Snow Way I Can Do All This [RANT]

Despite the poem I shared on Substack on Sunday, I find myself struggling to make time for God or much of anything really. Are all the mamas feeling like these piles of ice and snow are piled on top of them or is it just me?

I shall try to keep my words brief because we all need to get back in the fray and catch up on January. In my effort to do that, I worked on more of those little journals that I make. I have to grow some confidence and rent a space at a craft fair to get these beauties into the hands of appreciative buyers. 

I also started a top secret mission. I am slowly sneaking garbage out of the hoard of my baby trash dragons into an actual trash can. Even the mama trash dragon, who upcycles paper into lovely journals, has some limits on what is salvageable. Honestly, that might have prompted me to fall down the upcycle rabbit hole again.

Meanwhile, due to an insatiable need to tell everyone that editors have value to writers, I am unofficially editing two of my friends’ contributions to the written word. One has even been letting me know when poems go live, so I can get to them quickly. Anyway, the book I just read needed one editor to catch the easy fixes and another to dig in and convince the writer to fill the plot holes. I am fairly certain my Goodreads followers are questioning why I keep reading when I am clearly aggravated by typos and misused words, but I don’t always push through. I opted to not finish a couple of books already this year, but I have spent too much time on this topic. Please point out my typos to me. I eventually catch them and wonder why no one took the opportunity to correct me.

Maybe that is because so many people think they should tell me I am wrong about such things as my own preferences. I definitely won’t get started on that one. Because I want to reassure you about something important:

I resisted the temptation of my inner redneck today. A cashier at the grocery store was dressed as a cow. A very adorable cow. I giggled to myself, but I did not sneak up on her and tip her over. Overcoming my childhood programming one opportunity at a time over here. 

Hopefully, the huge piles of ice melt enough to not make me feel concerned as I walk my tiny humans to and from the bus in the middle of the road… Stay strong mamas. I’m sending positive energy your way. 

Stray Thoughts [RANT]

I’ve had a million stray thoughts. But every time I sit down to bring them together to share with my dear readers, something intervenes. The phone rings. Questions are fired. People check in because the snow is freezing our brains but thawing our worries. Speaking of that, hope you are all doing well.

In one moment of clarity, I realized why hobbits have so many meals. They get interrupted before they finish the first one, so they need to pep themselves up to continue being adorable and carefree and somehow send some heat to those lovely bare feet. 

Side note, going outside to check the mail in flip-flops when a thin layer of ice covers the sidewalks is colder than one would think, but not as cold as sinking into a snowbank while trying to pitch something in the trash can. I put on thick socks and shoes when I repeated this endeavor at the recycling can a couple days later. This time, I slid down the snowbank surrounding the trash cans instead of falling through. It might be cold out there.

I also found cause to wonder about the difference between a butt dial and a booty call. People who have received them know that a clear difference exists  though the former sounds like the latter if it occurs in an impromptu inappropriate moment. May none of us ever receive those —particularly from a relative. (Now that is the seed of a truly horrifying story…)

Women’s clothes don’t always have pockets, or useful pockets. And some ladies don’t enjoy carrying a purse because it leads to carrying a small yet heavy portion of our hoard around. Thus women have had to rely on nature’s pocket, which for some could house a sizable gun and for others barely offers a place to secrete a small wad of cash to be pulled out and offered in a sodden mass to horrified cashiers. So if a woman stores her phone in her emotion support garment, would an accidental call become a boobie call or a boob dial? And which would people prefer? Ornithologists would definitely vote boobie call (masked or blue-footed preferred).

Now that your mind is clearly in the wrong place, feel free to go plunge into that snow, which has probably turned into a solid layer of ice, and cool yourself off. I shall return to trying to finish anything between interruptions. All the mamas who know they shouldn’t homeschool but suddenly find themselves doing so know what I am talking about…

First Snow Happy [FICTION]

Another winter began without that first hint of snow. Most years, our little town gets only a soft sprinkling of snow that makes the small hills look like powdered donuts poking up out of the landscape. Then the sun comes out and melts the frosted flakes of winter joy away. I contemplated this as I waited for the sun to come up and summon Elfis back to his place on our shelf. As the big day draws closer, his reports to Santa seem to happen later and later. Or maybe he gets drafted into last minute toy creation as the pressure increases.

