“They’ve been at it for half an hour,” said a shepherd who was cradling a live chicken in her arms.
Half an hour.
“Rob,” I said. “We don’t have time to fool around with Cousin. He can walk behind the float.”
“But—”
“Rob, move your . . . donkey!” I snapped.
Rob blinked, then slackened the reins and allowed Cousin to back the rest of the way off the ramp. The shepherds and the Holy Family began rapidly filing up.
“Sheesh. You sounded just like Mother for a minute,” Rob said. “I just wanted him on the float because I knew there’s no way he’d walk all the way to town. What if he stops halfway there?”
He did have a point. Cousin was notoriously lazy—that and his foul disposition had gotten him expelled from the herd of donkeys the zoo kept for giving rides to children. He’d have been on his way to a glue factory if Rose Noire hadn’t felt sorry for him.
Inspiration struck.
“Make sure there’s someone around to lead him home, then,” I said. “He’s certainly not going on the float.”
I frowned at Cousin, who laid back his ears. Since the rest of the live nativity scene had now taken their places, the ramp was unobstructed. I went to stand in front of it, and crossed my arms.
“In fact, forget it,” I said. “Cousin stays behind. Take him back to his stall.”
I pointed dramatically to Cousin and then toward the barn.
Cousin, his ears still laid back, walked up to me and butted me with his head. I pretended to lose my balance and stepped aside. Cousin trotted up the ramp and into the pen, where he shoved the sheep aside to attack the hay supply.
“Meg, you’re a genius!” Rob said.
“Remind me later to see if Clarence does obedience training for donkeys,” I said. “And in the meantime, go find the rest of the leaping lords and bring them to the starting line. And—oh, dear.”
The Virgin Mary had just winced and clutched her enormous belly.
Rob followed my eyes and turned pale.
“Should I get Dad?” he said.
“No!” I said. “Dad’s Santa, remember? Besides, it’s her first. It could take hours.”
“But shouldn’t she have a doctor? And head for the hospital?”
“She will be heading for the hospital as soon as we get the parade on the road. And Dad’s not the only doctor in town. Aunt Penelope’s over at the first aid tent, already on alert. She can throw on a shepherd’s cloak and ride on the float, and Mary will have an actual obstetrician if she needs one.”
I pulled out my cell phone, dispatched Aunt Penelope to the Nativity float, and went looking for Dad, to make sure he was in his Santa costume and not getting ready to preside over a delivery.
I finally spotted him running by with his Santa pants and boots on and the red jacket still thrown over his arm.
“Dad! Where are you going!” I shouted. “And why aren’t you in costume yet?”
“Meg, you’ve got to come see Caroline and her Uzis!” Dad called over his shoulder as he ran past me on his way . . . somewhere.
Uzis?
I ran after him.
Chapter 13
“What do you mean, Uzis?” I asked when I caught up with him. “We don’t want any weapons in the parade on top of . . . everything else. Peace on earth and good will to all men, remember?”
“Not Uzis,” he said. “O-O-Z-I-ES. It’s what you call elephant handlers.”
“Silly me,” I said. “I thought you called them mahouts,”
“In India, yes,” Dad said. “But these handlers are Burmese. Mahouts would have been better—the Burmese don’t really celebrate Diwali. But I don’t think anyone will notice. Aren’t the costumes fabulous?”
We had reached the sheep pasture—now also functioning as an elephant pasture. Yes, the costumes were fabulous—both the oozies’ costumes and the elaborate trappings decking the elephants were a riot of bright, contrasting colors and winking jewels. Undoubtedly fake jewels, but still, I hoped Mother didn’t catch sight of the elephants and their riders until after the parade, or she’d try to desert Dickens for Diwali.
The fence was solid with tourists snapping photos continuously, like paparazzi on Oscar night, bathing the elephants with the flicker of flashes like heat lightning. Fortunately the elephants seemed oblivious to the tourists. The larger elephant was eating hay, delicately lifting small wisps with his trunk and tucking them neatly into his mouth. The other elephant was having his foot examined by two of the three oozies and an enormous white goose that I assumed was Clarence in one of the substitute costumes. Evidently the geese had won their battle to march into town.