Alex stifles a laugh.
“No more of that, though,” I reiterate to make myself clear. “From here on out, if you want to participate in charity, you donate from your own resources, you got me?”
“I hear you, Jesse. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know you didn’t,” I tell him. “But you do know better, so I know you’ll do better.”
We escort Cooter to my car, and he ducks into the back seat.
“You didn’t even drive the patrol car out here?” he asks.
“We were undercover,” I tell him.
He nods. I put the car in drive and pull away. “You can come back for your truck later.”
“I’m not worried about it,” he says.
We ride in silence for a little while, and then Cooter speaks up. “You know, sometimes people get too wrapped up in themselves.” He lets that thought hang in the air with no further explanation.
Maybe a minute or so passes and he says, “It’s the holidays, but all people are thinking about is errands and parties and what they want to get from the people they love.” He shakes his head and looks me dead in the eyes in the rearview. “I thought the holidays was the time of year when we was supposed to think of others most. Seems like folks have all but forgotten the real meaning of Christmas.”
Not one of us speaks after that. A reverent silence engulfs us. Cooter’s words hit like a sermon—one that lands right in the sternum and slowly finds its way into every corner of your heart.
“You’re not wrong,” I finally say into the darkness of the car.
“So, that’s all I was doing—just thinking of a widow when everyone else forgot about her.”
What do I say to that?
“That’s really sweet,” Alex says. “Also … illegal … but sweet.”
“I would’ve asked people to give me things,” Cooter says to Alex. “But people around here tend to avoid me on account of my drinking. And probably the way I end up sleeping in odd places. I didn’t think they’d give me anything, so I just took it.”
“That’s done now, though,” I add for good measure.
“Yeah. It’s done,” Cooter agrees. “I won’t take nothin’ that ain’t mine after this.”
We spend the rest of the evening escorting Cooter around to the homes of the people he stole from. Each person, without exception, tells him they forgive him. Not only that, most of them offer to give him more things to bless the Widow Simms. By the time we’ve made the rounds to all the homes and theLutheran church, it’s nearly midnight. No one wanted to press charges. We drop Cooter off at his pickup truck.
I walk him over to the truck while Alex sits in the passenger seat of my car with the heater still running.
“I already gave you enough warnings about this, but know that if there’s any more thefts, the next time won’t involve a guided tour of Bordeaux. Next time, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.”
“I know that, Jesse,” Cooter says. “And I sure am sorry I put you and your girl through all the extra trouble.”
My girl. I’m about to correct him, but I stop myself.
“Drive safely,” I tell him.
“You too, Jesse.”
Cooter gets up into his truck and I walk over to my car.
“Everything okay?” Alex asks once I’m back in the car.
“Yeah. I think so.”
I start to turn the key, but then I stop myself. “I was about to say something when Cooter showed up.”
