lights from neighborhood Christmas trees gleamed through the night. Behind her, the radio was playing Christmas carols. She became peaceful in her happy kitchen nook. After supper, George and Kathy sat silently in the livingroom. The Christmas tree was all lit up and George's tree-topping ornament made a beautiful addition to the decorations. Reluctantly he had gone out to the van and brought in more of the wood. There now were six logs in front of the blazing fireplace, just enough to last through the night at the rate George was shoveling them in.
Kathy worked on some of the children's clothes, patching the boys' trousers that were forever wearing through the knees, letting down a few of Missy's denim pants. The little girl was growing taller, and already the hems were above the tops of her shoes.
At nine o'clock, Kathy went up to the third floor playroom to get Missy ready for bed. She heard her daughter's voice coming from her bedroom. Missy was talking out loud, obviously speaking to someone else in the room. At first Kathy thought it was one of the boys, but then she heard Missy say: "Isn't the snow beautiful, Jodie?" When Kathy entered, her daughter was sitting in her little rocker by the window, staring at the falling snow outside. Kathy looked around the bedroom. There was no one there.
"Who're you talking to, Missy? An angel?"
Missy looked around at her mother. Then her eyes went back to a comer of the room. "No, Mama, just Jodie."
Kathy turned her head to follow Missy's glance. There was nothing there but some of Missy's toys on the floor. "Jodie? Is that one of your new dolls?"
"No. Jodie's a pig. He's my friend. Nobody can see him but me."
Kathy knew that Missy, like other children of her age, often created people and animals to talk to, so she assumed it was the child's imagination at work again. George had not yet told her of the incident in Missy's room the night before.
There was another surprise waiting for Kathy when she got to the top floor a few minutes later. Danny and Chris were already in their own bedroom, changing into their pajamas. Usually both boys fought to stay up past ten. This night, at nine-thirty, they were getting ready without being told. Kathy wondered why.
"What's the matter with you two? How come you're not arguing about going to sleep?"
Her sons shrugged, continuing to undress. "It's warmer in here, Mama," Danny said. "We don't want to play in there anymore."
When Kathy checked in there, she was struck by the freezing chill in the playroom. No windows were open, yet the room was ice cold. It certainly wasn't uncomfortable in Danny and Chris' bedroom, nor in the hallway. She felt the radiator. It was hot!
Kathy told George about the cold in the upstairs playroom. Too comfortable by the fireplace to want to move, he said he'd check it out in the morning. At midnight, Kathy and George finally went to bed.
The snow had stopped falling in Amityville, as it had fifteen miles away outside the windows of the Long Island rectory. Father Mancuso turned away from his window. His head hurt. His stomach pained from the flu cramps. The priest was perspiring, and the feeling of suffocating heat made him take off his bathrobe. When he did remove the robe, he began to shiver with a fit of uncontrollable chills.
Father Mancuso couldn't wait to get back into bed. It was cold under the blanket, and he realized be could see his breath in the air. "What the hell's going on?" he muttered to himself. The priest reached out to touch the radiator next to his bed. There was absolutely no heat.
The sick man now felt his body starting to sweat again. Father Mancuso burrowed deep under the blanket, curling up in a tight ball. He closed his eyes and began to pray.
8 December 26 - One night-George doesn't remember exactly which-he woke again at 3:15 in the morning. He dressed and went out, and as he was wandering around in the freezing darkness, he wondered what in God's name he was looking for in the
Kathy worked on some of the children's clothes, patching the boys' trousers that were forever wearing through the knees, letting down a few of Missy's denim pants. The little girl was growing taller, and already the hems were above the tops of her shoes.
At nine o'clock, Kathy went up to the third floor playroom to get Missy ready for bed. She heard her daughter's voice coming from her bedroom. Missy was talking out loud, obviously speaking to someone else in the room. At first Kathy thought it was one of the boys, but then she heard Missy say: "Isn't the snow beautiful, Jodie?" When Kathy entered, her daughter was sitting in her little rocker by the window, staring at the falling snow outside. Kathy looked around the bedroom. There was no one there.
"Who're you talking to, Missy? An angel?"
Missy looked around at her mother. Then her eyes went back to a comer of the room. "No, Mama, just Jodie."
Kathy turned her head to follow Missy's glance. There was nothing there but some of Missy's toys on the floor. "Jodie? Is that one of your new dolls?"
"No. Jodie's a pig. He's my friend. Nobody can see him but me."
Kathy knew that Missy, like other children of her age, often created people and animals to talk to, so she assumed it was the child's imagination at work again. George had not yet told her of the incident in Missy's room the night before.
There was another surprise waiting for Kathy when she got to the top floor a few minutes later. Danny and Chris were already in their own bedroom, changing into their pajamas. Usually both boys fought to stay up past ten. This night, at nine-thirty, they were getting ready without being told. Kathy wondered why.
"What's the matter with you two? How come you're not arguing about going to sleep?"
Her sons shrugged, continuing to undress. "It's warmer in here, Mama," Danny said. "We don't want to play in there anymore."
When Kathy checked in there, she was struck by the freezing chill in the playroom. No windows were open, yet the room was ice cold. It certainly wasn't uncomfortable in Danny and Chris' bedroom, nor in the hallway. She felt the radiator. It was hot!
Kathy told George about the cold in the upstairs playroom. Too comfortable by the fireplace to want to move, he said he'd check it out in the morning. At midnight, Kathy and George finally went to bed.
The snow had stopped falling in Amityville, as it had fifteen miles away outside the windows of the Long Island rectory. Father Mancuso turned away from his window. His head hurt. His stomach pained from the flu cramps. The priest was perspiring, and the feeling of suffocating heat made him take off his bathrobe. When he did remove the robe, he began to shiver with a fit of uncontrollable chills.
Father Mancuso couldn't wait to get back into bed. It was cold under the blanket, and he realized be could see his breath in the air. "What the hell's going on?" he muttered to himself. The priest reached out to touch the radiator next to his bed. There was absolutely no heat.
The sick man now felt his body starting to sweat again. Father Mancuso burrowed deep under the blanket, curling up in a tight ball. He closed his eyes and began to pray.
8 December 26 - One night-George doesn't remember exactly which-he woke again at 3:15 in the morning. He dressed and went out, and as he was wandering around in the freezing darkness, he wondered what in God's name he was looking for in the
Similar Books
