow?” she asked.
“Oh, I don't think we'll make it back out here for tomorrow. We're just here for a business meeting today, right Hailey?” he asked, looking down at his daughter who nodded again.
“You sure?” asked Mary. “You know, we're even going to have Santa pay us a visit,” she said, smiling down at Hailey. Hailey didn't smile back. She reached for Russell's hand, grasping it in her fingers.
“Well, that sounds nice and thank you for inviting us,” said Russell. “But I just don't think I'm going to get her hopes -”
“Here, Gracie had a huge stock of these that spring with all the flooding and she couldn't get rid of them,” said Dale, coming back into the room and handing Mary a stack of colouring books. She heaved them onto the counter and took one off the top of the pile. “Water safety?” He nodded. “Any crayons?” she asked. He shook his head.
“I guess maybe Heather will figure something out,” she said. “Thanks Dale, and see you soon. And you two, you're still welcome to come. Party starts in the afternoon.”
Bill Kohler had just opened the door when he saw Mary walking in his direction with the colouring books. “Whoa, you went all out with your Christmas shopping this year!” he joked. “Do I have to guess what you got me?”
“Bill, just the helpful deputy I was hoping to bump into. Do you mind helping me carry that stuff over to the bar?” she asked, motioning over to the pile in front of the counter of the things Dale had checked off his list.
Bill looked like he would protest, but Dale stage whispered, “It's for the party.”
Bill nodded then. “Right. So I guess I should help and maybe I'll actually have something to drink at the party.”
“Exactly!” called Mary as she retreated. Lucas and his mother followed her soon out the door.
Bill stooped to look at what exactly he had agreed to deliver as Dale said, “Russell. Good to see you. I'll be with you in just a moment.”
“How many people is she assuming will be getting seriously plastered tomorrow afternoon?” asked Bill, grumbling as he balanced the biggest box in his arms.
“Hey, what you do at the party is up to you, I just supply it,” said Dale, lifting another box to pile on the one Bill was already straining to hold.
When Bill finally had a pile of boxes balanced in his arms, he turned towards the exit. He had almost gotten to the door when Stanley Richmond opened it and stepped inside. Bill veered sideways and Stanley caught the top box as it slid.
“Whoa, Bill, you're planning for a fun Christmas Eve, huh? What did you do, buy out the whole store?”
“It's for Bailey's. For the party,” grunted Bill.
“I never thought I'd see you working as a delivery boy,” smirked Stanley.
“Doing my part to help out,” said Bill, shaking his head with a heroic swagger.
“Well, I'll leave you to it then,” said Stanley, placing the box on top of the pile again.
“Can't you – can't you carry that one?” asked Bill in a quieter tone.
“I've got business with Dale, but here,” he stepped back and opened the door. “Doing my part.”
Bill grumbled and narrowed his eyes as he struggled out the door.
“Going to the party?” Stanley asked Dale as he stepped up to the counter.
“Hadn't really planned to, just supplying it. You?” asked Dale.
“Have to. Mimi's already picked out what I'm wearing,” he said.
“Uh, Dale?” asked Russell from behind him.
“Right,” said Dale, glancing over at the man from New Bern and his daughter. “Stanley, I've got talk to Russell for a minute, if you don't mind waiting...”
“Fine, I'll just browse,” said Stanley, attempting a joking grin. Russell stepped up to the counter, and he and Dale began to whisper in hushed tones. Stanley stepped over to the bin at the front of the store marked “Gifts.” It was full to the brim with odds and ends Dale had undoubtedly procured this year and had found no other use for. He pulled a tea towel out of the bin and sighed.
He glanced over his shoulder. He could see the little girl watching him. He smiled a courteous smile, and went back to sorting through discarded junk.
As he tried to imagine what Mimi would think if he handed her a metal bowl the next morning, he could still sense a pair of eyes fixed on him. He turned to the kid again. Her face was so dead serious, framed by straight, dull hair that someone had tried to liven up with a plastic barrette. He couldn't help but stumble for something to say. “So are you excited about Christmas?” he asked. “I hear Santa might even be by.”
