jg.skippingchristmas-第14部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ng　her　forehead。　〃Are　you　okay；　Nora？〃　he　asked。
　〃I'm　fine　and　we're　fine。　We　still　believe　in　Christmas；　in　celebrating　the　birth　of　Christ；　we're　just　passing　on　all　the　foolishness　this　year。　Blair's　gone　and　we're　taking　a　break。〃
　He　pondered　this　long　and　hard；　while　she　shifted　slightly。　〃It　is　a　bit　crazy；　isn't　it？〃　he　said；　looking　at　the　pile　of　shopping　bags　he　had　deposited　nearby。
　〃Yes　it　is。　Look；　we're　fine；　Doug；　I　promise。　We're　happy　and　healthy　and　just　relaxing　a　bit。　That's　all。〃
　〃I　hear　you're　leaving。〃
　〃Yes；　for　ten　days　on　a　cruise。〃
　He　stroked　his　beard　as　though　he　wasn't　sure　if　he　approved　of　this　or　not。
　〃You　won't　miss　the　midnight　service；　will　you？〃　he　asked　with　a　smile。
　〃No　promises；　Doug。〃　
　He　patted　her　knee　and　said　good…bye。　She　waited　until　he　was　out　of　sight；　and　then　finally　mustered　the　courage　to　get　to　her　feet。　She　shuffled　out　of　the　mall；　cursing　Luther　and　his　bikini。
　
　Vic　Frohmeyer's　wife's　cousin's　youngest　daughter　was　active　in　her　Catholic　church；　which　had　a　large　youth　choir　that　enjoyed　caroling　around　the　city。　Couple　of　phone　calls；　and　the　gig　was　booked。　A　light　snow　was　falling　when　the　concert　began。　The　choir　formed　a　half…moon　in　the　driveway；　near　the　gas　lamp；　and　on　cue　started　bawling　〃O　Little　Town　of　Bethlehem。〃　They　waved　at　Luther　when　he　peeked　through　the　blinds。
　A　crowd　soon　gathered　behind　the　carolers；　kids　from　the　neighborhood；　the　Beckers　From　next　door；　the　Trogdon　clan。　There　by　virtue　of　an　anonymous　tip；　a　reporter　for　the　Gazette　watched　for　a　few　minutes；　then　asserted　himself　and　rang　the　Kranks'　doorbell。
　Luther　yanked　the　door　open；　ready　to　land　a　punch。　〃What　is　it？〃　〃White　Christmas〃　resounded　in　the　background。
　〃Are　you　Mr。　Krank？〃　asked　the　reporter。　
　〃Yes；　and　who　are　you？〃
　〃Brian　Brown　with　the　Gazette。　Can　I　ask　you　some　questions？〃
　〃About　what？〃
　〃About　this　skipping　Christmas　business。〃
　Luther　gazed　at　the　crowd　in　his　driveway。　One　of　those　dark　silhouettes　out　there　had　squealed　on　him。　One　of　his　neighbors　had　called　the　newspaper。　Either　Frohmeyer　or　Walt　Scheel。
　〃I'm　not　talking；〃　he　said　and　slammed　the　door。　Nora　was　in　the　shower；　again；　and　Luther　went　to　the　basement。
　
　
　Ten
　
　Luther　suggested　dinner　at　Angelo's；　their　favorite　Italian　place。　It　was　on　the　ground　floor　of　an　old　building　downtown；　far　away　from　the　hordes　at　the　malls　and　shopping　centers；　five　blocks　from　the　parade　route。　It　was　a　good　night　to　be　away　from　Hemlock。
　They　ordered　salad　with　light　dressing　and　pasta　with　tomato　sauce；　no　meat；　no　wine；　no　bread。　Nora　had　tanned　for　the　seventh　time；　Luther　for　the　tenth；　and　as　they　sipped　their　sparkling　water　they　admired　their　weathered　looks　and　chuckled　at　all　the　pale　faces　around　them。　One　of　Luther's　grandmothers　had　been　half…Italian；　and　his　Mediterranean　genes　were　proving　quite　conducive　to　tanning。　He　was　several　shades　darker　than　Nora；　and　his　friends　were　noticing。　He　couldn't　have　cared　less。　By　now；　everybody　knew　they　were　headed　for　the　islands。
　〃It's　starting　now；〃　Nora　said；　looking　at　her　watch。
　Luther　looked　at　his。　Seven　P。M。
　The　Christmas　parade　was　launched　every　year　from　Veteran's　Park；　in　midtown。　With　floats　and　fire　trucks　and　marching　bands；　it　never　changed。　Santa　always　brought　up　the　rear　in　a　sleigh　built　by　the　Rotarians　and　escorted　by　eight　fat　Shriners　on　mini…bikes。　The　parade　looped　through　the　west　side　and　came　close　to　Hemlock。　Every　year　for　the　past　eighteen；　the　Kranks　and　their　neighbors　had　camped　along　the　parade　route　and　made　an　event　out　of　it。　It　was　a　festive　evening；　one　Luther　and　Nora　wished　to　avoid　this　year。
　Hemlock　would　be　wild　with　kids　and　carolers　and　who　knew　what　else。　Probably　bicycle　gangs　chanting　〃Free　Frosty〃　and　little　terrorists　planting　signs　on　their　front　lawn。
　〃How　was　the　firm's　Christmas　dinner？〃　Nora　asked。
　〃Sounded　like　the　usual。　Same　room；　same　waiters；　same　tenderloin；　same　soufflé。　Slader　said　Stanley　got　drunk　as　a　skunk　during　cocktails。〃
