From a Good Home by Trudi Johnson

Author:Trudi Johnson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Flanker Press
Published: 2019-10-02T12:57:27+00:00

CHAPTER 9

On Christmas morning, Quentin woke to the voice of a radio announcer who seemed reluctant to inflict the news on his listeners. He laughed at the man’s attempt to find something good to say about a weather forecast that called for freezing rain, ice pellets, and high winds well into Boxing Day. It’s all right, you don’t have any control over that either. You’re forgiven.

Shortly after nine, as he was making coffee in the kitchen, he heard a key turn in the front door and knew it could only be one person. “Sara?”

“Yes, it’s me.” She kicked off her boots, dropped her coat and gloves on the chair in the hall, and headed for the kitchen. “Mornin’. Merry Christmas! You’re up early,” she said, and gave him a gentle hug.

“Habit. A Christmas habit, I mean. I think that sometime during the night the ghost of my mother kept telling me it was all right to get up. Here, have a coffee.”

They clinked coffee mugs and toasted the season.

“When are you going to Kurt’s?” Sara asked.

“If Jaclyn had her way, I’d be there now.”

“Fine. Why don’t I drop you off on the way to my parents’?”

“Little early, don’t you think?”

“Hardly. You know Jaclyn. She’s been up shaking her presents for an hour by now, and Kurt never sleeps past seven. They’re expecting you.” Sara turned to the window and watched frozen droplets form vertical chains on the outside. “Joe is having breakfast with the Martels, so he’ll be late getting there. Then he and Lauren are going to visit Jeanne around lunchtime.”

Quentin stood from the table and placed his empty coffee cup in the sink. “Now there’s family obligation carried to the extreme. Visiting Jeanne. Okay, give me a few minutes to get ready.”

“Take your time. Given my destination, I’m in no rush.”

* * * * *

Outside the Steffensen home, tree branches bent with the weight of ice forming on each tip. Last night’s five-centimetre snowfall had morphed into a thick slush on the driveway and steps as the temperature rose in the early morning hours.

Kurt was just coming downstairs when he heard a car door. He opened the front door to Quentin. “Merry Christmas! Come in out of the mess.”

“Merry Christmas!” He stepped past Kurt into the foyer. “Sara dropped me off. She figures she’ll be back during the afternoon or early evening at the latest, as soon as she can escape.”

“I know she’s not looking forward to the day with her family,” he said as they walked toward the living room.

Quentin bent to place a bag of gifts under the tree. “I have no idea why she does this every year.”

“Hope, Quentin. Sometimes, with relatives, people just live in hope that maybe it’ll be different this time. No matter how often it’s the same.”

“I s’pose, but it’s a hard way to spend the day,” he said, and sighed heavily. “So where’s Jaclyn? Not up yet?”

Kurt laughed. “Oh yes, she’s up. I caught her earlier trying to secretly open her gifts before I knew what she was doing.

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