Comfort and Joy (14 page)

The woman returned to her car as another vehicle passed through the gate. At the sight of this one, Mom said, "There's RaywithmyChristmas present."
Ray Burley parked beside Ford's rented sedan and emerged with his collar upturned. From the backseat he retrieved large gray shopping bags of the department-store type and, arms full, he spied the party approaching fromthe garden. Neatly dressed in gray slacks, a precise jacket, and well-shined shoes. His expression bland, only the sharpness of his gaze warned of expression bland, only the sharpness of his gaze warned of danger in his scrutiny ofFord. His jaw was set in a line indicating discomfort. "I see youboys got here."
"Hey, Ray."Danmoved to help withthe bags. He hugged Ray quicklyand shyly, feelingthe man's resistance.
Ray handed himone of the bags. "Don't let your mother grab that out of your hands. She's liable to try anything to find out what's inthere."
"Ray, this is Ford McKinney. Ford, this is mysecond dad."
Ray's eyes glittered. After a moment he offered his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
"Pleased to meet you, sir. Thank youfor havingme."
Raynodded, somewhat stiffly. "Youhave a good trip?"
"Yes, sir,"Dansaid. "We didn't have anytrouble at all."
Ray inspected Ford up and down. Nothing could be read in his face. The inspection ended, and Ray ambled toward the house, passing the rented car, which he stopped to inspect. Hesitating a moment, then stopping. Turning to Ford, he asked, "This yours?"
"Tilltomorrow night,"Ford said.
Ray stooped to look at the interior and patted the side mirror. Deadpan, looking Ford in the eye, "You don't let Danny drive it, do you?"
Ford choked ona laughand answered, "No, sir, I don't."
"That's good."
Everyone headed inside. Mom said, "Danny drug Ford all through the fields getting here. Took him through Potter's Lake, and youknow that adds a good hour to go that way."
"Not muchto Potter's Lake, is there?"Raysaid. Theywere all sittinginthe kitchen. "Yougrew up inSavannah. That right?"
"Sure is."
"Prettytown."
"Did youlive there?"Ford asked.
Ray, worrying a bottle cap between his fingertips, glanced at Ford, then back at the bottle cap. "I sold spaces at a cemetery right outside ofSavannahfor a while. FairwayOaks."
"He keeps telling me he'lltake me down there one day,"Mom said, "whenwe get a camper."
Dan had always considered his stepfather handsome, with his strong nose and jaw, clear blue eyes and neatly trimmed hair. Ray stood four or five inches shorter than Dan, stocky-framed and solid, but with a salesman's smooth, tan body. Mom stood briefly beside him, stroking his shoulders as he talked to Ford. "This your first Christmas awayfromhome?"Rayasked.
"Yes, sir, it is. And it feels a little odd."
Ray chuckled. "You ought to talk to my children. They don't come home for Christmas, and they don't even think twice about it. Ellen's children come to see her. But mine don't. Unless they need money."
"Your boys come to see you,"Momsaid, "almost everyyear."
"How manychildrendo youhave?"Ford asked.
"Six. Three sons and three daughters." Sipping coffee, he gestured to the pictures on the divider of shelves that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Most of my kids live in Louisiana."
Momadded, "The oldest boys are really sweet. They built my shelves for me."
Ray nodded with a touch of pride. "Built that shed out back too."
"Do youdo muchcarpentry?"Ford asked.
"I do a little," Ray said. "That's why we built that shed. I got me a good shop out there."
"I've been trying to set up a woodworking shop at home," Ford said, "ifI could ever get time."
"It takes some doing, all right. Took me four, five years to get
"It takes some doing, all right. Took me four, five years to get mine like I wanted it. I stilldon't have a good lathe like I want."
"He's making me a cabinet for the bathroom," Mom said. "I can't find anything in the stores that will fit the space I got. Ray's good withthat stuff."
Ford said, "My dad has a shop. And there's plenty of roomin mybasement for one, ifI knew what to do to get started."
The pause lengthened. Dan could tellRay was considering the thing, turning it over. After a while he pushed back his chair and stood, sayingto Ford, "Come onout and look at myshop."
Nobody said a word as Ray led Ford out the back door. Momwatched as theycrossed the yard. "That wasn't too bad."
"No, it wasn't."
"You want to wrap your presents while they're out there? I got allthe gift-wrappingstuffback inmybedroom."
