Marla passed the
sewing needle through the last piece of popcorn. The
fluffy kernel split into several bits and sifted to the
floor. Spearmint green and candy-apple red lights
shimmered and blurred beyond her lashes.
She scooped up the
latest ruined bit of garland. If her fingers didn’t
still, she and Chance would never finish decorating the
tree this Christmas Eve. But at least the popcorn pieces
were more easily picked up than other fragments in her
life.
Chance’s warm hands
gripped her shoulders, and he nuzzled her left ear. “You
seem miles away.”
Leaning back, she let
the string of plump cranberries and white corn drape
over her leg. “Just a little preoccupied.”
“Don’t worry.”
Gentle, ginger-scented kisses rained upon her cheek and
chin. Chance sat down, pulled her body close and rocked
her to the seasonal sounds of one-horse open sleighs
playing on the radio. “If Doctor Hogan’s office said
they’d phone with the results, they will.”
“Unless they’ve
forgotten. Or there’s bad news.” Each word tasted worse,
and their cumulative bitterness lingered on her tongue.
The mantel clock
ticked off more seconds. In the fireplace, flames licked
at the logs and spat sparks against the fire screen.
One-thirty-six. Sandy, Doctor Hogan’s secretary, had
mentioned the office closing at three on Christmas Eve.
An hour and
twenty-four minutes remained until the long holiday
weekend. The churning in her belly intensified as Marla
glanced out the window. In light of the weather
forecast, they’d likely already gone home for the
holidays. Her fingers curled into a fist and then
straightened. More tears burned her eyes, and she
blinked them back. Chance’s shoulder massage failed to
dispel the myriad feelings refusing to settle and allow
her soul some respite. The wind-driven snow beyond the
picture window was anything but a blessing. Definitely,
a curse. A frozen, unrelenting curse cast upon her.