As the sun rose, I gasped. The world outside fluttered with huge, fluffy, perfect flakes of snow. No confectioner’s sugar concoctions lay beyond the glass. Banks and banks of snow begged to be scooped up and compacted for use as a projectile or friend creation. As I thought this, two tiny voices cheered behind me.

“Snow!”

“Where’s my snow suit?”

By the time, Elfis arrived to sneak back onto his shelf, two tiny Eskimos stood before me, ready to brave the cold to make new friends from nature’s bounteous holiday gift. He beamed at us and launched into song:

“Snow happy, yes, I'm snow happy

Snow happy, can't you see?

“Every pile of snow looks good to me

What a crazy way-out way to be

I love a life of nothing but frosty white snow

Well I'm snow happy, yes, I'm snow happy

Snow happy, can't you see?

“Every time I see that icy lace

A snowman forms in that space

I need snowflakes to make my life worth living

Yes, I'm snow happy, yes, I'm snow happy

Snow happy, can't you see?

“I've been like this since I was just a baby boy

First winter snow stopped my tears and made me jump for joy

Don’t keep those snowflakes out of sight

I'm in a snowball mood tonight

I love a life of nothing but beautiful snowflakes

Well, I'm snow happy, yes, I'm snow happy

Snow happy, can't you see?

“I've been like this since I was just a baby boy

First winter snow stopped my tears and made me jump for joy

Snow happy, well, I'm snow happy

Yes, I'm snow happy, can't you see?

Snow happy, said I'm snow happy

Yes, I'm snow happy, can't you see?”

