"It's jes' me Belle," he said as pulled open the kitchen door.
I reckon after all these years I know when a fella has stuff on his mind, but ain't no rushin' a pensive man. "Luther, yore timin' is infallible--Uncle's venison sausage is still warm on the stove. But hep yoreself 'cause I'se up to mah elbows in this cookie dough. Cawfee is hot too iffin' ya ned a refill."
He settled into Uncle's fireside chair. "Whar's that ole man of your'n? Already down to the huntin' camp?"
I stretched some plastic over the bowl of dough an' shoved it in to the icebox. "Oh no...he's over to missus Simmons heppin' her stand up them Christmas yard deer what the wind blew down last night. Her boy went off courtin' over to Palatka fer the weekend an' stayed on fer a few days. She is fit to be tied, sayin' how James Roy is runnin' after a hank 'o' hair he met at some trade show an' now he spends all his time wif' them strangers livin' way up the highway."
Luther snorted, "Has Aloysius got a case of Christmas do-goodism?"
"Naw, but heppin' Missus Simmons wif' her decorations is the price fer her liver pate. I doan make the stuff, but Uncle loves it, an' Janey Simmons knowed that. She done leveraged that pate of hers fer years. Reckon Christmas cain't come 'lessen Janey calls over heah an' as't Uncle to do somethin' fer her round her place an then he can wax poetical over her pate."
Luther smiled to hisself. He mumbled, "Pah Tay". Out loud he said, "The widow's pate, huh?"
"Doan git no ideas Luther," I huffed. "Thang is, I wouldn'a have folks thinkin' yore comin' up mah walk this early meant nuthin' more'n than youse stewin' over somethin'."
" I is."
He din't say nuthin' more. So I fussed about at the sink some, jes' waitin'.
"Belle, thas' a purty tree y'all put up. Uh-huh...real purty....we has a tree only half done. Seems we's lost heart on account of Mary Sue brought home another fella this year. She say he is jes' a dear friend, but I seen her eyes is twinklin'. He's a stranger. An' I means a strange stanger. An' too ole' fer her. Doan see much in him, but our gal sure sees somethin'. She acts like she done dragged home a 10 point buck."
I chuckled to meself. "Mebbe he is--in her world. Now she's a big city air traffic expert, off up yonder, this kinda fella mayhap is to her new way of thinkin'."
"He ain't to mah way of thinkin', thas' certain. Spends the whole time after supper out on the side steps shoutin' into his fancy fruitphone. Rest of the time he has that applepod thang stuck in his ear. Mary -Sue say he's listenin' to NOAA weather reports. How does she know? Why's he wanna know so much about the weather? Mebbe he's listenin' to phone love. I hear him snortin' while he listens."
I spit a mouthful of cawfee into the sink. After I wiped mah mouth clean I said, "Luther, Mary Sue can be trusted to pick a decent fella. She's 30 years old an has a fine haid on her shoulders. Iffin' he is snortin', reckon it's that he might be worriet about blizzards shuttin' down his way home."
He kicked out a laig, hitched up straight in the chair. "He has a Roosian name too. Bogdanovich Nick Bogdanovich. Ain't ever had nuthin' like a Bogdanovich in mah house afore. He came in heaped high wif' boxes an' such. It ain't natural to git presents from folks ya' doan know. AN' when he seen we ain't finished our tree, he took it on hisself to put the star on the top."
"Luther youse jes' suspicious cause he is sweet on yore baby-doll,Mary Sue, an' he ain't from round' heah. His ways ain't any stranger than our own way must be to him--ever think o' that?"
"He has a friendly visage, I reckon, but he's a big woolly Roosian an' fer all we know he sleeps wif' a baryshnikov under his bed."
I shook mah haid in laughter. "Luther, go on home. Hang up every ornament in the house an' make merry. Smile an' laugh and make Nick feel welcome. It's Christmas. Make folks welcome when they show up on yore doorstep. Some folks has entertained angels unaware in jes' that spirit of makin' the stranger welcome."
*