He retrieved the gifts he had packed. Mompulled out her bag of Christmas wrapping paper fromthe closet. Dan displayed his gifts, and Mom asked the price of each. "Son, you spent too muchmoney."
"No, I didn't. I'm doing fine." Pleased at her admonition, nonetheless. "Wait tillyousee what I got you."
"Lord help me, I'llfeelso guiltyabout whatever it is I won't be able to use it."
"Now, Mama, it's my money, and I can spend it on Christmas ifI want to."
She fretted another moment or so but was obviously pleased. This game repeated itself every Christmas, and Dan found himself relieved at its cycle this year, restoring, in some way, his sense of normalcy. She laid out rolls of paper on her bed, arranging scissors and tape. The game of Dan wrapping his own presents also replayed itself each time he came home, since Mom invariably wrapped the gifts herself. "Your sister bought that power saw like Ray wanted. You can write her a check for your half. Ray will really like that. And I got him that lathe he keeps talking about. I don't even half know what it is, but he keeps talking about. I don't even half know what it is, but he wants it. I hid it in the vault behind the shed. He'll be surprised because he doesn't think I could manage something as big as that."
"What did Rayget you?"
Mom laughed. "I don't know, I can't figure it out this year. I guess I'llhave to wait. What did yougive Ford?"
"I gave hima sweater and some other stuff. Awatch." Tense, suddenly, but forcing speech. "I have one more present for him. But I'mscared to give it to him. I don't know what he'llthink."
This present openness of conversation disturbed his mother, but she persevered. "What is it?"
She understood his hesitation when she saw the box, and a slight cast of fear overlay her features. Dan opened the blue velvet lid. A gold ring nested in white satin, a plain band inlaid withfine geometric tracings. He handed (he box to her. "This is a weddingring,"she said.
"It's not, really."Dan blushed. "I don't even know if he'll wear it."
Disturbed, she touched the ring with her fingertip. He could see her sadness was real. "It worries me. I guess I always hoped you'd change your mind and find youa wife."
"I won't ever have a wife. I'm not looking for one. I told you that a longtime ago."
She nodded. "But you were never with anybody before. So I could pretend." The moment lengthened. "Seems like nothing is ever the wayit ought to be. And this is one more thing."
Returning to the bed, she took up the Christmas paper again. She rested the box in sight, open, to show the ring. Finally she asked, "Are youhappy?"
"Yes, ma'am."A knot offeelingrisinginhis throat.
"That's good." She touched the ring again. Closing the box, liftingit, she met his eye. "Do youwant me to wrap it?"

Ford and Ray spent a peaceful half hour in the shed while the sun sank, and Dan and his mother arranged the new gifts under the tree. Mom switched on the television with its soft background chatter of Christmas greetings from the local stations.
"Do you have any shopping to do?" Mom asked, pulling out her butcher block from the top of the refrigerator. "I need to make one more trip to the malltonight. To pick up something for Cherise."
"I wouldn't mind going out there, but I don't think I need to buyanythingelse."
"It's goingto be a mess, tryingto shop tonight. But allI got her so far is a sconce. You know how she likes that colonial-type stuff. And I think I ought to get her somethingelse."
"Are yougettingalongwithher?"
"Oh, yeah," Mom said, "we're doing fine. I went up to Greensboro to see her and your brother, and her and me had a real nice talk. Allen is doing real good. He's running that whole branch of the bank. And they think he'll go to the district office prettysoon."
"Allenalways had the knack for makingmoney, didn't he?"
Momlaughed. "He sure did. And for spending every penny of it." She had begun to cut up a whole, raw chicken. The white, elastic skin stretched and parted. Bone cartilage glistened. "I thought I'd fry this chicken. I'll bake a piece each for me and Ray. How does that sound?"
"You know how that sounds to me. I'll sit here while you fry chickenanyday."
Pleased, she added, "And I can cook some vegetables out of the freezer. They won't be like right out of the garden, like you the freezer. They won't be like right out of the garden, like you used to get. But it tastes better than what you buy in the store. To me it does, anyway."
They sat peacefully in the kitchen untilAmy arrived. Her small car slid beneaththe branches ofthe pecantree, and Amywaved, cigarette in hand. Through the windshield Dan glimpsed her pale face beneath dark, short curls, her smile flashing. A slight haunted look to her eyes. Cigarette bobbing, she looked around the yard as if expecting to find someone else. Beside her, strapped into the passenger seat, Jason waved his small white hand.