Then he settled down, smile in place and went to sleep on his shelf.

~~~

Confess now. Does your elf sing to you? What would you do if they did?

Sibling Snow Secrets [FICTION]

My brother takes mere seconds to open the door and usher me impatiently into his warm house. I glance over my shoulder at the snow fluttering to the ground. Then I follow my grunting sibling into his living room where his two sons stare out the window in wonder.

“Snow, snow, come and stay. We’ll go to school another day.” They chant happily.

“The magic still works.” I smirk.

“There is no such thing as magic,” he mumbles distractedly. “Just people beating the odds to make hard things happen.”

“What crawled up your butt?” I ask as he brushes past me.

He rolls his eyes but otherwise disregards my question. “Thanks for watching the kids. I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You have a top secret government job, so you can’t let me know when you’ll be home.”

He grins at me. “Thankfully you don’t have an important job. Otherwise, who would watch the kids?”

“Hey now,” I search for a defense, but he has already slipped out the door and slammed it in my face.

I shake my head and turn my attention back to my niece and nephew. After having a door slammed in my face, I think the children need to learn how to aggravate their father. I doubt my old tricks will work for them, but surely we can come up with something. 

Unfortunately, his children aren’t as keen on diving him crazy as I am. I guess I will have to wait until they hit their teens. As they try to convince me to let them watch a show I know they shouldn’t, an unfamiliar ping breaks up the conversation.

John looks toward the sound anxiously, “Uh-oh!”

“Is that an alarm of some kind,” I leap from he couch and prepare to hustle the children out the door.

“It’s dad’s phone, and he is always on it for work…” Alan reassures me, reaching out to pull me back down onto the couch. “Don’t worry. He’ll realize and come back for it.”

One ring gives way to more demanding rings. I peer down at the phone where a red-faced man glowers under the name Boss.

“I better explain that Davey left his phone,” I whisper to the kids as I pick up the phone and use my most professional voice. “Davey’s phone.”

“Jones, stop trying to sound like a woman and get yourself over here.” He includes a few choice swear words, but my brain edits them out.

“Jones?” I ask. “I’m sorry. You must have the wrong number.”

More curses greet me. “…serious business…people are in danger and he is playing…games. I never dial the wrong number. Who is this?”

“I am not sure I should answer that,” I walk away from the curious eyes of my two nephews, lowering my voice as I step out onto the screened in back porch. “My brother has you listed as boss on his phone, but his name isn’t Jones.”

His gruff voice softens, “Ah. You must be Matilda. Where is Davey…Davey Jones, get it?”

“Um. No.”

“You really are young aren’t you?” He coughs. “Stop screwing around and tell your brother to take the phone.”

I clear my throat. “He forgot it at home.”

“Then where the h…” he edits himself this time, “is he?”

I shrug then remember he can’t see me and squeak, “Hopefully coming back to get it.”

He offers more curses to the air and then hangs up on me abruptly. I put the phone in my pocket and hurry back inside to thaw out. My nephews watch me anxiously.

“Is Daddy getting fired?” Alan asks.

“Not as far as I know,” I pat my pocket.

“But he left his phone and he can’t get updates from his boss if he leaves his phone,” his dark eyes widen with concern.

“Yeah. That does seem odd.” I pull my own phone out of my other pocket and click to call him.

After a couple rings, his voice greets me as if from a tunnel. “Can’t really talk, sis. Driving in a snow storm. Are the boys alright?”

“You just said an awful lot for someone who can’t talk,” I can’t help myself.

“Sis?” He asks anxiously.

“Yeah. The boys are fine, but your boss called on your other phone.”

“What?” My ears ache from his scream and the ensuing tire screeching. “Please tell me you didn’t answer it.”

“Well…” As I search for the right words, it rings again from in my pocket.

“Do not answer it.” He mumbles something I can’t understand and then continues. “I’m headed back to the house.”

He begins yelling at another driver as he ends the call. I sit down on the couch next to John who gives me a hug. The phone rings three more times before Davey gets back. I have just handed him his phone when loud banging on the door makes everyone jump. Both nephews jump into my arms, pulling me down onto the couch. 

“Jones, you better open this door or your neighbors are going to hear some things you’ll be ashamed of,” his boss’s now familiar voice booms.

“Thank so much for answering my phone, sis,” Davey glares at me as he opens the door.

The red-faced man fills the doorway, nodding at me curtly before reaching out a huge hand to pull Davey out onto the porch. The boys cuddle into me, terrified as the door slams closed.  Despite the door between us and what I assume are his version of hushed tones, the boss’s voice carries through.

“I told you not to go out on your own.”

We can’t hear Davey’s reply but his boss clearly doesn’t approve of it.

“We can do more than fire you, Jones. This is treason.”

I gasp. The boys cuddle closer to me, turning their little faces upward to silently plead for me to make it better. I hold them tighter and try to guide them from the door. Both voices have hushed since the word treason hit our ears. I’ve never been so transfixed on a closed door in my life as I am right now. When it finally opens, I jump. My nephews jump with me.

The red-faced man steps through the doorway and extends his hand to me. “Sorry to be meeting under these circumstances, Matilda.”

I take his hand but don’t even search for words because his intense expression speaks of more words to come and intolerance of interruptions.

“Your bother tells me you love spy novels?”

I glance at my brother trying not to glare at his him as I gage his response. He shrugs his shoulders and puts his hands in his pockets. Alan and John rush over to him as the boss turns his attention back to me.

“Would you mind stepping outside?”

I look at Davey, hoping he will save me, but he offers nothing but a pleading look, so I turn back toward that angry red face and nod in agreement. This time, I grab my coat and slip my feet into my boots before stepping out onto the front stoop. 

After furtive glances up and down the street, the man takes my hands with unexpected gentleness. “Your brother is in a lot of trouble. From what he has told me about you in the past, you just might be able to help us…”

I open my mouth to speak, but he shushes me. “It could be dangerous, so before I say anything else, you decide if you are willing to take the risk.”

“Without knowing what you expect me to do?”

“Sorry. That is often the way things work in this business.”

“What business is that?” 

“Are you interrogating me?” His lips quirk upward, but his smile looks like a snarl.

I shudder but straighten my shoulders. “I have a feeling more is at stake here than my brother’s job…”

He eyes me warily for a moment as he chooses words. “Let’s just say you’d be keeping a lot of people safe.”

I sigh. “Like many reluctant heroes before me, I accept.”

He reaches out his hand to shake mine. “Come on then, girl. Tell your brother you’re fixing the problems he’s made and let’s get you ready to save the world.”

~~~

The real world warmed up so much that I almost thought it was spring this week, but who doesn’t love a story about snow, right? At some point, I might need to clear up my “to do” list and try to expand some of these stories. Should this one be one of them?

Show Off Those Shovels [FICTION]

As the sky ceased to shower down flakes of crystallized water, I trudged to the door to throw on my snow shoveling gear. Once I looked appropriately uncomfortable in what appeared to be a hundred pounds of winter coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and boots, I felt ready to take on the weather. Despite the bulk of my thick gloves, I grabbed the shovel from my front porch.

