Wind howled, announcing another dose of snow. Journey latched the door behind her as she escaped into the warmth of the house. Within the comfortable walls of Miss Rose’s home, she hoped the blizzard would strike quick and hard. With any luck, Hank would be caught off guard and freeze to death in the abandoned shack. She shook the tiny balls of snow from her coat and hair, hanging the damp coat by the door, and felt a certain sense of relief, knowing she hadn’t killed a man. She wished he weren’t here now, but she was innocent of his death, at least. “Goodness, girl! Come by the fire and get warm. You’ll catch your death out there,” Miss Rose said. The woman came into the main room from the kitchen using her cane. Her hip must have been bothering her again. Journey curled up on the davenport after removing her damp boots to dry by the fire. “The snow came up so fast.” Miss Rose drew her rocker closer and pushed her chair into a gentle sway with the tip of her cane. “That’s the way winter works out here.
What do You think about The Parson's Christmas Gift?
