A Very Expensive Christmas Bread

“Are you sure you should be making this trip?” Sally asked.

“Nope. But I’m doing it. I saved my frequent flyer points all year to do this.”

Sally looked at her husband while he tied his shoes. He was a compact, muscular man with classic olive skin and dark hair. He was usually an agreeable, even easygoing man. Occasionally, he could be stubborn. This was one of those moments. Her slim fingers twisted her hair as she searched for something to say that might change his mind. “The weather report for the New York area says they’re going to get a whole lot of snow for Christmas. Is it worth the risk for a loaf of Italian bread?”

Anthony laughed. “Meteorologists predict snow up there every Christmas. I want an old-fashioned Christmas Eve dinner. An antipasto, with imported cheeses, fresh fish and yeah, I want some good Italian bread. Can’t get that in Nolensville, Tennessee.”

It was 5:30 in the morning on December 23. He was determined to fly to Newark, shop at the best Italian deli and stop at Calandra’s Bakery for Italian bread and Italian pastry. The bakery had been in business for 60 years. Ever since he moved to Tennessee, he had sworn that one day he would make this trip. This year, he was determined to do it. He would stay overnight at his brother Nicky’s apartment not far from the old neighborhood. The next morning, early, his younger brother would drive him around and hit the spots that had what he needed. Then he would hop a noon flight back to Nashville.

“And what if it does snow, Anthony? You gonna spend Christmas at your brother’s eating that great food? You, Nicky and his girlfriend, Churlish, while your children eat ham hocks and hominy grits without their father?” Their sons, ages 6 and 9, were sound asleep. She couldn’t help laughing at her stereotyping line, but she was worried. “Seriously, Anthony, flights could be cancelled.”

“Her name is Cherry and they broke up last month.”

“I know her name, but from what I’ve heard, my name for her is a better fit.”

He kissed her hard. No one could make him laugh like she could. “I’ll be home by three, and the kids will finally experience Christmas Eve like I did when I was growing up.”

“Why don’t we wait until next year? We can all go. We’ll spend Christmas with your brother, the food, the bread and his five German Shepherds.”

“He had two dogs and they both went with Churlish,” Anthony said, smiling. He checked his phone for his boarding pass.

Sally was tired. She hated getting up so early. She looked in the bathroom mirror and stared at her brown hair which was highlighted by natural strands of gray hair. She’d be 40 soon. Although she wouldn’t acknowledge it, she looked ten years younger. She ran a comb through her hair and put some lipstick on. “Come back to bed Anthony,” she said, an alluring smile on her face.

He gave her a tender kiss. “Really, Baby, I want to do this. With three kids, we couldn’t afford a trip like that, especially at Christmas.”

She pouted a little, just for fun. She knew she’d lost, something that happened only rarely. Her husband was a good man, who usually listened to reason. She suspected his real purpose for this adventure. She decided not to bring it up. He’d probably deny it. “Be careful, Baby, and bring home those cookies I like.”

“I will. I need to get to the office. My flight is at 11:00. I’ll call you when I head to the airport.” It was colder than usual that day and the skies were overcast. Anthony worried a little about it, but he was determined to make the trip. When he got to the Cadillac dealership where he worked as the finance director, he ran into a problem.

“Why am I hearing you aren’t going to be in the office this afternoon and tomorrow?” Rebecca, the dealership’s general manager, was standing at his office door when he arrived.

“I thought I told you.”

“Oh, you did, but I thought you were kidding. You know we do a lot of business on Christmas Eve. People who have a lot of money and no ideas come in here and expect us to not only rescue their Holiday, but make them look like heroes.” She looked at the cars sitting in the showroom with huge red bows on the hoods. “They don’t all show up with cash, right? Most of them need to finance the vehicle and get an approval on the spot. As I recall, that’s where you come in, Anthony Cipollini”   

Anthony smiled. “I told you about this before I bought my ticket, Rebecca. I’m going. Anyway, you can handle it. I’m doing this for my kids.”