As I finished shoveling the thin coating of snow off of my sidewalks and driveway, an unexpected wave of energy filled me. I glanced at my neighbor’s house. Mrs. Waters turned eighty last year, but she still makes the trek to my house with a delectable tray of cookies every couple of months. 

With her grandson back at college, I knew I would see her later that morning pushing her shovel to make tiny paths in the snow. I decided my renewed energy meant I should repay her for all those cookies. I still needed to burn off the most recent batch anyway. 

As I moved from my sidewalk to hers, tossing snow away from the street, I heard voices approaching. I glanced up to find three teen boys staring at me. I paused and leaned on my shovel.

Their leader looked me up and down. “Lady, why don’t you go inside and warm up. We’ve got this.”

One of his henchmen gained courage from that comment. “Yeah. It’s not like you need the money.” His eyes strayed back to my boots, which I admit I had willingly paid a little extra for, but it didn’t make him less rude for commenting.

“I am not getting paid except in friendship,” I resisted the urge to add “and cookies”.

The leader pondered this for a moment. “How about you pay us to help you out it then. This is a lot of snow.”

I felt his implied assumption of my advanced age. Not too old to be offended by being called old, I picked up my shovel and went back to work with more finesse. As I shoveled my way toward them, the teenagers exchanged glances and backed away from me. Encouraged to see them backing down, I started dancing with the shovel and even launched into some songs about snow, some that I made up and some still stuck in my head from Christmas. 

Halfway through an upbeat version of jingle bells, the boys started to harmonize with me. I whipped my head up in surprise to see them shoveling in rhythm with our song. I considered reminding them that I wasn’t paying them for their services, but I had a feeling they remembered.

They started the next song, and I joined in as we listed the names of Santa’s reindeer. Soon we ragout of snow to remove. We paused on opposite sides of the driveway to stare at each other. The opening of the screen door interrupted our quiet contemplation. Four sets of eyes turned toward Mrs. Waters as she stepped out onto her porch with some plastic bags of cookies.

“Thank you so much for the show and the snow removal. I knew I baked cookies last night for a reason. I just wish I had some eggnog for you cheerful carolers.”

We stepped forward to accept our payment. As the boys walked away with their bags already open and half empty, my neighbor gave me a hug.

“Thanks for being a good influence on those boys. Kids don’t realize the joy that can be received and given by serving without expecting payment.”

“Well, they got paid in the best currency I know.” I replied around a mouthful of cookies. “These cookies get better every year.”

“It’s because I get more practice every year. I would love to chat, but…” She waves a trembling hand toward her grey hair. “I get older every year and less inclined to be cold. Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

~I feel like I wrote something similar to this, but after a quick scroll through my archives didn’t yield anything. I mixed it up a little though in the hopes of keeping if fresh and delectable like cookies delivered by a neighbor. Feel free to tell me where to look if your memory of my writings is better than mine.~

Snow Schemes [FICTION]

Snow. Snow. So much snow. A world finally washed clean by fluffy flakes from heaven. Two whole days of freedom from the everyday troubles of a small town library. Two days alone in my house, baking cookies to make the kitchen cozy and warm. Two days eating those cookies and not worrying if my favorite pantsuit won’t fit in the morning.

But time marched on, temperatures rose, and my boss summoned me back to my desk. I step into my tiny office as I unwind my scarf. The smell of glue and old bindings welcomes me. I breath it in, pondering whether or not I should break the unwritten rule not to close our doors until we leave for the day. I would love to enjoy a few minutes alone with my latest pile of wounded tomes, repairing them in solitude.

I take one last longing look at the door but leave it open. I crack my knuckles and sit down at my computer. As I reach up to turn it on, I realize the light on the tower is already glowing in a friendly manner. 

“I know I turned you off.” I mutter as I tap the button on the monitor and wait for it to come to life.

My lock screen greets me. I slowly type my password, reassured when it logs in to the desktop. Soon I am immersed in cleaning out my inbox to assure that no new projects have been assigned to me during our two days of closing. It is amazing how my to do list grows even when we have unexpected days off. As I reach for a pencil to make a note of my new top priorities, something nags my mind. I stare at the pencil in my hand. Instead of being a blunt nub, it looks freshly sharpened.

“Odd. I don’t remember sharpening this.” I look around my desk more closely. Other items are shifted slightly. “I wonder…”

I open up the three web browsers on my computer and start scrolling through their histories. It isn’t until I open up Firefox, which I don’t even remember installing, that I find what I seek. Someone has been doing extensive research here. I start clicking on links and forget to breath as I realize that this combination of websites can mean only one thing, someone in our small town is planning a terrorist attack. And they are trying ti set me up as the mastermind.

