the gifts delivered to the house. So, I’d brought them with me.
But as I got out, and the force of the wind pinned me against the side of the car, I had doubts. The house had to be no more than a hundred yards along the road, but with no street lights and blinding snow, I couldn’t see a thing.
Using the phone’s flashlight, I stumbled forward, trying to keep to what I assumed was the road. After picking up a long stick, I tapped it in front of me. Falling into and being swallowed by a gaping hole was not part of the plan.
As I squinted into the distance, tall dark swaying shadows suggested I was coming to a clump of trees and beyond, a small pinprick of light. Yes! There it is. The cold had seeped through my clothes, my face was frozen with a grimace in place, and non-stop shivering had my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
I made it past the trees, bent over against the wind, and would have shouted and jumped for joy at the sight of light shining from the windows of a house. But all I could manage was to fall against the front door and use what little strength I had to bang on it.
I sagged onto the step and slid into a sitting position. When the door cracked open and a sliver of light fell on me, I cried, “Mom? Dad?”
“Oh my God! What are you doing out in this weather?”
That didn’t sound like either of my parents or my siblings. A pair of strong hands heaved me up and hauled me inside into the warmth.
2. Ian
“I understand, Dad. It’s not your fault. I love you. Give my love to Greg. Merry Christmas.”
I put the phone down with a heavy heart and my eyes welled with tears. A glance at the presents under the tree had me howling, much like the wind outside.
My dad and stepdad were coming here for Christmas. They’d hoped to fly in yesterday but were trying to get one of their clients to sign a contract before the holidays. And now the airport was closed. They wouldn’t make it and I’d spend Christmas alone.
I thought of Viv and Rob Anderson, my employers who lived on the other side of the property. This was their first winter as both goat farmers and my boss. Two of their kids had arrived a few days ago and another would fly in tonight, Christmas Eve. And tomorrow on Christmas Day more of the family would arrive. Viv had invited me to spend the holiday with them, but I’d told her my dads would be visiting.
I’d met their two eldest children this morning when the weather report informed us a storm was headed in our direction, and we’d herded the goats into the barn.
Sarah, their daughter, had been worried the barn was too cold for them and asked about heating, but I explained as long as the building had no drafts—which it didn’t as I’d made sure of that myself—and they had plenty of space, straw to lie on and other goats to cuddle up with they’d be fine. The Andersons were new to the world of goats.
But as I stared at the twinkling lights on my small Christmas tree, I envied them. Their youngest son was coming in tonight. They’d be together and I’d be alone, though I wondered if he’d made it before the storm closed the airport.
If I called Viv and replayed what’d happened, she’d insist on me coming to their home for sure. But I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want a pity invite. I grabbed a beer and sat on the sofa, thinking of the fridge heaving with food for Christmas Day.
I’d have to cook the damn rib roast myself and had no idea how. Greg was the cook, dad and I being the helper elves doing what he told us. But I guessed the online cooking community would have instructions. The massive amount of alcohol, vegetables, fruit, nibbles and cookies would take a while to plow through. Maybe I could donate them.
But as I lay on the couch feeling sorry for myself and wishing I’d accepted my father’s invitation to go to them, a noise outside the front door had me lift my head. The wind was wailing and I wasn’t sure if a branch had fallen off a tree or I’d imagined it. No, it was a definite thump.
Half expecting to find an injured animal on the front