Free Totlandia: Winter by Josie Brown

the cloudless baby blue sky.
    I wonder if this great weather will hold out through tomorrow.
    Then she tripped.
    One knee went down pretty hard on the broken concrete sidewalk. A eucalyptus root was to blame for her fall. But she could only fault herself for forgetting to slip on the cord that held the girls’ stroller onto her wrist.
    It was already halfway down the block and careening toward a high curb that ensured a steep drop into the street. Her screams drew a few glances from pedestrians or drivers and passengers in cars that passed by, but their reactions took place in slow motion.
    Even the girls' squeals seemed to hang in the crisp bright air on that Thanksgiving Eve.
    As they rolled farther and farther away from her, all she could think about was their cries when, finally, they’d be tossed from the carriage. And how bloodied and broken they might be should they survive the fall and somehow miss being killed by a car turning the corner.
    They are my life! Oh please, God, please save them because nothing else matters. Not Scott, not the house, not the divorce, nothing but my girls.
    Just at that moment, a man strolled out of Presidio Park. He was dressed in some sort of uniform. (What, park ranger? Something like that…) He looked uphill in time to see the carriage just twenty feet away and bearing down on him. By the time it was it was just three feet from him, he had crouched low enough that, as it passed him, he could grab hold of the handle. And he was smart enough to run with the carriage until, slowly, he could bring it to a complete stop.
    Jillian was still sobbing when she got to him and the girls. But hearing them giggle as if they had been on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride soon had her crying and laughing at the same time, which made the girls squeal even louder.
    When her spasms finally stopped, Jillian took the man’s arm and asked, “How can I ever, ever, ever thank you for saving my girls?”
    He looked down at them, then over at her. Finally, he said, “Coffee. You’re buying.”
    He was serious, although he was grinning. She could tell by the softness of his sweet brown eyes. His shoulders were too broad, his stomach too flat and his face too weathered for a man who sat behind a desk working on a computer all day. It was a long time since she’d felt she could trust a man, any man, but that was not the case right now. He’d just saved her children. She knew, instantly, she could trust him with her life as well.
    She nodded and smiled up at him. “Sure. Coffee. And pie. Homemade! If you can wait until tomorrow. What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

Chapter 11
    Thursday, 22 November
    8:04 a.m.
    “Your turkey is still frozen.” Jillian didn’t know how else to break the news to Jade. She had just put the pies in the oven when, out of habit, she opened the refrigerator and thumped the bagged turkey, fully expecting it to be soft.
    Jade, who sat on the floor with Oliver, Amelia, and Addison as they worked on a big giant puzzle, looked up at Jillian. “That’s okay, right? Won’t it defrost when we stick it in the oven?”
    Jillian frowned. “Ideally, it would have been thawing in the fridge for the past couple of days. But now…well, we’re going to have to figure out a way to defrost it as fast as possible. What time had you planned on dinner being served?”
    “I don’t know. Lunch time?”
    “Don’t count on it! We’ll be lucky if we sit down to eat by five.” Jillian tilted the turkey so that she could read the directions on the bag. “It says here that if necessary, we can thaw it in the microwave. That will take ninety minutes, and it will have to be cooked immediately afterward. No problem there, since I presume everyone will be very hungry—”
    She was stopped by the tear rolling down Jade’s face. As Oliver patted his mother’s back, the tears came even quicker.
    “Oh…Jade, don’t worry! Everything will be alright!”
    Jade shook her head. “No, that’s not true!