| The sun peeked in through the window where the drapes just barely met, it's rays finding it's prey in bed, snoring lightly, still asleep on Christmas morning. The Mississippi sun would not relent however, and grew stronger, willing it's victim to rise and greet the day, the holy day. Snuggled deeply underneath the blankets lay Lance, a peaceful look on his face. Exhaustion had taken him early the night before and he hadn't moved since. The sun grew warmer, and brighter, and finally got it's way. Lance's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted into the bright light. Glancing at the nightstand, he noticed his clock read 10 am. "Shit!" he cried, swinging his legs over the bed and grabbing for his tee shirt. The last thing he'd said to his mother the night before was he wouldn't be late for church. Late would mean one minute after 10:30. He dove for the bathroom, cursing himself the entire way, tripping over a pair of sneakers carelessly left near his doorway. His pinkie toe caught the side of it and a wrinkle of pain surged through his foot. "Dammit!" he hissed, limping into the shower. He was afraid to check his answering machine. His mom was probably on her way over, thinking he forgot all about it. Quickest shower in history done, he hurried back into his room and grabbed his suit, The droplets of water from his wet hair plopped onto his shirt, and he frowned as they sank in, causing little dots. "Great. Wonderful!" He dug in his sock drawer for matching socks, then checked in his closet for his shoes. Dashing for door, he grabbed his keys off the foyer table and set the alarm. Stepping outside, he realized it was chillier than he'd thought, and shivered in the dampness of the morning. Luckily, he'd stashed all the presents in his car the night before. Otherwise, no one would be getting gifts, not as late as he was. The dashboard clock read 10:25 and he groaned as he inserted his key. His mother would have his head, not to mention his grandmother who despised tardiness. Lance revved the engine, and threw his car into reverse, carefully glancing behind him to be sure there were no other cars. He sighed, wishing he'd had time for some coffee, or a shave. He knew they would pick on him about the scruff on his chin. Rubbing it absently, he pulled his car out onto the main road, and headed toward the church, which was still a good ten minute ride. The traffic was light for such a day, and Lance silently thanked the Lord for that. He passed a coffee shop and debated on stopping. No way. Not with his entire family waiting. His java craving could wait until services were done. He cruised along, chewing on his lip. The day was beautiful, a bit chilly, but clear as a bell. He grinned as he manuevered his way through the familiar streets, feeling good, strong. It had been so long since he had a chance to be home, what with touring and everything. Mississippi held his heart, and as much as he loved NYC and Orlando, this was home. He stopped at a busy intersection and used the time to turn on the radio, see what was going on. Humming to himself, he didn't notice the F-150 zooming toward him from the other direction. It sped into the intersection, connecting with an oncoming car. Lance heard the squeal of tires, and the unmistakable crunch of metal. His heart leapt into his throat and he looked up, unprepared for the twisted mess that sat just feet from his car. "Oh my God!" he yelled, throwing his car into park and jumping out. He ran over to the blue mini van, the one that had been hit unsuspectingly. A faint cry came from the back seat, and Lance cringed when he heard it. A baby. "No, no, no," he chanted, peering inside. Blood covered the front seat, and the baby's mother was unconsious, her head wounded against the steering wheel. No air bag. The baby sat in it's car seat, a muffled cry. "Shh, it's okay little one. I'll help you." He pulled his cell phone out and dialed 911 reporting the accident. Another passerby stopped and approached. "What happened?" she cried, noticing the baby. Lance shook his head and tugged on the crumpled door. It wouldn't budge. "Can you go check the other truck? I don't know who's in there." She nodded and went to the other side of the accident. "Baby, it's okay. I'm coming." His heart throbbed inside him and when the infant turned his head, Lance blinked hard at the sight of blood streaming down his face. "Oh, no." He had to get this kid out. From the opposite side of the wreckage, he heard the other woman yell over. "He's out. Not moving. Smells