She remained still, watching.
“Don't you like Santa?” he asked. She shook her head.
He pretended to be amazed. “Don't let him hear you say that. I'm sure he thinks you're his friend. You wouldn't want to let him down, would you?”
She shook her head again.
“My sister got Santa a little upset one year, trying to wait up for him and catch him when he came down the chimney. She almost didn't get any presents that year,” he said, with a bit of a chuckle himself.
She was still watching, but he thought he could see almost a trace of a smile.
“Hailey!” called her father. “I told you not to talk to anyone. Sorry,” he said to Stanley.
Hailey stepped over to Russell, who whispered “Why don't you go outside and wait for me? I'll be ready to go soon.”
Stanley watched the little girl go, and watched Russell turn back to Dale to discuss more business. He turned back to the gift bin and imagined the look on Mimi's face when he presented her with a screwdriver.
Skylar Stevens was coming back from the church, where she'd met with Gail Green to discuss ration distributions over the holiday, when she saw the snow.
It had fallen overnight and through the course of the day, so that by mid-afternoon, a blanket of white hugged the ground. She hadn't been paying attention to it as she'd gone about her business, making plans in her head as she traveled across town. Now, having nearly reached her destination, she stopped to look at the fluffy white snow covering the space in front of the store.
She had a sudden and overwhelming desire to lay down in it. She spent a few seconds reminding herself that she was a grown-up, contributing member of society, or an emancipated minor at least, before stepping to the edge of the lawn. The sidewalks and roads in town were covered in footprints, made by the town's mostly pedestrian population. This snow was untouched, a perfect sheet of white, just waiting for someone to make the first mark upon it.
She remembered being younger, looking out the window of her house in the Pines, seeing the new coat of snow that had fallen on the land overnight. The sight had always made her want to burst outside as quickly as she could, without the inconvenience of mittens, hats, scarves, or coats. She had just wanted to be close to the bright world outside, stomping through it with her feet, leaving a mark. Her parents had never understood. Her father would barely glance up from his Wall Street Journal as he said “That's nice, honey.” He had seen too many snowfalls in his lifetime to appreciate them. Her mother had said “I just don't understand why it won't be the same if you wait until after school.” There had been no one else to share in the joyful discovery.
Remembering now the feeling of intrepidation she'd once had when she sneaked out to play in the snow before her school bus arrived, she stepped boldly onto the lawn.
Not thinking of her lunch waiting for her in the break room or Dale waiting for her in the store, she lay down in the snow. She stared up at the sky. The snow was still falling, and the clouds layered endlessly above her were gray. The world beneath her was cold, and the world above her was frothy white and gray, and she breathed it all in.
Grinning for some reason unknown to her, she spread her arms in the snow, spraying the clean snow with her legs. Any other day, Skylar Stevens would not consider lying down in the snow and making a snow angel, especially beside the store where anyone could see her. But there was no one around right now, and the snow had beckoned her.
It had been so long since she'd made a snow angel. She couldn't remember the last time. It seemed like one of those things she would have to leave behind. They were a part of life, she knew, and before the bombs, she had been eager to dispense with them. She remembered how she couldn't wait to be rid of velcro on her shoes, how eagerly she'd tossed aside the plastic barrettes her mother had put in her stocking, how much she'd looked forward to the day she was allowed to go to the Cyber Jolt Cafe with her friends and walk home without a babysitter.
She hadn't missed these unimportant things, even after the bombs. She didn't often stop to think of the things she did miss. It made living too hard. But every now and then, something like a blanket of new snow would glimmer at her, and she'd feel a jolt inside her. She'd be drawn to it, just to find out if there could still be snow angels in this new, grown up, wiser world.
