The Gospel According to Joe

I want to tell you about this guy. Just an ordinary guy. Nothing special. A woodworker. Carpenter, really. Worked in kitchen cabinets, bathroom renovations. The kind of fellow you'd call when you needed a guy to show up everyday, on time, and always give the low bid.

Joe was his name. Nice young Jewish guy. Actually, not quite so young anymore, but not one of those guys who hangs around the hardware at lunch time, either. Went to temple on Sabbath, knew the Torah, did alright.

It was at temple, one Saturday, that he saw her. Couldn't have been over fifteen or sixteen. Something about her that he couldn't get out of his head all week long. Started showing up early for temple. Hanging around late, you know, going to coffee and doughnuts afterward. Stuff he'd never done before. Started asking around about her.

Mary. That was her name. Kind of quiet. Smart, they said. But no one really knew too much about her. Joe decide he needed to.

So he started hanging around the coffee pot when she'd go to get a cup. Making small talk...the only kind of talk he really knew how to make. Weather, that sort of thing. Sort of thing doesn't go a whole long way with a girl unless she's a little interested in a guy to begin with. And after a while, I guess she just kind of got a little interested. He'd walk her home from temple. Make up excuses to show up where she might be: at the supermarket, the dry cleaners, the bakery. Just clumsy stuff that a guy who's falling hard for a girl doesn't have the good sense to know is kind of cute and pathetic, all at the same time.

But she didn't mind.

Now, Mary was the kind of girl that, while she was really kind of nice looking, didn't have suitors beating down the door. Can't say why, really, just didn't have the "spark" that they talk about. I guess she and Joe were almost meant for each other: two utterly ordinary people who, like ordinary people for millions of years before them, found one another and became extraordinary in one another's eyes...transformed by love, I guess you'd call it...even if only to one another, which is all that matters in these affairs anyway.

So they courted for a year or so and, as most people expected, they decided to tie the knot. They set a date in June and everything seemed to be going swell until the day Mary had to sit Joe down and have a serious talk with him...had to let him know some news he was not going to be anxious or happy to know.

She told him she was pregnant.

Now Joe was a strict sort of guy, being a good bit older than Mary. Like from another generation. And he knew good and well that, if Mary was with child, it was not as a result of anything that he had been involved with. He was devastated. "Who...how...why?" was all he could get out.

And when Mary told him that "God was the father of the child", well that only made matters worse.

"Now, don't you be mocking me, Mary!" he cried. "Haven't I always been good and decent and honest with you? Why are you treating me this way? It's bad enough you're telling me about being with another man, and now you're making fun of me by expecting me to believe that the other guy is God!?"

And he left. Didn't see her or call her or even return her phone messages for over a week.

One night he was sitting out on the back stoop of his place, looking at the stars and just having a smoke. Out at the edge of the yard he heard a noise and, in the dark, could just barely make out the shadow of someone at the edge of the light. "Hullo, Joe!" the shadow called.

"Hullo yourself! Come on over here in the light where I can make out your face!"

This fellow stepped out from under the clothesline and walked over toward Joe on the stoop. Sort of medium height, dark hair. Looked like he'd been on the road a piece.

"Got a light?" he asked.

"Sure. Set a spell." Joe replied.

And the stranger came over, bummed a match, and the two of them sat smoking silently for what seemed like a long time. "I don't know what to think anymore," Joe started...he didn't know why. What did he have to lose? Guys will talk this way to strangers...seems kind of safe, that anonymity. Talk in ways they won't talk with fellows they have to face everyday. "I'm just a simple guy. I see this unbelievable girl in temple one day, never thinking she'd look twice at an older guy like me, and...like out of a fairy tale...we go for one another. It's like more than I deserve. Things are going great. Why, business is even picking up. And then this whole thing! Why me?"

The question hung in the air, like the smoke from their cigarettes.

"You know, Joe, she might be telling the truth," the stranger finally spoke. "And there are things going on that folks like you and me just can't understand. Ain't supposed to understand. Just forget about how awful you feel right now and think about what she must be going through. She loves you and she ain't never lied to you before, has she? Think about it: you know her as well as anybody. Does it seem like something she'd do? I don't think so and you know it ain't. Swallow her damn pride and go over there and start acting like a man. Maybe you got a part in something that's bigger than your understanding. That's all."

"I don't know," Joe said. "I mean, what will people think? Either I'm a loose guy or a fool. What about the kid? This isn't anyway to start a life."

"Maybe it's just bigger than you are, Joe. Just bigger than you are."

Joe was quiet for a long time, just staring at the sky. A star shot across the horizon, a long, fiery tail in its wake. "You think I'm being selfish, don't you. I'm not only thinking of myself. Really. Truly." He turned to the stranger, but there was no one there. He listened out in the bushes...for the guy taking a leak or moving through them. Nothing. "I don't know," he kept saying over again to himself, as the ash from his smoke grew long and feathery and danced away on the night wind.

Next day Joe got out of bed and, instead of going to the shop first thing, walked over to Mary's house. First time he'd gone there in his work clothes. He'd always dressed up sort of nice before. Mary's mom answered the door. It was pretty early so she wasn't made up or anything. Mary wasn't even awake yet.

Mary's Mom was glad to see him, though. Didn't say a thing about how early it was. Invited him and fixed him a cup of coffee. Said she'd go right up and get Mary.

He sat down and stared at the cup. He thought about what he was going to tell her. He's been up all night thinking about it. Thinking about how he was about to do the most frightening thing he'd ever done in his life. He was a guy who learned in temple...as a little kid...about living by the rules. They gave his life order, comfort. Turning his back on this situation had been easy: it was following the rules. Shun those who sin, remove yourself from sinful situations. But that guy last night had been right. Mary was no loose woman. She wasn't any liar. Maybe she was crazy and he was just finding out about it. He'd heard trauma can do that to people. But what he'd done to her, he knew, wasn't right. Sure, it followed the rules, but it still wasn't right.

