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Go Back To Bed
12/1/2025
Gary was zipping up his postal uniform jacket when Abby entered the kitchen. “I’m sorry, honey. Did I wake you?”
She groaned and zombie-walked to the table. “Teddy was fussing. Just got him back in the crib.”
“Try to get some more sleep. I’ll be home later.”
She flopped an arm across the table and dragged her Advent calendar closer. She picked at the edges of door number one until it opened. She pulled a chocolate out and pinched it between her fingers, but it didn’t give. “I thought these were the cream-filled ones.”
“I’ll pick one up on the way home.” Gary smiled and waved. “Go on back to bed. Nothing to worry about. See you later.”
She rolled her face toward him and opened one eye before waving. The waving hand plopped onto the table. Her soft, steady breathing told him she’d fallen asleep.
Gary shook his head. “Well, you definitely won’t appreciate my leaving you in that uncomfortable position.” He wrapped her arm around the back of his neck and his arm around her waist, carrying her back to her bed like a drunk friend. He tucked her in and swept the long hair out of her face. He paused to look at Teddy in his crib like a modern-day cherub.
He had gotten accustomed to the routine of sneaking silently from the house over the last nine months. Trying not to wake the baby was certainly less fraught than nine months wondering if he’d lose her the way he’d lost Tracy.
He climbed into his Bronco and said a brief prayer that the rumbling monster under his hood didn’t wake the baby. Backing slowly out of the driveway, he turned to aim himself toward the gas station. He had meant to fill up on the way home, but Teddy was fussing. They’d had him out in the cold of the town square a bit too long for Gary’s comfort.
‘All I need is a baby with a case of pneumonia.’
He shifted into drive and headed toward the Grab & Go. In moments, he was sidling up to a pump. Gary locked up and headed inside to the cashier. “Twenty-five on pump three.” He handed the bills to the young man while studying his eyes. ‘Green, but not deep emerald green like Teddy’s. No hero, either.’ The kid went back to whatever mental stasis he resorted to between customers.
“Hey, Gary.”
He turned to see who had given the greeting. “Oh, hey, Mike. Heading to work or just finishing a tour?”
“Wrapping up the first night with my trainee. Syl, Gary’s a friend of mine from church.”
The young policeman had been eyeing the bear claws and danishes. He turned around to shake hands. “That’s short for Sylvester. Nice to meet you, sir.”
‘Those eyes!’
Sylvester leaned back under Gary’s accusing glare. “Did I say something wrong, Mike?”
“No, buddy. Grab a danish. I’ll spot you.” Mike interposed himself and gently walked Gary to the door. “Gary, what are you doing?”
“Those eyes.”
“Yeah, good-looking kid.” His smile melted. “Now, just you wait. Syl just got into town last week from Colorado. He’s never been here before, and there’s no chance. Alright? None. Teddy’s got coal-black hair, and look at him.” He waved to his partner. “With Abby’s light hair and him looking like a mango water ice fell on his head? Not him. Go pump your gas, and we’ll talk when your brain returns to your body.”
Gary sneered over Mike’s shoulder as the policeman plowed him gently but firmly out the door. ‘Those eyes don’t lie, Mike. We’ll meet again, Sylvester with the flaming red hair.’
He noticed the credit on the pump. Gary breathed deeply, allowing his rational thought process to resume. ‘Flaming red hair? Teddy would be strawberry blond at the very least.’ He hung the nozzle back into place and got into the SUV. “Isidore?”
Sanctus bells jingled. “Good morning, Gary. You seem to be a bit behind your time.”
“Yes, I had to stop for gas.”
“Fortunately, you have sufficient time to arrive at work early. There is a cement truck blocking Maple Street in the four hundred block. You may wish to proceed on Linden this morning.”
“Thank you for the heads-up.” He pulled away from the pump and out to the road.
“You sound tense, Gary. Is anything amiss?”
“Just stirring myself up, as usual.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve been looking for a certain pair of eyes.”
“For what purpose?”
“To identify Teddy’s father.”
“And you saw some similar eyes?”
“Yes, very intense green. Very similar, but not exact. If you mixed that green with Abby’s brown, you could get Teddy’s shade of green.”
“But?”
“The guy’s a rooster. Teddy would be a flaming redhead if this guy was his dad.”
“Correct. If this man’s hair is as red as you say, Theodore could not have dark hair.”
“So, what’s to be done?”
“Shall I draft a prayer to Saint Teresa of Ávila for her aid in finding inner peace?”
“It’s just me tying myself in knots?”
“That seems to be the shortest journey to the truth. Shall I add this to a list of reminders for confession this week?”
“I’m unlikely to forget, but add it anyway. Who knows what other torments await me this week?”
“Saint Peter tells us that Satan prowls like a lion, seeking someone to devour, but he is less effective at destroying us than we are of ourselves. Pray for peace, Gary. Advent has just begun. It is a time for hopeful anticipation of the fulfillment of the prophecies of God’s love for us. If God can love you, surely you can. You’re the only you that you have.”