Angels at Christmas - By Debbie Macomber Page 0,14

she resumed her routines and her habits, it became easier. This didn't mean she missed her mother any less or had stopped thinking about her - that would've been impossible - but life continued.

After showering and doing a few housecleaning tasks, Julie tackled the kitchen. It was when she opened the refrigerator that she noticed her father's lunch. He'd forgotten it. Knowing he'd go without rather than pick up something at a restaurant, she called his work number. When he wasn't available, she asked the man who answered to please let her father know she'd deliver his lunch later that morning.

As she left the house, Julie decided this was the perfect opportunity to get in some exercise. Soon she'd start training for the STP, the annual two-hundred-mile bicycle ride between Seattle and Portland, Oregon. The two-day event was held every July and she'd participated faithfully until her mother's illness. Julie had skipped the past two years, but was eager to get back into a regular training program.

Dressed in her biking gear, she wheeled her ten-speed out of the garage and tucked her father's lunch in one of the paniers over the rear wheels. Then she headed for Fletcher Industries. It felt good to work hard, to pump her legs and exercise her lungs. At top speed she turned off the busy road and into the long driveway that led to the office complex. In the small mirror attached to her helmet, she saw a black sedan turning in behind her. The driveway was narrow and there wasn't room for her to move over or allow the vehicle to pass. Leaning forward as far as she could, her arms braced against the handlebars, Julie reached maximum speed, forcing her legs to pedal even faster.

Obviously the sedan's driver hadn't seen her. Julie gasped as the black vehicle hit her rear tire. The collision sent her hurtling through the air, arms flailing. Her heart stopped when she realized there was no way to avoid missing a fir tree. A scream froze in her throat. If her head slammed against the tree at this speed, helmet or not, she'd be a goner. The last thought she had before impact was a fervent hope that her father not be the one to identify her body.

Then she landed.

It was as though she'd collided with a pile of pillows. Following impact with the tree, she fell on her backside with a solid thump. Too stunned to react, Julie sat there. By any law of nature, she should be badly injured.

Only, she wasn't. In fact, she seemed to be unscathed. Surely that was impossible!

"Are you all right?"

A pale, shaken Roy Fletcher stood above her. Equally shaken, Julie looked up at him and blinked several times, unable to find her tongue.

"I should be dead," she whispered, and thrust out her hand, assuming he'd help her up.

"You should be arrested for pulling a stunt like that," he said angrily, ignoring her hand. "Stay put until I can get an ambulance and the police." He took out his cell phone and started frantically punching numbers.

He wanted her arrested. Of all the nerve! "Listen here," she cried, still in a sitting position. "You were the one who ran into me."

"You're insane!" He was shouting now. "Not you," he said into the tiny cell phone and clicked it off. "I didn't touch you." He stared down at her, a puzzled look on his face. "I can't believe you're not hurt."

"I'm fine...I think."

"That was the most idiotic stunt I've ever seen. Why did you do it?"

"Me?" He'd run into her. And here he was yelling at her when the entire accident had been his fault. "Do you honestly think I voluntarily flew through the air and collided with a tree?"

He shook his head and rubbed his eyes as though to clear his vision. "I don't know what the hell happened, but I didn't hit you."

"Fine. Whatever. Just help me up." She extended her arm to him a second time. Unsteady as she felt, she needed the assistance.

"No!" He raised both hands. "Stay put," he said again. "You could've broken something and don't know it."

"I'd know it," she muttered. While she admitted to being shaken, she wasn't about to let him bully her. Although the trip to her feet lacked grace, she was soon upright.

"Don't move," he said. "Wait for the paramedics."

"I'm perfectly all right," she insisted, removing her helmet.

"You can't be sure of that. Now do as I say and stay where you are."

"Would