A Shiloh Christmas by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor Page B

with.
    Sometimes I think I can handle bad news better than I can handle being unsettled, everybody just waiting. . . .

    Monday, Rachel won’t look my way, and I try not to look at her, either. I know she’s embarrassed by what we saw at her place, and I don’t know what to say to her about it. Just before we get on the bus to go home, though, she says, “If you want to interview me tomorrow, we could do it over the lunch period.”
    â€œSure,” I say. “I’ll look for you.” That’s something to be happy about.
    But when Dad comes home from work, he don’t look all that happy and don’t have much to say. Stands at the kitchen window drinking a glass of cold tea Ma left for him in the refrigerator, looking out over the yard.
    â€œHard day?” Ma asks, reaching into the cupboard.
    Dad sighs. “Yeah . . .” He takes another drink of tea. Finally, “And I said something I shouldn’t.”
    Don’t know who he’s talking to, but I look up from my homework there on the table. Ma takes down the cinnamon can and opens the lid. “What was that?” she says.
    â€œEd Sholt was raking leaves when I stopped at his box this afternoon, and you know how he’s always felt about Judd. Well, he can’t go on claiming that Judd set that fire when it’s been proved how it started, so he says, ‘Ray, somebody says you got folks living in a tent on your land. That true?’ I can tell he’s spoiling for a quarrel, so I just say, ‘I got a guest camping there for a while.’”
    Dad turns away from the window. “Ed says, ‘Isn’t there a regulation against that?’ And . . . well, my back was hurting and I wasn’t in any mood for that nonsense, so I say, ‘If there is and your house ever burns down, Ed, I’ll make sure you don’t move in.’”
    Ma gives him an exasperated look. “Oh, Ray . . . ,” she says.
    Dad goes on: “I just closed his box and drove off, but he yelled something after me, about keeping Shiloh away from his geese, or he’d come home full of buckshot.”
    Now I jump in the conversation: “Shiloh don’t chase geese! He’s a fraidy-cat when it comes to geese.”
    Ma leans back against the counter. “Ray, you know how quick-tempered Ed Sholt is. You didn’t have to say what you did.”
    â€œOkay, I already said I shouldn’t!” Now Dad turns on her. “What’s done is done. I’m not afraid of Ed. I was just . . . thinking of Shiloh.”
    What if Shiloh really did chase his geese? I’m thinking. What kind of life is it for a dog if you have to keep him inside all the time?

    I don’t know how good an interview it’ll be in a noisy cafeteria, all the hollering and laughing and chairs sliding in and out. David agrees it’ll be a better interview if he’s not there. Embarrassing enough for her to face the one of us.
    There’s a certain table in the cafeteria that nobody likes to sit at, right next to a table reserved for teachers. Only a couple kids there, so Rachel and I place our trays down at the other end. I decide right off I’m not going to mention the shed.
    Get my notebook and pen ready. “Guess maybe I should find out where you lived before you moved out here,” I tell her. “Can start with where you were born, ifyou want.” Then I take a bite of my ham and cheese and pick up my pen. Rachel just sits looking down at her chicken salad.
    â€œIt was because I was watching a program he didn’t like,” she says. And I know she’s not going to let it pass.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I tell her. “I wasn’t going to ask—”
    But it’s the shed she wants to talk about. “I don’t see anything wrong with the program. The other girls are allowed to watch. When he found out I’d