She couldn't see anything of that world, the world without lip gloss, internet, or her parents, when she looked up at the blustery sky. The snow felt the same under her as it always had when she sneaked into the backyard before school. This could very well be the same world where her mother poured sweetener into her coffee at the sink and exclaimed over the birds at the winter bird feeder. It could be the world where her father didn't notice his tie dipping in his cereal as he read out loud whatever amusing story caught his eye in the world news section. She could still be wearing a pink coat with purple cat-shaped buttons, and her 'Pocahontas' backpack could be laying discarded on the porch.
Sighing and feeling the cold air fill her lungs again, she suddenly noticed a pink blob obscuring her vision in the gray world. She sat up slightly. A girl stood on the edge of the lawn, her hands in the pockets of her faded pink coat. It was Russell's daughter, Skylar knew. He'd brought her with him a few times before, when things had been especially chaotic in New Bern. Now the kid was watching her, and Skylar felt suddenly very aware of the fact that she was lying in the snow, that it was soaking into her elbows and back, right through her coat.
At first she scrambled to think of something to say to gloss over the fact she'd been caught playing in the snow. After a moment though, something else came to her. She told the truth. “I was just – making a snow angel. Do you want to make one?” she asked Hailey.
Hailey didn't say anything, and it might have frustrated Skylar completely any other day. Today she just leaned back in the snow, pushing her arms and legs through the angel pattern some more. “It's really fun.”
She stretched her chin to her chest so she could look up at the kid. She was watching with interest now, and Skylar got the feeling that at least part of her wanted to join her in the snow. “Don't you ever just see a brand new snow fall and need to jump in it?” asked Skylar. She flung a handful of it up in the air for emphasis.
A very tiny smile formed on Hailey's face. Skylar took it as a good sign.
“You should leave footprints in it at least. As a sign you were here. I always did that when I was little,” Skylar continued. Hailey shook her head bashfully, and Skylar continued to throw the snow up in the air and watch it fall on her knees and legs. She did this a few times, and as she watched Hailey out of the corner of her eye, she saw her stepping cautiously onto the lawn.
Skylar said nothing as Hailey walked around in a little circle, pausing, looking behind her to admire her own tracks. When she had completed the circle, Hailey stopped, stomped on the ground twice, and smiled up at Skylar. Skylar returned a grin.
“Snow angels!”
Skylar and Hailey turned quickly to see who had intruded on the peace. An old man stood on the sidewalk, a soft smile on his face. Skylar had never seen this expression on him before.
“Hi, Mr. Daniels,” said Skylar a little sheepishly, brushing the snow off of her legs. “I was just...are you going to the store?”
“I've got to bargain with your young friend for some more firewood,” he said.
“I'll be right there,” said Skylar, trying to get up with as much dignity as she could manage. The backs of her pants and coat were soaked.
“That's alright, dear. Looks like you were enjoying yourself,” he said with a chuckle.
Skylar felt her cheeks glowing. She glanced at Hailey. The kid was back to staring at the snow, a serious look replacing the grin she'd had a few moments before.
“Are you going to make a snowman next?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye.
Skylar fought the impulse to roll her eyes. “I was just about to get back to work.”
She brushed the snow off her arms. Mr. Daniels turned to Hailey. “You know, that's what we always did, the first snowfall of the year. My brother and I. We'd make a snowman, even if it was a school morning. It always reminds me of that, the snow.”
“Are you coming inside, Mr. Daniels?” she asked.
He nodded. She stepped through the snow quickly, back to the sidewalk, and retreated hastily into the store. Mr. Daniels smiled again at the little girl, and followed Skylar inside.
Russell came out a few minutes later, to find Hailey lying on the lawn, pushing the snow with her arms and legs.
“I thought I said to wait right here,” he said, motioning to the sidewalk.
Wordlessly, Hailey stood and walked over to her father. She reached for his hand, and he held hers tightly. They quickly followed the sidewalk to their truck.
The snow had stopped by nightfall on Christmas Eve, and the air was still and cold. As Mr. Daniels made his way to his little house on Ryan Lane, he was reminded of his mother's favourite Christmas carol, Silent Night.
