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Show 213 Cooney's words. About Christ. And she thought about her father and mother. She thought hard about them, seeking their presence; their faces in detail before her. Until something inside her seemed to open, and they were suddenly in her. With her somehow. Eagerly, she sought the host. At the bottom of the church steps, Robbie was waiting for her. On the sidewalk in the sun, wearing a green suit and sunglasses, he smiled widely when he saw her. She hurried to him, to his arms for a quick hug. How comforting it was to be in his arms! to be held tightly by him! His specialness, the living specialness of him-she absorbed it into herself. "You've had some excitment over the past few days," he said. "Yes-thank god it's over." "Well, at least there's no harm done." "No," she said, thinking of Steve, and standing back, "But I'd just as soon forget it as soon as possible." He frowned. "I thought it wasn't that bad." "It wasn't. But like I told you on the phone, I want to forget about work. About school. About everything but today." "That sounds good," he said, reassured. He removed his sunglasses, his face glowing in the sun, "Well, Sis," he smiled again-that mischievous grin that made him look so like a caricature of the devil; it endeared him to her, she loved him when he smiled like that, the life in him, "Merry Christmas." |