Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [55]
Angela worked nonstop, taking a break only long enough to read off another grocery list for Charlie. It was 3:30 when she finished all her chores and her cookie baking. She was so tired she had to drag herself up the stairs.
She took a bath and soaked for over an hour, sloshing around happily in the hot, soothing water. When the water had cooled, she stepped from the tub and lay down on the bed. Within seconds she was asleep.
It was dusk when she woke. She lay still for a few moments, trying to orient herself, then relaxed as she remembered where she was. She crept from her cocoon of blankets and started toward the bathroom. For some reason she felt disoriented as she staggered down the hall.
A bright flash of light suddenly spiraled across the hallway, lighting it up like a fireworks display. “Oh no,” she moaned, “not again, not now. I won’t look, you can’t make me look.” She slid to the floor, her hands covering her eyes.
Colors swam before her, spinning her, catching her, and pulling her into the dreaded vortex of one of her visions. Around and around her consciousness spun, gripped by the maelstrom that wrung every fiber of her being until it left her weak with exhaustion. Helpless, incapable of movement, she felt her perception sharpen.
Her ears filled with a steady drone, the sputtering of an engine.
A small plane . . . writing on the side . . . P-654RT . . . fire . . . plane on fire . . . sky on fire . . . explosion . . . little girl . . . so still . . . dead . . . asleep. So pretty. Dead? Asleep? Not that little girl. She’s too sweet and innocent to die. Her mother will be so sad.
Angela struggled to her knees, her arms outstretched in an attitude of prayer. She was trying, but she couldn’t do anything.
Such a beautiful little girl with all those dark curls and her tiny gold earrings. Someone must care a great deal about her to put those pretty circlets in her ears. Please don’t let her die.
“Where is it? What is happening?” she screamed to the empty room. “Take me instead, no one cares about me. Take me!”
Angela burst into heartrending sobs. She cried until she was exhausted, knowing she would find no answers sitting on the floor. There were never any answers. Sobbing, she got to her feet and dressed.
The freezing air hit her like a blast from the Arctic as she walked on numb legs around the driveway to the garage door. Her tears tingled on her cold cheeks. She backed the Porsche out of the garage and turned it around, the wheels spinning on the icy road.
Her mind was racing as fast as the car. She was going to drive until it ran out of gas, then get out and walk until she dropped. She didn’t want to see that little girl. She didn’t want to know what was about to happen. No more.
This was the last time she would allow this to happen to her. Her mind was on the verge of shattering.
The traffic slowed to a crawl. She could get to where she was going faster by walking. There was no doubt in her mind as to her destination. Timberwoods Mall—and Charlie. She would tell Charlie about her latest vision. Charlie would listen.
The minutes dragged by as she fought the traffic. After a while, time seemed to lose its meaning and the urgency she’d felt melted away. She realized there was absolutely nothing she could do about what she’d seen. Nothing. The plane would crash. The little girl would die. And that was that.
The mall parking lot was full, as she’d known it would be.
I’ll double-park and hope for the best, she thought. She found a spot, then slid out of the car.
A second later she slipped on the ice, all arms and legs as she grappled for a hold on something. Her hands reached for the bumper on the back of a compact car and she managed to swivel quickly enough to avoid doing damage to herself by falling. She had a fear of doctors and hospitals.
Righting herself,