'Cause what was going to happen to her? What was she going to do? Have the baby, sure. But then what? Live with her mother, he guessed, and live out the rest of her life alone. If he was her first serious suitor, she hadn't lived a life that involved a lot of romance, he had no illusions about himself. He had no illusions about her anymore, either. No, he knew what he had to do. He took a hit of his coffee and longed for a cigarette. The hot liquid moved through his body, limb by limb, and he shook his head, newly revived. He was not a guy who took risks. He'd "measure twice, cut once," as his father had taught him. But he knew where the rules pointed him and yet he knew he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was ready to admit his mistake, accept her situation and her love and their future, even though he understood nothing about any of it. He was taking his first step out into the unknown. He was about to begin being a father.

Mary came in, hastily made up, nervous but happy to see him. She was beginning to show a little, she was just a stick of a girl, anyway. Only sixteen or so, like I said. She stood by the edge of the table fingering her blouse, saying nothing. Her mother hovered by the kitchen door, waiting to see if it was safe to leave her daughter alone.

"I missed you, Joe!" Mary almost whispered, her voice breaking a little. She fought to compose herself, cleared her throat. "You OK?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I'm better." Joe's voice was a choked whisper as well.

Her hands left her blouse. She put her right hand to her face, as the other steadied itself on the table as she shook with tears. Joe...the old Joe, the rule follower, the certain, moral guy...measured the scene only once. Then, like a moth emerging from a cocoon, he rose up from his seat and took her in his arms with a gentleness he'd never known before. He took her to his seat and sat her down on his lap and cradled her like the baby she carried. The one from God. She buried her face into his unshaven chin, his shoulder, his chest. He stroked her hair and held her, wide eyed and confused. Mary's mother turned from the doorway and left them alone.

So they got married. It was a simple service, no point in making a big deal of it. Mary was showing pretty much by then and, despite all the altering her mother and sister did with the dress, the pleating, the high waist, lots of flowing cloth and all, there was no mistaking that this was a woman with child. Joe never said a word. Never showed that look of shame or that faint sneer of pride other guys marrying a girl in this "condition" might wear. No, he smiled and thanked people and treated Mary with all the tenderness and respect that any groom bestows on his new bride. The papers were discreet about their description of the ceremony. But then, this was the kind of couple...just two utterly ordinary people...that never get much room in the press anyway.

They had fixed up Joe's old place, which was not a bad place. Joe was an orderly kind of fellow. Older, like I said. So it wasn't like Mary had to go in and shovel out a year's worth of beer cans or anything. He'd kept his place clean and orderly. It just didn't have much personality was all. Mary came in, scrubbed down the walls, made some new drapes, put some flowers around, stuck a couple of cheap paintings from the market on the wall, and it looked like a home. The sun even seemed to come in a little brighter. The backyard bloomed for the first time, after years of Joe's pathetic attempts. They settled in. Joe's saws and tools buzzed busily from the shop he'd moved to the garage and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the sawdust out to where Joe worked. He stopped, wiped his brow, and smiled, almost certain he'd done the right thing. They lived OK. Times were hard, the carpenter business was slow, but they made out. Mary had put in a little garden in the back yard so they had plenty of food. Joe even gained a little weight for the first time in his life. And their nights were filled with all the fever of a newly married couple. Joe often sat on the back stoop, having stirred awake in the middle of the night, looking at the stars and smoking. The North Star blazed like a beacon. "...just bigger than me. Bigger than me." he repeated, snubbed out his smoke and went back into bed.

They got this letter one day. Actually, it was for Joe. Government business. Everybody got one just like it. It was from the Census Bureau. It was time for the census and, in typical government fashion, they were trying something entirely new that was going to be a terrific pain in the ass for everyone except the government. The administration was battling a big budget deficit and polls showed plummeting approval ratings. So, in an effort to cut down on the costs of hiring census takers who would travel from house to house, they decided they could save a bundle by having everyone come to the census takers instead. But to combat the increasing problem of illegal aliens, they needed everyone to go the hometown of their fathers to register.

No one, in fact, liked the government's plan, but they had little choice. Joe's father had been a southerner, from a little town a good days trip from their home in the north. When the farming got bad and the economy stumbled back about forty-fifty years ago Joe's whole family had picked up and moved up to the cities of the north, where the times were better and there was more demand for good cabinetry. Joe didn't think there was even a stray aunt or uncle left down there to stay with. Plus, Joe's old pick-up was really only intended for hauling lumber to and from the shop. He and Mary had taken it out to the mountains nearby on a camping trip or two, once to the lake for a picnic, but he hadn't had it on the highway...not for a trip of this length...for years. Not since he'd rebuilt the engine with his buddy, Al. No, this trip was going to be long, expensive, and worrisome.

Joe, knowing that it was a done deal and that complaining wasn't going to make the trip any easier, tried to put as good a face on the situation as he could. "Well, we can do some camping along the way, take a side trip or two, make a holiday of it."

Mary, who had not enjoyed the last camping trip they'd gone on, who was finding it increasingly difficult to sleep in a regular bed without bracing herself up on every side with every pillow in the house and who knew her due date and was incredulous that Joe didn't remember, simply put her hands on her hips and gave Joe that withering kind of look that wives reserve only for their husbands.

Joe, of course, was familiar with the look and realized that he was being, once again, lumped in that great slag heap of disconnected, blithering men who have no understanding or appreciation of what their wives do or go through. Unredeemable. Hopeless.

