He was there in the pew next to the pillar, leaning wearily against it. Even in the shadowy light, I could see that his face was dirty and tired, his jacket and jeans rumpled and stained. His eyes were half-closed, his mouth slack; his hands were shoved between his thighs, as if for warmth.
Mike—no, Michael—had come to the only safe place he knew in the city, the church where on two Christmas Eves he’d attended mass with his family and their friends, the Shribers, who had lived across the street.
I slipped into the pew and sat down next to him. He jerked his head toward me, stared in openmouthed surprise. What little color he had drained from his face; his eyes grew wide and alarmed.
“Hi, Michael.” I put my hand on his arm.
He looked as if he wanted to shake it off. “How did you …?”
“Doesn’t matter. Not now. Let’s just sit quietly till mass is over.”
He continued to stare at me. After a few seconds he said, “I bet Mom and Dad are really mad at me.”
“More worried than anything else.”
“Did they hire you to find me?”
“No, I volunteered.”
“Huh.” He looked away at the line of communicants.
“You still go to church?” I asked.
“Not much. None of us do anymore. I kind of miss it.”
“Do you want to take Communion?”
He was silent. Then, “No. I don’t think that’s something I can do right now. Maybe never.”
“Well, that’s okay. Everybody expresses his feelings for … God, or whatever, in different ways.” I thought of the group of homeless worshippers in the vacant lot. “What’s important is that you believe in something.”
He nodded, and then we sat silently, watching people file up and down the aisle. After a while he said, “I guess I do believe in something. Otherwise I couldn’t have gotten through this week. I learned a lot, you know.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“About me, I mean.”
“I know.”
“What’re you going to do now? Send me home?”
“Do you want to go home?”
“Maybe. Yes. But I don’t want to be sent there. I want to go on my own.”
“Well, nobody should spend Christmas Day on a plane or a bus anyway. Besides, I’m having ten people to dinner at four this afternoon. I’m counting on you to help me stuff the turkey.”
Michael hesitated, then smiled shyly. He took one hand from between his thighs and slipped it into mine. After a moment he leaned his tired head on my shoulder, and we celebrated the dawn of Christmas together.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
These are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
“A Cozy for Christmas” by Charlotte MacLeod. Copyright © 1989 by Charlotte MacLeod. An original story, used by arrangement with Jed Mattes, Inc.
“The Haunted Crescent” by Peter Lovesey. Copyright © 1989 by Peter Lovesey. An original story, used by arrangement with John Farquharson, Ltd.
“Christopher and Maggie” by Dorothy Salisbury Davis. Copyright © 1989 by Dorothy Salisbury Davis. An original story, used by arrangement with McIntosh and Otis, Inc.
“Kaput” by Eric Wright. Copyright © 1989 by Eric Wright. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“The Live Tree” by John Lutz. Copyright © 1989 by John Lutz. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“The Three Wise Guys” by Howard Engel. Copyright © 1989 by Howard Engel. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“That’s the Ticket” by Mary Higgins Clark. Copyright © 1989 by Mary Higgins Clark. An original story, used by arrangement with McIntosh and Otis, Inc.
“Here Comes Santa Claus” by Bill Pronzini. Copyright © 1989 by Bill Pronzini. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“A Wee Doch and Doris” by Sharyn McCrumb. Copyright © 1989 by Sharyn McCrumb. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“The Man Who Loved Christmas” by Henry Slesar. Copyright © 1989 by Henry Slesar. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“The Touch of Kolyada” by Edward D. Hoch. Copyright © 1989 by Edward D. Hoch. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“Dutch Treat” by Aaron Elkins. Copyright © 1989 by Aaron Elkins. An original story, used by arrangement with Barney Karpfinger, Inc.
“Ott on a Limb” by Susan Dunlap. Copyright © 1989 by Susan Dunlap. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” by Isaac Asimov. Copyright © 1989 by Nightfall, Inc. An original story, used by arrangement with author.
“Silent Night” by Marcia Muller. Copyright © 1989 by Marcia Muller. An original story, used by arrangement with the author.
Copyright © 1989 by Charlotte MacLeod
Cover design by Amanda Shaffer
ISBN: 978-1-5040-4257-4
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