She shook her head. “For your kids? You’re flying to New Jersey to buy salami and provolone for your kids? Is that your story?”

“Close enough. Call me if need me.”

She stepped into his office. “There won’t be a next year for either one of us if Mr. Norton finds out I gave you Christmas Eve off. You owe me, Anthony.”

“Fair enough. I’ll bring you back a cannoli.”

Anthony’s flight was on time. He sat reading Sports Illustrated, thinking it might lull him into a nap, but the man sitting in the seat next to his nudged him with his elbow. “Going home for the Holidays?”

“No, I live here.” He returned to the magazine, hoping his seatmate, a man in his 60s, would get the hint. “I hope you have some important business to tend to. Looks like the weather is going to get bad up north. When are you flying home?”

Anthony put his magazine down and looked at the man. He had a full head of silver hair and wore wire rimmed glasses. “Tomorrow at noon.”

The man looked him over. Anthony had a prominent scar over his left eyebrow, the result of getting hit with a hockey stick during a high school match. It gave those who met him the feeling he was not a man to be trifled with. “Mind a little advice, my friend?”

“Why not? As long as it’s free.”

“Do you have family here?”

“A wife and two kids.”

“When we land, go right to the ticket counter and get yourself a flight home today.”

“Thanks, I’ll think about it.”

“It’s Christmas. What could be so important that you have to fly to Newark today?”

“A loaf of good Italian bread.” Anthony sensed that the man was intelligent and had done something with his life. He was struggling a bit not to feel foolish about his quest. On the other hand, he felt compelled to tell the truth.

The man laughed. “Calandra’s in Newark?”

Anthony shrugged. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know it well. Great pastry too.” The man reached for his wallet and pulled out his business card. He handed it to Anthony. “I’m Bill Barone. I’m the CEO of Empire Car Rental. If you get jammed up, call me. My cellphone number is on the card.” He smiled. “I hope you beat the storm.”  

Anthony’s brother Nicky was waiting for him at baggage claim. “Hey bro. Sally called me. Told me to tell you to turn your ass right back around and go home. Message delivered.”

The brothers drove through Newark, headed toward Nicky’s apartment in Nutley, one of the city’s suburbs. First, they would do a quick tour of neighborhoods that Anthony had left behind. Christmas lights, strung from pole to pole in business districts reminded Anthony how when he was little, he thought the lights had been strung for him. Had his grandmother told him that? 

“You want to do a little shopping today?” Nicky asked. “Maybe you can get a return flight tonight.” Nicky was built the way his older brother was, but he looked more like their mother. He didn’t have his brother’s serious countenance.

“Nah, let’s do our tour.” Nicky took the car to Newark’s North Ward, where their parents grew up. Slowly they drove past the house where their mother and father had lived and then they swung by the tiny house where they had grown up. In thirty minutes, their tour was complete. They revisited some memories, not all of them happy.

Their parents had divorced, or more to the point, her mother divorced her father, after he abandoned them. Anthony was 14 at the time. Nicky was just 8. Anthony took on the role of head of the household, which his mother appreciated. She worked in claims for Blue Cross, which, thanks to the union, paid reasonably well, but the hours were long. She would brag about Anthony to friends and family members. “My Anthony, is all grown up,” she would say. “He’s not even out of high school.”

When it was time for college, Anthony wanted to go to Vanderbilt University. An older cousin had graduated from Vandy. His cousin’s stories about campus life in Music City fascinated Anthony. “Between classes a bunch of us go to Broadway and get hammered,” he said. “And Southern women are classy,” he always added with a dreamy smile. Regardless, when college was over, he came back to New Jersey and married a Polish girl, who was also classy, but pushed him around.

In the end, it didn’t matter. Nicky was only 12, when Anthony graduated from high school. Although his mother never said it, Anthony knew he was still needed at home. He settled for nearby Seton Hall University and earned a degree in finance. If he felt resentful at times, he never showed it. While he was in college his father was killed in a bar fight, supposedly protecting the honor of a regular patron, a woman, he later learned, was known as “Little Jade.”

