‘Tis the season to be jolly.
Ho. Ho. Ho.
Bah humbug.
She wasn’t feeling very much like Christmas Eve this year. Would it be possible to talk Mom and Dad out of putting up the tree? Hah. What a laugh.
Joy pulled herself from her bed. Better get ready for a typical Christianson Christmas Eve. Tradition had it they would spend this morning at the mall shopping for all the cousins and extended family. From there, they’d go get a tree and then come home to decorate it. Only thing was Mom would probably try to make it even more festive this year, thinking Joy needed to celebrate. Which would only make things harder. Less is more, Mother.
Joy shuffled to her closet. What could she wear? Maybe she should try and get in the spirit of things because if she didn’t, Mom and Dad would have their antennae up. What do you think, boy? She looked down at Silas, happily panting beside her leg. “You’ll go along with whatever, won’t you?”
Might as well. She pulled out her favorite University of Nebraska sweatshirt and tugged it over her head then freed her hair from the back. Slipped into her favorite jeans and pocketed a warm pair of gloves. It would be cold out there in the forest, especially later, when they went tree hunting.
Joy opened her bedroom door and immediately smelled that mixture of bacon and cinnamon syrup. Yep. Mom had made her traditional Christmas Eve breakfast. Joy would bet money there was a French toast casserole cooling on the stove. Her stomach grumbled. Interesting development. She hardly ever felt hungry anymore.
“Hey Mom. Hey Dad.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Mom spooned some scrambled eggs into a bowl.
Dad laid down his newspaper and looked up with a smile. “Morning. You’re awfully chipper today.” He seemed so relieved. Okay, Joy had been right. If she could pull off a happy Christmas, maybe it would be enough to get Mom and Dad off her back.
Joy went to the cupboard and grabbed a ceramic plate and a coffee mug. She piled her plate high with bacon and casserole, a little bit of scrambled eggs, and some cut-up fresh fruit, heavy on the grapes. “Looks great, Mom.”
She filled her mug with steaming coffee, added two heaps of sugar and some milk. “I’m famished.” Joy took a seat beside Dad.
Mom and Dad locked eyes. Joy could almost hear their thoughts. Dad would say something like, “I believe we’ve turned the grief corner.” Mom would nod, “Yes, I hope so, but don’t let your guard down for a second.” Like a trained sniper, that one.
“So, we keeping tradition this year? Going shopping … going to get a tree?” Maybe if she reminded them of all the planned togetherness, her next request wouldn’t raise any flags.
“Yep. That’s the plan.” Dad folded his newspaper and stood up from the table. He turned to put his dish in the sink. Mom reached back for it, seemingly sensing his movement behind her. Married for a long time, finishing each other’s sentences, sensing the next move … sure would be nice to have a partner like that one day.
Joy stood and went to the refrigerator for the orange juice, Silas right at her heels. Joy smiled. That’s right, she did have a partner like that.
She sat down and nibbled on a piece of bacon. Here goes. “Mind if I go hang out with Raven and some others after we’re finished decorating the tree?” After Joy’s good behavior, she was sure Mom and Dad would cave.
“It’s Christmas Eve.” Mom’s eyebrows crinkled.
Dad scowled. “Yeah. We always spend Christmas Eve together.”
“Well, we will spend the day together. But, you know, teenagers like to do stuff with their friends, too.” Now don’t say too much.
Dad shrugged. “I guess it’s all right if that’s what you want to do. I just don’t want you rushing off at your first chance.”
“I agree,” Mom said. “I want to enjoy our time and play Christmas music and just be a family. I don’t want to rush or feel like you’re checking your text messages every five minutes, like you can’t wait to leave.”
“I promise it won’t be like that.” Now where was that cell phone?
Christmas Eve at the cemetery.
Who would have thought? Joy struggled to keep up with Raven and Luc as they crept among the tombstones long after hours. Lights glowed from behind the cluster of trees over the Northern Ridge near her family. But no, looked a little too much to the east to be where the Christiansons were laid to rest.
As the trio approached, Joy made out three other shadowy forms barely illuminated by the light of the candles in their hands. How did they keep the candles from going out?
“Come on, Joy.” Raven tugged on her sleeve. “We’ve got to hurry. We only have a couple of minutes. Cops don’t like teenagers in graveyards in the middle of the night.”
Luc nodded. “You can say that again.”
“Hey Joy.” Heather called from the tree cluster.
“Hey. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Heather looked Joy over. “I really like your jacket.”
Joy fingered the black leather fringe hanging from the silver grommets. “Yeah, somehow I got my mom to buy me this a week ago. Must’ve been in a moment of weakness.” She didn’t have to admit to Heather that it was a guilt purchase after the drug test humiliation.
Heather chuckled. “It’s totally cool.”
“So what exactly are we doing out here?” Joy looked around the group. Nothing seemed odd that she could see right away.
“Beats me.” Heather shrugged. “Lucas called this gathering.”
Luc cleared his throat. “We’re waiting for someone to bring something.”
Well that cleared things up.
“Ah. There he is.” Luc nodded toward a dark figure lumbering toward them.
Hey. Wasn’t that …? She peered closer. Oh yeah. Kyle from that store. What was he doing here?
Kyle approached from beyond the tree line behind them carrying some kind of lump wrapped in a burlap bag and stopped at what looked like a miniature grave with a blank headstone just a few yards away.
How had Joy not noticed that before?
Kyle scooted the sack into the hole, looked down, and pulled back the edges.
Joy gasped. The baby Jesus lay in the grave wrapped in a sack. “You guys stole baby Jesus? Where did you get it?”
“It’s from outside the Methodist Church. They won’t miss it.”