They was going to have to go and they were simply going to have to trust that the truck and their cash would hold out. They'd been saving some, they lived pretty close to the edge most all the time, but they'd been able to put some away, thinking about the baby coming and all. By his figuring, if the truck would take it, they could start off at, say, two in the morning and, by driving pretty much non-stop, they could make it down to Bethlehem, his dad's hometown, by sundown or a little later the following day. They'd have to make stops for gas and for Mary to pee...she was peeing a lot these days...but if the truck didn't blow a tire or break down or anything they'd be alright. That way they'd only need to stay in a motel one night. If anything happened, though, they'd be in trouble.

God, Joe hated this kind of thing! While he worked within the world as he knew it and could control it he felt like a good husband and a responsible father-to-be. But he knew he was dancing with disaster all the time. If the furnace broke down, if one of his bigger tools needed to be replaced, if the birth was complicated, if one of them got sick, it was all out the window. They could be ruined. He thought about all this on his stoop at night. Mary had banned smoking in the house...the smell made her sick. So many smells made her sick these days. Everything was just so unpredictable now. It's hard for an older guy to make all this room in his narrow, ordered life. You just get used to things. Pretty soon you have someone else telling you what to do in your own house. Then you have a baby running around...getting you up in the middle of the night, breaking things, getting hurt, needing clothes, getting into trouble in the neighborhood. It was all just getting so out of his control. He always thought that, as you got older, maybe life got easier for you. Now, when a lot of his buddies were seeing their kids leaving home and them and the missus were finally getting some time alone again, Joe was just starting his own family. Plus, the kid wasn't even his! Joe hadn't thought about that much in a long time. It hadn't seemed to matter, really. He knew he wanted to have kids of his own, so Mary would be pregnant sooner or later anyway. So it wasn't like he couldn't imagine the child was his. But it was the kind of thing he brought out to help nurse along his misery when he wanted to simply wallow in his misfortune. Did he believe her story? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure it mattered. He couldn't really talk to anyone about it. What could he say, "Mary says God got her pregnant?" No, it'd only make it look bad for both of them. So it was just another one of those things he kept to himself, the way most guys do with a lot of things. He lit another cigarette and thought about the truck. Rotate the tires, dig up a spare someplace, change the oil, check all the hoses, probably need to get one of those little air freshener things...the ones shaped like the little cedar of Lebanon...the cab smelled like the ashtray. Mary complained about the smell of those fresheners but it was preferable to the ashtray, he figured. He'd called this 800 number for an inexpensive motel chain and gotten the rates and all. He'd call them in the morning and finalize that. He needed to get someone to feed the cat and take in the mail. He'd stopped the newspaper. It was all so complicated! He flicked his cigarette butt angrily into the yard. The sky was overcast. A chill was in the air and a storm was predicted for the morning hours. He turned up his collar and went back inside to bed. The door clicked shut behind him.

They went to bed early the night that they planned to leave. Mary had packed sandwiches and a big thermos of coffee, some fruit she found cheap at the market. Joe and his buddy, Al, had tuned up the truck and he'd borrowed a spare tire from Al's brother-in-law. There was a Motel Six on the outskirts of Bethlehem where he'd made a reservation. So, despite the fact that they'd be getting only six hours of sleep, Joe went to bed content that he'd taken care of everything and slept soundly.

They started out just after 2:00 AM. No one in the neighborhood stirred as the truck jerked to life and rumbled down the street. They'd brought every pillow and cushion from the house...Mary was wedged in the passenger seat, and was almost comfortable. It was winter, like I said, and the roads were in rough shape anyway. Mary announced each bump to Joe as they made their way south. By the time they finally hit the freeway they were both happy to leave the bumpy Galilee country roads behind. The sun had risen unseasonably hot and stark, there was no breeze. They opened the windows and enjoyed the wind in their faces. Mary sat with her head back and eyes closed, her hair dancing around the cab of the truck and trailing out the window. Joe looked at her and smiled. The road ahead was empty. The truck was running good. He relaxed behind the wheel and hummed to himself. Life, despite this damn census business, was good. Maybe this trip would turn out to be something they'd remember fondly in years to come. Who knows? Maybe they'd even enjoy it now.

It was getting on toward sundown, the road was more crowded now. They were on the by-pass, circling Jerusalem. Bethlehem was off on one of the spurs. A half-hour drive, he figured, on more of those country roads. He was just approaching the exit when Mary sat bolt upright in her seat and clutched her belly.

"Oh, my God!" she cried.

"What's wrong?" Joe nearly slammed on the brakes before he realized he was on the interstate.

"The baby!" she cried and stared at him wild-eyed. "The baby!" she repeated and convulsed again as the floor of the cab suddenly filled with water.

"The baby!" he thought. Damn! He'd forgotten about that! Though he was on an exit ramp he instinctively sped up, looking for...he didn't know what. He knew, this being their first baby, that it was not about to drop out onto the seat of the truck. He had time...hours, really...to take care of things. But he was overcome with fear and a frantic sense of responsibility. He wanted to make things right. He'd always hated to see Mary suffer...even to see her simply stub her toe made him tear up with helplessness. He was not naive enough that he didn't know that birthing a baby was a painful process. But he figured they'd be at home with her mother, her sisters and aunts, maybe even a midwife, if he could afford it, in their own bed...safe and familiar surroundings. Not some Motel Six hundreds of miles from home with only some nervous husband hovering around.

There was another feeling though. A new one. It was about the baby. He'd been helpful with the pregnancy, even grown excited about the birth in the past few weeks. He'd actually forgotten about this whole God business. It was his baby. His baby. But the baby had been there only in his imagination and in the bulge Mary wore so increasingly low under her apron. She'd been uncomfortable at night, but she'd never seemed healthier or happier. This baby talk was a little like make-believe. But now, with this new family member a matter of hours and a membrane away he knew that he was thinking as much about protecting the baby as he was Mary. He marveled at bit at this new feeling. This fatherly feeling. So this is what it was like! He smiled quietly. Mary convulsed again, nearly hitting her head on the dashboard. She grabbed for the armrest and, finding it was missing, she braced both hands on the dash.