He didn't know as he passed his neighbours' house just how very far from silent it was inside. The Taylors' whole house echoed with many sounds. From the kitchen, there came the clanging of someone putting away dishes. From the living room, the sound of logs being stacked beside the fireplace and adult voices chatting. The hallway was the loudest, filled with shrieks and shouts and thudding footsteps.
“Olly Olly Oxen free!” shouted Woody, jumping out from the coat closet.
“You can't yell that yet, Woody!” shouted Sally, sliding down the stairs on her backside. “You have to do a better job looking for Sam.”
“I can't find him,” said Woody.
“Aaargh!” shouted Sam, jumping out from behind the front door. Woody jumped, putting on a brave expression a moment later. “Didn't scare me!” he shouted.
“Can't catch me!” shouted Sam.
He dashed out of the room. Sally squealed and ran closely behind him, Woody chasing after them and shouting the whole time.
They ran into the living room where their mothers had already assembled on the couches, talking and unpacking Christmas tree ornaments. Sam tumbled against the armchair, Sally bumping into him and Woody smacking each of them on the arm.
“Safe!” shouted Sally.
“It!” argued Woody.
“Sam?” asked Sally. “I'm safe right?”
Sam glanced quickly between the brother and sister. “I couldn't tell.”
“Why don't you kids come over and help us with the ornaments?” asked Darcy, giving Sam a meaningful look.
“But I was safe!” complained Sally.
“You're never safe...from the tickle monster!” boomed Jimmy coming into the room with another armful of firewood. Sally screamed, and Woody bumped into her as he tried to escape too. Despite Margaret's warnings that he should watch it, Jimmy chased his kids out of the room.
Sam had seated himself beside Darcy on the couch, but he was watching the door through which his friends had just escaped. Darcy put a hand on his shoulder, smiling as her son turned to look up at her. He had that look on his face that she knew all too well, even though it was Allison who had perfected it. The expression that showed that although he would clearly rather be somewhere else, he was making a sacrifice to make her happy. She couldn't help but chuckle as he smiled bravely. “Sam, why don't you just play with your friends?”
“I'm helping with the decorations,” he answered.
“Maybe if you help Woody and Sally escape from the...monster, then you can all come in here and help.”
At his mother's encouraging smile, Sam nodded and dashed out the door.
Untangling an elf's legs, Margaret flashed an apologetic smile. “Kids usually get so hyper on Christmas Eve, we let them play. And Jimmy, well. He's the biggest kid.”
Darcy laughed. “I got that impression too. It's okay. Allie was like that too, when she was their age. It's nice Sam can be too.”
As if she had heard her name being mentioned, Allison appeared in the living room doorway at that moment.
“All finished with the dishes?” asked Darcy.
“Can we eat everything on the same plates tomorrow? Main course and dessert?” asked Allison. She crossed the room and slumped on the couch beside her mother.
The women chuckled, and Darcy put an arm around Allison's shoulders. “You kids did a great job getting the tree.” An expression flashed over Allison's face and Darcy could tell she was trying to decide whether to be amused or offended at being lumped in with the kids. In so many ways, Allison had gone so far beyond 'kid', as much as Darcy still wanted her to enjoy being one.
“Yes, it's a beautiful tree,” agreed Margaret, as the three of them looked at the bare tree in the corner.
Allison smiled. “The boys were dead set on this one that was ten feet tall, I swear. At least Sally voted on my side.”
“Do you want to do the honours?” asked Margaret, passing her a small box of ornaments. Allison took it and lifted a little wooden nutcracker from amidst the balls of newspaper. “Okay,” she said, standing up.
Allison breathed in the smell of the fir tree before selecting a branch midway up the tree and placing her nutcracker on it. She stepped back and looked at the tree again.
