Free The Red Gloves Collection by Karen Kingsbury Page B

struggled to get pregnant. For that reason, they were thrilled beyond hope that fall when Anne delivered a healthy baby girl. Earl spent hours standing over their daughter’s crib, staring at her. The perfect features and scant feathering of dark hair. Her precious lips. Even as an infant she was the mirror image of Anne, and Earl used to fall asleep feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
    In the following years Anne lost two babies and then began having severe bouts of abdominal pain. The doctors found her uterus scarred and diseased; a hysterectomy was her only option. The day after Molly’s fifth birthday, Anne underwent the surgery. Molly didn’t understand the implications, so Anne and Earl did their grieving in private.
    “I’m so sorry, Earl.” Anne buried her face against Earl’s shoulder that night in the hospital room. “I wanted to give you a houseful of babies.”
    Earl silenced her with a kiss. “No, sweetheart, don’t ever say that. It isn’t your fault. And besides, I’d rather have Molly than a dozen other children. With her, our family is complete.”
    It was true, and after Anne’s surgery it became even more so. The three of them were together constantly. They shared meals and conversation and storytime when Molly was little. As she grew, they took weekend drives to Medford and Grant’s Pass.
    They were only apart on Sunday mornings. Anne would take Molly to service, but she never pushed the idea on Earl. Never even asked him to come. Except on Christmas Eve. Earl was adamant about not attending.
    A decision he would regret until he drew his last breath.
    Molly was blessed with a voice that moved people to tears. From an early age she sang at church arid took piano lessons. As she got older, she spent many evenings entertaining her parents.
    Sometime after Molly reached middle school, Anne took a job teaching first grade. It was the perfect supplement to Earl’s modest living and it allowed them to spend a week each summer traveling to exotic places—the south of France, the Caribbean, or Bermuda.
    But though they cherished their summer vacations, Christmas was easily the family’s favorite time of year.
    From early on, Earl and Anne and Molly had enjoyed a tradition. The three of them would each exchange one homemade present. A card or a poem or sometimes a framed piece of artwork. Something Anne had knit or sewn, or a special craft. One year Molly even sang her parents a song she’d written. Each Christmas these were the gifts they looked forward to most. The gifts they remembered.
    That was true even up until their last year together.
    That spring Earl was laid off and times were rougher than they’d ever been. In June, instead of traveling, they sold their house and furniture and moved in with Earl’s parents. Anne’s folks had sold their house by then, but Earl’s still lived right where he’d grown up. It was a sprawling place with six bedrooms and three baths. Plenty of room for Earl and his family.
    But Earl was discouraged.
    “I promise I’ll make it up to you, Anne,” he told her as they turned in that first night in his parents’ house. “This is only temporary.”
    “Silly man.” Anne leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss. Her smile shimmered in the muted moonlight. “It doesn’t matter where we live. You’ll get work again. And when you do, I’m sure we’ll have another house.” She brushed her nose against his. “All that matters is that we have each other. Me and you and Molly.”
    They settled into a routine. That fall, Earl found a job. Despite their housing situation, it was one of the happiest Thanksgivings Earl could remember. They shared warm conversations with his parents and ate pumpkin pie late into the night.
    None of them could wait for Christmas.
    E arl’s story stopped short. He blinked and his gaze fell to his weathered hands. This was the hard part, the part that didn’t make sense. Earl and his family had been halfway to forever,