The Reverend Cobb smiled, and shrugged happily. “They’re here to worship and celebrate Christmas. Who am I to question that?”
Joe looked sharply at Cobb.
“I don’t know them all yet,” Cobb confessed. “I was happily surprised when they showed up for services.”
Joe felt a pair of eyes on him and looked over Cobb’s shoulder. A big, bearlike man had turned slightly in the back row. The man had a massive head with deep, soft eyes and fleshy lips. His expression was alert, but somehow calming. The man looked Joe over carefully, and Joe looked back.
“They’ve established a camp in the forest on Battle Mountain,” Cobb said. “They all drove down tonight.”
“You’re kidding,” Joe said, alarmed. “In the national forest?”
“That’s what they told me. I haven’t visited it yet.”
“That sounds like trouble in the making,” Joe mumbled.
Cobb smiled sweetly. Despite Cobb’s unique take on things, Joe liked the man.
“I might give you a call in a few days,” Joe said, thanking Cobb and shaking his hand good-bye. “Merry Christmas.”
“And a merry Christmas to you, Joe Pickett,” the reverend said.
Joe turned toward the door but paused before he opened it, feeling eyes on him again. He wondered if the big man had once again turned, to make sure Joe was leaving.
Slowly, Joe looked over his shoulder. The big man still had his back turned, and was singing. Then Joe saw her.
Because she was small, she couldn’t see him over the congregation, so she had to lean out into the aisle. Her face was thin and pinched, her eyes so hard and cold that Joe shuddered.
The first time he had met Jeannie Keeley was at her husband Ote’s funeral. She had walked up to Joe, pulling April behind her like a rag doll, and said: “Aren’t you the mother-fucking
And now she was back.
After making three piles of Santa’s gifts for discovery in the morning, and after eating the cookie and drinking the milk left for Santa by Lucy (with plenty of telltale crumbs), Joe and Marybeth said good night to Missy. She acknowledged them by raising her pinkie finger above the rim of her just-filled wineglass. That annoyed Joe, who was still on edge from seeing Jeannie Keeley.
Later, Joe joined Marybeth at the sink in their bathroom.
“So it was her for sure?” Marybeth asked, while removing her makeup in the bathroom mirror.
“Yup.”
“How awful, Joe.”
“I know.”
“That poor little girl. I feel like she’s a target, and she doesn’t even know it.”
When Marybeth had finished washing her face, she removed her clothes and slid her nightgown over her head. She walked to the bedroom, threw back the covers, and slid into bed.
Joe climbed into bed, exhausted. He could hear Christmas music playing from the radio downstairs. He arose and firmly shut the door, something they had done ever since Missy had arrived. Usually, the door was open in case any of the girls needed anything. As he walked back, Marybeth spoke.
“Joe, I know my mother gets to you, but you’re getting worse at disguising your feelings. You make this . . . face . . . like the one you just made a few minutes ago. I know she notices it.”
“I make a face?”
She nodded, and tried to imitate it.
“I look that bad?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll work on it,” he said. “Marybeth, I seem to be annoying you quite a bit lately.”
“I’m sorry, Joe. I don’t mean to needle you. It’s this thing with Jeannie Keeley. I have a very bad feeling about it. I’m on edge.”
“I understand.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said. “And come to bed. Now.”
Joe recognized her tone and was genuinely surprised. “What about that thing you have about not enjoying sex if your mother is under the same roof?”
“I need to get over that,” Marybeth said, raising her eyebrows. “She might be here awhile.”
“Aw . . .”
“Joe, get in this bed.”
He did.
PART TWO
Snow Blind
