gives me a cup of hot coffee in a Styrofoam cup. “That there was a sad service, and we didn’t even have the body here.”
“What can you do?”
“Not a goddamn thing.” Fleeta shakes her head. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Father?”
“You don’t have to wait on me, Fleeta.”
“You got that right, Padre. Self-serve is easier on everybody.”
Father Drake smiles. Fleeta goes back into the service kitchen, where she barks orders at Otto and Worley, who are prepping more platters.
“Sorry about Fleeta’s cursing,” I say.
Father shrugs. “What can you do?”
Iva Lou has her coat and sunglasses on and her car keys in hand. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Honey-o, I gotta get to work. We’re doing our annual inventory. Last time I missed, the volunteers took all my Jackie Collins books and put them in the discard bin. It was traumatic.”
“You like Jackie Collins?” Father Drake asks.
“Love her. She’s my hero. She has her finger on the pulse and her thighs in fishnet. You can’t beat that. Do you read her?”
“
Dangerous Kiss
was my favorite.”
“Father!” Iva Lou covers her mouth. “I swan!”
Father winks. “The Old Testament gets a little dry sometimes.”
“I’ll say.” Iva Lou gives Father a thumbs-up and goes.
My time is stretched to the limit with work and
The Sound of Music
rehearsals. I want to have the house ready for Theodore’s arrival. I convinced him to come down for a couple of weeks and have a nice, long visit. This is our first Christmas without Etta, and I need total diversion. Jack doesn’t say it, but I know he’s also sad that she won’t be here. But I guess he still feels he needs to be totally supportive of Etta and Stefano’s marriage, because I wasn’t.
Theodore is not one to sit around by the fire, so we plan to go spelunking in the sand caves (just like the old days!), to the Southwest Virginia Museum for the Dogwood Garden Club Christmas show (the festival of trees is
not
to be missed), and to catch the Big Stone and Appalachia holiday parades. Theodore is used to those glamorous Fifth Avenue parades now, but there’s nothing like our hometown ones, complete with Santa throwing candy into the crowd.
I still haven’t said a word to Jack about the list I found when he was in the hospital. Neither of us keeps a diary, but I’m sure if we did, we wouldn’t want each other to read it. So, unless he brings it up, I’ll keep mum on the subject. He has rebounded from his surgery beautifully, and every day I thank God that it wasn’t worse. There won’t be a day when I don’t worry about his heart, but at least I didn’t lose him. I’ll never forget what it felt like when I didn’t know.
It’s odd to bring the ornaments down from the attic without Etta. When she was little, she’d start asking about Christmas around September, and I’d spend the next three months promising her that the holidays were coming; she’d say, “When?” and I’d say, “Soon, soon.” When she got older, she did more and more of the decorating. Last Christmas she and Jack put the tree up when I was at work, and by the time I got home, she had it decorated.
“I guess I better go and get a tree,” Jack says when he sees the piles of crates in the hallway.
“Good idea. And can you make me a holly wreath for the front door? I like the leaves with the red berries. Oh, and let’s put Santa and the reindeer on the roof. Make sure you get the guys to help you. The kids loved it. They could see it from the road below.”
“I thought we were keeping it simple.”
“I’ll feel better if we’re lit up.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you can put a string of lights on your new bridge.”
“For who? The squirrels?”
“You never know who’ll traipse through our woods.”
There’s a knock at the door. Jack and I look at each other. We didn’t hear anyone drive up—but who would? I’m playing the Firestone Christmas CDs at top
“What can you do?”
“Not a goddamn thing.” Fleeta shakes her head. “Can I get you a cup of coffee, Father?”
“You don’t have to wait on me, Fleeta.”
“You got that right, Padre. Self-serve is easier on everybody.”
Father Drake smiles. Fleeta goes back into the service kitchen, where she barks orders at Otto and Worley, who are prepping more platters.
“Sorry about Fleeta’s cursing,” I say.
Father shrugs. “What can you do?”
Iva Lou has her coat and sunglasses on and her car keys in hand. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Honey-o, I gotta get to work. We’re doing our annual inventory. Last time I missed, the volunteers took all my Jackie Collins books and put them in the discard bin. It was traumatic.”
“You like Jackie Collins?” Father Drake asks.
“Love her. She’s my hero. She has her finger on the pulse and her thighs in fishnet. You can’t beat that. Do you read her?”
“
Dangerous Kiss
was my favorite.”
“Father!” Iva Lou covers her mouth. “I swan!”
Father winks. “The Old Testament gets a little dry sometimes.”
“I’ll say.” Iva Lou gives Father a thumbs-up and goes.
My time is stretched to the limit with work and
The Sound of Music
rehearsals. I want to have the house ready for Theodore’s arrival. I convinced him to come down for a couple of weeks and have a nice, long visit. This is our first Christmas without Etta, and I need total diversion. Jack doesn’t say it, but I know he’s also sad that she won’t be here. But I guess he still feels he needs to be totally supportive of Etta and Stefano’s marriage, because I wasn’t.
Theodore is not one to sit around by the fire, so we plan to go spelunking in the sand caves (just like the old days!), to the Southwest Virginia Museum for the Dogwood Garden Club Christmas show (the festival of trees is
not
to be missed), and to catch the Big Stone and Appalachia holiday parades. Theodore is used to those glamorous Fifth Avenue parades now, but there’s nothing like our hometown ones, complete with Santa throwing candy into the crowd.
I still haven’t said a word to Jack about the list I found when he was in the hospital. Neither of us keeps a diary, but I’m sure if we did, we wouldn’t want each other to read it. So, unless he brings it up, I’ll keep mum on the subject. He has rebounded from his surgery beautifully, and every day I thank God that it wasn’t worse. There won’t be a day when I don’t worry about his heart, but at least I didn’t lose him. I’ll never forget what it felt like when I didn’t know.
It’s odd to bring the ornaments down from the attic without Etta. When she was little, she’d start asking about Christmas around September, and I’d spend the next three months promising her that the holidays were coming; she’d say, “When?” and I’d say, “Soon, soon.” When she got older, she did more and more of the decorating. Last Christmas she and Jack put the tree up when I was at work, and by the time I got home, she had it decorated.
“I guess I better go and get a tree,” Jack says when he sees the piles of crates in the hallway.
“Good idea. And can you make me a holly wreath for the front door? I like the leaves with the red berries. Oh, and let’s put Santa and the reindeer on the roof. Make sure you get the guys to help you. The kids loved it. They could see it from the road below.”
“I thought we were keeping it simple.”
“I’ll feel better if we’re lit up.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe you can put a string of lights on your new bridge.”
“For who? The squirrels?”
“You never know who’ll traipse through our woods.”
There’s a knock at the door. Jack and I look at each other. We didn’t hear anyone drive up—but who would? I’m playing the Firestone Christmas CDs at top
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