Chistmas Ever After by Elyse Douglas Read Free Book Online

little breath, she continued on, passing stately pines, newly sugar-coated with snow, until she finally arrived at a little wooden gazebo. No one else was there. One yellow spotlight atop the gazebo bathed the ice-covered pond. She parked and turned off the engine, listening to the deep silence. Finally, she got out and stepped around to the trunk to retrieve her ice skates.   She trudged through the squeaky snow until she arrived at the gazebo, happy there wasn’t any Christmas music playing. After slapping away snow from the wooden bench, she sat and laced up her skates. She looked around, feeling oddly heavy and out of place—not a part of the excruciatingly beautiful scene around her, a snow globe of tranquility and wonder. How was it possible, she thought, to feel like an alien—like a refugee without roots, without a home, without a beating heart—among such beauty?
    She stood and gripped the wooden railing for a time, finding courage, and then ventured out, clumsily, onto the glistening ice that was covered with a thin layer of snow. She was already shivering from the frosty night air.
    Her legs felt weak and shaky. Her breath came fast, in white puffs. She had the image of herself as an uncoordinated clown performing at a circus, scampering unsteadily across the ice, her jerky body lurching and bobbing, her hands reaching for an invisible support. It was a good thing no one was around to see her make a complete fool of herself.
    She wobbled and skipped as she battled to stay upright. Her lungs began to burn from the cold. Halfway across the pond, she picked up dubious speed and then, suddenly, like an unlikely miracle, she hit her stride, finding the zone of tenuous balance and perilous freedom. It was wonderful! She was beginning to feel carefree. The wind across her face gave her a sense of elation, as she scraped a path across the ice, like someone seasoned and confident. If only someone could see her now, as she cruised the pond, like a woman in control, unhampered by doubt, suspicion and fear. If only she could hold the position forever, a person undaunted by the conspiring elements of sharp wind, slippery ice and corrupt balance. She wanted more. She lifted a shaky hand to try for some artistic form, to expand herself out, to fly like a swan across the ice.
    That’s when disaster struck. Her feet began to take on a life of their own. They deserted her and slid away in different directions, like two trains: one traveling east, the other west. She watched, horrified and helpless, knowing that a train wreck was imminent. Panic burned her throat. The trains jumped the tracks.
    When she bounced on the ice, the breath burst from her lungs. She fell backwards and slid away in a clumsy and chaotic dance of flailing arms and legs, just like a turtle on its back, whizzing across the ice helpless and comical.
    When she finally came to rest, cold and sore, she lay back flat, staring up at the dark moving sky, feeling the cool tickle of snowflakes on her face. She was isolated—so very alone. God, how she missed Lance.
    Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Mrs. Wintergreen’s face cut into her vision, smiling down at her.
    Startled, Jennifer blinked quickly, disoriented, trying to erase the image, sure it was an illusion. But Mrs. Wintergreen remained.
    “Hello, Jennifer. You just took a pretty bad fall. Are you all right?”
    Jennifer didn’t move. “Where did you come from? There was no one around.”
    “I was around. I was watching you,” Mrs. Wintergreen said, extending Jennifer her hand. “May I help you up?”
    Jennifer eyed her warily. “I thought you said you were going to the Hartmans’ Christmas party.”
    She nodded. “I was.”
    “I didn’t see you.”
    “I saw you.”
    Jennifer took Mrs. Wintergreen’s hand and allowed her to help her up.
    “So you followed me?”
    “Yes.”
    Jennifer massaged her right hip and grimaced in pain.
    “Let me help you over to the gazebo,” Mrs. Wintergreen