Page 2 of One Last Storm
Outside, the wind picked up another notch, rattling the windows and sending a fresh curtain of snow across the glass. The river looked like a frozen highway, white and desolate under the gray sky. In the distance, he could barely make out the outline of the mountains through the thickening snowfall.
“Daddy, you okay?”
He lifted his head, and of course, Hazel had a bead on him, her eyes big, expression worried. “Um…”
“Is that fresh coffee I smell?”
Tillie. Saving his hide, again. His wife—oh, how he loved that word, too—appeared from the master bedroom. He didn’t know how she did it, but every time he saw her, she seemed prettier. And today, practically glowing despite the early hour. Moving with a lightness he hadn’t seen in months, dark hair twisted up in a messy bun, wearing that soft gray robe that made her look like she was floating.
Thank you, Jesus, for miracles and answered prayer. Maybe he’d see a smile this Christmas, one not quite so shadowed by grief.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
She beamed at him, then turned that beautiful smile on Hazel. “Someone’s excited this morning.”
“I know I’m supposed to wait until Christmas morning, but I think Santa might bring my puppy early.” She grinned at her mom, then back at Moose. “I’ve been really good this year. Well, except for that time I accidentally broke your favorite coffee mug, but I told the truth about it, so that should count for something, right?”
She did know that Moose was Santa, right?
Tillie glanced at Moose with that expectant look—the one that said she was waiting for him to share in Hazel’s excitement, maybe add his own reassurance about the puppy.
And, oh, he’d never been great at lying. He offered a smile—probably resembled a grimace—and she frowned a second before she turned to Hazel.
“Oh. Well, sweetie—probably Santa is up at the North Pole, getting ready for his big trip. He can’t?—”
The sound of vehicles hummed in the driveway.
For once, his cousin possessed perfect timing.
“That’ll be Dawson and Shep.” He moved toward the front door. Coward that he was.
Headlights cut through the swirling white as two trucks pulled up to the house, windshield wipers working overtime against the accumulating snow.
Moments later, Dawson stomped through the door, shaking snow from his dark hair and shoulders. Ice crystals clung to his eyebrows, and his cheeks were red with cold. Followed by Shep who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, snow dusting his jacket and boots. Between them trotted Caspian, the Doberman x labrador stray Shep had adopted.
“Morning.” Dawson came into the house, stamped his feet off. He carried a large bag over his shoulder. Caspian shook off the few flakes that coated his fur.
“Caspian!”
Hazel abandoned her cereal. Slid off the stool, dropped to her knees as the dog bounded over. She ran over, arms out. “Did you come to visit me?”
The dog’s entire body wiggled with joy as Hazel wrapped her arms around his neck. Buried her face in his fur, and Moose caught her whisper.
“I love you so much, but I still really want my own puppy.”
Nice.
The dog sat and let her cling to him.
Sweet dog. He looked away from Hazel.
“Hey guys,” Tillie said. “I wasn’t sure, with the storm?—”
“Aw, we wouldn’t miss the annual game day and Christmas party of Air One Rescue,” said Shep, and he smiled.
Although, it felt a little…hmm. Shep, his flight EMT had seemed a little distant lately.
“We didn’t expect you until noon,” Moose said, glancing at Tillie in her pajamas.