He looked out for his brother and that was that. When Nicky got into trouble at school, it was Anthony who bailed him out. He experimented with drugs too. That was the only time Anthony laid a hand on him. For some reason, it worked. Nicky managed to earn an associate’s degree in communication and went to work as a bartender at a classy restaurant in Manhattan.  

The brothers decided to make one more stop for lunch at Dickie Dee’s for hotdog and potato sandwiches. They sat in the tiny luncheonette longer than they’d planned. Just after 3:00 p.m. the sky had darkened and flurries began to fall.  “You’re my older brother. Six years older and as stubborn as ever. I know why you wanted to make this trip. But I have my orders. Sally told me if I don’t get you home in time for dinner tomorrow, we won’t be on speaking terms for 40 years.”

“Why did I make this trip, Smart Ass?” Anthony asked.

Nicky laughed and said, “Another time. Right now, while we’re still in Newark, we’d better do some shopping. Look at the road. Already the snow is starting to stick. Did you forget what that means?”  He headed east on Bloomfield Avenue to the bakery. “You know what I still can’t believe?”

“What’s that, “Anthony asked, knowing the answer.

The traffic was already beginning to slow down as the roads began to get slippery. “I can’t believe you moved to Tennessee. They don’t have a decent Italian restaurant in the whole state. Is there even one Italian deli that carries imported prosciutto? You actually had to fly up here just to get a decent loaf of bread. By the way, how much did the flight set you back?”

“Nothing, I used points. I moved to Tennessee because Sally was there. Somehow, I got it into my head that she was more important than bread or prosciutto.” When Nicky turned 18, Anthony finally got his wish. He applied for and was accepted to Vanderbilt’s MBA program. He met Sally while he was in Nashville. She was working at the University and for him, it was love at first sight.

“She could have moved here, though. I mean there are at least a few diners that serve grits and collard greens,” Nicky said.

Anthony laughed and gave his brother an affectionate punch in the arm. It was an old argument, which was really about Nicky missing his older brother. He was afraid to fly and even at 34 years of age, literally afraid he’d get lost if he drove to Tennessee. By lost, he meant winding up in a place like the Pine Barrens without cell service; just like Christopher and Paulie in a famous Soprano’s episode.

“Tennessee’s home for me and, for the record, Sally doesn’t like grits.”

They bought two large loaves of hard, crusted, Italian bread and the cookies Sally liked so much. The workers at Calandra’s were bustling, but cheerful. They all wore a candy cane or Christmas wreath pin on their aprons.

They drove to an Italian deli a mile up the road. The place wasn’t too busy and Anthony was beginning to see the wisdom of Nicky’s decision. As he was selecting the items he craved, he got a text from the airline informing him that it was likely his flight, less than 24 hours away, would have to be cancelled. He was advised to make other arrangements with the promise that his flight status would be periodically updated. He showed it to Nicky.

“I was going to give you a flight to Nashville for Christmas,” Anthony said.

“That would have been a waste of money. Ever since that flight dropped into the Atlantic, I knew I’d never fly.” 

“Which flight was that?”

“Every flight.” He looked at his watch. “Listen, Bro, I think you need a new plan. You stay at my place tonight like we planned and then tomorrow, if your flight is cancelled, you can take my car and try to drive home.”

They finished shopping. As much as he hated to admit it, he had bought some items, like fresh mozzarella, that probably wouldn’t survive the trip. It was a tacit acknowledgement that his plan was a bust. He might be spending Christmas with his brother, after all. Sally wouldn’t be happy, and the pignoli cookies she liked, good as they were, weren’t going to melt her Southern frost.    

“By the way, my apartment isn’t in great shape. Since Cherry left, I kind of let it go.” He grinned. “That’s one thing I miss. Cherry was a lean, mean, cleaning machine.”

