Watchers

She didn’t believe in exchanging gifts or putting up a tree.”
    “She didn’t believe in life,” Travis said. “And that’s just one more reason to do this Christmas up right. It’ll be your first good one, as well as Einstein’s first.”
    Starting next year, Nora thought, there’ll be a baby in the house with which to share Christmas, and won’t that be a hoot!
    Aside from suffering a little mild morning sickness and having put on a couple of pounds, she’d not yet shown any signs of pregnancy. Her belly was still flat, and Dr. Weingold said that, considering her body type, she had a chance of being one of those women whose abdomen underwent only moderate distension. She hoped she was lucky in that regard because, after the birth, getting back into shape would be a lot easier. Of course, the baby was not due for six months yet, which gave her plenty of time to get as big as a walrus.
    Returning from Carmel in the pickup—the back of which was filled with packages and a perfectly formed Christmas tree—Einstein slept half on Nora’s lap. He was worn out from his busy day with Jim and Pooka. They got home less than an hour before dark. Einstein led the way toward the house—
    —but suddenly stopped and looked around curiously. He sniffed the chilly air, then moved across the yard, nose to the ground, as if tracking a scent.
    Heading toward the back door with her arms full of packages, Nora did not at first see anything unusual in the dog’s behavior, but she noticed that Travis had halted and was staring hard at Einstein. She said, “What is it?”
    “Wait a second.”
    Einstein crossed the yard to the edge of the woods on the south side. He stood rigid, head thrust forward, then shook himself and moved on along the perimeter of the forest. He stopped repeatedly, standing motionless each time, and in a couple of minutes he came all the way around to the north.
    When the retriever returned to them, Travis said, “Something?”
    Einstein wagged his tail briefly and barked once: Yes and no.
    Inside, in the pantry, the retriever laid out a message.
    FELT SOMETHING.
    “What?” Travis asked.
    DON’T KNOW.
    “The Outsider?”
    MAYBE.
    “Close?”
    DON’T KNOW.
    “Are you getting your sixth sense back?” Nora asked.
    DON’T KNOW. JUST FELT.
    “Felt what?” Travis asked.
    The dog composed an answer only after considerable deliberation.
    BIG DARKNESS.
    “You felt a big darkness?”
    Yes.
    “What’s that mean?” Nora asked uneasily.
    CAN’T EXPLAIN BETTER. JUST FELT IT.
    Nora looked at Travis and saw a concern in his eyes that probably mirrored the expression in her own.
    A big darkness was out there somewhere, and it was coming.
     
     
3
    Christmas was joyous and fine.
    In the morning, sitting around the light-bedecked tree, drinking milk and eating homemade cookies, they opened presents. As a joke, the first gift that Nora gave Travis was a box of underwear. He gave her a bright orange and yellow muumuu obviously sized for a three-hundred-pound woman: “For March, when you’ll be too big for anything else. Of course, by May you’ll have outgrown it.” They exchanged serious gifts, also—jewelry and sweaters and books.
    But Nora, like Travis, felt the day belonged to Einstein more than to anyone else. She gave him the portrait on which she had been working all month, and the retriever seemed stunned and flattered and delighted that she had seen fit to immortalize him in paint. He got three new Mickey Mouse videotapes, a pair of fancy metal food and water bowls with his name engraved on them to replace the plastic dishes he had been using, his own small battery powered clock that he could take with him to any room in the house (he was showing an increasing interest in time), and several other presents, but he Was repeatedly drawn to the portrait, which they propped against the wall for his inspection. Later, when they hung it above the living-room fireplace, Einstein stood on the hearth and peered up at the picture, pleased and proud.
    Like any kid, Einstein perversely took almost as much pleasure in playing With empty boxes, crumpled wrapping paper, and ribbons as he did with the gifts themselves. And one of his favorite things was a joke gift: a red Santa
    cap with a white porn-porn on the tip, which was held on his head by an elastic strap. Nora put it on him just for fun. When he saw himself in a mirror, he was so taken with his appearance that he objected when, a few minutes