Sunday, April 22, 2018

Searching for Manna, Part 4

Part 1


Ruth zipped her coat, pulled up her hood and stepped back into the cold. She walked to the edge of the woods and yelled twice. There was no answer. For all of the light outside the Fletcher house, the woods were surprisingly dark. She needed a flashlight.

"Do you have a flashlight in here anywhere?" Ruth asked her mom as she opened the car door. Her mom looked up from the piece of yarn she had unravelled from her glove.

"No."

Ruth looked at the Fletcher's "Greatest Christmas Spectacle Ever." The light was still on in the dining room. She crossed the road and walked along the edge of the yard around to the side of the house. Instead of theme bushes, it was surrounded by words spelled in white lights. To the left of the one that said "Feliz Navidad" there was a sidewalk that was gradually vanishing under new snow. Ruth stepped over the red ribbon. The music grew louder as she got closer to the house and then faded once she was behind the speakers. For a moment, she wanted to slip behind one of the giant firs and pretend she was 007.

The bell surprised her. She expected it to play a tune like "Jingle Bells" or "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." It didn't. No one answered, so she rang it again. A middle-aged man, in at­shirt and worn brown corduroys and no shoes or socks came to the door. She could tell from the pictures that it was Mr. Fletcher. He had a beer in his hand and was smoking a cigar.

"Yeah?"

"I 'm so sorry to bother you this late on Christmas. We've lost someone. Do you have a flashlight?"

Ruth expected concern or sympathy or at least curiosity. Instead, he said, "Just a minute," and left her standing in the entryway. In the room straight ahead and a little to the left, Ruth saw that he was in the middle of a game of poker. Two men and a woman sat at the table. The woman was chewing on a piece of pizza, holding it in her left hand, mulling over the cards in her right hand. Looking beyond the people at the poker table, Ruth saw a grey-haired woman sleeping on the couch.

Mr. Fletcher came back with a MagLite, a flare and some matches. He handed her the flashlight first.

"I don't know if the batteries are any good," he said. "If not, try this." He handed her the flare. "Just leave them in the mail box when you're done."

He smiled. It was a genuine smile. Ruth turned to go. The people at the poker table wished her a Merry Christmas. She walked back through the yard and past the car. Her mom got out.

"You coming with me?"

Ruth's mom didn't answer. She followed her to the woods. Ruth turned on the MagLite. The light was dim but usable. Besides her sixth grade camp-out, she could not remember ever being in the woods at night.

The beam from the flashlight bounced off the trees, sections of it disappearing completely into the darkness of the woods. The trees went much deeper than they appeared to from the road. The two women waded in. They walked slowly and carefully, each step sounding vaguely like two styrofoam coolers rubbing together. Ruth swept the woods with the narrow beam of light. From within the trees, the Fletcher's was no brighter than a few lighters held up by enthusiastic fans before a rock concert.

They went into the woods a few feet and then moved laterally. "Dad," she called into the trees. It occurred to Ruth that he would be a lot easier to find in day light. She supposed they couldn't wait that long. She yelled again. Something moved a few feet further in. They stopped and then moved cautiously forward. Ruth's dad was burrowed in the snow under a fir tree twenty feet into the woods. His lips were still pink. Ruth knew he hadn't been there too long. He reminded her of the baby Jesus sleeping in the manger. A baby some said would change the world. A baby sleeping under the stars, resting on his mother's breast not yet aware of what it is to hurt, to fear, to distrust--one who didn't realize that at any moment his mother's arms could spread open and take flight, allowing him to go tumbling to the ground.


The End

1 comment:

viviane said...

Well, I like your writing and this story is too short for my taste... Thank you for sharing.