I go through them again, slowly, one at a time. One more time. This time, every sound makes me jump. I almost leap right out of my skin when my boss peeks her head in.

“Good morning. Glad you made it safe through the snow.”

I breath in deeply to recover my composure and smile back at her. “You know I live two blocks away. I could have been here yesterday.”

“You weren’t.” She says matter of factly. “I checked the logs.”

As she wanders off, I am left to ponder how that is possible. If no one logged in using my account over the weekend, how did this disturbing browsing history get on my computer? As I am pondering this, Neil raps his fingers on my door.

“Hey, Betty, how ya doin’?” He asks in his slow southern drawl. I can’t help but note that his eyes widen when he sees me busily scanning the contents of my screen.

“I’m good, Neil. Just making a list of all the new projects that became top priority over the last two days.”

He nods. “Anything I can help with?”

He steps into the room to stand at my side. I have already resumed reading my emails. He exhales slightly as he looks at my screen and I see him tilt his head down toward the notepad at my fingertips. He finds the list of pending projects unthreatening and steps back to the door.

“Did you need something Neil?” I ask.

“What?” He pauses and turns to look at me. “Oh. No. Just wanted to see how you were doing?”

“Two days off didn’t help with your social skills, did it?” I mumble under my breath, but he is already gone.

I wait a couple of minutes and follow him out into the stacks. While I step carefully to avoid being heard, he taps along in his hard-soled shoes. When his feet stop a couple of rows over, I tiptoe into the adjoining row and peer through the books. 

Neils looks anxiously up and down the aisle. He cocks his head to the side as if listening for something. Finally satisfied, he pulls a black flip phone from his pocket and dials quickly.

“I’ve only got a minute.” He whispers into the receiver. “I know. I know. She didn’t notice anything. Quit worrying.” He pauses to listen to whatever message comes from the other end of the line. “Okay. I have to get back to work. We shall prevail.”

As he heads back toward the offices, I slip around the other side of the shelves, taking careful steps to the opposite side of the building. I have my own phone call to place. Neil doesn’t know that I dated one of the Sheriff’s deputies in high school, but I would rather he not catch me calling him. I continue padding along on catlike feet until I hear the echo of Neil’s footsteps recede onto the carpet. Standing next to one of the double-paned safety windows at the front of the building, I open up a text message. I don’t dare be overheard with what I fear is going on.

‘Jim, you there?’

‘Yes, Betty. Why so formal?’

‘Wanted to make sure it was you.’

‘Should I call?’

‘No. Can’t talk.’

The ellipses appear and disappear couple of times.

‘Someone at the library was using my computer to look up some disturbing things. I think it was Neil.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

‘Please hurry.’

The police station is only a couple of blocks away, but who knows where he is coming from this early in the morning. He may not even be on duty and his ranch is twenty minutes outside of town. I hear footsteps approaching and grab a book from the nearest shelf, sitting down at a chair by the window.

“There you are,” Neil looks down at me suspiciously, trying to read the title of the book in my hand.

I bite back a snide remark about him taking another unsuccessful crack at learning social skills and offer him what I hope comes off as a friendly but confused smile, “Yes, here I am. Did you need something else?”

“Just walked by your office and didn’t see you there. Wondered where you got off to.” He glances at the book in my hand again.

My eyes follow his, my heart slamming in my chest until I realize I have somehow managed to grab “Little Women”, “Something about this cold snap made me want to read this again this weekend.”

“Oh.” He scans the book and my face with obvious suspicion. “Odd. I was just in the stacks and didn’t see you come through here.”

“You were? I didn’t see you either. I wonder how that happened.”

“Yes. I wonder.” He mulls this over.

“I better check this out and get back to work,” I smile at him. “Want to walk me to the circulation desk?”

The question throws him off guard. He stammers something about having his own work to do and wanders off. I toss my hair and glance over my shoulder to find him still watching me. I grin and wave with my book. He scowls for a second before he rights his face and offers me a brief smile.

I reach the circulation desk at the same time that Angelica, who is working the desk, greets a patron. ‘Well, hello, Jim, a little early for lunch with Betty, isn’t it?”