like a brewery in here though." "Fucking piece of shit!" Lance hissed, barely containting his anger. . The thought of this baby and mother suffering on Christmas day because of a drunk driver was just too much. He yanked the door once more, and to his surprise, it budged, not alot, but enough to get him inside. He slid over to the infant and looked around. Shattered glass was everywhere. Grabbing a baby blanket, he wiped the glass away from the child and stared at him. "You can't be anymore than 6 months old," he sighed, tapping the infant's foot. "Come on, little guy. Look at me. Stay with me." The baby rolled it's head over, fluttering it's eyes. "That's it," Lance cooed, dabbing at the blood with his sleeve. "Ma'am?" he called, looking at the baby's mother. "Are you with us?" In the distance, he heard the sirens wailing on the way. "Okay, help is coming. Just stay with us." The baby looked up at him, and Lance's heart broke in two. "I know, it's scary." A whimper escaped the child's lips, and Lance didn't know what to do. He couldn't pick him up, just in case he was hurt. Spying a pacifier near the diaper bag, he rubbed it along the baby's lips. "You want this? I had one when I was a baby. I carried it with me until I was four. It always made me feel better." The baby opened his mouth and Lance stuck the nipple in. "Good boy. Help is coming." He stroked the baby's head, and stared at the mother. "Ma'am?" he tried again. No answer. "Please let them be okay!" His cell phone rang, and he grabbed it quickly, checking caller ID, he saw his mother's number come up. She would know what to do. "Mom?" "James Lance Bass! Where are you? You're grandmother is having...." "Mom, listen. There's been an accident. A baby and his mother. What do I do?" "What? Oh no. Did you call for help?" "Mom, can I pick him up? He's so tiny." "No! Leave him. Cover him with a blanket. Is his mother okay?" "God, mom. I don't know." He heard the sirens coming closer, and the other passing motorist talking to the drunk in the truck. Covering the infant with a clean blanket, he worried when his eyes closed. "They should keep their eyes open, right?" "Yes, try. Is help coming?" "Yeah. They're here. Let me go." He clicked his phone off as he heard the EMT's heading toward him. "In here!" he yelled, backing out to give them a better shot. Stepping into the sunlight, he composed himself, pushed aside by the EMT's. "What happened?" one asked him as he climbed in. "We got one female, approximately 25-30 years of age, unresponsive. Infant 6 months or so, fading." Lance bit his lip and twisted his ring around nervously. "I was stopped over there and this truck hit them. I gave the baby his pacifier, but he just closed his eyes. The mom hasn't moved." The EMT's started their procedures, leaving Lance alone. He stumbled over to the other side where another crew was working on extracting the driver of the truck. Moving closer, he noticed the empty bottle of Jim Beam on the seat and fury filled his heart. The police attempted to give him a breathilizer while crews frantically worked on carving the door off. "He drunk?" Lance asked, tears of hate stinging his eyes. "Appears so. Did you see it?" "Yes, and I would like to give you a statement and help in any way I can. There's a baby and mother injured in the other car and this worthless piece of crap did it." Lance felt so much pain for the young family in the mini van, he didn't know what to do with it all. "That's good, son. Go right over there to Officer Riley. She'll take your statement." Lance nodded and headed off, peeling off his suit jacket stained with the baby's blood. He tossed it aside and sought the officer out, steadily telling her the entire story. When they let him go, he slid behind the wheel of his car, watching as the ambulance sped away with mother and baby. He thought of Mary and Jesus, and his own mother. Shaking his head, he pressed it against the steering wheel. He wondered if church was over yet. That's where he wanted to be, in the comfort of the Lord and his family. All life's fame and fortune meant nothing if you didn't have something to believe in. He pulled out of the accident scene and headed toward church quickly, pressing his tears back. His family was standing outside, nervous but together. When they spotted Lance's car pull up, they converged on it, encompassing him with their love. Only then did he let his tears out. Tears of fear and disgust, hope and love. It was Christmas day, and he was the lucky one. |
| HOLIDAYS LANCE by destiny |