passenger door and followed his boot prints back the way he came. Jared tried to step into his earlier tracks, pretending that he needed to confuse a wolf following him.
It took longer than he’d thought, the sun almost down when he crossed the park boundary. As he came down the last ridge, Jared saw that the pickup was parked in the yard, the lights on in the front room. He remembered it was Saturday and his father had gotten his paycheck. When Jared opened the door, the small red glass pipe was on the coffee table, an empty baggie beside it. His father kneeled before the fireplace, meticulously arranging and rearranging kindling around an oak log. A dozen crushed beer cans lay amid the kindling, balanced on the log itself three red-and-white fishing bobbers. His mother sat on the couch, her eyes glazed as she told Jared’s father how to arrange the cans. In her lap lay a roll of tinfoil she was cutting into foot-long strips.
“Look what we’re making,” she said, smiling at Jared. “It’s going to be our Christmas tree.”
When he didn’t speak, his mother’s smile quivered.
“Don’t you like it, honey?”
His mother got up, strips of tinfoil in her left hand. She kneeled beside the hearth and carefully draped them on the oak log and kindling.
Jared walked into the kitchen and took the milk from the refrigerator. He washed a bowl and spoon left in the sink and poured some cereal. After he ate Jared went into his bedroom and closed the door. He sat on his bed and took the ring from his pocket and set it in his palm. He placed the ring under the lamp’s bulb and swayed his hand slowly back and forth so the stone’s different colors flashed and merged. He’d give it to Lyndee when they were on the playground, on the first sunny day after Christmas vacation so she could see how pretty the ring’s colors were. Once he gave it to her, Lyndee would finally like him, and it would be for real.
Jared didn’t hear his father until the door swung open.
“Your mother wants you to help light the tree.”
The ring fell onto the wooden floor. Jared picked it up and closed his hand.
“What’s that?” his father asked.
“Nothing,” Jared said. “Just something I found in the woods.”
“Let me see.”
Jared opened his hand. His father stepped closer andtook the ring. He pressed the ring with his thumb and finger.
“That’s surely a fake diamond, but the ring looks to be real gold.”
His father tapped it against the bedpost as if the sound could confirm its authenticity. His father called his mother and she came into the room.
“Look what Jared found,” he said, and handed her the ring. “It’s gold.”
His mother set the ring in her palm, held it out before her so they all three could see it.
“Where’d you find it, honey?”
“In the woods,” Jared said.
“I didn’t know you could find rings in the woods,” his mother said dreamily. “But isn’t it wonderful that you can.”
“That diamond can’t be real, can it?” his father asked.
His mother stepped close to the lamp. She cupped her hand and slowly rocked it back and forth, watching the different colors flash inside the stone.
“It might be,” his mother said.
“Can I have it back?” Jared asked.
“Not until we find out if it’s real, son,” his father said.
His father took the ring from his mother’s palm and placed it in his pants pocket. Then he went into the other bedroom and got his coat.
“I’m going down to Bryson City and find out if it’s real or not.”
“But you’re not going to sell it,” Jared said.
“I’m just going to have a jeweler look at it,” his father said, already putting on his coat. “We need to know what it’s worth, don’t we? We might have to insure it. You and your momma go ahead and light our Christmas tree. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
“It’s not a Christmas tree,” Jared said.
“Sure it is, son,” his father replied. “It’s just one that’s
It took longer than he’d thought, the sun almost down when he crossed the park boundary. As he came down the last ridge, Jared saw that the pickup was parked in the yard, the lights on in the front room. He remembered it was Saturday and his father had gotten his paycheck. When Jared opened the door, the small red glass pipe was on the coffee table, an empty baggie beside it. His father kneeled before the fireplace, meticulously arranging and rearranging kindling around an oak log. A dozen crushed beer cans lay amid the kindling, balanced on the log itself three red-and-white fishing bobbers. His mother sat on the couch, her eyes glazed as she told Jared’s father how to arrange the cans. In her lap lay a roll of tinfoil she was cutting into foot-long strips.
“Look what we’re making,” she said, smiling at Jared. “It’s going to be our Christmas tree.”
When he didn’t speak, his mother’s smile quivered.
“Don’t you like it, honey?”
His mother got up, strips of tinfoil in her left hand. She kneeled beside the hearth and carefully draped them on the oak log and kindling.
Jared walked into the kitchen and took the milk from the refrigerator. He washed a bowl and spoon left in the sink and poured some cereal. After he ate Jared went into his bedroom and closed the door. He sat on his bed and took the ring from his pocket and set it in his palm. He placed the ring under the lamp’s bulb and swayed his hand slowly back and forth so the stone’s different colors flashed and merged. He’d give it to Lyndee when they were on the playground, on the first sunny day after Christmas vacation so she could see how pretty the ring’s colors were. Once he gave it to her, Lyndee would finally like him, and it would be for real.
Jared didn’t hear his father until the door swung open.
“Your mother wants you to help light the tree.”
The ring fell onto the wooden floor. Jared picked it up and closed his hand.
“What’s that?” his father asked.
“Nothing,” Jared said. “Just something I found in the woods.”
“Let me see.”
Jared opened his hand. His father stepped closer andtook the ring. He pressed the ring with his thumb and finger.
“That’s surely a fake diamond, but the ring looks to be real gold.”
His father tapped it against the bedpost as if the sound could confirm its authenticity. His father called his mother and she came into the room.
“Look what Jared found,” he said, and handed her the ring. “It’s gold.”
His mother set the ring in her palm, held it out before her so they all three could see it.
“Where’d you find it, honey?”
“In the woods,” Jared said.
“I didn’t know you could find rings in the woods,” his mother said dreamily. “But isn’t it wonderful that you can.”
“That diamond can’t be real, can it?” his father asked.
His mother stepped close to the lamp. She cupped her hand and slowly rocked it back and forth, watching the different colors flash inside the stone.
“It might be,” his mother said.
“Can I have it back?” Jared asked.
“Not until we find out if it’s real, son,” his father said.
His father took the ring from his mother’s palm and placed it in his pants pocket. Then he went into the other bedroom and got his coat.
“I’m going down to Bryson City and find out if it’s real or not.”
“But you’re not going to sell it,” Jared said.
“I’m just going to have a jeweler look at it,” his father said, already putting on his coat. “We need to know what it’s worth, don’t we? We might have to insure it. You and your momma go ahead and light our Christmas tree. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
“It’s not a Christmas tree,” Jared said.
“Sure it is, son,” his father replied. “It’s just one that’s
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