“Never too early to see Betty.” He grins at her and turns his attention to me, “Especially when she has a new book for me.”

“This book is for me,” I tap his shoulder with it before handing it to Angelica.

“I just wondered if you would like to have cocoa with me?” He asks as his eyes scan the entryway and doors leading into the back of the building.

“Of course, once this book is officially mine for two whole weeks.” I wink at him.

As soon as Angelica returns the book to me, Jim and I offer polite goodbyes to her. He loops his arm in my and leans in to whisper in my ear. “You know she thinks we are back together now?”

“I don’t care. We have to talk.”

He giggles and I elbow him in the ribs. We walk in companionable silence to the coffee shop. I lay claims to a table in the back corner while he grabs us both hot cocoa. When he returns with two donuts as well, I don’t complain. In fact, I tear them both in half, so we can each have half of each. He laughs at me.

“Tell me what is going on. Your text worried me and your current expression isn’t reassuring me.”

I explained what I found on my computer and my weird interactions with Neil that morning. Jim raised an eyebrow and looked out at the snow.

“So someone was cruising sights on bomb-making, posting on a forum that seems to be plotting some sort of coup in our sleepy little town, and Neil has been unusually interested in you. You’re sure he hasn’t secretly been harboring a crush on you?” He offers me a weak smile.

“I am not his type.” I lower my head so I am peering at him over the top of my glasses.

“Keep giving me that sexy librarian look and I am going to forget why I am here.” He offers me a real grin now.

“So what are we going to do.” I shake off his attempt at flirting. I will deal with that later, if there is a later for me.

“I already talked to my boss. He should already be in the library with a team. He is going to have some tech guys go over every computer particularly yours, he promised to handle Neil personally.”

“Oh.” I take deep breath of relief.

“No matter what. You can always count on me to have your back.” He takes one last swig of his hot cocoa. “Go back to work. Act like you don’t know anything. Call or text if anything weird happens. Anything.”

“Got it.”

“And call me before you head home. I will walk you.”

“Yes, dear.” I smile at him as I stand up.

“I’m serious. I’ve got your back, but you have to let me.”

I squeeze his forearm. “And I appreciate it.”

He smiles at me, but he can’t hide the worry in his eyes as I step past him, clutching my hot cocoa in my hands.

The library buzzes as I step inside. Angelica is still working the front desk and holding court. A few of our regular patrons and at least half of the library staff form a semi-circle around the circulation desk. She has no trouble entertaining them.

“So Sheriff Jones just rolled in here this morning with a team of police nerds. He left with Neil in cuffs, screaming obscenities, which is odd because I didn’t even know Neil could even hear those words without flinching, let alone apply them with such force. The tech nerds are still all over the building, inspecting all of our computers.”

“What are they looking for?” One of the assembled audience asks.

“I haven’t quite figured that out yet.” Angelica nods her head wisely, “But I have some ideas.”

“What on earth is going on?” I ask as I step up behind the gathering. “Did a new book get released during the storm?”

“Oh, Betty, you missed all the fun.” She offers me a salacious wink. “Or maybe just the fun to be had in a dusty old library.”

My cheeks infuse with blood at the insinuation. I shake my head slightly to clear the shame rouging my cheeks and ask. “So what did I miss? Looks like it was a lot more interesting than hot cocoa.”

Angelica pauses, deciding between continuing to be the center of attention and quizzing me about my liaison with the deputy. Gossip that she can share wins. “Shortly after you left, the police came in. Apparently, someone has been using our computers, possibly for cyber crime.” She leans forward to whisper the last few words.

“Oh dear.” I glance toward the offices. “Have they found anything?”

“As if they would tell me.” Her eyes light up as if a lightbulb has just begun glowing over her head. “But that handsome deputy might tell you.”

“No.” I say abruptly turning toward my office.

“Some people don’t know how to use their feminine wiles,” Angelica laughs as I walk away.

I don’t turn back. I don’t dare engage. I keep walking to my office with my head held high. I get there as the tech finishes whatever he was doing to my computer. I recognize him from high school but can’t remember his name. He nods at me as I step into the room.

“Hey, Betty, just finishing up here. Just so you know, it looks like you were right, so be careful. Jim wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

I am going to need to start wearing foundation to cover this constant flushing that his name seems to bring to my face. “Thanks. I plan to.”

“You’re good to go. I have what I need. And I checked for viruses and malware. All good.” He assures me as I look at my computer apprehensively.