It was still snowing and the weather forecast was predicting near blizzard conditions. Anthony thought about Sally and his two boys and felt foolish about his trip now. “I really need to get home, Nicky. Let’s go to your apartment. We’ll need a cooler and you’ll need to pack. We have to hit the road this afternoon. If we wait until tomorrow, I’ll be here for days.”

Nicky didn’t say anything. He just steered his Jeep Cherokee toward his apartment. Of course, he’d heard his brother’s words clearly enough. Somehow, he was being roped into Anthony’s adventure. True to his word, his apartment had been neglected. There were dishes in the sink and clothing strewn on the living room furniture and the kitchen chairs. The place obviously hadn’t been dusted or vacuumed for a while. A sad artificial tree, only partially decorated stood in the corner of the living room. Anthony gave it a quick look. It made him think of the elegant way Sally had decorated their home, as she did every year. Maybe, he thought, if Nicky saw the way he, Anthony, lived, he would try harder to do more with his life.   

“Look in the hall closet. The cooler should be there,” Nicky said.

Anthony loaded the cooler with the goodies he bought and added some ice he found in the freezer. “Come on, brother, get packed.” When Nicky didn’t budge, he stood there staring at his younger brother much like he used to do when he was more of a father figure than an older brother.

“Wait, bro. I never said I was going with you. I told you to take my car. I can Uber if I have to get somewhere.” He stood there, shuffling his feet, not unlike the way he did when his older brother used to make him do things he didn’t want to do, like go to church on Sunday, or do his homework.

Anthony inspected Nicky’s refrigerator and freezer. Then he peeked into his kitchen pantry. “Nicky, have you been on an intermittent fasting diet?” He grinned at his brother. “Seriously, I can’t drive all the way to Tennessee alone in this weather. I need your help.”

“It feels like blackmail to me. It’s like you think I owe you for all those years you took care of me. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair? You sound like a little kid. It’s almost 4:30. If we leave now, we can get past the worst of this weather, get some sleep and still be at my house in time for lunch.” He moved closer to his brother and placed his arm on his shoulder. “Sally and the boys would be really happy to see you.”

Nicky sat down. “If I go with you, you’re going to have to drive back to Jersey with me. My sense of direction is lousy.”

“Let’s just get to Nolensville first. We’ll worry about getting you home after the Holidays.”

While Nicky threw what he needed into a duffel bag, Anthony walked to the convenience store on the corner of Nicky’s block and bought some food and drinks for the trip. Anthony knew he should call Sally to let her know their plans had changed, but he was well aware that she would worry. She would insist that he stay with his brother. That they would celebrate Christmas when he got home. He knew he was being stubborn, but he didn’t want to be without Sally and the boys on Christmas. With a little luck, they would make it home in time to have the Christmas he’d planned.   

They hit the road, taking the Garden State Parkway to the New Jersey Turnpike, heading south into Delaware. Anthony decided they should avoid Pennsylvania and take the southern route. Traffic was heavy, but moving, which was good because it kept the roads drivable. But the roads were slippery. Soon after they crossed the Delaware line into Maryland, they saw several vehicles that had flipped over.

“Hey, maybe we should find a motel and try this again in the morning,” Nicky said.

“We have to keep going. If we stop, you can bet your life that we will be stuck in that motel room until at least the day after Christmas.”

“Or, we can keep going, flip my Jeep and maybe wind up spending Christmas with Mom,” Nicky replied. “Without the bread, the salami, or the provolone.”

Normally a three and a half hour ride, they didn’t reach Virginia until 9:15 p.m. “It’s still snowing, damn it,” Anthony whispered to himself. Four inches of snow covered some parts of the highway. They kept going, often following a snowplow, clearing the road in front of them. They pulled into Richmond just before 11:15 pm and headed west on I-64 toward I-81. Anthony had done all the driving. “Nicky, are you ready to take the wheel?”

Nicky, who had been sleeping, rubbed his hands together. “Pull over so I can take a leak. Then I’ll drive.”

“Can you wait until we hit a gas station?”

“I’ve been holding it for 180 miles, mostly out of fear. Pull over.”

