The Christmas Promise(18)

Mike was in front of Wilson’s again when Chaz arrived for work. He saw Chaz coming but stayed put, leaning against the wall. “Chaz.”

“Hi, Mike,” Chaz said.

“Don’t worry. I’m not loitering.”

Chaz laughed and walked toward the entrance. “Where are you from? Kentucky? Georgia? I can’t tell.”

“Somewhere around there.”

“Do you work anywhere?” Chaz asked.

“Sometimes. The industrial plant needs help once a week unloading a shipment. A few of us show up and they pay us that day. It gets me through the week. I don’t need much.” His beard was thicker than it had been earlier in the week, and Chaz noticed dirt in the creases around his eyes. He wondered where he showered.

“How long have you been…”

“On the street?” Mike said. “Six or seven years. It’s easy to lose track.”

“Does your family know where you are?”

Mike shook his head and blew into his hands; a small puff of smoke spread out in front of him. “Better that way.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched Chaz shift from one foot to the other. “You don’t have to try to say anything.”

Chaz opened the door to Wilson’s and for the first time in years wished he did have something to say.





“Four to six weeks! You must be mad!” I stuck my head out of the bedroom at the same time that Erin did. We looked at each other from across the hall and listened to Miriam. I strained to see my watch and groaned; it was too early in the morning to be listening to more of Miriam’s drama. “I did hear you, but how long could it possibly take to rip up floorboards, replace carpeting, and hang new drywall?” We crept down the stairs and saw Miriam cradling the phone. She looked haggard and worn. “It’s destroyed,” she said. “Some of it can be saved, but most of it has too much water damage.”

For the first time in our relationship I felt something other than aversion for Miriam. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Insurance will cover two weeks in a hotel, but who wants to stay in one of the hotels around here?”

I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “You could stay here.”

She threw her hands in the air. “My life couldn’t get any worse than it is right now.”

I turned to go back upstairs. “Well then, breakfast is promptly at seven thirty and dinner is at six,” I said. “If you live here you are expected not only to eat the meals but also to help prepare and clean up after said meals.”

“I don’t—”

I didn’t let her finish. “You are also expected to clean up after yourself and keep sarcastic remarks to a minimum.” I closed my bedroom door and wondered what I had gotten myself into now.





Donovan ran into the security office at nine thirty that evening. “Miss Glory has two women living with her right now,” Carla said to Chaz. “I don’t know what else to do with him.”

Chaz shrugged and pointed to the sofa. “He can sleep here till you’re done.” Carla kissed the top of Donovan’s head and went to work.

“What are you eating, Spaz?” Donovan said, running to the desk. Chaz handed him part of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Peanut butter?” Donovan said. He took a bite. “We need to pack something else for work.”

“Then your mom should pack you something,” Chaz said. “It’s her job, anyway.” Chaz handed him a packaged cupcake.

“Oh, yeah!” Donovan said, smiling. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He danced like he’d just caught a ball in the end zone, and raised his hand over his head. “Up high.” Chaz slapped his hand. “On the side.” Chaz slapped it again. “Down low.” Donovan pulled his hand away before Chaz could slap it. “Too slow.” He reared his head back, laughing. His jokes were corny and he drove Chaz crazy with all his babbling, but in a strange way Chaz actually liked the kid’s company.

“You got a Christmas tree?” Donovan asked, picking apart the cupcake.

“No. Do you?”

“No. But Miss Glory gave my mom a big bush with little ormanants on it.” Donovan shoved a bite of cupcake into his mouth. “I told her Santa won’t leave presents under a bush, but Miss Glory said some children on the other side of the world don’t even have a Christmas bush. Is that true?”

Chaz poured hot coffee into a foam cup. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“What do they have? Like a flower or a piece of corn or something?”

“I don’t know,” Chaz said. “But I bet they come up with something that works.”