Rainy Christmas Eve

(For L F M in Colombia)

It was a rainy, Christmas Eve night. It wasn't cold, however, for a warm front had moved into the Tallahassee area about ten days earlier and seemed intent on remaining at least a few days more. Coach Charlie Fine's wife, Cynthia, was working late but he expected her before 8 p.m.
"Just keep working on those gifts as much as possible," she'd told him on the phone, "and don't let the girls get too close to you. They can watch TV or play in their rooms."
"Don't worry, Cynth, the fort is fine," he'd told her, laughing as always at the pun. "Just leave as soon as they let you and drive home safely."
"Don't I always?" she asked.
"Yes, it's my fault. I never stop worrying."
"Well, don't worry too much. Mrs. Santa may have some late-night special for Mr. Santa. That is, if you've been good."
"Oh, I've been terribly good. All day today. Is it cake?" he asked, teasingly.
"Might be," she cooed. "Might not be."
"Well, whatever Cynth. I'll just have to trust you."
"Was it ever so difficult?" she asked.
But he didn't answer that one. "Someone's at the door," he'd said and each one rang off.
One of the girls came running to get the door, but Charlie said he'd get it. For her to go back and continue playing.
Charlie went to the door. It didn't have a peep-hole and they'd been planning to put one in for months but had not gotten around to it yet. Still, it wasn't that late. Maybe it was a gift delivery.
Charlie opened the door and realized instantly that he'd never seen such an ugly face. That's because the nylon stocking that was over the person's head was distorting it. He immediately sensed trouble and was sorry he'd opened the door. He couldn't tell if he was looking at a woman or a man.
Without saying a word, Charlie tried to close the door in the intruder's face, but it was too late. The intruder's foot had already gotten a foothold in the door.
The harsh voice was definitely a woman's. "Just do as I say and nobody gets hurt," she said. Charlie then spotted the handgun. "Go and bring all the money you have in this house," she ordered, "and don't try any smart stuff, either, unless you wanna see some friendly saints in heaven real soon."
Fine was a soccer coach. He could tell when a person was half serious or dead serious. This woman's voice was dead serious. Her voice also had a cold edge to it, as if she'd seen the rougher side of life more than its pleasant side.
"Look," he responded, "I know you want money. I know this is a nice house, but it's Christmas and we've already spent whatever extra money we had. It is logic, don't you think? Fact is--I've got practically nothing here in the house. Some coins, maybe. You're welcome to those."
The woman looked around nervously. Charlie could see a helper standing on the front lawn out toward the street. She was just out of the flood light beams.
"I don't have time for no shit, Mister. We want some money and we want it now. Do we have to go in there and turn everything upside down?"
"Please believe me," Charlie replied slowly, trying to keep his cool. He couldn't believe this woman had him in this grip. He'd felt completely powerless only a few times in his life, but this was definitely worse than the others.
"I'll believe you, Mister, if you'll believe this."
Charlie thought he heard a loud noise, but it was all too quick. The next thing he knew was his waking up in the hospital. Miraculously he was alive. Where were the girls? Who was looking after them? He fidgeted in his hospital bed. Then Cynthia came near.
God, she was beautiful. His wife. What a gift. What a face! He wanted to reach out but sort of knew instinctively that he couldn't move.
He could speak, though. "How bad is it?" he managed to ask with no small physical and psychological effort.
Cynth couldn't find words. She burst into tears instead, relieving some of the pressure. It had been so great.
Charlie just looked at Cynth there. But he knew. God help him, he knew. And it was pretty bad. Still, he was alive and would see his girls soon. And God in the heavens was still God. He'd pray later. That's what he'd do. Pray later to his God in the heavens.