"Here's a pillow," said Kyle, and Clayton felt one being tucked behind his head.
"What are you going to do?" asked Clayton, his eyes closing, his body suffused with warmth and ease.
"I'm going to read a book about mountain men," said Kyle. "I got this one for myself for Christmas, and today's the day. It's really good, you'd like it?—"
Clayton's eyes felt like lead weights, and Kyle's voice became a soothing pattern in the back of his mind. He fell asleep, half sitting up, half leaned against the arm of the chair, as if he'd known Kyle forever and knew he wouldn't mind.
CHAPTER 8
The afternoon began with Kyle's phone ringing, which woke Clayton up. He sat up with a start, blinking, pushing the red woolen blanket down to his knees as he watched Kyle answer it.
"Hey, Sheriff Bob," said Kyle, and by the smile on his face, Clayton knew right away that nothing was wrong. "You got a call from who? Oh, yes, that's Clayton's sister, she's—yes, she's worried on account of I answered her ad on Craigslist and now her brother is here with me. No, Brent and Richard couldn't make it, but at least none of my plans are going to waste."
Kyle listened for a while. Then he held out the phone to Clayton, walking over to hand it to him.
"He wants to talk to you," said Kyle. "Evidently folks are quite worried that you're an axe murderer or something. They've been watching too much news, I think."Clearing his throat, Clayton took the phone. He was unsure what he might say if he was accused of being an axe murderer.
"Hello?" he said.
"This is Sheriff Bob Flanders of Morgan County," said ahearty voice that had a trace of military training in it. "Is this Clayton?"
"Yes, it is, sir," said Clayton. He stood up, sweeping the red blanket around his shoulders to keep it from falling to the floor. "What can I do for you?"
"Got a call," said Sheriff Bob. "A woman named Sarah wanted me to check on you. She was worried about our very own software developer, Kyle, who wouldn't pull a hair on a bug's head, let alone hurt anybody. But she was insistent, and I calmed her down some. Now, I've been enjoined by several folks in town to call and make sure thatyou, Clayton, are on the up and up. Got any nefarious plans I should know about?"
"No sir," said Clayton. He felt like he should salute. "I was on my way to my sister Sarah's house in Parker for Christmas Eve, but I got about this far, and Kyle opened his door to me."
"Did you already string the popcorn?" asked Sheriff Bob, sounding very well apprised of Kyle's hosting schedule for the holidays. "For the tree."
"Yes, we did sir, though I ate a good bit of it myself."
"And watch every version ofA Christmas Carolthere ever was?"
"Yes, sir," said Clayton, with all the seriousness he could muster. "We got through most of them and we're planning to watch the Mr. Magoo one twice, I think."
"That's the best one, really," said Sheriff Bob and Clayton could almost hear him nodding. "Make sure you help him with those Christmas tree lights, as Ed over at the hardware store has been getting complaints that the little ones get shorted out. Anyway, fair enough. You don't sound like you mean him any harm, but I'm here to tell you that if something does happen to him on account of you, I'll be slapping handcuffs on you so fast, your wrists will burn. You got me?"
"I got you, sir," said Clayton. "And I'm glad?—"
He meant to go on in a funny way, to make a joke becausethe way the sheriff was going on, he felt like laughing. But it really was touching that the local law was so protective of Kyle that indeed, it seemed the whole town knew about Kyle's guests and his plans to entertain them. He swallowed the thickness that had suddenly risen in his throat.
"I'm glad you're looking out for him, sir, and I promise, I'll be the best Christmas guest he's ever had."
"I'm counting on you, Clayton," said Sheriff Bob. "Well, have a good rest of your holiday, son. Goodbye."
Clayton clicked the phone off and held it out to Kyle, who took it in both hands.
"Best Christmas guest?" asked Kyle, his eyebrows rising, that quirky twist of his mouth turning into a smile.
"Well, you're the Best Christmas host, right?" asked Clayton, smiling in return. It was almost like he couldn't help the joy that rose within him.
"At least so far," said Kyle, and a lovely blush appeared on his cheeks, as though he wasn't used to compliments.
"Definitely," said Clayton. "Now, I'm supposed to help you with the Christmas lights as Ed over at the hardware store says that sometimes they short out. Got any spare bulbs?"
"Yes?" said Kyle, his voice rising. "How do you know the name of the guy at the hardware store is Ed?"
"Sheriff Bob told me all about it," said Clayton. He shrugged the blanket, which was the exact soft red wool kind that he'd been thinking about, from his shoulders and folded it neatly, well, mostly neatly, and placed it on the couch. "He also told me you wouldn't pull a hair on a bug's head. I didn't even know bugs had hair." He chuckled to himself and smiled as he scratched his chin, hoping Kyle would join in.