Theystepped free ofthe car. She wore her hair neat and short and rinsed it witha red-tinged henna. On her face, along with the requisite makeup, eyeliner, and mascara, she had that hardedged expression Dan remembered from childhood. Only when she watched Jason, standing on tiptoe to embrace his uncle, the hardness vanished.
"Welcome," she said. "Did Mom tell you me and her had a fight about supper?"
"Hush, Amy."
"We did. I'm sorry I was so ugly." She matter-of-factly pecked Mom's cheek. "I bet we're havingchicken. Right?"
"I like Nanna's fried chicken," Jason announced, whirling around the yard witha plastic jet.
"TellUncle Danwho's comingto see youtonight,"Amysaid.
Jason screamed, "Santa Claus! And he's bringing me a whole bunchofstuff."
"Well that's good," Dan said. "I bet you can hardly wait, can you?"
Jason shook his head furiously. Amy said, "I won't have any trouble getting him to bed tonight." Looking around the yard. "Did your friend come withyou?"
"Him and Ray are in the shed looking at Ray's shop," Mom said. "Get Jason's toys and come on in the house— it's too cold to stand around out here."
to stand around out here."
Amy opened the hatch of the small car and Dan hefted the laundry basket full of bright plastic toys that traveled with Jason fromhouse to house. The child played inside the trailer adjacent to the kitchen, where Momand Amy could keep an eye on him while they drank coffee. Dan set down the basket of toys. Jason asked, "Willyouplaywithme, Uncle Dan?"
Through the window Dan could see Ray and Ford leaving the shed. Ray toured the exterior of the shed with Ford briefly, showing off the lumber rack and the shelter under which Ray kept the machineryfor tendingthe cemeterygrounds. Amynoted this movement fromher kitchen vantage, leaning over to look out the window. "Is that him?"She glanced at Dan, who had knelt to help Jason with the basket of toys. "He's good-looking." Amy tapped the cigarette onthe ashtray.
"Who is?"asked Jason.
"Nobody,"Momsaid. "Playwithyour toys."
"Ray must like him,"Amy said, "because he's sure showing off that shed."
"AmI good-looking, Nanna?"Jasonasked.
"Yes, honey,"Momsaid, "you're a handsome little boy."
Amy looked at Dan and grinned. "I never had a boyfriend who looked like that."
"Mydaddy's not good-looking,"Jasonannounced. "He's fat."
For a moment.The juxtaposition of Ford's presence with theirs. The faces of his family swelling out of the past. A fist formed inhis solar plexus.
Ford entered the kitchen and their eyes met. Dan forced a smile and introduced them. Amy had snuffed out her most recent cigarette and offered her hand. Her smile tensed.
Amy reached for her coffee. "Jason. This is Ford. He's a friend ofyour Uncle Dan's."
Jasonlooked up. Ford said, "Hello, Jason."
"Sayhello."
Jason opened his mouth but could not speak at first. Ford knelt behind Ray, bringing his face a little closer. "Did I hear you saysomethingabout toys?"Ford asked.
Dan wandered into the room where Ray sat, bathed in lamplight and basking in the voice from the television. Jason appeared at the side of Dan's chair and watched his uncle. "Plug in the Christmas tree, Uncle Dan."So he knelt along the paneled wall and fumbled for the end of the extension cord that powered the Christmas lights. He slid the plug neatly into the wall, and the tree glowed.
When Dan was a child, his mother's Christmas tree had always been a spruce, but nowadays Mompreferred the plastic variety, perfectly shaped, simulating the real tree in every way but texture and smell. On plastic branches hung strings of small colored lights, each of the strings blinking in sequence, the lights illuminating wooden and plastic Christmas ornaments. Plastic snow completed the picture, sprinkled over the tree and its ornaments as well as over the packages and fleecy cotton beneath the tree. Jason knelt beneath the tree and pointed to packages, saying, "This one is mine, Uncle Dan. But I'm not supposed to touchit."
The blinking Christmas lights, the wrapped gifts, even the plastic tree, opened Dan to the fullness of the past, the fact of Christmas. Once a year, like clockwork, the holiday revisited himwith dread. What he remembered, the image he could never refuse, was himself, was his brothers and sisters on the Christmas Eves of the past, a receding parade of cramped living rooms in small houses, of open-flame gas heaters hissing dryly, heating their ceramic bricks red hot. Each year, on Christmas Eve, breathless, five anxious children facing the shrine of a Christmas tree, strung with large, hot lights, glass ornaments, and strands ofsilver tinsel.
