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A Shermer Christmas Carol
Chapter Fifty Nine
By Chris Fulmer
"Buck, are you there?" Roger pounded on the door of the Russell's house.
There was no reply.
"I don't see his car around anywhere," George said, scanning every inch of
the Russell property. They'd been standing on the porch for the last five
minutes, hoping their old friend would be in.
"Figures," Rocco muttered, "Probably out with that family he cares about
more than..."
"Hold it," Roger realized, "Buck told me they leave a key out for him
here." He reached above the door and located the key in question. The four
of them entered the Russell house just as the phone started ringing. Lloyd,
drunk again staggered over to it. "Cedar Creek Country Club, what time is
tee for you?" he slurred into it.
On the other end of the line, Bob's eyebrows furled. "Who's this?" he
asked.
"Rosemary my dearest, let me take you into the water hazard and show you
the power of raw, unbridled sexual frenzy," Lloyd promised Bob.
"What?" Bob gasped. Buck had never introduced him to Lloyd, "Who's
Rosemary?"
"What's going on?" Cindy stuck her head over her husband's shoulder.
"Uh, nothing, really," Bob said quickly.
"Bob!" Cindy gave him a piercing stare. Bob smiled weakly. "It's for
you," he said, handing the phone to her. "Who are you?" Cindy demanded to
Lloyd.
"Just an old sweet sailor sailin' through the sand traps of life," Lloyd
blurted as he slumped unconscious to the floor and began snoring. Cindy
slammed down the phone. "I knew he'd do it," she told Bob, "He's brought in
his riffraff! We're going back to Chicago right now."
"Well, honey, maybe it's something other than that," Bob proposed, "Could
be an intruder for all we know. A very drunken intruder. And besides, I
don't know if the interstates are ready yet."
"Bob," Cindy rounded on him, "You're not protecting him this time. When we
get back to Chicago, he's...."
"Excuse me, you two," came a voice behind them. The Russells turned to
find themselves looking at Sidney Griffith, who was sporting an oversized
trunk much like the one his son carried. "You said you were going to
Chicago?" the former circus clown asked them.
"Yes, you are?" Bob inquired.
"Sidney Griffith, pleasure to meet you," the old man extended his hand.
Bob shook it.....and vibrated wildly from the huge electrical shock he
received. "Whoops, forgot I had that," Sidney said, pointing out the hand
buzzer in his palm. "I've got to get to Chicago," he told them, "My son's
being chased by army nuts, and I've got to save him."
"Sir, we can't help you," Cindy told him, "Any other time we'd be happy
to....."
"Good, thanks for the lift," Sidney shook her hand and gave her a harsh
hand buzzing, "Let me take your luggage."
Somehow he picked up all the suitcases and trudged for the door. "Just so
you know, Sid.....can I call you Sid?" Bob asked him.
"Call me what you want," Sidney said. Then he relapsed and asked, "Pardon
me, are you two going to Chicago?"
Bob and Cindy exchanged worried glances. "Sid, we are, but we'll be going
real fast," Bob told him, "You sure you won't die on us?"
"Sonny, in my seventy-five years, I've been in two train derailments, hit
by a falling trapeze bar, and trampled by five elephants right after
another," Sidney told him proudly, "I can sure handle driving at a hundred
miles an hour." Then he broke into a huge grin and said, "I'm Sidney
Griffith, pleasure to meet you," and shook Bob's hand--and buzzed
him--again.
"Well then, hop right in," Bob opened the back door for him. Noticing his
wife's less than pleasant expression over the mental state of their guest,
he said, "Well, look at it this way, it could be a whole lot worse."
"And how might it be worse, Bob?" Cindy asked him.
"Uh," Bob thought it over for a moment, "Well, offhand I can't think of
how, but trust me, it has to be worse than this."
Back in Shermer, Buck and the other came through the door just as Lloyd was
finishing his "call." He'd just dropped Tia and Cutter off at the high
school for the dance and was hoping for a nice relaxing evening with the
rest of the family. The moment he saw he had company, however, he knew it
would be anything but that. "Hey, how'd you guys get in here?" he asked
them.
Roger held up the key. "That was for my use," Buck told them. He noticed
Lloyd slumped near the phone, which was still hanging off the hook. "Did my
brother just call?" he asked, concerned.
"Could have been," George shrugged, "Lloyd never told us."