"Please hurry!" she whispered, almost gasped, without looking in his direction.

"We'll be there in fifteen minutes!" Joe answered and crept the truck uncharacteristically over the speed limit.

The road was jammed with cars. The census had created havoc with the transportation systems. There wasn't a train or bus ticket to be had in the whole country. And even the road to Bethlehem was rush-hour thick with people returning to register. Bethlehem, like a lot of small towns, had suffered out-migration unkindly. The roads, the bridges, the schools, everything cried out for repair. Dwindling population meant dwindling tax dollars. And, being a farm market town, the drought of the previous two summers hadn't helped matters. People fled north to the factories and the mills in droves. More people seemed to be returning for the census than had ever lived in the town in all its history. Most were single heads of households who were empowered to register all their family members. A few, like Joe, couldn't leave their families behind and had everyone in tow.

All the motels, like they did on football weekends, jacked up the room prices and, in some cases were simply selling bed space, two to four unrelated men sharing a single room. Joe, with a wife...now a wife in labor...was glad he'd opted for a room all to themselves. He found the Motel Six and pulled into the parking lot. There was a line of people in front of him obviously being turned away. He was glad he had a reservation. Men with families peering hopefully from the backs of loaded-down station wagons fumbled with the excuses they'd give as they made their lonely, defeated way back to their cars. When Joe finally got to the front of the line he was almost immediately told, "Sorry, full up!" He proudly produced the reservation number he'd written down. The clerk looked blankly at the number, punched it into his computer and slid the paper back to Joe.

"Sorry, full up!"

"What do mean, 'full-up?' I made a reservation!" Joe was sure there was some mistake.

"Do you know what time it is?" the clerk asked, too tired to produce the sneer that would have normally accompany the question.

Joe looked at the clock on the wall behind the clerk. Seven thirty five.

"Unless you hold the room with a credit card, it's history at six PM. We don't have a single empty room. Not even a bed. Now, please, move along can't you see there's a big line behind you? Next!" he yelled, looking over Joe's shoulder. Joe turned numbly away. He did remember the operator asking him if he'd like to hold the room with a credit card, but she hadn't said anything about losing the room if you didn't. Besides, Joe didn't have a credit card. Hell, he barely had cash most days. He'd never stayed in a motel before. Didn't know the rules. Al had told him about getting a reservation, or else he wouldn't have even done that. The paper, mutilated from his nervousness, fell tiredly to the ground at his side. Now what was he going to do? He was hundreds of miles from the nearest person he knew, he had a wife in labor, no room, and just enough money in his pocket for the cheapest motel room in town.

"Please, let's get to our room." Mary entreated him when he slid back in the truck.

He gripped the wheel with both hands and lay his head against it. "No room!" was all he could get out. He was afraid he would start to cry, he was so desperate, if he said more. "They gave away our room." He tried to explain about the reservation and the credit card, but realized he was merely mumbling, almost incoherently, to himself. He looked at Mary. The disbelief and then desperation crept across her face, beaded with sweat from her labor. He steeled himself for her anger. It had been his fault. He'd been in charge of the trip. The truck, the motel, the arrangements, they'd all been his responsibility. He'd gone over everything three times. He'd prepared himself for every possible disaster. But he hadn't counted on this. And he certainly hadn't counted on the baby coming.

"Well, let's figure out what we're going to do," Mary said as she took his hand. It flinched slightly as another contraction hit her. He looked at her. He saw in her eyes, not understanding, but determination. They were linked by a job they had to do. They hadn't planned on doing it together, but they were going to now. And the work had begun. This baby was coming and it was their job to concentrate on shepherding it into this world safely.

Joe started up the truck and eased it out of the parking lot. He knew what he was looking for. He drove to where the houses thinned out and the stores were scarce. Up the road, three-four hundred yards he spotted it. He pulled into a service station...the kind that actually works on cars. No mini-mart, no video rentals, no pinball. Just a regular, old-fashion service station. Joe figured a guy who runs a place like that, he's always getting people in tight spots rolling in...people just like them tonight. He's used to thinking hard and coming up with ways to get people back home. Only now, Joe was looking for a home, if just for the night.

"Fill 'er up?" the guy asked as he came to the truck. He had a nice face and even leaned amiably against the door of the truck. He was used to assessing situations quickly and made a perfunctory scan of the body, the bed, the cab of the truck. He saw Mary, packed in pillows and obviously in pain pressed against the far door.

"You folks OK?" he asked. "She don't look so good."

"Actually, we're not OK. I'm down for the census," Joe offered, redundantly he realized...everybody was down for the census. "I made a reservation up at the Motel Six and there was a problem with it..."

Hayseeds, the guy thought, though he nodded sympathetically. The government screws 'em up one side and down the other. These two folks here, he thought, the girl can't be twenty...sick as a dog, looks like...and they ain't never been away from home before, you can tell by this old heap they're driving. But the government makes 'em come however far they've come, spend money they ain't got, to sign some damn forms it takes ten minutes to fill out and then turn right around and go home again. I mean, they ain't got the scratch to make a nice time out of it. Least the big wigs in Jerusalem could have done is make this whole mess happen in the summertime when they could have stopped at a lake or a state park, or camped out without freezing to death.

"...so, my wife here, she fixing to have her baby and, well, we've got no health insurance, can't just go to a hospital or a doctor or anything and wondered if you had any ideas. We're strangers and, well, we've never been in a fix like this before." Joe almost wept he was so ashamed. A man isn't supposed to beg like this. He isn't supposed to let things get out of hand like this.

"We've got a little money," he remembered to add quickly, "...that we planned on using for the motel room. We're not asking for charity!" he said proudly.