　〃I've　never　seen　him　sober　during　cocktails。〃
　〃He　made　the　same　speech…great　effort；　billings　up；　we'll　knock　'em　dead　next　year；　Wiley　&　Beck　is　Family；　thanks　to　all。　That　sort　of　stuff。　I'm　glad　we　missed　it。〃
　〃Anybody　else　skip　it？〃
　〃Slader　said　Maupin　from　auditing　was　a　no…show。〃
　〃I　wonder　what　Jayne　wore？〃
　〃I'll　ask　Slader。　I'm　sure　he　took　notes。〃
　Their　salads　arrived　and　they　gawked　at　the　baby　spinach　like　famine　refugees。　But　they　slowly　and　properly　applied　the　dressing；　a　little　salt　and　pepper；　then　began　eating　as　if　they　were　pletely　disinterested　in　food。
　The　Island　Princess　served　nonstop　food。　Luther　planned　to　eat　until　he　popped。
　At　a　table　not　far　away；　a　pretty　young　lady　with　dark　hair　was　eating　with　her　date。　Nora　saw　her　and　laid　down　her　fork。
　〃Do　you　think　she's　okay；　Luther？〃　Luther　glanced　around　the　room　and　said；　〃Who？〃
　〃Blair。〃
　He　finished　chewing　and　pondered　the　question　that　she　now　asked　only　three　times　a　day。　〃She's　fine；　Nora。　She's　having　a　great　time。〃
　〃Is　she　safe？〃　Another　standard　question；　posed　as　if　Luther　should　know　for　certain　whether　their　daughter　was　safe　or　not　at　that　precise　moment。　
　〃The　Peace　Corps　hasn't　lost　a　volunteer　in　thirty　years。　Yes；　trust　me；　they're　very　careful；　Nora。　Now　eat。〃
　She　pushed　her　greens　around；　took　a　bite；　lost　interest。　Luther　wiped　his　plate　clean　and　honed　in　on　hers。　〃You　gonna　eat　that？〃　he　asked。
　She　swapped　plates；　and　in　a　flash　Luther　had　cleaned　the　second　one。　The　pasta　arrived　and　she　guarded　her　bowl。　After　a　few　measured　bites；　she　stopped　suddenly；　her　fork　halfway　to　her　face。　Then　she　laid　it　down　again　and　said；　〃I　forgot。〃
　Luther　was　chewing　with　a　vengeance。　〃What　is　it？〃　Her　face　was　stricken　with　terror。
　〃What　is　it；　Nora？〃　he　repeated；　swallowing　hard。
　〃Don't　those　judges　e　around　after　the　parade？〃
　Then　it　hit　Luther　too。　He　retired　his　fork　for　a　moment；　sipped　water；　gazed　painfully　at　nothing　in　the　distance。　Yes；　indeed；　it　was　true。
　After　the　parade；　a　mittee　from　Parks　and　Rec　toured　the　neighborhoods　on　a　float　pulled　by　a　John　Deere　tractor　and　examined　the　level　of　Christmas　spirit。　They　gave　individual　awards　in　various　categories…Original　Design；　Festive　Lighting；　etc。　And　they　handed　out　an　award　to　the　street　with　the　best　decorations。　Hemlock　had　won　the　blue　ribbon　twice。
　The　year　before；　Hemlock　had　placed　second；　primarily　because；　according　to　the　gossip　on　the　street；　two　of　the　forty…two　homes　had　not　put　up　a　Frosty。　Boxwood　Lane　three　blocks　north　had　e　from　nowhere　with　a　dazzling　row　of　candy　canes…Candy　Cane　Lane　it　described　itself…and　took　away　Hemlock's　award。　Frohmeyer　circulated　memos　for　a　month。
　Dinner；　now　ruined；　came　to　a　standstill　as　they　picked　through　their　pasta　and　killed　as　much　time　as　possible。　Two　long　cups　of　decaf。　When　Angelo's　was　empty；　Luther　paid　the　bill　and　they　drove　home；　slowly。
　
　Sure　enough；　Hemlock　lost　again。　Luther　fetched　the　Gazette　in　the　semidarkness；　and　was　horrified　with　the　front　page　of　Metro。　The　award　winners　were　listed…Cherry　Avenue　first；　Boxwood　Lane　second；　Stanton　third。　Trogdon　across　the　street　with　more　than　fourteen　thousand　lights　finished　fourth　in　Festive　Lighting。
　In　the　center　of　the　page　was　a　large　color　photo　of　the　Krank　home；　taken　at　some　distance。　Luther　studied　it　intently　and　tried　to　determine　the　angle。　The　photographer　had　shot　down　and　at　a　wide　angle；　sort　of　an　aerial　view。
　Next　door；　the　Becker　house　positively　glowed　with　a　blinding　display　of　lights。　On　the　other　side；　the　Kerrs'　house　and　lawn　were　perfectly　lined　with　alternating　reds　and　greens；　thousands　of　them　by　now。
　The　Krank　home　was　dark。
　To　the　east；　the　Frohmeyers'；　Nugents'；　and　Galdys'　could　be　seen；　all　glowing　warmly；　all　with　their　Frostys　sitting　snugly　on　the　roofs。　To　the　west；　the　Dents'；　Sloanes'；　and　Bellingtons'　all　radiated　Christmas　splendor。
　The　Krank　home　was　very　dark。
　〃Scheel；〃　Luther　grumbled　to　himself。　The　photo　was　taken　from　directly　across　the　street。　Walt　Scheel　had　allowed　the　photographer　to　climb　onto