"I was kind of expecting that call," Buck told them, frustrated, "If
they've gotten a wrong opinion of me now that they've heard you here...."
"They'll what? Kick you out into the cold cruel world?" Rocco asked with a
sudden sense of sarcasm that Buck had never heard from him before, "This is
just our point, Buck," the lottery salesman told him, exasperated, "You
spend too much time with them nowadays and not enough with us! And it
hurts!"
"Look, I'm sorry it hurts, but I have a responsibility now," Buck told him
with equal sarcasm, "I love my nieces and nephew, and they come first,
whether any of us like it or not," he patted Miles and Maizy on the heads.
"Well then I guess the Buck Russell I knew is dead," Rocco snorted, "Come
on guys, I get a certain vibe we're not welcome here."
He started out the door. "Oh, Rocco, don't take it like that!" Buck
protested, "It doesn't mean I like you any less! If I could, I'd go with
you every weekend like I used to, but I can't. Times change, and you have
to let go whether you like it or not. But I still count you guys among my
best friends, and nothing can every change that."
"Oh really?" Rocco raised a suspicious eyebrow.
"Yeah, really," Chanice told him, "You may not believe it any more, but
even when he's with Miles and Maizy and their sister, he thinks about you,
and how much he'd want to be with you. But I suppose you're all too pent up
with grudges to care much."
There was an uneasy silence in the room. "Well, maybe we're not...."
George started to say, but he was interested by the sound of the doorbell
ringing. Buck opened it to find himself looking at Lieutenant Maltin.
"Excuse me sir," the lieutenant said, "Could you direct us to Shermer High?
We seem to have our way."
Apparently the appearance of a military man had some kind of adverse effect
on Buck, because he simply stood there looking stunned. "It's OK, I'll find
it somewhere else," Maltin said, walking down the front steps.
"Are you all right there, Buck?" Roger asked him, waving his hand in front
of his friend's face, "You look just like you did after...."
"Yeah, I think I'm fine," Buck said, not entirely there. He watched as
Maltin strode over to the house next door, where Sherman was waiting. "No
dice," the lieutenant told the major, "I swear everyone in this town is just
clueless. You know, Sherm, you don't look so hot? Are you feeling all
right?"
"Not really, Maltin," Sherman said. From where Buck was standing, he
really didn't look too good. "I'll tell you," the major told him, "Blowing
up oil refineries and bases is one thing, but what we're being asked to do
here is something completely different. I don't think I'm really up to
it--all those kids...."
"Sherm, get over it, we have our orders," Lieutenant Maltin told him, "In a
few hours it'll be over and done with, and you can get as drunk as you want
once we have the codes and leave the country. You'll be over it by tomorrow
morning."
"Could you not say it so loud!" Sherman yelled at him, "The whole
neighborhood doesn't have to know that we're about to blow up......!"
"Major Blum, come over," came a voice Buck had definitely heard before over
Sherman's radio, "Report immediately to Shermer High School at 393 Daley
Road, over."
"Roger, we're on our way," Sherman said reluctantly into it. He sighed
deeply and trudged to their jeep. "Daley Road, I had a feeling it was
something that started with a D," Lieutenant Maltin said as they sped off.
Buck remained standing in place at the door, prompting Chanice to tap him on
the back and demand, "Buck, snap out of it! What's the matter with you?"
"Chanice," Buck said very slowly, "Something in this town is very much not
right. We have to get to the high school right now and figure out what it
is."
"Does this mean we come too, UB?" Miles asked him.
'Yeah, Miles, but you and your sister should probably stay in the car and
lock it good and tight," Buck instructed him. He started out the door, then
turned and told his friends, "Wait here. I'll call you on Chanice's cell
once we get to the bottom of this and tell you how you can help me,
kapeesh?"
"Kapeesh," George told him, "Glad to know you're still here, Buck."
"And I'm glad to be hear...well, actually there, 'cause here we go," Buck
led his family out the door.
Del sat puffing away a cigarette on what was left of his front porch. By
now Ginny would have given birth. He was hoping that Connor Baker's
entrance into this life was a good one, and that the world would treat him
well...much better than Del himself had gone through.
He glanced up and down Elm Street. The house displays were popping on one
at a time in the hastening darkness. Shermer at Christmas bore more than a
passing resemblance to Del's childhood suburban Seattle neighborhood, which
was one of the reasons he'd been so comfortable settling in the town. It
did snow a lot more, though, which Del didn't mind, as he always had felt
snow added to the holidays. One time he'd gotten a few flakes when he'd
been holed up in Atlanta over Christmas and had begged out of a meeting with
a hotel to watch them fall. He'd lost the deal, but hadn't minded.
