Annabelle's Angel by Therese M. Travis

Author:Therese M. Travis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: christian Fiction
ISBN: 9781611164572
Publisher: Pelican Ventures Book Group
Published: 2014-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

~*~

Rick stood with his back to the hill, first in the long line of Archer kids. With arms spread, he let himself fall straight back, all the while calling instructions.

He’d forgotten the way the snow could creep under his collar and wedge itself into the layers of clothing. He flapped his arms through the snow a few times and then called to Joe. “You and Liam come pull me up.”

When he stood in front of his huge snow angel, it gave him a strange feeling of nostalgia. He shook his head, determined to ignore it. He didn’t want any soft, longing feelings for his family. They’d abandoned him; he wouldn’t run after them, begging for affection they wouldn’t give.

Instead, he turned to the kids. “Which of you wants to make the first angel?”

“I wanna go latht,” Victoria said. “Tho mine can be the only one no one walks through.”

Rick checked to see if Annabelle felt like laughing as much as he did, but she was behind an SLR camera.

The kids got their angels made quickly, and to Rick’s surprise, the older ones all waited while Victoria made hers. Rick leaned down and lifted her straight up to keep her angel perfect.

She stayed in his arms, one wet mitten pressed against his neck, and stared at the line of angels.

The other kids ran off.

Annabelle stopped clicking pictures and followed them, and still, that little mitten stayed him like a leash.

“You ready to go play?”

She shook her head. “That’th uth, ithn’t it?”

Rick grinned. “Yup, that’s us.”

“We’re a nithe family.”

He had to swallow before he could speak. “Yup.” And even then, the sun on the snow blinded him and made him blink.

We’re a family. It felt good to be included.

Then Victoria leaned forward. “Can I go play now?”

“Yeah, sure.” He set her in the snow and watched her run toward the others.

She left him behind.

The sun’s glare grew painful, and he wiped his hand across his eyes.

“Rick, move back a little. This is perfect.”

He stumbled into the shade of the pines, his feet crunching on mangled snow and needles, suddenly aware of the cold and damp seeping across his back.

Annabelle clicked a few more times before she waved the camera toward him. “Look at these pictures. They’re incredible. Look.”

He took the camera and scrolled through the series of photos. He nodded. “They’re great.” There. His voice came out sounding like himself, not like some baby.

“We probably shouldn’t let everyone stay out very long now. None of us are used to getting this wet and cold.”

He nodded again. Puppet-like, that was Rick Stockton. “We could go into the shop. They sell cocoa and snacks and coffee.”

She laughed. “We can’t drink coffee in a setting like this. They shouldn’t serve anything but Christmas cocoa all year long.”

He looked down at her. She’d tucked most of her hair under a knitted hat, and when she turned her head, he saw the scars that traced a line between her eye and her temple. They showed up stark against the bright pink the cold had brought to her cheeks, but he still thought them unremarkable.

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