The little man thought for a minute. "Yeah, well charity is all you're likely to get because there ain't a room left in this whole state that love or money will buy. He headed to his little office and waved over his shoulder, "Come back here with me."

Joe got out of the truck and followed the man into his office. Mary strained to see what was going on in there. The man and Joe were looking out the back of the office and the man was pointing out the window, turning back and forth from the window to Joe, who stood nearly a head above the attendant. Joe stared resolutely out the window, never once meeting the little man's gaze, just rubbing the back of his neck, the way he did whenever he was nervous. He finally came out the front door, again following the little man, and they went together around the corner of the station and were gone for five, ten minutes.

Finally, Joe trotted around the corner and up to Mary's window of the truck.

"Well, he's got a little shed out back, one he's used for storage that he's willing to clean up and let us use. I'll tell you, he's used it to store old engine parts so it smells like oil and grease," he added apologetically, "but, he's willing to clean it up, the best he can and we can use it." He paused. "I'm sorry, but it's a bird in the hand, Mary. We can't just go driving around all night in a town neither one of us knows. It's not ideal, I know, but it's all we've got. I don't like this any better than you do, but I think..."

Mary put her fingers on Joe's lips. "Let's drive around back," she said and rolled up the window.

The little man was busy carrying armloads of old rags and cardboard boxes of old spare parts out of the shed when they pulled up beside. It was one of those aluminum type sheds you order from Sears, the ones with the sliding doors that never quite work. It had actually been wired for power and a bare 60-watt light bulb hung sadly from the ceiling. Joe helped the man, "Eddie" is what the patch over his left breast pocket told them was his name, he helped Eddie with some of the engine blocks and transmissions that were piled inside. They simply tossed them around the side. Eddie said not to worry, he'd straighten them all up later. When it was empty Joe got a broom from the shop and swept the place out. Eddie brought an aerosol can of air freshener from the bathroom and gave the place a quick once over. He brought out a big stack of newspapers from his recycling bin and some freshly laundered rags and arranged a makeshift kind of bed for them. Mary was touched with the care and imagination he exhibited in preparing this little place for them. He even brought a pathetic little swatch of plastic flowers and stuck them in a hole in one of the aluminum struts. He left them while they unloaded the truck.

Eddie came back about five minutes later. He had scrubbed out a big pan he used to catch crankcase fluids and filled it with hot water. He set it down near the door and said, "I don't know what they use this for, but you always see people hollering for a pan of hot water when a baby gets born in the movies. Figured you two could use it, even just to wash up." He set one of those little miniature soap cakes next to the pan, nodded a wordless good night, and turned back to the office.

The place smelled like a combination of grease and lilacs...a particularly unpleasant scent for Mary as she settled down onto the pile of newspapers and rags. It was getting chilly and the contractions were nearly constant now. Everything around her became crystal clear: the sounds, the smells, the light bulb swaying gently in the wind, Joe's labored breathing as he wedged pillows around her back and neck, filling the spaces she lifted in mute requests. He'd unpacked their bag and taken out all the clothing they'd brought...just a single change, really...and laid them neatly at her side, waiting to wrap the baby against the cold. Cars pulled up regularly to the station now, their exhaust drifting through the doorway of the shed. Joe got up and closed the door when all the pillows were in place. He could hear talk and laughter from the office. Eddie had said something about a bunch of his buddies showing up for a weekly card game tonight, but promised that they'd try to keep it down. The door shut out the night and most of the sound.

Mary's breathing was more labored now and Joe frantically tried to remember the books about childbirth she had given him to read. He wasn't much of reader. Sports Illustrated, Fine Woodworking, that was pretty much it. Plus he didn't figure he'd even be around when the birth actually happened. He'd be muscled out by his mother-in-law and Mary's sister and would have to wait in the shop or out in the yard while more experienced hands took over. Now, though, he felt utterly helpless. He held Mary's hand. She looked up at him and managed a grim smile. She suddenly doubled up in the most dramatic contraction yet. She hiked her skirt up efficiently and drew her knees up to her chest and began grunting and pushing. Instinctively, Joe slipped around between her knees and pulled the pan of hot water over next to him. He lightly washed her thighs with a rag dipped in the water and waited. On the fourth push a tiny head slid out and clumsily bobbed about while Mary drew back for another push. The baby slid out quickly on the next push and into Joe's hands. A boy! He was amazed that he was acting so calm. His heart was racing and the sweat ran rivers off his face, but his hands were sure and knowledgeable. Mary strained up on her elbows to get a glimpse of the baby as Joe held him up for Mary to see.

Why wasn't he breathing? Joe held him up and smacked his behind, the way he'd seen doctors do in movies.

"Clear out his mouth!" Mary said wearily, still propped up on her elbows.

Joe ran a big, callused finger around the inside of the baby's tiny mouth and a surprising amount of phlegm came out. The baby screamed triumphantly and both Joe and Mary heaved a joined sigh of relief. Mary collapsed back on her bed and breathed shallowly. Joe took out his pocket knife and cut the umbilical cord and tied it in a neat knot close to the boy's stomach. He mused that he'd point out the skill and smallness of the knot to the child one day. He took the few clean rags that were left and washed the baby clean, saving one for Mary, who looked like she'd been through a war. The placenta had been expelled and Joe knew, from Mary's calmness that the whole affair must, at last, be over.

Joe wrapped the baby in a couple of sweatshirts Mary had packed and laid him on her breast. She lifted her nipple to the baby's mouth and he took it hungrily. Tears traced shining lines from the corners of Mary's eyes back to her ears as she nursed the baby. For the first time in the past few hours it was quiet in the shed, save the tiny grunts and sighs from the feeding. He looked down at his wife and this baby. His child. He knew it was. He could feel it. Joe realized he, too, was crying.