He pulled his picture of Marie out of his pocket and examined her by the
light of his cigarette. "I wish you'd be here with me now," he said
wistfully. Christmas hadn't been the same without Marie. Even when he'd
been on the road and unable to come home, she'd always called to wish him
happy holidays. On the times he had been able to return to Seattle, they'd
spent many long hours in front of the fireplace downing eggnog and giving
each other their presents, a custom Marie's family had always observed that
Del was happy to graft onto his schedule. Occasionally they'd scan the
skies with her telescope, half-expecting to see Santa. It had all been
great times. But the problem with great times is that they always have to
come to an end. The last nine years without her had been murder on Del.
His existence frequently felt like little more than a hollow shell.
He thought back ruefully to all the people missing in his life. He'd only
been five when his mother's heart attack had felled her. His Aunt Fran,
who'd raised him so well once his situation with his parents had become
untenable, was gone for the last twelve years. His father had been all but
gone for a few years. Several of the people he'd grown up friends with had
ended up having early demises. And then there was Marie......
Sighing in the cold memories of people long gone, he glanced across the
street, where the Hadley family was going inside their house to party away
the holidays. It seemed sometimes to Del that he was the only one in town
without a family to go to, and this was one of those times. Although he
hung out at Neal's a lot and knew his kids almost as if they were his own,
the fact was they weren't his. He'd meant every word he'd said earlier on
the plane about how much he wanted kids and a family of his own. He looked
across the street. The sight of many people in every one of the houses made
him feel even more alone and like an outsider than usual, which happened
more often to him than he'd be willing to let on, even to Neal.
It was then that he became aware of a familiar car pulling up the driveway.
He rose and strode over to it. "John, I think we need to have a talk
now," he told his stepson as he jumped out of the car.
"Buzz off, Delbert, I'm busy right now," Bender brushed by him.
"John, would you like to explain why you did this to our house?" Del
stepped back in front of him.
"Hey I don't have to explain anything to you, fatso!" Bender snapped
abruptly, "You're not my father, and you'll never be! So why don't you just
go on Adkins and just let me be!"
He gave Del a rough shove. Something in Del's mind clicked into place for
the first time since he'd been living with him. He grabbed his stepson by
the hand. "What is your problem!?" he demanded, "For the past few months,
I've taken you in off the street and tried to be your friend, and all you
can do is spit in my face! I think you owe up to whatever you've done here
like a real man!"
"Well anyone who lives like you deserves to be spit in the face!" Bender
shouted back, "And besides, I never wanted you as my friend! If you think
I'm going to apologize to you for anything, you're dead wrong! Now if
you'll excuse me, I have to go to the dance, and for some reason beyond me
the church!"
"John, I am not letting you leave until you say you're....!" Del was cut
off as Bender pushed him into a support column and stormed inside. The
salesman groaned and felt the pained back of his head, which fortunately
wasn't bleeding. "Oh, hi Claire," he waved to her in the passenger seat,
"How're you doing lately?"
"I could be better, Mr. Griffith," Claire told him. She looked rather
upset, he thought. "And I told him to treat you more respectfully," she
muttered, "Goes to show how seriously he takes these things."
"I can't understand how he wouldn't want a friend," Del posed to her out
loud, "Everyone needs a friend." Then he sighed deeply. "Of course, I
wasn't too friendly with him just now, so maybe I haven't been setting a
good example of friendship."
Bender barged back out carrying the only one of Del's tuxes that would fit
him--a red and white checkered one with a black shirt and polka dotted
bowtie. The suit Del recognized as being the one he'd worn when he'd
proposed to Marie so long ago. "The next time you go shopping, Delbert, try
and pick up suits that aren't size eight hundred," his stepson retorted,
"Have a nice night."
"John, looked I'm sorry I snapped back there on you, so please...." Del was
cut off as Bender slammed the car door in his face and backed out into Elm
Street. Del looked longingly and remorsefully after the car as it vroomed
out of sight. He did feel guilty for blowing his top. He wondered if he
was destined to turn everyone off to him. "I need a drink," he muttered,
sauntering back inside his house. He needed someone to talk to as well.
On to Chapter 60
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