“Thanks.”

He nods again, gathers up his gear, and moves on to the next office, which happens to be Neil’s. I watch him for a second as he sits down and begins tapping at the keyboard. He looks up once to offer me an uncomfortable smile and I sit down at my own computer. I don’t start typing. I can’t focus. I am worried I didn’t react fast enough and that something terrible is going to happen in my little town. 

The worry continues to gnaw at me as I go through the motions. I pick the first task on the list that I compiled this morning and start processing books with extra caution because I am afraid of making a mistake as my mind continues to wander. I take my half hour lunch at the coffee shop, which makes phenomenal sandwiches named after local legends. I don’t taste mine as I wait for any response from Jim, whom I texted as soon as I headed over for lunch. I am so busy checking my phone for his response that I don’t notice him come to stand in front of me until he clears his throat. I jump up from the table, clutching my chest.

“Calm down. I’m one of the good guys, remember?” He points to his badge.

“I’m sorry. I was expecting you to text.”

“Just got out of an interrogation and thought I would come see your beautiful face.”

“Now isn’t the time to flirt.” I frown at him.

“Maybe tonight over dinner?”

“Um, Jim?” I don’t know how to broach the subject at the forefront of my mind.

“Neil isn’t much of a criminal mastermind. He told us everything, including who put him up to this.” He pauses and glances around before leaning in to whisper. “That’s really all I can tell you…active investigation…but I want you to know you are safe now.”

“So I don’t need you to walk me home?” I tease. “Or take me out to dinner?”

“But would you like me to?”

I let the question hang between us in the air. Today has been too terrifying to make any big decisions. And this feels like a big decision.

~~No snow in sight. Much to the disappointment of my sweet toddlers, but I can always write about it, right?~~

A Late Christmas

Hello, my lovelies. This one should have been posted a little earlier, but last weeks post wanted to be finished first. Feel free to tell me what you think.

Betsy snuggled deeper into her thick faded quilt, letting her body sink further into the lumpy cushions of the couch. Her brassy hair brought color to an otherwise washed out room filled with faded fabrics and neutral decor. Her soft green eyes didn’t notice the faded colors. Instead, they looked past faded blue curtains that framed the window. Softly falling snow took all vestige of color out of the world outside the window, reflecting golden rays of sunshine to warm the room.

“Thomas says that Gracie is feeling better.” A soft voice brought Betsy back from the brink of sleep.

Green eyes opened. A smile tentatively played along her lips. She sat up, allowing the quilt to fall back from her shoulders.

“So I can take her Christmas present to her?”

Betsy’s mother paused, peering out the window before answering. “The snow seems to have stopped. Just remember to hurry. I want you home well before dark.”

“Thank you, momma.” Betsy jumped up from the couch.

Her mother disappeared for a second, reappearing with a heavy, brown coat and a pair of clunky dark boots. Betsy kneeled on the floor, searching for something under the couch with probing hands. One armed disappeared up to the shoulder before she produced a pair of wool socks that were wadded together. She sniffed at them as they dangled from her thumb and index finger. Shrugging, she slipped them over the thin cotton socks she was already wearing before shuffling over to her mother.

Mother handed Betsy the boots, watching with a doting smile as Betsy struggled to remain standing while pulling them over her feet. When she righted herself, her mother helped her into the heavy coat. Mother’s lips tickled as they brushed Betsy’s cheek.

“Be careful, sweetie.” As she spoke, she pulled a thick scarf out of one pocket and ragged gloves from the other. “Don’t take these off until you get to Gracie’s house.”

“Yes, momma.” Thick folds of the wool scarf muffled her voice.

Her eyes already sought out the door as she followed her mother into the kitchen. She paused in front of the kitchen table, allowing her eyes to waver from the door to a present resting on the stained tablecloth. Thin stripes of red, green, and white crisscrossed the shiny paper encasing a rectangular box.

“Is that Gracie’s present?” Betsy craned her neck to look up into her mother’s face.

Mother smiled as she handed the package down to her daughter. “Make sure you head home before it starts to get dark.”

“I will, momma.” Betsy stood on her tiptoes to kiss her mother on the cheek one more time.

