The Christmas Gift by Izzy James

Author:Izzy James [James, Izzy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bent Knee Press

Chapter 11

Erica woke about eight o’clock the following morning to the vision of Jack’s back as he tended the fire. The quiet in the room was no longer peaceful. She sat up and began to fold her blanket. Jack turned, and before he could speak, the power came on. The house began to hum as the electricity flowed through bringing life back to normal.

Erica put her feet in her boots, got on her coat and went to inspect the driveway.

She heard Jack crunching down behind her. Halfway down she could see that the workman had cleared the tree from the driveway, leaving large rounds of wood on either side. Erica turned and headed back to the house for her things. She passed Jack without saying a word.

A car pulled into the driveway as she reached the steps. She turned in time to see a short, brunette in her mid-twenties get out of the car and step into Jack’s arms.

Erica looked around the room once more to forever store the memories and gather her belongings. She didn’t have much: her purse, satchel, and briefcase. Her briefcase seemed heavier than usual. Must be time to clean it out. She could get to that later. One more look, one deep breath, and she stepped once again onto the porch. Then she walked to her truck and loaded the passenger side with her stuff.

“Erica!” Jack’s voice was cheerful. Great. She turned to see Jack and the girl standing side by side with Jack’s hand resting lightly on her upper arm. “This is Mindy. My assistant.” He dropped his hand.

Erica put on her professional go-to-meeting face. Her lips stretched into a rubber smile while her arm extended into a handshake. “Hi. Erica Thomas. Nice to meet you, but I’ve really got to go.” She turned to Jack and offered her hand. “Ann will be in touch about the article. Thank you for your time and hospitality.”

Jack took her hand and once again searched her eyes. “I look forward to hearing from you.” This time the amber pierced her heart.

She turned from him, gave a little wave, and stepped up into the drivers seat.

“Bye,” she called cheerfully and drove down the driveway. She stopped long enough at the end of the driveway to send an “I’m on my way” text to her mother before pulling on to the main thoroughfare.

The roads had been treated but the icy patches that remained claimed her concentration all the way home.

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