Maybe we’ll get even more than that, and we can make a little hill to sled on. Cole did that for Clara last year, and she absolutely loved it, and I bet Lily would, too.
A sweet picture comes to mind of Lily and Clara sledding down a miniature hill—just high enough to get a little speed going, but not enough to be dangerous—while Finn and Hanna’s dogs race alongside them. Then we can come inside to enjoy some hot cocoa and cookies before settling in to watch another Christmas movie. And later, once Lily’s down for bed, Leo and I can enjoy someprivatetime together.
Maybe this time we’ll even make a little brother or sister for Lily.
My ovaries twang at the thought of another baby. Though I’d love either sex, deep down, I’dreallylove a little boy. A boy who’ll grow up to be just like his dad, smart and serious and unexpectedly sensitive, and who’d do anything to protect the people he loves.
With my thoughts full of winter wonderlands andsweet newborns, I find myself smiling as I near the stairs. There’s a happy skip to my step. An eagerness to bring Lily home so we can get to bed; all the sooner until Leo’s home tomorrow.
But.
Just as I’m reaching for the door that opens to the stairwell, all the lights go out.
It’s abrupt.
Startling.
Unnerving.
It’s nothing,I reassure myself. It’s windy, and the power went out. That happens sometimes. It’s no big deal. And anyway, we have a generator for times like these. So it should kick on any second now.
Except.
It doesn’t.
Normally, the generator should take over within fifteen seconds or so. But as I stand at the base of the stairs, waiting, the lights remain off.
Weird.
Fumbling in my pocket, I pull out my phone so I can use the flashlight. But when I flip it over to look at the screen, it’s completely dark.
My forehead creases as I press the side buttons, expecting the phone to wake up. Instead, I’m met with nothing. No familiar lock screen. No little logo blinking on, announcing it’s restarting. Just… nothing.
I turn the phone over in my hands, as though that’s somehow going to fix it.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t.
I cast a longing look back in the direction I came, hoping to spot a light clicking on.
Nothing.
It’s just a long sweep of dark, broken only by the faint moonlight trickling through the window I just passed.
My heart beats a little faster.
A prickling sensation creeps up my neck.
Leo’s words of years ago come back to me again.“Nine times out of ten, the op was about to go sideways. We just didn’t know it yet.”
But this isn’t an op. And I’m not in the Middle East, where Leo was most often sent. I’m home in Sleepy Hollow, tucked safely behind towering fences and reinforced doors and bulletproof windows. So there shouldn’t be a reason for anything to go sideways.
Besides, it’s just the power going out. And the generator…
What? Just randomly stopped working? Along with my phone?
No. It’s fine.
Setting my shoulders and lifting my chin, I sternly remind myself that I’m a thirty-six-year-old woman who knows better than to be scared of the dark.
