Shepherds Abiding
A Mitford Christmas Story
Chapter One
The rain began punctually at five o'clock, though
few were awake to hear it. It was a gentle rain, rather
like a summer shower that had escaped the grip of time
or season and wandered into Mitford several months
late.
By six o'clock, when much of the population of
1,074 was leaving for work in Wesley or Holding or
across the Tennessee line, the drops had grown large
and heavy, as if weighted with mercury, and those running
to their cars or trucks without umbrellas could
feel the distinct smack of each drop.
Dashing to a truck outfitted with painter's ladders,
someone on Lilac Road shouted "Yeehaw!," an act that
precipitated a spree of barking among the neighborhood
dogs.
Here and there, as seemingly random as the appearance
of stars at twilight, lamps came on in houses
throughout the village, and radio and television voices
prophesied that the front passing over the East Coast
would be firmly lodged there for two days.
More than a few were fortunate to lie in bed and listen
to the rain drumming on the roof, relieved to have
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