Snow in Washington, DC, is always a disaster. Four inches can snarl traffic inside the Beltway. Eight inches will most definitely spawn a nightmare of accidents and near gridlock. True paralysis, however, arrives when the snow depth exceeds fourteen inches, a rare event.
Between ten o’clock on Christmas Eve and ten the following evening, nearly twenty-three inches of snow would blanket the city. It shut down the airport. It shut down the Metro and the bus system. Few cars moved that entire Christmas Day.
At around nine on that Christmas morning, there was only fourteen inches of snow to deal with, but I still couldn’t get my car to move. I had to have a Metro patrol unit bring me home. The officer and I had to get out twice to push the stuck cruiser from a drift over on Constitution Avenue. I’d given Nu back his extra boots, and my shoes got soaked and my toes were numb when I reached our home on Fifth Street.
Needless to say, when my family heard the front door open, almost everybody rushed over to kiss me and hug me and wish me merry Christmas. I held Bree tight, said, “This is the best present I could ever get.”
But Nana remained seated in her chair, her little throne.
“My, my,” she finally said. “Is that my grandson over there? Must be a real special occasion that’s got him visiting. Oh, I guess it’s Christmas.”
I walked to her chair and lifted her up. We stood with our arms around each other, and I never would have imagined a woman that size could have so much strength. She nearly squeezed the air right out of me.
“I just made you some sweet bacon,” she said.
“Sweet bacon and a nap sounds just about perfect,” I said.
CHAPTER 44
Even Nana Mama decided that spending Christmas Eve convincing a crazy man not to kill his family was enough of a reason for me to be excused from attending eleven o’clock mass.
Bree tucked me in and I slept like a dead man for four hours, up until I heard Damon cheering downstairs. He’d become a big hockey fan at prep school and was watching a television broadcast of a game being played at a rink set up inside Fenway Park.
I came downstairs groggily, smelled turkey roasting, and looked at the television. “Snowing in Boston too.”
“It’s snowing everywhere,” Jannie said. “They say it won’t stop here until, like, tonight. Kind of a waste, if you ask me.”
“Why’s that?”
“If it was like two weeks from now, they’d call off school.”
“The reporters say you saved a guy’s life last night,” Damon said.
“Maybe two guys’ lives,” I replied.
“That’s pretty cool.”
“A gift, if you think about it.”
I spent the rest of the afternoon eating too many cookies, watching the game, holding Bree whenever I could, and listening to my grandmother tell stories about Christmases past while she made yams with little marshmallows, and brussels sprouts with leftover bits of sweet bacon, and a pecan pie that I almost risked my fingers to taste.
“Stay away from that now,” Nana kept saying and swatting at my hand.
I taught Damon to carve the turkey when it came out of the oven around five. I carried that platter. Everyone else brought in his or her favorite dish. Damon had the marshmallow yams. Bree had whipped potatoes. Ava brought the cranberry sauce. Jannie carried the stuffing as if she were in a procession.
And, just like every year, someone had to be asked to bring in the brussels sprouts. That would be me.
We sat at the table with cloth napkins, good china, a little crystal for the Christmas wine.
“Alex,” Nana said. That was my signal to say grace. We held hands with one another. Bree held mine so tight that I thought she might never let go.
Then I spoke. “Let us thank the Lord for this meal. And also for our health and happiness. And-for being a good family gathered together like this on Christmas Day.”
I paused and then said, “Now let us silently give our own personal thanks.”
“I’m glad my dad is home!” Damon said and we all smiled.
“Me too,” I said.
Then the room went completely silent. The seconds passed. I had a lot to be thankful for: the safety of my family, my own survival, the joy of-
The prayerful silence was broken by Ava.
“I’m hungry. Doesn’t the Lord know it’s Christmas?”
We all laughed. And then the bowls and platters of food were passed around. And just as we started to dig in, my cell phone rang.
CHAPTER 45
Before the phone jangled, everyone had been happy, thrilled to have me home at last, safe and sound. Now every face fell.
Nana shook a butter knife at me. “Don’t you dare answer that, Alex. Don’t you dare.”
Though everyone had been fine once I got home, I knew the hostage situation had taken its toll. Not only had I been in danger, but I had missed our family traditions. I had not been home to sing carols and put the kids to bed on Christmas Eve. I had not been up at dawn with Nana Mama to stuff the stockings. I had not been there to watch my children open their presents, and I had not been around to help make sweet bacon.
I glanced at the caller ID, smiled, and said, “It’s Ali.”
My six-year-old son was with his mother, Christine, for the holiday. Everyone’s shoulders relaxed. Bree grinned, got up, and said, “I’ll warm that pie.”
“Merry Christmas,” I said as I picked up the phone.
“God bless us, every one!” Ali cried.
“Watching
“Last night,” Ali said. “Thank you for the boxing gloves.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Mommy doesn’t like them.”
“You just bring them home with you, then.”
“Santa gave me an Xbox. What did he get you?”
“Seventeen inches of snow, and the best little boy in the world,” I replied.
He laughed and boasted, “I went sledding in the park.”
“Fun?”
“We built a jump.”
“Then it had to be fun,” I said. “Do you want to say hello to Nana and everyone?”
He said he did and I passed the phone down the table to my grandmother, watching her light up as she listened. “Well, God bless us, every one, to you too, little man,” she said.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see Bree back from the kitchen, silhouetted against the fading day. My wife smiled and kissed me on the cheek. She smelled wonderful when she leaned over and whispered, “You’ll be getting a special gift later.”
I smiled and squeezed her hand, feeling that, for at least a little while, nothing could possibly wreck our well-deserved celebration.
