Read Online Comfort and Joy by Jim Grimsley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jim Grimsley
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too goodlookingto be havingtrouble findinga woman."
"How do I dealwithMomand Dad?"
She blew out misty breath, turning to the imposing house that overshadowed them both. "I don't know. Let's think about it." She ran a hand through his hair and pulled him against her side. "But I wouldn't rushinto anything."
"If they're planning to parade half of Savannah's finest in front ofme, I don't know ifI canstand it."
"You're not here that long; hold your breath and drink a lot of eggnog."She kissed his forehead and they wandered toward the parlor lights. "Wait till you get yourself straightened out with this man. Or till you get somebody else you care about. You need a little support before you take on the whole twenty-nine generations ofMcKinneys and Strachns."
generations ofMcKinneys and Strachns."
Christmas Eve at Grandmother Strachn's followed a script written before either Ford or Courtenay was born, beginning with the formal dinner Ford had missed, ending with gift exchanges and half-hearted carolingaround the antique Steinway in the middle parlor. As at most Savannah social occasions, everyone drank throughout the evening, and when Ford entered, still arm-in-arm with his sister, the room glowed with flushed faces and bulbous noses etched with broken capillaries. Ford greeted Grandmother Strachnat once, seated inher high-backed chair at the center of her family. He kissed the delicate old skin of her cheeks. Aunt Rose had just seated herself at the piano and, after Ford had kissed his mother and the other aunts and had shaken hands with his father and the men, Aunt Rose struck up the first chords of "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing." Glass in hand, Ford joined the circle of voices. His mother contrived to have Lisa Stillwellstand next to him. Theyhad rounded their way through "Joy to the World" and into "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night."Flushed with his success (and with what he considered to be his rather good baritone), Ford managed to speak politely to Lisa as Aunt Rose flipped the pages of her yellowed music book. He caught his mother watching with a look of private satisfaction as he complimented Lisa's singing. Aunt Rose reached her destination and struck up the opening chords of"God Rest Ye, MerryGentlemen."
The song catapulted him back to Atlanta. He tried to control himself, but after the conversation with Courtenay, his heart refused control and he knew he could not stand here. Not with this sinking in his gut. He excused himself quickly. He shut himself in the downstairs bathroomand locked the door, leaning against the wallout ofsight ofthe mirror.
He could still hear the song, but not as sung by his family's ragged choir. The voice in his head, rich and full, filled him with loneliness. But he played the memory through, beginning to end, the sadness and beauty of the voice, and at its end he looked himselfinthe eye inthe mirror. Takinga deep breath, he let go of the ache and willed it to subside. "I will take care of this," he said, "I promise," though he himself did not know for whom the said, "I promise," though he himself did not know for whom the promise was made.
After that, even the most superficial conversation with Lisa pained him, and he avoided her presence. Once his mother whispered, "You've hardly spoken to poor Lisa, and she was so happy when she found out you were going to be here tonight. Why don't you ask her about her internship? She's working for Senator Nunnthis summer, youknow."
"She's so much shorter than I am, I have to shout at her to get her to hear me, Mother. It's just no use."
She laughed, her strand ofpearls tremblingagainst her bosom. "Ford, how awful. She's reallynot so bad."
"Don't start, Mother. I'll pick my own conversation partners, even at Grandmother's Christmas party." To forestall any heightening of the argument, he kissed his mother's powdered brow and sat onthe floor beside Grandmother Strachn's chair.
"There's my Ford," Grandmother said in her dry voice, pressing her
"How do I dealwithMomand Dad?"
She blew out misty breath, turning to the imposing house that overshadowed them both. "I don't know. Let's think about it." She ran a hand through his hair and pulled him against her side. "But I wouldn't rushinto anything."
"If they're planning to parade half of Savannah's finest in front ofme, I don't know ifI canstand it."
"You're not here that long; hold your breath and drink a lot of eggnog."She kissed his forehead and they wandered toward the parlor lights. "Wait till you get yourself straightened out with this man. Or till you get somebody else you care about. You need a little support before you take on the whole twenty-nine generations ofMcKinneys and Strachns."
generations ofMcKinneys and Strachns."
Christmas Eve at Grandmother Strachn's followed a script written before either Ford or Courtenay was born, beginning with the formal dinner Ford had missed, ending with gift exchanges and half-hearted carolingaround the antique Steinway in the middle parlor. As at most Savannah social occasions, everyone drank throughout the evening, and when Ford entered, still arm-in-arm with his sister, the room glowed with flushed faces and bulbous noses etched with broken capillaries. Ford greeted Grandmother Strachnat once, seated inher high-backed chair at the center of her family. He kissed the delicate old skin of her cheeks. Aunt Rose had just seated herself at the piano and, after Ford had kissed his mother and the other aunts and had shaken hands with his father and the men, Aunt Rose struck up the first chords of "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing." Glass in hand, Ford joined the circle of voices. His mother contrived to have Lisa Stillwellstand next to him. Theyhad rounded their way through "Joy to the World" and into "While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night."Flushed with his success (and with what he considered to be his rather good baritone), Ford managed to speak politely to Lisa as Aunt Rose flipped the pages of her yellowed music book. He caught his mother watching with a look of private satisfaction as he complimented Lisa's singing. Aunt Rose reached her destination and struck up the opening chords of"God Rest Ye, MerryGentlemen."
The song catapulted him back to Atlanta. He tried to control himself, but after the conversation with Courtenay, his heart refused control and he knew he could not stand here. Not with this sinking in his gut. He excused himself quickly. He shut himself in the downstairs bathroomand locked the door, leaning against the wallout ofsight ofthe mirror.
He could still hear the song, but not as sung by his family's ragged choir. The voice in his head, rich and full, filled him with loneliness. But he played the memory through, beginning to end, the sadness and beauty of the voice, and at its end he looked himselfinthe eye inthe mirror. Takinga deep breath, he let go of the ache and willed it to subside. "I will take care of this," he said, "I promise," though he himself did not know for whom the said, "I promise," though he himself did not know for whom the promise was made.
After that, even the most superficial conversation with Lisa pained him, and he avoided her presence. Once his mother whispered, "You've hardly spoken to poor Lisa, and she was so happy when she found out you were going to be here tonight. Why don't you ask her about her internship? She's working for Senator Nunnthis summer, youknow."
"She's so much shorter than I am, I have to shout at her to get her to hear me, Mother. It's just no use."
She laughed, her strand ofpearls tremblingagainst her bosom. "Ford, how awful. She's reallynot so bad."
"Don't start, Mother. I'll pick my own conversation partners, even at Grandmother's Christmas party." To forestall any heightening of the argument, he kissed his mother's powdered brow and sat onthe floor beside Grandmother Strachn's chair.
"There's my Ford," Grandmother said in her dry voice, pressing her
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