Christmas Eve
It was a dark and stormy night.
The wind had been blowing most of the day,
and the snow had made driving nearly impossible, drifting over the roads,
bringing traffic to a standstill, and stranding holiday travelers. She had
shoveled the porch three times since dark, and still the snow fell, blanketing
everything in a dense layer of sparkling white.
Inside her house was warm and cozy,
candles flickering on the mantle, and the pine scent of the tree wafting about
to mingle with the smell of the wood burning in the hearth. The tree was nearly
decorated now, all the ornaments hung and glittering, the colored lights
sparkling, and the star at the top a bright beacon.
He wasn’t coming, she thought. Stranded
no doubt, like everyone else. She supposed she should put the champagne away,
and the shrimp cocktail, and the lovely salad with the pine nuts and
cranberries. The chocolate mousse was still chilling in the refrigerator but
the whipped cream had probably fallen a bit. A small sigh escaped her.
And then the dog barked.
Not a warning bark but an excited bark.
She ran to the door and opened it,
peering out into the snowy night, and her heart skipped a beat.
He was coming up the drive, covered in
snow, carrying his guitar.
She ran out to meet him, not caring how
cold it was or that her boots would get wet. He opened his arms wide, and she
flew into them, wrapping herself around him. He held her tight, kissing her
hair, her face. She brought him inside and took his heavy overcoat, laying it over
the sofa, smoothing his damp hair back away from his blue eyes.
She got the champagne out and they drank
before the fire.
“Are you hungry?’” she asked, “I’ve got…”
“No food,” he said with a smile, “Just
you.”
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