“I love you, Mommy.”
“And I love you, Pumpkin.”
“Why do you call me pumpkin?” he asked, his nose curled up in distaste.
“Because you were born on Thanksgiving. I was in the midst of making a pumpkin pie when I went into labor for you.”
“Wow! Daddy must have gone nuts,” he said with a grin.
“Well, actually, your dad wasn’t home. He was in Iraq flying a medi-vac chopper for the US army.”
“But we needed him here,” Darrin said with little boy honesty.
“Yes, we did. And he’d so looked forward to your birth, but he had a job to do in serving his country. He couldn’t just leave and come home. People depended on him.”
“Oh.”
She could tell he had more questions by the way his eyes twinkled merrily. His curiosity was getting the better of him.
“So what did you do, Mommy? Did you finish making the pie? How did you get to the hospital?”
“Yes, I finished making the pie and when it was time, I called an ambulance.”
“Wow! You got to ride in the back with the lights flashing and the siren going?”
She smiled at her son’s excitement. “I sure did.”
Tired of the conversation, he scrambled down off her lap.
“Can we go to the park?”
Christina glanced out the window. Snow was falling rapidly, big fluffy flakes that would soon make the roads treacherous. “We’d have to dress warm and walk the few blocks. Or I could pull you on your sled. What do you think?”
“Yay! Let’s go.”
Darrin ran to his bedroom to change into warm clothes and she rose to do the same just as a knock sounded on the front door.
No one they knew ever used the front door. Must be a salesperson or someone who’d gotten lost.
She crossed the room and unlocked the door, ready to send whoever it was on their way. But when she opened the door, her words dried up and her throat closed off.
Everett stood outside on her front deck.
She shook her head to clear it. No, it couldn’t be Everett. Her husband was dead.
That was her last conscious thought as her vision blurred, her legs gave out, and she fell into a black chasm as cold as the winter air.
“And I love you, Pumpkin.”
“Why do you call me pumpkin?” he asked, his nose curled up in distaste.
“Because you were born on Thanksgiving. I was in the midst of making a pumpkin pie when I went into labor for you.”
“Wow! Daddy must have gone nuts,” he said with a grin.
“Well, actually, your dad wasn’t home. He was in Iraq flying a medi-vac chopper for the US army.”
“But we needed him here,” Darrin said with little boy honesty.
“Yes, we did. And he’d so looked forward to your birth, but he had a job to do in serving his country. He couldn’t just leave and come home. People depended on him.”
“Oh.”
She could tell he had more questions by the way his eyes twinkled merrily. His curiosity was getting the better of him.
“So what did you do, Mommy? Did you finish making the pie? How did you get to the hospital?”
“Yes, I finished making the pie and when it was time, I called an ambulance.”
“Wow! You got to ride in the back with the lights flashing and the siren going?”
She smiled at her son’s excitement. “I sure did.”
Tired of the conversation, he scrambled down off her lap.
“Can we go to the park?”
Christina glanced out the window. Snow was falling rapidly, big fluffy flakes that would soon make the roads treacherous. “We’d have to dress warm and walk the few blocks. Or I could pull you on your sled. What do you think?”
“Yay! Let’s go.”
Darrin ran to his bedroom to change into warm clothes and she rose to do the same just as a knock sounded on the front door.
No one they knew ever used the front door. Must be a salesperson or someone who’d gotten lost.
She crossed the room and unlocked the door, ready to send whoever it was on their way. But when she opened the door, her words dried up and her throat closed off.
Everett stood outside on her front deck.
She shook her head to clear it. No, it couldn’t be Everett. Her husband was dead.
That was her last conscious thought as her vision blurred, her legs gave out, and she fell into a black chasm as cold as the winter air.