The Red Gloves Collection Read Online Free PDF

He could beg a few dollars, buy a bottle of wine, and throw himself in front of a bus. Or hole up beneath his stairwell and never come out, not for food or water or anything.
    But neither plan seemed like a sure thing.
    The only certainty was that he would never see his girls again.
    Though he had long ago given up on life, Earl had still harbored a thought that somehow his family was in heaven. And that if he came around at some point and let D.J. pray for him, maybe, just maybe, he’d wind up there, too. Then they could spend eternity together. Not that he’d ever regularly entertained the thought of eternity, even before he was robbed. Still, it had been there. Lying dormant in the shallow soil of his heart.
    But not anymore.
    The red gloves were all he’d had, the only thing that had mattered. What kind of God would take his family and then his will to live? No, the whole God thing was a pipe dream—a crutch that helped people through the frightening valley of death.
    Well, that was fine for other people, but not Earl. He didn’t need any help. He
wanted
to find death. Wanted it so badly it was all he thought about anymore. How he could do it… where … when …
    He stared at his plate. Stew again. There was a stale roll beside the mound of mushy meat and potatoes, but only one. The mission must be losing money. Usually they gave two rolls. Maybe he should go back and get another one, before they ran out.
    He looked up. And there, standing beside his table, was a young girl whose soulful eyes took his breath away. “Hello, sir.” A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Can I get you anything?”
    She was small—underweight, even—and she wore a woolen beret. Her brown hair was thin and scraggly, and her clothing was faded. She was definitely not the most beautiful child Earl had ever seen.
    But there was something about her eyes. Something almost angelic.
    Don’t look at me that way, kid.
    Earl kept the words to himself and let his gaze fall to his plate again. Kids worked at the mission now and then, but they always left him alone. He expected this girl to back away, but instead she took a step closer.
    “Sir?” The child stood there, unmoving. “I said, is there anything I can get you?”
    Earl planted his fork into a piece of meat and lifted his eyes to hers once more. “They only gave me one roll.”
    Again she smiled. “That’s easy. I’ll get you another one.”
    She walked off, slower than most children. He watched her approach the line, take an empty plate, and slip two dinner rolls onto it. Then she carried the plate back to him, set it down, and waited.
    “Aren’t you going to say thank you?” Her voice was gentle, like a summer breeze.
    “Leave me alone, kid.”
    The girl hesitated for a moment, then pulled out the chair opposite Earl and sat down. “My name’s Gideon.” She scooted her chair in. “What’s yours?”
    Earl didn’t know whether to yell at the kid or get up and find a new table. Maybe if he answered her question, she’d go away. “Earl.”
    “It’s only three weeks till Christmas, Earl. Did you know that?”
    Christmas?
Why was the girl here? There had to be a dozen old ladies in the room who would enjoy a conversation with her. Why him? He swallowed a bite of stew and let his eyes meet hers for a brief moment. “I hate Christmas.”
    He expected that would do the trick. Tell most kids you hate Christmas and they’d get the hint. But not this girl. She clasped her hands neatly on top of the table and stared at him. “My daddy and I were talking about the perfect Christmas. You know—if you could have the perfect Christmas, what it would be like.” She waited. “Wanna know mine?”
    His meal was half finished, so there was no point looking for a new table. Maybe she’d leave if he said nothing. He took a bite of the roll and lowered his eyes.
    The child was undaunted. She took a quick breath and continued. “A perfect Christmas would have a real tree that