The Road Home

Chapter 01



And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy . . .

Burke couldn't remember the rest. It was something about peace and singing. That much he knew. But the exact words escaped him. He closed his eyes and pictured himself standing at the front of the church, just as Mrs. Throckton had told him to do. He was wearing a long brown robe and holding a staff made from a mop handle. Two other shepherds stood near him while a couple of little kids dressed as sheep wandered around looking lost.
The problem was his beard. Made of cotton balls glued to construction paper and attached to his face with pieces of string that hooked around his ears, it made it difficult for him to speak. He felt himself growing anxious as he cleared his throat and tried again. But the words seemed to be stuck. He couldn't get them to come out of his mouth. All he could do was look out at the pews filled with people waiting for him to deliver his speech--the most important part of the whole pageant.
He opened his eyes. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. Then he looked around, saw that he was standing on top of the hill, and he began to calm down. It's okay, he reassured himself. It's okay.
He moved his feet, his boots crunching in the snow. It had gotten colder since he'd come out an hour ago. He looked up at the sky and saw that it was darkening. Night was coming. Soon he would have dinner with his parents, and then his father would drive them to church, where Burke would play his part in the Nativity pageant. If he could say his lines.
He tried not to think about it, concentrating instead on the hill, and specifically on the path he'd made for the toboggan. It was a good path. He'd planned it carefully, first tamping the snow down with his feet and then dragging the toboggan up and down the hill several times until the path was exactly wide enough and deep enough to keep the sled on track. It had been a lot of work, and he was tired. But the anticipation of a spectacular ride energized him. As he looked down the hill he could already feel the shaking of the toboggan as it slid over the hard-packed snow.
The best part, of course, was the jump. Admittedly, it wasn't exactly a jump, more of a very large bump. But it would do the trick. He'd chosen the route precisely because it took him over a mound that stuck out of the hill about halfway down. If he could get up enough speed the toboggan would hit the bump and lift up enough to create the sensation of flying. This was assuming that he'd planned correctly.
“From THE ROAD HOME.  Copyright © 2010 by Michael Thomas Ford.  Reprinted by arrangement with Kensington Pub. Corp. All Rights Reserved”