Dear Irene

“We?”

“Do you mind if I tag along?”

I thought about it. “If Hobson Devoe doesn’t mind, it’s fine with me. But if he has any qualms-”

“Just run it by him and see what he says.”

We talked about our schedules for the evening. It looked like we’d each get off work in time for round two of the Christmas festivities. Frank would be home first, so he agreed to take care of the animals. “One other thing, Frank. It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to take tomorrow off. Will you still be going out to see your mom in Bakersfield?”

“I’ve already called her,” he said. “I’m not going to be able to leave, either. Don’t worry about it. She was married to a cop for a lot of years – she knows all about cancelled plans.”

“She’s probably disappointed all the same.”

“Probably. But I told her we’d get out there to see her as soon as we can.”

MOST OF THE DAYSIDERS were gone from the newsroom when I signed off the computer. I was clearing off my desk when the phone rang.

“Kelly.”

Nothing.

I hung up. I was putting on my coat when the phone rang again. I hesitated, then picked it up again.

“Kelly.”

“Questioning the scared little rabbits about their fathers, Cassandra? My, you’ve been a very clever girl. Too clever, perhaps. But oddly, it pleases me.”

“Whoopity-damn-do.”

“Don’t make the mistake of ridiculing me!” Even synthesized, the growling voice betrayed his anger. But his next words were spoken calmly, quietly, and distinctly. “Keep in mind that I always know where you are, what you’re doing, and with whom you’re doing it. Remember that, Cassandra. As I’ve remembered you with a little gift. Merry Christmas.”

He hung up.

When I told John and Frank about the call, I had to listen to warning after warning from both of them about not tempting Thanatos to turn his anger toward me.

I WAS CAUTIOUS when I walked out to my car that evening; I asked Da

But when we got to the car, everything seemed to be just as I had left it. No parking lights on or strange men watching me from nearby shadows. Da

I looked in the rearview mirror. No one following me. Maybe he had given up on the car, having grown bold enough to enter our house, to leave letters on our doorstep. What might be awaiting me at home? I shivered. I turned on the heater to take the chill out of the car. It warmed up quickly, but I was still shivering.

A present for Cassandra. Having done some reading on the subject, I decided I didn’t enjoy being called Cassandra. Her family thought she was nuts, men mistreated her, and she met a bad end.

I had just stopped at a red light when something cold and sinewy moved across my right ankle.

17

I DON’T REMEMBER opening the car door or jumping out of the car. I might have yelled or screamed – I think I must have. But I only remember finding myself standing next to the car, shaking. Another driver got out of his car. For a moment, I wanted to run from him.

“Lady, are you all right?”

He took a step closer, and I stumbled toward the front of the Karma

“What’s wrong?” he asked, staying where he was.

I found my voice and said, “Snake. In the car. There’s a snake in my car.”

“Really?” He walked toward me, slowly this time, holding his hands out at each side, as if to show me he meant no harm. I glanced around and realized traffic was backing up. It had all but come to a complete standstill as other people started getting out of their cars and walking toward us. I calmed down a little.

The boy came closer. “I’m Enrique.”

“I’m Irene.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

I took a deep breath. “No, I’m not. I’m not even afraid of snakes. I just wasn’t expecting to find one in my car.”

“Little cold out for snakes,” he said as he came closer. He looked inside the car, then said, “Damn, whatcha know? There is a snake in there!” He started to reach into the car.

“Don’t!” I warned. “It could be poisonous.”

“Him? Naw,” he said, not taking his eyes off the reptile. “He’s a little ol’ gopher snake.”

Before I could stop him, Enrique had moved like lightning to grab the snake behind the head. He pulled it from the car and held it out, away from his body. The “little ol’ gopher snake” was over two feet long and mad, if all that hissing meant what I thought it did.

“Can I keep him?” Enrique asked.

“I wish I could give you a simple ‘yes,’” I said, watching a traffic cop on a motorcycle make his way toward us. “But the snake is probably going to jail for a while.”

“Lousy thing to do on Christmas,” he said. “Even to a snake.”

WE WERE A LITTLE late picking Steven up for di

At first, the snake was the talk of the di

Jack recalled the story of Cassandra – that she and her brother were left in a temple one night, and when her parents looked in on them the next morning, the children were entwined with snakes, which flicked their tongues into the children’s ears. “That’s what enabled Cassandra and her brother to tell the future.”

“A lot of good it did Cassandra,” I said.

“Disgusting!” Mrs. Pastorini made a face, and then waved a hand as if to ward off a bad odor. “Snakes licking children’s ears! It’s not good to talk of such things on Christmas.”

“You’re right,” Guy said. “No more talk of sadness and danger and worry.” Guy nodded slightly toward Steven, who was looking a little pale. Steven didn’t notice the subtle gesture, but the rest of us caught the hint. Throughout the rest of the evening, a concerted effort was made to distract Steven from his grief.

You wouldn’t think that we could stuff ourselves two nights in a row, but we did. It was after ten o’clock when we finally got home. Frank lit a fire and asked me to stay up with him for a while. We sat on the floor, on the big rug in front of the fireplace. I reached behind the couch and pulled out the package with his sweatpants in them; he opened it and thanked me. He moved over closer to me. He put his arms around me, gently pulling me between his thighs, my back against his chest, then handed me a neatly wrapped, small box. I started crying.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to open it?”

“I give you sweatpants, and you give me this?”

“It’s not as big a package, I admit, but…”

“Very fu

“Open it. I don’t believe in gift-giving as a competitive sport.”

I didn’t say or do anything.

“Open it.” He said this gently, kissing my neck. Frank has learned that kissing my neck gives him a big advantage in the persuasion department.