Margaret had been smiling as the first ornament was placed on the tree, but then went back to sorting through her box. Darcy hugged her arms to herself and watched Allison's pensive face. It was strange, decorating with someone else's ornaments, hanging someone else's memories on a tree. Strange and satisfying. Last year's Christmas had been considerably less festive. They hadn't had any ornaments of their own, they had been too busy scrounging to survive, and, Darcy shuddered to think, putting up with Sarah Mason as a house guest. Christmas Eve with the Taylors was a stark contrast. There was a fire in the fireplace. There were decorations with stories. A tree. Children laughing. A feeling Darcy never expected to find in this alien town when she had first been forced to adapt to life there. The Taylors weren't her mother and sister, Robert's cousins, or family. And yet they were. There was some comfort in that, that these things could still be built, made, found in the world they lived in now.
Darcy grinned as she held up a mangled looking Santa made out of modeling clay. “Sally?” she asked.
“Woody,” said Margaret with a chuckle. “In first grade.” She motioned towards the tree.
“Oh no, it's your -” Darcy began, but Margaret nodded with insistence.
Darcy stood, smiling at her friend, for this one more thing the Taylors would share with her.
Margaret soon got up to put her own ornament on the tree, and Allison pulled one of the bigger boxes closer to the tree.
Robert Hawkins came in from the backyard as they continued to hang the ornaments. He carried a few more sticks of firewood. “Should be enough for the rest of the night,” he said, brushing off his hands.
“Oh, thank you,” said Margaret. The Taylors were always thanking him, he thought to himself with a chuckle. “Just grab an ornament,” she said.
“Here Dad,” said Allison, handing him a tiny wreath of puzzle pieces painted green.
He took it slowly. Last year, they hadn't decorated a tree. This was the first time he would decorate with his daughter since she was eleven years old. He noticed her watching as he selected a branch near the top of the tree. She wasn't saying anything, but knowing her, she realized this first too.
“It's a beautiful tree, Allie,” he said quietly, as Darcy and Margaret exclaimed something they'd found at the bottom of another box. “Nice work.”
He put an arm around her shoulder, hesitantly. “Thanks Dad,” she whispered back, leaning against him for a moment before going back to decorating. They thanked each other a lot in general, he realized. After this year, he had had so many reasons to say 'thank you', and he tried to never let the opportunity go by.
“You're decorating the tree?” came Woody's voice. He and Sam were coming through the door, followed by Jimmy, with Sally hoisted over one shoulder.
“Here,” said Allison, directing them to the boxes. The three children enthusiastically joined the adults.
With eight people decorating, it should have gone quickly, but a lot of time was spent laughing over homemade ornaments, funny ones that had been gifts, and Sam's artistic advice to balance the tree, which Woody, Allison, and Sally were thoroughly ignoring.
The tree was almost finished when Sally found the star at the bottom of the box. Margaret had already placed the angel on top, but Sally insisted that the star should at least be near the top. She convinced Jimmy to hoist her onto his shoulders and she nearly toppled off, leaning towards the tree. Robert steadied the star when it nearly fell too. The Hawkins family and the Taylor family stood back to admire their work. No one said a word. Moments like this came up sometimes in the new world. They were surprising, and it was surprising how often they did.
It was over all too quickly as Sam shouted, “Let's play another round of hide and seek!”
Woody shouted “Yeah!” and Sally quickly demanded to be let down. Jimmy twisted to the side to put her down and the children ran off. Darcy chuckled to herself. “So, should we take a seat?”
Robert smiled and Margaret nodded. Suddenly, Darcy noticed that Jimmy was still bent over. He had a hand to his back.
“Jimmy?” asked Robert.
“Yeah, I should have watched myself,” said Jimmy in a strained voice.
As the darkness in the windows grew deeper, the Taylors' house was finally quiet. Or nearly quiet.
On one couch, Allison held a book open. Sally snuggled sleepily against her shoulder, doing her best to listen to “The Night Before Christmas”. Woody and Sam had collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, and were alternately listening to the story and making jokes to each other, no doubt about their sisters as they whispered out of their earshot.