Anthony pulled the car over as close as he could get to the shoulder. Snowplows had left snowbanks which didn’t leave him much room. They both got out of the car to relieve themselves. It was very cold, but they couldn’t help laughing. Then they saw the blue flashing lights. A State Trooper pulled up behind their SUV. The trooper stepped out of his cruiser, his smokey the bear hat pulled down as far as it would go.

“This look like a bathroom to you boys?” He eyed the New Jersey license plate.

“At the moment, yes,” Nicky said as he finished his business.

“Shut up, Nicky, Anthony said. “No sir, it sure doesn’t and I apologize for both of us. We’re trying to get home to Tennessee in time to spend Christmas Eve with our family.”

“Whose vehicle is this?” The trooper asked, again eying the New Jersey plate.

“Mine,” Nicky said. “My brother lives in Tennessee.”

“Let’s see some identification, boys.” The trooper was a young one, younger than both brothers. The men showed him their driver’s licenses and waited.

The trooper turned on his flashlight and shined the light on the yellow snow. “How would y’all like to spend the night in jail?”

“I really need to get home, please. We are sorry,” Anthony pleaded.

The trooper inspected the vehicle. “Am I gonna find any contraband, like drugs if I make you open your suitcases?”

“Absolutely not,” Anthony said, sensing they might get off with a ticket or even a warning.

“What’s in the cooler? Beer?”

Nicky tried a smile. “I’d be happy to give you one if we had any. It’s Italian food. My stupid brother flew up to Newark to buy this stuff. The storm messed with his plan.”

“Open it,” the trooper commanded.

Anthony opened it and showed the trooper they were telling the truth.   

“You boys are lucky it’s Christmas time. Ordinarily I’d lock you both up. I don’t know what y’all do in New Jersey, but down here we don’t treat our public roads like a bathroom.” He handed them their driver’s licenses and said, “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

“Thank you, officer, and Merry Christmas,” Anthony said.

The trooper shook his head. “You boys would be wise to find a hotel. There’s one about ten miles down the road. You get sideways in a snowbank I might leave you there.” There was a tiny trace of a smile, he said, “Merry Christmas.”

Nicky took the wheel and they continued west toward I-81 and the Tennessee state line. The snow tapered off and the roads were no longer snow covered. But they were still icy. Nicky, who was trying to stay to the right, was having trouble keeping his vehicle in the lane. The car kept skidding, mostly toward the center, but occasionally toward the shoulder.

“Look, there are no cars on the road right now. Maybe we should drive between the lanes right in the middle of the road,” Anthony suggested.

Nicky edged the car toward the center of the road. Visibility wasn’t good, but he kept driving. It was 5:30, Christmas Eve morning when they finally crossed over into Tennessee.

“The next hotel sign I see, that’s where we’re going,” Nicky announced. “We only have about five hours to go right? We need to get some rest. Assuming we live through this, we’ll make it in plenty of time.”

“You’re a real optimist, brother.”

Five miles down the road, they saw a sign for a restaurant and a hotel. Nicky took the exit ramp and soon discovered it was extremely icy. The car slid off the road. When he tried to correct the direction, the Jeep, now riding on a slanted hill, rolled over.  The vehicle landed upright and the brothers sat stunned by what had just happened.

They exited the vehicle and saw that, amazingly, there appeared to be very little damage. But when Nicky tried to drive it, it was immediately clear that both front wheels were not functioning. The car was undriveable. “Now what?” Nicky asked.

“Let’s walk up to the hotel and figure out where we are and what we can do.” They each carried an overnight bag and did their best to navigate the treacherous terrain. Finally, they made it to the hotel lobby after falling down a few times on the ice. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” a young woman said. “I’m sorry but we are full. Considering the weather, though, you are welcome to make yourselves comfortable in our lobby. Fully dressed, of course.” She smiled. The men looked around and saw there weren’t many options. Couches and chairs were taken, but there was hot chocolate in the kitchen area.

