It's a woman who takes the pulpit. "Merry Christmas, peace on earth and good will to all."

We stumble out an hour later, warm and hyped on brotherly love and Christmas hymns. I open my mouth to make an observation.

"Not a word," she warns.

On the drive back, I hold her hand. I figure this sisterly love thing could be a whole new line. I think I'm seeing the light. But it's a rude awakening back at Mission Beach. I'm given a kiss on the cheek and sent on my way.

"Will you come up tomorrow morning and have breakfast around ten? I want to give you your present."

"Present?"

"Of course."

"Okay."

Present. How could she have got me a present? I shake my head and decide the night is yet young. I could still get lucky. I head up to the main drag where electrical daylight brightens my world. The clubs are packed and people stand in line on the street. I walk the strip. I pass some kids smoking pot sitting on the street corner. The scent is sweet and appealing. The scene isn't. A hooker gives me the once over. I walk on. My favourite bar is packed too, but I'm allowed in because I'm known. "It's the photographer, Krane," I hear the doorman tell those who wait. I'm more an exhibit in a side show than a patron. I bring customers. I eventually find a bar stool.

"Usual?"

"Yeah."

"You haven't been around lately. Where've you been?"

"Church. It's Christmas Eve."

He laughs and places my drink in front of me and winks. "As if. Tracy's here. She asked about you."

I nod, down my drink, and walk out.

Five in the morning and I'm in my car heading up the coast. By seven I'm back. I haven't seen so much dawn since the days when I could drink all night and not pay for it the next day. I feel blurry eyed and woolly headed. I don't allow myself to think. If I thought, I'd have to admit that I was acting crazy.

From seven a.m. to nine I'm in my dark room. By half past nine, I'm showered, dressed, and drinking coffee in gulps. The phone rings.

"Seasons Greetings, Jude."

"A very merry, Carl. What do you want?"

"I've got a job you might be interested in."

"It's Christmas day."

"I'm Jewish and you're damned. We gotta work."

I laugh. "What's the job?"

"Photographing old gold mine sites in Colorado for some government initiative. Seems the old shafts are being designated as historical sites. I figure any day now my a-hole will have a heritage plaque on it."

"It's old enough. Give me the particulars and I'll get back to you." I'm grinning now. What was it that preacher said last night? Something about looking for signs and following your star.

I knock on Nancy's door exactly at ten, freshly scrubbed and pure of soul. Wonderful smells waft out as the door opens.

"Come in. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas." I smile and mean it.

I'm hugged and kissed and led to the table. Orange juice and vodka awaits as an eye opener followed by French toast and real maple syrup, crisp bacon, and spicy sausages.

"Do the cholesterol police know about this place? Starch and fat have been pretty well eradicated from the west coast, you know. If the smells seep outside people will die just from shock."

"A little sin never hurts anyone."

"My thoughts exactly. Your bed or mine?"

She laughs. "You are so silly. Here."

A small box is pushed in my direction. It's all wrapped in fancy paper with a huge bow on it. I'm a kid again. My hands shake with excitement. It doesn't matter what's inside. It's the gift. The gesture. The anticipation. The love. I can't recall the last time I was given a Christmas gift. It's Nancy's latest book. A Woman's Journey. I open it up. She has signed it.

To Jude with love for the days that we shared on our own Christmas Island by the sea.

"It's perfect. Thanks."

With embarrassment I slip the plain brown envelope across the table. She picks it up with delight. Inside, are three photos of an old mission made beautiful by the soft morning light and the trappings of Christmas. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears.

"How?"