“You guys are crazy. Who steals baby Jesus from a nativity scene in front of a church, the night before Christmas?” Joy laughed. She had to admit, the absurdity made the risk worthwhile. “What are we going to do with Him?”
Kyle’s mouth curled into a sinister grin. “We’re having us an old-fashioned sacrifice.”
Joy’s chin dropped. She stared at Luc then turned to Raven. “Is he serious?”
“Why don’t you think of it as a rite of passage? Here, you can write on the headstone.” Raven passed Joy a black Sharpie.
Joy looked at the marker in her hand and then at the blank piece of wood standing at the head of the grave of the Christ child. Should she do it? Rite of passage, huh? She looked down at Silas. Did he approve or not?
He was panting and wagging his tail. Clearly happy.
Here goes. She knelt down and pulled the homemade headstone from the ground and laid it flat on the ground. What would she say at the top?
Jesus Christ, son of Mary and Joseph.
Leaves behind billions of followers.
Rest in peace.
That’s all she could think of. It would do. She turned the slab up and stuck it back in the hole.
Heather backed away, her jaw unhinged. “Yeah. Guys, this is just too much for me. I’m out of here.” She turned and fled the cemetery without looking back.
“Anyone else?” Lucas looked Joy in the eyes.
Her moment of truth. “I’m good.”
Lucas gave Kyle a single nod. “Do it, man.”
Kyle opened a bottle of Mountain Dew and sprinkled it all over baby Jesus and the burlap bag.
Why did he do that? Wait. What was that smell? Gasoline. He had gasoline in that bottle, not Mountain Dew. Smart. But did Joy really want to be a part of that?
Lucas lit a match and dropped it in the hole. Fire caught immediately.
Joy watched as the flames licked the baby’s face. She glanced at Raven, who seemed to be in a trance as she stared into the fire.
Kyle stepped forward as he closed his eyes and raised his face toward the moon. “May our actions tonight serve as a symbol of our desire to separate ourselves from organized religion, matters of God, obligation, and accountability. Let this symbolic act serve as proof of our desire to be separated from all things of God and released to exist as the human spirits we were meant to be.” He opened his eyes and stepped back into place in the circle around the grave.
Wow. That was deep. Joy looked around the circle. Everyone stood transfixed on the burning baby. She looked into the consuming flames, the image no longer recognizable.
Bright lights drenched the space and shone on their faces.
“Hold it right there. What do you think you’re doing?”
Joy froze, her heartbeat stilled. Busted.
Kyle turned and sprinted into the trees like a shot. A cop tore off after him.
Raven and Luc stepped closer to each other, and Raven slipped her hand in Luc’s.
Joy stood alone.
“Drop to your knees, and put your hands behind your head.”
If only Joy could have an out-of-body experience now.
How was she to talk her way out of this one?
“Trespassing.” Bang.
“Destruction of private property.” Bang.
“Theft.” Bang.
Dad slammed his fist on the kitchen table with each word.
Joy slumped lower and lower in her seat with each jolt.
“You know, Joy Christianson, those were words I never thought I’d hear associated with you, let alone on Christmas Eve. I don’t get it.” Dad put his head down in his hands.
Mom wiped away a tear. “I don’t understand either. Do you realize what you were doing? You and your … friends … were burning a stolen baby Jesus in a grave on Christmas Eve?” Mom paced across the kitchen.
“Oh!” She whipped around to face Joy. “I get it now. Those people you’re hanging around with, the clothes you’re wearing, your mood change … it’s all making sense. How could we not have seen what was happening right before our eyes?” Mom hung her head and sobbed. She dropped into a chair and laid her face on the table, the weight of her realization too much to bear.
“Any of the possible things, Joy, drugs, pregnancy, anything you could have done would have been preferable to this.” Dad glared at her.
Mom lifted her head and looked at Dad. “I don’t know what to do. We have to do something. I don’t even know how this would work.” She jumped up and started pacing again.
Dad stared ahead, all his words gone. He looked beaten.
“What do you do, Alan? Ground someone for satanic sacrifice in a cemetery? Is that the standard protocol? I don’t think there’s much about this in a typical parenting manual.”
What could Joy say? It sounded really bad when Mom put it that way, but Dad looked ill.
“Daddy?”
Joy waited. And waited.
Finally he turned his face toward her. His eyes sagged. Defeated.
What had she done to them? But maybe if they understood. “You guys, you have to have an open mind. Listen, I just started searching. I needed answers about life and death and eternity and all of that. Some things happened and my eyes opened to stuff I’d never considered before. You’ve always taught me to study and learn and decide for myself. So I did.”
Face red with anger, Mom pointed her finger in Joy’s face. “Don’t you dare turn this on us and suggest we encouraged you to go off on a search like this. I will not accept that, and don’t you dare try to convince me you’re right about this.” She covered her mouth and ran from the room, her sobs growing even louder as she moved farther from the kitchen.
Dad shook his head. He didn’t say a word.
“Daddy, trust me. If you would listen, you’d understand why I …”
He turned his pale face, eyes brimming with tears, toward Joy. “I love you with all my heart. That will never change, but I’m telling you right now I won’t understand, and I won’t listen to you justify why you sacrificed baby Jesus.”
“But Dad …”
“I only wish I’d been a better example to you. I’ve let you down.” Dad stared down at the floor.
Oh man. Yeah, it might’ve helped, but now she needed to feel guilty that he felt guilty? Too much.
Dad stared into Joy’s eyes. “I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. You’re a shadow of the person you once were.”
“That’s way more than Melanie is. She doesn’t even cast a shadow anymore.” Joy jumped from her chair. “There’s nothing you can do about this. A person’s spiritual journey is personal. I’ve chosen the path to walk mine.”