“My food is going to freeze,” Anthony said. “All of this effort wasted. Sally was right, as usual.”

“So was I,” Nicky said. “Look at it this way, you’ll be telling this story for the rest of your life. I flew to New Jersey for a $5.00 loaf of bread and wound up wasting hundreds of dollars and destroying my brother’s car.” He dropped his bag and headed toward the door.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“To get the cooler.”

“Forget it. It’s not worth it,” Anthony said.

“Seriously? That stuff will be fine if it doesn’t freeze. The bread can stay in the car. You can always microwave that.” The brothers trudged back to the car and grabbed the cooler plus a few other items they needed. Anthony wrote a note to let the police know where they were and included their phone numbers.

As they walked back to the hotel lobby, Nicky said, “You know, I used to think you were a genius. Way smarter than me. Now, I’m not so sure.” In the gray morning light, they almost tripped over a small snow bank.

“Whoa! Don’t drop anything, “Anthony said. “The reason you thought I was so smart was I was six years older than you. I thought that you were the one who inherited the brains, because even as a kid you had the ability to see things clearly.”

Nicky stopped and stared at his brother. “I’m seeing things clearly right now. You planned this whole escapade just to make me come to Tennessee.”

Anthony didn’t have an answer. He studied the misty clouds his breath offered as he exhaled.  

They found an ice machine on the hotel’s fourth floor that still had some ice. They sprinkled some over the items in the cooler. Back in the lobby, they found that two chairs had been abandoned, so they settled in and both of them were soon asleep. Nicky woke up first four hours later.

“Anthony, wake up! The sun is out. We gotta figure out how to get you home.” It was 11:30.

The men quickly took turns cleaning up a bit in the restroom. It was a smelly mess so they did the bare minimum to look presentable. The hotel had what was left of a breakfast buffet for guests. The assistant manager had invited the people who had spent the night in the lobby to help themselves. The men made peanut butter sandwiches and washed them down with apple juice.

“We need a vehicle,” Nicky said. He checked his watch; almost noon.

Anthony suddenly remembered the man who gave him his business card on the flight to Newark. He pulled the card out of his wallet and called. Bill Barone answered and said, “Thought I might hear from you. That 615-area code was a dead giveaway. Where are you?”

“Bristol, Tennessee, I think.”

Barone laughed. “You got that far? What happened to the vehicle you were driving?”

“It died,” Anthony said. “Battery or fuel pump, I’m not sure which.” No sense telling the man what really happened.

Barone cleared his throat. “Let me check something. I’ll call you back.” He called fifteen minutes later. “Well, you’re in luck, maybe. I can get a sedan delivered to you by tomorrow morning at eleven. Will that work?”

“I really want to get home today,” Anthony said. “Any chance of that happening? I’ll pay double the rate.”

Nicky, who had been listening, took the phone from his brother’s hand. “I’m Anthony’s younger brother. He really has to get home today. I’m afraid he’s going to try to walk home if we don’t find suitable transportation. I’m going to get the hotel shuttle driver to get me over to your rental location. Can you have a car ready for us?”

Barone, a good-natured sort, laughed. “I’d love to help you, my friend, but I’ll be more comfortable if it looks like the weather has cleared up and the roads are safe to travel.”

“Assuming the conditions were good, do you have a vehicle available today?” Nicky asked.

“Yes, we have a van, actually, but conditions aren’t good,” Barone said.

“I can see the Interstate from here. There are cars and trucks on the road,” Nicky said. He looked at Anthony and shrugged. At the moment no traffic could be seen in either direction.

“Oh, boy!” He hesitated briefly. “ What the hell, it’s Christmas. Can you get to our office in Bristol?”

Nicky assured him they could and arrangements were made. Anthony asked the shuttle driver how far it was to the Empire Car Rental location. The driver said it was only about a mile away. The hotel manager was off that day and the assistant manager was not a commanding presence. The driver didn’t bother to ask for permission. The brothers loaded what they had on the shuttle van and Anthony handed the driver a hundred-dollar bill. He drove them as close as possible to Nicky’s Jeep and they grabbed the rest of their luggage, including the loaves of bread.

