Sing You Home

him-”

“But I didn’t-”

“He fell off a ladder while he was cleaning out the gutters, and conked his head, and I go off to get an ice pack and by the time I get back I see him zooming off in his truck.” She frowns at me. “You could have killed yourself! Or worse-you could have killed someone else! Didn’t you just tell me you were seeing double?”

I honestly don’t know what to say. I’m wondering if she conked her head.

Liddy opens the driver’s side door. “Move over, Max,” she says, and I unbuckle and slide across the bench into the truck’s passenger seat. “Grant, I just cannot thank you enough. We are so blessed to have you as a public safety officer, not to mention as a member of our congregation.” She looks up at him and smiles. “Will you be a darling and make sure my car gets back home?”

She gives a little wave as she drives off.

“I didn’t bang my head-”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Liddy snaps. “I was out looking for you. Reid told me you left him at the dock to go help Pastor Clive.”

“I did.”

She glances at me. “That’s funny. Because I was with Pastor Clive all afternoon, and I never saw you.”

“Did you tell Reid?”

Liddy sighs. “No.”

“I can explain-”

She holds up one small hand. “Don’t, Max. Just… don’t.” Wrinkling her nose, she says, “Whiskey.”

I close my eyes. Stupid idiot I am, believing I can pull a fast one. I look drunk. I smell drunk. “How would you know, if you’ve never had it?”

“Because my daddy did, every day of my childhood,” Liddy says.

There is something about the way she says it that makes me wonder if her father, the preacher, was trying to drown his own demons, too.

She drives past the turn that would have led to our house. “Lord knows I can’t take you home in this state.”

“You could hit me over the head and take me to the hospital,” I mutter.

Liddy purses her lips. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” she says.

The biggest knock-down fight I ever had with Zoe was after Christmas Eve at Reid and Liddy’s house. We’d been married about five years by then and had already had our share of fertility nightmares. Anyway, it’s not a secret that Zoe wasn’t a big fan of my brother and his wife. She had been watching the Weather Channel all day, hoping to convince me that the snow we were going to be getting that night was enough to keep us from driving from our place to theirs.

Liddy loved Christmas. She decorated-not in a cheesy inflatable Santa way but with real garlands wrapped around the banister and mistletoe hanging from the chandeliers. She had a collection of antique wooden St. Nicholas dolls, which were propped up on windowsills and tables. She switched out her everyday dishes for a set with holly around the edges. Reid told me it took her an entire day to prepare the house for the holidays, and looking around, I totally believed it.

“Wow,” Zoe murmured, as we waited in the foyer for Liddy to take our coats and hang them up in the closet. “It’s like we’ve fallen into a Thomas Kinkade painting.”

That’s when Reid appeared, holding mugs of hot cider. He never drank when I was around. “Merry Christmas,” he said, clapping me on the back and kissing Zoe on the cheek. “How are the roads?”

“Nasty,” I told him. “Getting worse.”

“We may not be able to stay long,” Zoe added.

“We saw a car slide off the road on the way back from church,” Reid said. “Luckily, no one got hurt.”

Every Christmas Eve, Liddy directed the children’s Nativity play. “So how did it go?” I asked her. “You guys taking it to Broadway?”

“It was pretty unforgettable,” Reid said, and Liddy swatted him.

“We had an animal control issue,” she said. “One of the little girls in Sunday School has an uncle who runs a petting zoo, and he loaned us a donkey.”

“A donkey,” I repeated. “A real one?”

“He was very tame. He didn’t even move when the girl playing Mary climbed onto his back. But then”-she shuddered-“he stopped halfway down the aisle and… did his business.”

I burst out laughing. “He took a dump?”

“In front of Pastor Clive’s wife,” Liddy said.

“What did you do?”

“I had a shepherd clean it up, and the mother of one of the angels ran out to get carpet cleaner. I mean, what was I supposed to do? I never officially got approval from the school to bring in livestock.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time an ass went to church,” Zoe said, straight-faced.

I grabbed her elbow. “Zoe, come help me in the kitchen.” I dragged her through the swinging door. It smelled delicious, like gingerbread and vanilla. “No politics. You promised me.”

“I’m not going to sit back while he-”

“While he does what?” I argued. “He hasn’t done anything. You’re the one who made the snide comment!”

She looked away from me, petulant. Her gaze landed on the refrigerator, on a magnet printed with a fetus sucking its thumb. I’M A CHILD, said the caption. NOT A CHOICE.

I put my hands on her arms. “Reid is my only family. He may be conservative, but he’s still my brother, and it’s Christmas. All I’m asking is that, for an hour, you smile and nod your head and you don’t bring up current events.”

“What if he brings them up first?”

“Zoe,” I begged, “please.”

And for about an hour, it seemed as if we might get through dinner without a major incident. Liddy served ham and roasted potatoes and a green bean casserole. She told us about the ornaments on her Christmas tree, a collection of antique ones that had come from her grandma. She asked Zoe if she liked to bake, and Zoe talked about some lemon refrigerator pie that her mother used to make when she was a kid. Reid and I talked college football.

When “Angels We Have Heard on High” played on the CD in the background, Liddy hummed along. “I taught this one to the kids this year for the pageant. Some of them had never heard it before.”

“The Christmas concert at the elementary school is apparently the holiday concert now,” Reid said. “A bunch of parents got together and complained, and now they won’t sing anything that has even faintly religious overtones.”

“That’s because it’s a public school,” Zoe said.

Reid cut a neat little triangle of his ham. “Freedom of worship. It’s right there in the Constitution.”

“So’s freedom of religion,” Zoe replied.

Reid grinned. “You try all you want, but you can’t take Christ out of Christmas, honey.”

“Zoe-” I interrupted.

“He brought it up,” Zoe replied.

“Maybe it’s time for the next course.” Liddy, always the peacemaker, jumped up and cleared the dinner plates, then disappeared into the kitchen.

“Let me apologize for my wife,” I said to Reid, but before I could finish the sentence, Zoe turned, furious.

“First of all, I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself. Second of all, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t have an opinion about-”

“You came here spoiling for a fight-” I argued.

“Then I’ll happily call a truce,” Reid interrupted, smiling uncomfortably. “It’s Christmas, Zoe. Let’s just agree to disagree. Stick to topics like the weather.”

“Who’s ready for dessert?” The swinging door to the kitchen opened, and Liddy stepped through, carrying a