Page 105

I look out past the porch rail at the frosted yard, at her Honda and my truck parked behind it. I think about eighty acres of bad fence thirty minutes up the road.

"Yeah," I say. "I guess she did."

At the door, Mackie holds the pup while I get my coat on.

"The Sugarman parade's tomorrow," she says. "Main Street, ten o'clock. We're taking them."

“That sounds like a fun Christmas outing."

"You could meet us there."

"I'll be there."

She hands me the dog.

Christmas morning is clear and hard cold, with a skim of snow on everything that the sun hasn't gotten to yet. Main Street is lined three deep by a quarter to ten. The high school band is warming up by the gazebo, and there's a pile of sleds at the foot of the hill waiting on the last float to pass.

I find them in front of the Ginger Jar. Lis is holding two cocoas. Mackie has the double stroller, with both babies zipped into their bunting and nothing showing but their eyes.

"Merry Christmas," she says.

"Merry Christmas."

Her scarf has slipped, and I see the leather cord at her throat, dark against her skin. I recognize it immediately as the shark tooth necklace. I'm not sure when she started wearing it again, but it makes me smile.

Lis hands me a cocoa and steps off to talk to a woman in a red coat. Mackie looks at the stroller, and then at me, and she moves her hands over to the left side of the bar.

I take the right side.

The first float comes around the corner, a fire truck with Santa standing up on the back of it, and the whole street starts yelling. Graham startles and then stares. Hildie frowns at the noise like her mother does at a bad joke. People turn to look at us. A woman in a sequined sweater at the upstairs window of the inn doesn't bother pretending she isn't.

Mackie sees it. She doesn't take her hands off the stroller.

"Saturday," she says, with her eyes on the parade.

"Six o'clock. I'll call."

"Don't call." She watches the band go by. "Come over. It's easier to hold them when you're in the room."

"All right."

"That's not..." She stops. "That's all I'm saying right now."

"That's enough."

The float with the reindeer goes past, and a little boy on the curb in front of us shrieks. Graham decides he doesn't like it and starts to wind up. Mackie leans down to him, and I rock the stroller an inch forward and back with my hand on the bar.

When she straightens up, her hand comes back to the bar next to mine. Her knuckles rest against my knuckles in their gloves.

She doesn't move them.

I don't move mine either.

On Saturday, Lis meets me at the door with her coat already buttoned and an overnight bag over her shoulder.

"Ms. Moroska has a guest room and a bottle of wine she can't finish by herself," she says, stepping past me onto the porch. "There are bottles in the refrigerator, the monitor is on the counter, and I'll be home after church."

“Yes, ma'am."