Robert and Darcy sat together on the other couch, closely snuggled on the one end. Jimmy stretched out on the other end, a bag of ice pressed against his back.
Margaret came into the room and handed him a mug of tea.
“I wish I'd listened to you,” said Jimmy.
“I'm sure they can find another Santa tomorrow, Jimmy,” said Darcy.
“Maybe not quite so jolly, but they'll find someone,” said Margaret, patting her husband's arm affectionately.
“I just hate to let them down,” said Jimmy mournfully.
Robert grinned. Sometimes he was thankful when the next morning's problem to solve was something so simple. “It'll be fine, Jimmy.”
“Really?” asked Jimmy.
“I'm sure,” said Robert.
“Thanks,” said Jimmy.
The adults leaned back and listened as Allison read “As dry leaves before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky...”
The only sound besides her voice was the fire crackling in the fireplace.
The night that passed between Christmas Eve and Christmas day was a peaceful one for the little town that had seen its share of conflict over the past year and a half. It was frigid and across town, citizens burrowed into blankets and flannel.
A few citizens braved the night air, and so, were witness to the calm that had settled everywhere.
Mary Bailey stepped outside and breathed in the night as she waited for Eric to finish putting on his mittens, hat, and scarf inside. There were lights strung across Main Street, and in honour of the holiday, they had been kept on longer than usual. Mary had seen these lights so many times before, it surprised her now when the sight of them made her catch her breath. She hugged her arms around herself and stood, looking at the lights. The cold stung her cheeks, but she could feel her eyes burning. She didn't resist like she normally did; she let the memories settle over her. She was standing still, looking up, when Eric came out a minute later. He was already shivering, but he put an arm around her. “Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, quickly turning to lock the bar behind her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Just cold,” she said. Eric wrapped his arm around her again, and they began the trek to his mother's house.
By the church, they passed Sean Henthorn, doing a foot patrol of the town. He nodded to them, and kept walking. Though the ASA and Ravenwood were no longer set up in town, and though things remained tenuous but not altogether hostile between their town and New Bern, they still kept security tight. Sean had volunteered for the border patrol a few months ago, and although it had at first been difficult to get anyone to take him seriously, he was now entrusted to patrol on foot and protect the town.
It had still surprised Jake when he'd volunteered for the Christmas Eve shift. Sean had wanted something to do this evening, something to distract him. He had told himself that when he had volunteered at least. Now, he realized that walking the silent streets of Jericho, through the dark, chilly night, he was not distracted. His thoughts were much clearer than usual, his memories in sharp relief.
Most of the time, the pains and limits of his own body made him feel disconnected from his thoughts, memories, ideas, and the people he couldn't see in front of him, or touch with his own hands. Tonight, however, he felt more connected to everything. The people he tried not to think about most of the time could be walking beside him – that was how near they felt.
Anyone who saw Sean walking, his hands on his rifle, his boots kicking through the snow, might have remarked about the solitary figure trudging through the darkness. No one but Sean would know that he walked with the whole world that night.
Skylar and Dale didn't see Sean as they passed on the other side of the street. They were talking quickly between themselves. Dale was relieved that it was the end of the day, and that he could lay in bed tomorrow. Skylar had a light feeling that she couldn't quite explain. She talked about the tree they'd decorated back at the house, how nice it would be to get into their sleeping bags in front of the fire, to go through her parents' collection of old Christmas cards again. Her mind wasn't really focused on these things; she was thinking about the night, the present moment, and the snow.
Dale's mittened hand was awkwardly closed in hers, the snow crunched under their feet, and for some reason, she imagined herself skipping down the sidewalk. As they passed the church, she felt once again the jolt inside her. The snow that covered the lawn was untouched.
She stopped, and Dale stopped too, looking at her quizzically. This time, she didn't try to remind herself of her grown-up position in town. With a quick smile at Dale, she dashed into the snow on the lawn, hoping he would humour her enough to follow.