Mother opened the door, and Betsy stepped out into the chilly afternoon. Beads of water dripped an inconstant rhythm from the icicles on the gutters. She hopped quickly out from under the eaves as one of those drops splashed against her forehead. Hugging the package to her chest, she raced across the white expanse of the backyard.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the back gate. After pausing to lift the latch and stepping through, she walked with more casual, controlled steps. The thick woods of summertime had devolved to barren, dark trunks and twisted branches as fall turned to winter. She could actually see the tiny silhouette of Gracie’s house in the distance through the skeletal trunks. Frozen branches tinkled and thumped against each other as a breeze ripped through the valley.

As the wind whipped around her, Betsy felt her scarf loosen. One hand tightened on the package as she used the other to pull her scarf back into place. More wind whipped up from the opposite direction. Startled, her grip on the package loosened. Betsy sighed as the present slipped from her hand onto the snow in front of her. A light cracking sound followed.

Betsy looked up, glancing in every direction to get her bearings. Her pink mouth formed an “O” of surprise as she realized where she was. She knew about the creek, but in her hurry, she forgot to be careful where she was walking. Struggling to kneel in her heavy boots and coat, she watched in horror as a crack appeared on either end of the package, breaking through the snow and widening as a small stream of water bubbled through. She reached for the brightly colored paper with clumsy, gloved hands but failed to get a good grip.

Before she could wrestle one hand free of her cumbersome glove, the small stream had broken free enough that the package shifted. Desperate, Betsy pulled her glove off, tossing it toward the far bank. As she lunged forward again, the packaged dislodged. Loud cracking erupted from both sides. In the still afternoon air, the water sounded like a torrent. The package floated even further away, breaking up more of the ice.

“No.” Her own voice startled her as Betsy realized the water was now flowing around her knees.

She knelt in the middle of the stream, too stunned by the icy water to do more than watch the present disappearing further downstream. She shook her head, pulling herself out of her fugue. Splashing wildly, she tried to catch up to it, but the ice broke with increasing speed, carrying the package further and further away. Warm tears stained her cheeks as she realized she would never catch it.

Wiping her face on the back of her gloved hand, she reached out with the other for a scraggly bush growing at the side of the stream. She pulled herself up with its help. Grabbing her other glove, she slipped it over her stiff, frozen fingers as she shivered violently. The feeling in her legs ebbed and flowed. She would have been happier if she couldn’t feel at all. Every time her wet pants pressed against her skin, she whimpered pitifully. She walked faster toward her friend’s house, trying not to cry.

“How could I forget the creek? We always play in the creek in the summer.” She chastised herself as she raced onward, feeling the wind burn her cheeks.

When she finally reached Gracie’s door, Betsy paused, ashamed to knock when she no longer had a present for her friend. Steeling up her courage, she pressed one finger to the doorbell. As she waited, she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Mommy, I want to answer it. Please.”

Betsy recognized her friend’s voice and smiled despite the cold sinking into her extremities. She didn’t hear Gracie’s mother’s response, but the door opened a few seconds later. Gracie’s pale, round face peeked out at her.

“Betsy. Come in. Come in.” Blond curls bounced as the other girl stepped backward.

Betsy stepped in just far enough so that her friend could close the door. She was afraid to step in any further with her soaked boots and pants.

“I’m so glad you came.” Gracie bubbled over with happiness.

“I don’t have…” Betsy began.

“What happened to you?” Gracie’s mother knelt beside Betsy.

Deft fingers unbuttoned the heavy coat. Then she was lifting Betsy from the ground, setting her on a sturdy table by the door so she could pull off sodden shoes and socks.

“Gracie, could you get me a towel and some of your clothes?”

Wide-eyed, Gracie nodded at her mother. Her face colored as she turned to do as her mother asked.

Soon Betsy was dry but she continued to shiver no matter how hard she clenched her jaws. Her friend’s mother had tucked them both under a warm quilt and left them to visit in the living room. They didn’t say anything as they were both listening to the conversation in the other room. Gracie’s mother tried to whisper into the phone, but her voice still carried through the hallway.

“I think she is okay. I changed her clothes, but she probably shouldn’t walk back. I would feel terrible if she fell into that creek again… Yes. Well, you know I’d love to see you.”

“I’m sorry I lost your present.” Betsy whispered at last as the phone conversation ended.

“But you’re here and you’re safe.” Gracie beamed. “What better present could I ask for?”

The image of a box wrapped in shiny paper faded away. She could see Gracie’s face now. Her friend’s smile warmed her heart and she stopped shivering.