Henry didn’t know what to make of this character, this Jim. A normal person, a sane one, would have thrown him out on his ass, Christmas or no Christmas, or worse, held a weapon on him with one hand while, with the other, he phoned the cops.
And here he was giving him presents. Ah s**t! The kindness of it caused tears to spring to Henry’s eyes. He wanted to simply cover his face with his hands and bawl.
Back in his other life, when he went to church, he recalled a sermon his priest had given at St. Ann’s in the east end of town. “Be open,” Father Safara had said. “Open to receive the gifts life sends your way. Don’t question them and don’t think you don’t deserve them. The Good Lord wouldn’t have seen fit to give them to you if He didn’t want you to have them.”
Henry didn’t have much fa
