There wasn’t much snow on the ground, and we made the most of it. We bundled up and decided to walk down to the track. We would pick a tree and tag it for one of the hands to cut and bring up to the house.
Ford was like a live wire, skipping around and pointing out birds’ nests and things you couldn’t see when there were leaves on the trees. Auggie was delighted; her face shining and her cheeks red from the cold. We tramped back into the woods and Ford picked out a pine that was, for the most part, straight. He used his scarf to mark it and we headed back, going by the barns on the way so he could say hello to his horse and the hands who were working.
There’s nothing like the scents inside a working horse barn. It was far warmer than the outdoors and even the smell of manure was familiar and comforting. It steamed in piles along the perimeter and mixed with the odors of liniment and leather. The horses’ nostrils steamed a bit and they were glad of the sugar cubes and petting. We were all in a holiday mood. The only sad part was that Auggie had demanded that Carlos’ stall never be re-assigned and so where he once stood, now only a plaque with his name and his abandoned bridle served to remember him by. Auggie stood at it for a few minutes, as though trying to absorb his individual scent and to let the memories of all the times they had shared together fill her consciousness. We let her have her moments before we dragged her back out into the cold sunlight. Ford was waiting, a snowball in hand and he caught her squarely in the back.
This naturally triggered a family snowball fight and since the snow was sparse, it took more effort to make a ball than was feasible. We gave up quickly and went indoors. Auggie and Ford went up into the attic to get the tree decorations and I helped the men get the tree into the house and into the stand when they arrived.
Auggie made us a special family dinner that night, preparing a huge tray of lasagna with French bread and salad. We let Ford chatter on about school and all the people he knew. We exchanged a few looks over his head, knowing that his decision could go either way when it came time to make it.
We topped off dinner with strawberry shortcake and then took hot cocoa into the family room to decorate the tree. The tallest and only person not afraid to climb a ladder, I was elected to begin stringing the lights and to put the star on top. Ford and Auggie entered into a heated, although friendly, discussion about the ornaments and where they should go. They were two of a kind and I had to factor that in, as well, regarding his ultimate decision.
The hour grew late and Ford went upstairs to bathe and go to bed. He scampered down and gave Auggie one last kiss before he climbed into bed. I got a hug this time and reasoned that it was probably far more seemly, considering I was his father.
Auggie and I switched to wine and sat before the fire. We talked of our own Christmas celebrations as children. We compared notes and it seemed that as long as we believed in Santa Claus, things had been idyllic — or at least so they seemed. Once we knew Santa was imaginary, the pretense was dropped and there were no celebrations or seasonal traditions. On Christmas morning, we each received a gift certificate to some store or another and life had gone on as usual. Auggie said her dad wanted to do more, but her mother had always objected, saying that she had been unruly and belligerent through the year and that sort of behavior should not be rewarded.
How many times have I wished that Auggie’s mother had actually married my father and left the rest of the world alone? Then, I reasoned, there would have been no Auggie or me, and that put the question to rest.
Auggie and I made sweet, gentle love that night. There was no pressure of knowing that one of us would be leaving afterwards. There was only the acceptance of one another, complete with faults, and the overwhelming sense of family. For us, lovemaking was the ultimate way to be close to one another.
The next morning, I suggested to Ford that we had some shopping that needed to be done. We were off to town before Auggie had a chance to object — I think she was looking forward to shopping with him too. But I felt I needed some dedicated time with him. I think she understood because she was smiling contentedly as we left.
We chose one of the large department stores and bought Margaret and Walter a compact but powerful home entertainment system. Ford commented that his Grandfather always seemed to have the volume turned up awfully high, so we bought a system that supported individual headphones with adjustable volume. Ford asked for some spending money and an hour alone to buy his mother and me a gift. I gave him money and settled down in the store café for a cup of coffee and to read the newspaper while he was gone.
“Merry Christmas, Bro.” The voice. The words. The condescending tone sent chills down my back. I looked up at the man standing before me and if it weren’t for the emerald green eyes, dancing with wickedness, I wouldn’t have known him.
I was speechless.
“Surprised?” he asked, chuckling in that evil tone I remembered. “Thought you might be,” he said, pulling out a chair at the other side of my table and taking a seat.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, all the while knowing it was the most pathetic question I could possibly ask.
“I think what you mean, is why am I alive?” A toothpick hung from his mouth, but his full beard almost completely hid it. “How’s my sweet-bodied little sister?” he snarled and it took every fiber of my body not to lunge at him. I had to remain cool. There was too much at stake. Ford would be back at any moment and I had to have this creature gone. “Pretty good act — rising from the dead not once, but twice, wouldn’t you say?”
I wanted to pick up the fork and gouge his eyes out. Those were the eyes of my Auggie and of our son. He didn’t deserve to have them.
“What do you want?” I barked tersely.
“Same thing I always wanted. What was owed to me.”
“How are you alive?”
“Funny how that works,” he said. “I’ve come to learn a great deal about switching people. Seems they’re not as identifiable as you might think. I got switched once and I figured out how to do it again.”
“And Jessie?”
“Her? Oh, yeah, she’s dead for sure. She was my cover.”
“But how did you fool the coroner?” I asked, even at the same time denying that I didn’t want to know, but somehow needed to know.
“You forget, Bro. They don’t have any prints on me. All that went into the hole with the other kid down the road at the family plot. I’m what you might call… untraceable.” He chuckled and winked at me, repositioning the toothpick.
I spotted Ford coming down the escalator. “Leave. Now! Meet me at my office tomorrow at three o’clock.”
He just sat and looked at me. I reached into my pocket and threw a wad of bills at him. “Now leave! We’ll settle this tomorrow!”
He looked over his shoulder where my eyes had gone. “Little tike comin’, is he?”