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Show 106. XVI Somehow, JD got through the holidays. It was tradition that saved him, he guessed. What else can you do, Christmas Day, when your sister still wakes you up at six o'clock to go downstairs to see the tree with her? When thesmell of baking ham and hot scones fills the house to remind you of all the Christmas mornings that have gone on before? JD was glad for the refuge. He was glad to have the sickness subside, even for one day. So preoccupied of late, he didn't fail to notice now how close their family seemed this year. His dad really liked the new reel and telescoping rod JD bought for him. Stephanie modelled the sweater he'd picked out, hugging him, spreading her appreciation all over the place. Then there was his mom's gentle reassurance that there would be happier Christmases ahead for him. Even the sun got in the act, shining like crazy that morning, making the old snow sparkle like new. By the end of the day, however, JD could feel that he was slipping back into the samePld morose pattern and he didn't think he could stand that. He took a long walk by himself, downtown and along Center Street, past the police station and on out to the highway, then back by way of the church and the hospital which stood in disquieting proximity to one another. The brittle cold reddened his face and numbed his fingers, even inside his gloves. No one was out except the little kids trying their sleds and walkie-talkies, and Mike Butzow, looking like he was just going on duty. Naturally, JD ended up walking by Gayle's house, but he wouldn't let himself turn to look at it. He knew it was empty and would continue to be -for him. Actually, he wished he'd been scheduled to work tonight. Working, when they were busy, was the one thing that kept him from thinking about himself. Once school had let out for Christmas vacation, JD took all the hours that Bob Gillispie would give him. Otherwise, he spent what time he had on the term paper and one of the essays for the scholarship competition. Some nights, not starting to study until ten-thirty or eleven, he found it impossible to concentrate. In the middle of writing a sentence, he'd slip back to Skull Mountain. His body would grow cold, he'd feel |