him
Morris led him into the hall and closed the door.
He said his family was in the car
wrapped in blankets.
They were on the way to his mother-in-law’s house.
Morris took the stranger back to the car.
The young couple and their three children
had started out after work.
According to their timetable,
they were expected to arrive at
their destination four hours ago.
Thirty minutes after they left
Morris and the man were back with the whole family.
I had poured coffee
and made a few strawberry sandwiches.
Morris wasn’t able to get the car started.
The man carried four-year-old Katherine.
She was named after her grandmother.
I asked if she was Kathy.
“No, I’m Katherine.” she said.
The little boy was only two years older than Katherine.
He held shyly to his father’s coat.
“Is this Gramma’s?” he asked his mother.
“No, honey, this is someone else’s gramma.”
The young mother’swhite wool stole
slipped from her dark hair.
She bound the baby in a blue blanket
and maybe it was the light’s flare
reflecting from the ceiling’s dome in the hall
or maybe it was the special night,
but just at that moment she looked like the Madonna.
Her big brown eyes were filled with tenderness
as she touched the baby.
I felt what she felt.
I am a mother myself, you know.
She smiled at me,
like the smile of an innocent angel,
without any impurity.
“What a miracle you two are,
to take us in,” she said.
“I was afraid something had happened to Kevin.”
She laid the baby on my cherry patterned sofa.
I poured the coffee and served the sandwiches.
David, the little boy,
and Katherine ate slices of bacon and toast.
Then we all went back into the living room
with more coffee and cookies.
Morris made telephone calls
and left messages on answering machines,
doubtful that anyone would answer on Christmas Eve.
I poured a cup of coffee for the young mother
and asked her name.
She smiled that Madonna smile and said.
“Maryann.”
“Let me hold the baby while you drink your coffee.” I said.
“I think I can remember how.”
“Look at the pretty tree,Mama.”
The little boy said.
“Yes, it’s a pretty tree,honey.” I said,
“Look at the manger.
It’s a token from my great grandfather.
He made it a long time ago.”
“Can I hold the little wooden baby?” He asked.
“No, David, just look at it.” His mother said.
“Of course, you can hold it.” I said.
I handed the carved baby Jesus to the little boy.
His little fingers felt the smooth wood
and he kissed the carving.
Then his father gently put the Baby back into the manger.
We talked and tried to decide what to do next.
Kevin had kept calling his mother-in-law repeatedly.
Finally, at 10∶00 o’clock
the man from John’s garage
came with a red wrecker truck.
Morris and Kevin
went with him
and at the minimum of twenty minutes they were back.
The Kevin’s family were ready to proceed with their trip.
They all bundled