He cleaned up the dirty rags and carried them out to the drum where he'd seen Eddie toss the others. He walked over to the office where the card game was in full swing. He opened the door and quietly slipped inside.

"Can I get a glass of water for my wife? She's awfully thirsty." He asked.

"Sure thing, pal," Eddie replied. "Help yourself. Paper cup's next to the sink in there. Any news to report?" Eddie asked without looking up from his hand.

"A boy!" Joe choked out. He was almost overcome with emotion. He'd never said those words out loud before. Again, his eyes glistened and he was almost ashamed for it when Eddie and his three friend turned to look at him. Joe composed himself and repeated, "It's a boy and everybody's OK." He beamed.

"Well, congratulations, Daddy!" Eddie shouted as he leapt out of his chair. "First baby ever born he at my station!" he jovially added as he clapped Joe on the back. "Boys, this here's Joe. He and his old lady, they're from up north, down here for that damn census foolishness and bumped from their motel. They're staying out back and they just had their first kid! A boy! Joe here's got himself a son!"

The other men rose up out of their seats and came over to offer their own good wishes to Joe. They were farmers, Joe to tell, by the look and smell of them. And he could tell by the table top that they'd had just enough beer to truly enjoy the novelty of the situation. Someone offered him a beer, apologizing that they'd already downed all the champagne. They all laughed. Joe declined, saying he'd have one later but his wife really was thirsty and he needed to get her a glass of water. He filled up two paper cups, Eddie carried a couple more and he hurried back to the shed, promising that he'd tell the fellows when it was OK for them to come back and see his son.

His son. He trembled a bit thinking about it. Sure, he'd thought about fatherhood. He'd had plenty of time to think about it. But now it didn't seem like plenty of time at all. Mary had been schooled for months now by the women in her family and her friends in the intricacies of motherhood. Strangers in the park offered advice to her on how to do this and when to try that and where to get the best buys on baby clothes. Men, though, what training do they get from other fathers? They get the sly elbow in the ribs, the playful admonition that "Your life is over now, pal!", the firm, fraternal handshake, but that's about it. No information. No preparation at all.

Mary thirstily drank the four cups of water and looked dreamily at the child. He was still on her breast, breathing quickly and contentedly in his sleep. Joe watched her looking at their son and stroked her hair, still damp with sweat. She smiled up at him and drifted off to a deep sleep. Joe sat there for a moment and then he, too, more exhausted than he realized, leaned back against the ribs in the shed wall and dozed off.

Their sleep was broken by a tentative knock at the shed door. Both Joe and Mary started. Joe drowsily shook his head. He back ached. He looked around the shed, confused, forgetting for a moment where he was. He looked down at Mary and the sleeping child and instantly remembered everything. Another knock, louder this time, was followed by giggles and anxious shushing from outside. Joe scooted over to the door on his behind and quietly slid the door open. There stood Eddie and the three farmer-card sharks, well into their cups, clamping large cigars in their teeth grinning foolishly at him. Eddie held out an unlit stogie and an open can of beer.

"This calls for a celebration, Joe! We've come to pay our respects!" They all peered into the shed as Mary tried to sit herself up and self-consciously patted her hair.

"Give us just a second, fellas," Joe entreated and slid the door closed again. He looked to Mary for a sign that this was OK and she smiled and shrugged an assent. Eddie was a good guy. She liked him and, though, she dreaded their tipsy manner and the smell of those awful cigars, she, too, was anxious to share this wonderful event with someone, anyone. These were moments meant to be shared and these were her family for the night, even though she knew none of them. Joe handed her her hairbrush and she ran it through her matted hair and then rinsed her face quickly. She handed the baby, still sleeping, to Joe as she put on her spare dress and tidied up the shed. Joe looked down at the sleeping baby and marveled at his ability to sleep through all this commotion Mary settled herself back down on the newspapers and took the baby back in her arms. She hoped he'd sleep through the ruckus about to take place, fearing that she'd have to nurse him in front of these strangers. But modesty was the furthest thing from her mind as she arranged the baby comfortably and nodded to Joe. He rolled back the door and admitted the smoky, stumbling quartet into their room.

They entered with a sudden reverence that startled Joe. They each took off their greasy ball caps and put out their cigars, as if on cue. They walked in tiny steps, bent over toward the small shape of the mother and child against the far wall. Mary turned the baby's face toward the men. There was a quick intake of breath as the men stared, awestruck, as though this were the first baby any of them had seen. Suddenly the baby let out a cry, causing one of the taller men to jerk up suddenly, hitting his head on the roof of the shed. Mary drew him to her breast, deftly laid a clean rag over his head, unbuttoned her blouse and gave the baby her breast. It was an act of such grace and beauty that the whole assemblage held their breath together as the baby silently nursed.

Eddie spoke first. "Joe," he said, "Me and the boys here, we'd like to be the first to congratulate you and your wife for this here baby." He coughed once, cleared his throat and continued, sounding official. "It ain't no easy thing being a parent. Especially these days. What with the gangs and the drugs and the craziness going on in the world out there. But I can tell, we can tell, that you folks are good people. You're gonna do OK. This is an amazing night, you know. You won't ever forget it," Joe was touched by the little speech Eddie was giving. The farmers were touched too. They nodded in mute agreement. Eddie went on, "I know I'll never forget it. This shed here was never used for nothin' except storing old spare parts. Parts I'd probably never use. But this kid here, Joe, he ain't no used, spare part. He's brand-spanking new. And he's like the engine in this new little family you all started here tonight. Right here at my garage. Ain't never been anything like him before and you gotta take care of him. Gotta start out right. So me and the boys here, we've got a little something here. It ain't much. But we took up a little collection, see? It's everybody's winnings from the game tonight and we'd, you know, be honored if you'd take it as our little gift to this boy. Tell him, when he grows up, that there's folks that'll take care of strangers everywhere. Who knows? Maybe he'll even come here someday. If he does," Eddie struggled for the words, "I'll give him a free fill-up! No, a whole damn, tune up!" He stopped and turned quickly to Mary, "Excuse me, ma'am!" he bowed. She waved her forgiveness with a giggle. Eddie was getting wound up. "Yeah, that's it! He'll get a whole tune-up, no matter how many cylinders! Just tell him to ask for his Uncle Eddie and I'll know who it is: the kid born in my parts shed. And just have him wear this." Eddie produced, from his back pocket a new, bright red ball cap. Printed on the brow of the cap it said, "Eddie's Super Service". Below that, in smaller letters, it said, "Quick, Friendly, Reliable."

