“Uncle Ben, you can’t use your phone in church.” Ben lowered his face to Brittany’s and rubbed his nose with hers. “Brat.” He stuffed it back in his pocket, but he knew what it said. It wasn’t like it was a difficult message to remember. Come find me after you’re done with your family. Oh, and Ben…Merry Christmas. He tried to pay attention to the homily at the vigil mass. Fortunately St. Mary’s version of a vigil mass was ten instead of midnight. Brittany was fading against his arm, trying valiantly to keep her big dark eyes open. By the end of the mass he was carrying her out. Neither he nor John were particularly religious, but it was a nice way to honor their mother for Christmas. Ben settled her into the backseat of John’s van. “Annual Christmas barbecue tomorrow?” John nodded. “At least that I can help cook.” He hugged his brother. “Merry Christmas. Here’s to a better year.” John returned the hug, slapping his back. “Amen to that.” Ben climbed into his truck and tapped his phone against his palm.