The paperwork at the rental agency was handled quickly and the boys were finally back on the road, headed west toward Nolensville. The roads weren’t as bad as the night before. Nicky contacted the Bristol Police Department about his vehicle, telling them he left a set of keys at the hotel front desk. Anthony took the wheel.

He decided he was close enough to home now that he would give Sally a call. He couldn’t reach her. Cell service wasn’t working. He tried several times. He was sure Sally must have tried to with no luck. He would later learn that it hadn’t been working for hours.  

Four hours later, only about an hour away from Nolensville, Anthony was finally able to reach Sally. She had been frantic. Cell service was finally back on. “Honey, we should be home by six, 6:30 at the latest. I got everything I went to Jersey for and picked up a house guest too. My brother Nicky is with me.”

“Oh Baby! I’ve been so worried. I’ve been crying and even the boys were crying,” she said.

Anthony told her about their adventure, leaving out, for now, the part about the Virginia State Trooper. He assured her they would arrive soon.

The exit taking them from I-40 to the main road near Nashville’s airport was slippery, but Anthony was navigating the icy spots well. When they reached the top of the ramp, Anthony waited until he could make a left turn onto the road. He made the turn and started over the bridge that stood over the Interstate. Just then, a truck coming in the opposite direction and moving too fast, lost control and plowed into them smashing the van’s front end and pushing it off the road. The van spun and came to a stop.

This time, Anthony didn’t escape injury. Whether it was the force of the crash, or the airbags, he felt sharp pain in his abdomen and left shoulder. His left arm felt like it had been sawed in two. He started gasping for breath. Nicky, who was not hurt saw that his brother was in trouble. He undid his seatbelt and reached for his phone and then saw a sudden flash and flames coming from the van’s engine. They were quickly moving to the cabin. His instinct for survival took over, but that instinct included his older brother. He quickly opened his door and turned back to Anthony.

He unbuckled Anthony’s seat belt and pulled his brother by his Titans jacket toward the door. There was a sudden flash. He was sure they were goners. Instinctively, he tried to shield his brother and kept pulling until they were safely on the icy pavement. His down jacket was on fire. A man came running over and carefully sprayed it with a fire extinguisher. Two other guys dragged the brothers to safety as the van became engulfed in flames.      

An ambulance soon arrived and took them to the hospital. The EMS team insisted that Nicky ride in a second ambulance, but Nicky, somewhat in shock and unaware that he had burns on his face, neck and right arm, refused. “I’m riding with my brother,” he said.

Neither of their injuries turned out to be too serious. Anthony had a ruptured spleen, a cracked rib and a fracture in his left arm. Nicky had some first- and second-degree burns, but the emergency room physician assured them they would both recover.

Sally arrived at the hospital with the boys and was directed to a semi-private room on the fourth floor where Anthony and Nicky were resting uncomfortably. They had insisted on being in the same room. The doctors had determined that Anthony’s spleen had not been seriously damaged. The surgeon told Sally that they would watch Anthony, but she felt he would recover without surgery.

Nicky was in pain, but relieved to learn that his burns would heal soon with antibacterial ointments and creams. He looked over at his brother, whose arm was in a sling. The doctor would wait until the swelling went down before applying a cast. Strangely, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He had handled a frightening situation well, under pressure.   

“What happened to the van?” Anthony asked.

“The officer who called me to tell me what happened said it was destroyed by the fire,” Sally said.

Nicky looked at his brother, a grin on his face. “The bread! Let’s ask the cops to go back to the scene. Calandra’s bread is really best when it’s toasted.”

Anthony tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. “Is it still Christmas Eve?” He asked.

Just then a woman from the dietary department came into the room with two meals. There was fried chicken, macaroni and cheese and green beans on each plate.

Sally, who realized that something much worse could have happened, said through tears of joy, “Oh, a nice southern meal. A perfect way to celebrate Christmas Eve.”