Joe grinned. That about said it all. Quick, friendly, reliable. Eddie handed Mary a tattered brown paper bag that jangled with coins.

"Thirty or forty bucks," Eddie announced, almost apologetically, "we ain't no high-stakes game."

Joe thanked them. Mary thanked them. They lingered just a minute more and then backed themselves out of the tiny shed, wishing Mary and the baby a good night. Joe followed them out and closed the door.

The little crowd relit their cigars and then fired up Joe's, too. They'd been so taken with the baby that they'd let their beers go warm and one of the fellows ran up to the office fridge to retrieve another proper round. Nobody said much. Every once and a while one of the farmers would toss out, "Yup, yup, that was quite a baby!" Eliciting grunts of affirmation from all assembled.

The beer runner returned and Joe realized how thirsty he was. He downed the can quickly and sat down on the lip of the shed...his stoop for this night. He was admiring the mediocrity of his cigar when Eddie remarked, "Well, will ya look at that!"

Joe looked up at Eddie who swayed slightly as he stood, arms folded, staring straight up into the night. All eyes followed the path of Eddie's drunken gaze. The sky was alive with shooting stars. A regular meteor shower. There was usually one in August, Joe remembered...a bit of a stargazer himself...but one this time of year is a rare treat. They sat there in awed silence for nearly an hour. Finally one of the farmers...overcome with amazement at his turn of luck this night, a night when he usually went home with empty pockets...simply repeated all he seemed able to say, "Yup, that was some baby!"

Joe took a long draw on the cigar and just smiled.

Well, the farmers, of course, went home and told their wives, who tossed the news over back fences, and soon everyone around that edge of the town and countryside knew that a baby had been born to a young couple...in a Sears and Roebuck shed behind Eddie Super Service! Someone, of course, made room immediately in a back bedroom at their house and the young family was given a proper place to stay until Mary and the baby were ready to return home up north. Covered dishes began to show up at the house and it seemed like everyone wanted to come see the new little baby...the one born in the middle of the meteor storm. It was an omen, one of the older women said. Eddie gave the old truck a good once over. He even filled up the tank for free.

One of the farmers' wives had a doctor's appointment a few days later and mentioned the birth to her pediatrician. Taken up in the spirit of the season, and by the enthusiasm of the wife's tale, he decided he ought to make a call on the mother and child and be certain everything was alright with them. He brought along a couple of interns who never had...and probably never would...make a house call. Imagine Joe's shock, when in the door comes not one, but three doctors! They examined the child and Mary thoroughly and declared them both fit. Joe couldn't resist asking one of the interns about a small cut he'd suffered in the shop the previous week that seemed to be getting infected. The three visitors left a small bag of samples, antibiotics, aspirin, that sort of thing. One of the interns, a young woman, found a small bottle of cologne in her purse that she left for Mary. The other, a fellow from a particularly wealthy family, was so moved by the desperate conditions of the family's journey that he slipped Joe a five when the two others were occupied with the exam. After the doctor and his interns left Joe and Mary sat alone with the baby. It'd been a whirlwind of a couple of days. They marveled at the generosity of these people they had never met and Joe wondered aloud what caused his own father to leave a place peopled by such kind souls. They looked at the baby, asleep again after an eager feeding, and knew that the whirlwind was only beginning. For this baby, born in a shed behind a service station, during a meteor shower, who prompted such generosity, such kindness in people...this was the most amazing baby ever born. He was their son. How could he be anything other than amazing? He had kept his parents from abandoning one another months ago. He had made his mother go through unbelievable pain...without complaint...for his sake. He had awakened something wild and powerful in his father. No, there was no doubt about it. This was the most amazing baby ever born!

Mary's breath was slow and heavy. Joe knew she had fallen asleep. She wasn't quite recovered yet, he knew. The strain of it all had really taken its toll on her, but she never mentioned it once...only fussing after the child all day. It's what mothers do, he guessed, especially newborn mothers. He stroked her hair, clean and shiny after the wash and combing the women had given her. He pulled the blanket up over the baby and quietly slipped outside.

Joe lit a cigarette...the first he'd had in a couple of days. He really meant to quit. Now with the baby, he figured he had a reason to. This was his last one, he vowed for the umpteenth time. The stars were coming out, one-by-one. The Three Sisters, the Queen's Chair, Cancer, the Crab, the Dipper and Polaris...they each assumed their positions in the night sky. He remembered his father, telling him wonderful tales, the constellations characters in these stories. He remembered them clearly, as if his father were alive again and weaving the sky together once more in a grand epic. He'd tell little Jesús the same stories. Jesús. Mary had wanted to name him Joe, after...well, Joe, of course. But Joe had always dreamed of naming a son Jesús, after Jesús Gonzales, his favorite baseball player when he was a kid. It was an unusual name for a Jewish kid, sure, but Mary liked the sound of it and it was a small concession to her husband, she figured. So Jesús it was.

Joe heard something move out in the yard. "Anybody there?" he called.

"Just me," came the reply. "Got a cigarette?" the voice asked.

"Yeah, no problem. Come on over," Joe answered, without the slightest hint of suspicion in his voice.