Jason's voice, lilting, singing the fragments of a Christmas hymn, startled Dan—was it Jason singing or was it Grove, from a longtime ago? Danclosed his eyes, and his brother Grove was there, lying on the couch in pajamas during one of the intervals there, lying on the couch in pajamas during one of the intervals when he couldn't walk.
Grove watched the colored lights of the tree and sang at the top of his lungs, happy at the thought of toys.
The exact image flooded Dan, and he himself stood in that former room over his brother, changing the bag of ice on Grove's swollen knee, watching a television newscaster present the inevitable holiday announcement,
a mysterious unidentified flying object sighted crossing south from the Arctic circle....
Uneasy, Dan stood. Focusing with effort on the present, the nephew, the Christmas tree, Ray in the recliner. Dan listened for sounds fromthe kitchen.
He lifted the half-melted, hardly cold ice bag from Grove's swollen knee, gently, as Grove watched him. The newly filled bag of ice awaited, surface stiff and hard, in Dan's other hand. He gave the fresh ice to Grove, to place on the tender, ballooned flesh. New ice caused pain because the ice bag remained stiff until the ice had partly melted, and the stiffness made the swollen joint ache; but partly melted ice wasn't cold enough to numb the nerves. Grove's face was damp with sweat, the lights of the Christmas tree glittering. "Thank you," he said, settling the ice bag gingerly against the blue-veined skin, and lying back with his arm across his eyes.
Jason sat on the arm of Ray's chair, hands on his knees, watching television with a serious expression. Tonight's weather woman, whose mass of auburn hair nearly filled the width of the weather map, announced with wide-eyed wonder at the end of the five-day forecast that a mysterious radar blip had just been sighted in the north and was thought to resemble a sleigh pulled byreindeer....
Sound fading to silence, then a roaring in his head.
Grove's face burst into a smile of pure radiance.
Jason shrieked, and whirled to Ray. "Did you hear that?" Jason asked, and Ray laughed.
Jason turned to Uncle Dan. "They saw Santa Claus in the sky."He slid down fromthe armofthe recliner and ran to tellhis sky."He slid down fromthe armofthe recliner and ran to tellhis mother.
Dan went to the bedroom, stood there with the door closed and took deep breaths. Dimlamplight brought the walls close; he kept his back to the mirror, facing the window. Bare dirt in the side yard, gray under the arc light. Headlights froma car cruising the loop road gave him a start.
The sound of his father's truck pulling into the yard, light splashing the chaineyball tree. The sound of his footsteps on the stoop, his hand on the door.
The door to the bedroomopened and Ford said, "Where are you?"
Dan turned. Faced with Ford's large body, he felt a need to shut off the memories, to return to the room. As if he were leaning against the strong shoulders and chest. "I'mgetting ready for dinner."
"Oh." Ford nodded. Closing the door behind him, closing the door to the bathroom as well, and crossing to Dan. The two stood together watching the car exit through the gate, red lights receding. Wind resounded. "This is peaceful."
"Is it?"
He could feel Ford's nod. "I like everybody. Your sister is fine. And Jason's great."
"He's so solemn. He acts like a little old man."
Ford laughed. "He's like you. Your momshowed me a picture whenyouwere that age."
Muffled, the sound of Ellen's voice from beyond the door. "No, Jason, don't go inthere."
Ford leaned momentarily close to Dan, saying, "We probably better quit hiding. Are youallright?"
"Yes,"Dansaid. "But I wouldn't be, ifyouweren't here."
As always in Dan's house, the business of eating was conducted quickly, in near silence. The thought of Ford during his family's mealtime had provided Dan one of his chief dreads, but Ford simply joined the general quiet and spoke when addressed. Dan momentarily sank into his fear of his family, into addressed. Dan momentarily sank into his fear of his family, into a flash of unreasonable anger at some coarseness in Amy's voice, or at Ray's noisy way of drinking tea or the drone of the television behind the meal, and suddenly Ford moved into his field of vision, serving himself seconds fromthe plate of chicken, ready with a compliment on Mom's cooking. That face, that voice, at this table.