A fellow he'd not seen here at the house...though he looked vaguely familiar...stepped out of the shadows and sat down next to Joe on the stoop. He slid a smoke from the pack Joe offered him and took Joe's cigarette to light his own. Joe couldn't help but think that he'd seen the fellow before, but couldn't place him...there'd been so many new faces the last couple of days. Neither spoke for a few minutes...just looked up into the night.

"So what do you think now, Joe?" the stranger finally asked without looking his way. "Think you did the right thing, I mean, staying with her through all this?"

The guy from back home! The guy on the stoop with him that night back before he and Mary got married. When he was even thinking of calling the whole thing off. Who was this guy and where did he come from? But, after the past day or two, Joe was prepared to believe that anything was possible.

"You were right," Joe replied, now staring at the guy who turned to meet his gaze. "Thanks. You were absolutely right." "Well, I'm glad. That's not always the case. But I had a hunch." He turned to look back at the stars and then turned back to Joe and continued, with some urgency in his voice. "But let me tell you something I'm absolutely sure of. You're not as safe here as you think. These people, they're good to you, it's not them. It's other people...people who come into neighborhoods like this one, Joe. You read the papers? You watch the news? You heard of the death squads? The ones everyone knows the government is behind? Sure you have. Who hasn't? Well this neighborhood is a big area for those guys. These folks around here they're sympathetic...no, I'd say they're down right supportive of the rebels. Some of the men, the women, too, they say fight with the resistance. Folks like the ones here who've taken you in, they're at the top of the hit lists. Any stranger shows up in the neighborhood unexpected-like, the death squads find out about it. And, Joe, no one was more unexpected here than you and your little family." The stranger paused to make sure Joe was following what he said.

Joe nodded numbly and his silence told the stranger to go on.

"So, listen, they know about you already and, unless you are willing to risk that wife and kid of yours, I'd say you'd better get out of here as fast as you can. Tonight. There's no time to lose. I wouldn't tell anyone where you're going. I wouldn't tell anyone that you're going. Just pack up and head south. Don't go back home, not yet. You've probably blabbed all over about where you live. They'll track you there unless they think you've thoroughly disappeared. I've got a friend, across the border who can set you up for a little while. Six months, a year, maybe less, I don't know. But these folks are serious, Joe, and they're paranoid as hell. I'll send word when it's safe for you to come home, but, in the meantime, go in, wake up Mary, pack up as quick as you can and call this number as soon as you cross the border." He handed Joe a piece of paper with a phone number on it.

Joe sat in stunned silence. He was just a carpenter, for God's sake! He wasn't involved in any movement! He didn't even care about politics. Sure, he complained about the government, just like everybody else he knew. But this talk of rebel forces and government death squads and stealing away in the middle of the night and not going home for almost a year! Who was being paranoid here, he wondered?

"I know all this in confusing and frightening to you, Joe." the stranger seemed to be talking aloud to Joe's thoughts. "But, listen, I was right before wasn't I? Just take my word," he paused and looked straight at Joe, "or take your chances."

The stranger got up, tossed his cigarette on the ground, crushed it out with his heel, and walked off hurriedly into the shadows.

Joe was trembling. He took a quick accounting of his situation. His truck was in good working order...Eddie had gone over it again. He had a full tank of gas. He had nearly a hundred dollars. He had even brought a small box of his tools with him. Mary's mother would worry about them, he knew, she hadn't even seen the baby. They'd call her when they got settled. What about their little house? What about the Rabbi's cabinets? What about their wonderful life that was just about to start? He looked at the piece of paper in his hand. A phone number. All he had to connect him to his future...his family's future. He thought about what he'd read about these death squads. They were brutal and indiscriminate. Jews, blacks, leftists, homosexuals. They killed without pity. He thought about the pictures he'd seen in the newspaper: bodies found lying by the side of the road. Women, babies. He thought about the young baby sleeping peacefully in his wife's arms. And that feeling reared its head again. He was a father. It didn't matter about you. It was about him. Nothing must happen to him. No pain, no worry, no disappointment. No death squad. He lifted himself up off the stoop and swept out the bed of the pickup. He'd clean out the cab and go inside and explain it all to Mary.

Two hours later they were an hour south of Bethlehem. They'd left quietly and managed to get away undetected, they thought. The road was empty except for a few tractor trailers that zoomed by their cautious little truck. Mary was terrified at first, but agreed that heading south was the best solution for now. She'd been agitated the first half hour in the truck and then the night, the monotony, and the strain of the past three days tugged her into sleep. The baby slept soundly, it's short, quick breaths a novel and calming rhythm in the cab. Joe relaxed behind the wheel. He rolled down his window and rested his elbow out the door. He tried to think, but there was no order to the jumble of emotions that pressed upon him. How different he was from a mere three days before! He was just a guy...just a normal guy. Nothing special. Now he shouldered a responsibility for two other lives. Two extraordinary lives. Whether or not he amounted to anything in all this didn't matter. They were what mattered. It's what men are for, he figured: to preserve the safety of the women and the children. Sometime men forget that, he thought. You can be the most famous carpenter in Galilee...in all Israel, why not?...but if something happens to your family, you're a failure. You're nothing. Kings, presidents, generals, sports stars: they come and go. They're nothing. When they go home at night, after their term, after the war, after the game, who are they then? They normal guys, just like me. Nothing special. But their wives and their kids. How are they? He didn't know what he was thinking about. He was just thinking, the way you do when you've got a long drive and there's no one around to talk to. To help you pass the time. But he had a lot to say. And if there was language for all that was in his heart that night, he didn't know what it was. He leaned back in the seat and smiled, Mary's hair, dancing in the wind around the cab and the baby staring wide-eyed up at him from her lap.

Merry Christmas.

©1993 by John McCutcheon. Used by permission.