Snow Angels. Fern Michaels

Let’s go decorate that tree I promised you.”

      Excited they shouted, “Yeah! Yeah! Let’s hurry, Miss Grace, please!”

      Grace gave Max one last glance before speaking. “I appreciate your hospitality, Max. Thanks again.”

      The girls gave kisses to the dogs, who willingly returned them with big, sloppy kisses of their own.

      “Bye, Ice-D. Bye, Cliff!” they chorused, before racing out the door.

      “Be safe,” Max called out to Grace, then closed the door.

      Suddenly the cabin seemed too big for him and the dogs. “Let’s go for a run, you two. I can’t remember the last time I exercised you guys. Better yet, let’s go to Powder Rise, and we’ll ski down the mountain.”

      He made quick work of gathering the dogs’ boots and coats. His skis were in the shed along with everything else from his former life. Dressing the dogs wasn’t easy, but necessary. They ran alongside him while he skied, and their paws had to be protected as well as possible to avoid frostbite.

      Thirty minutes later, Max drove his spare snowmobile up to the top of Powder Rise. His mountain. And what would have been Kayla’s mountain, their child’s mountain.

      Standing on top, he felt small in comparison. He stared at the miles of white and green surrounding him. Kayla hadn’t enjoyed the snow that much. She probably would’ve been content to stay in Denver for the rest of her life. Why was he remembering that? What did it matter if Kayla hadn’t liked the snow, or skiing, or anything else about it? He hadn’t been all that thrilled with her chosen profession either. Couldn’t understand why she wanted to put herself at risk every time she walked out the door. And he would never know, he realized.

      At the top of Powder Rise, which was at best a decent blue run, Max shoved off the top, Ice-D and Cliff running on each side.

      The snow made a soft swishing sound as his skis cut through it. The mountain trail narrowed to a catwalk. Large pines towered above him, an occasional gust of snow from the branches dropping in his path as he maneuvered his way side to side down the hill. Traveling at a slow and steady pace so that both dogs could keep up without becoming tired, Max realized for the first time in many long months just how lonely he was.

      Yes, he had friends, but they’d stopped coming around a long time ago. They stopped coming around because he’d turned into another person after Kayla’s death. Max had crawled into a cocoon of grief. He remembered the guilt he felt just for being alive. Day by day, he’d cursed Kayla for the choice she’d made. And day by day his grief had changed him, turning him into the hard, bitter man he was today. For the first time since Kayla’s death, he didn’t want to be that bitter, hateful man. He wanted to be the man he used to be in spite of what he’d said to Grace.

      He remembered all too well the minutes that led up to the exact moment when his entire universe tilted. Max didn’t like reliving the memory, but today he would. Because today he was going to put the past behind him and move forward.

      It was Christmas Eve, and Max was looking forward to spending the next week pampering his wife. Excited didn’t describe what he felt when he learned they were pregnant. A child of his own. Being an only child, Max wanted at least three, if not more. Kayla said two would be her limit. He didn’t care if they had just the one or a dozen. Max couldn’t wait to give Kayla her Christmas gift, a brand-new fire-engine red Jeep. She’d been driving a Datsun pickup given to her by her father ever since he’d known her. He wanted her to have a vehicle that was a little more reliable, something that wouldn’t break down on her all the time. She’d be angry that he’d spent so much money, but he knew she would get over it. Heck, he had enough money to live like a king for the rest of his life.

      Glancing at his watch, he noticed it was after midnight. Kayla was working the three-to-eleven shift, so he expected her anytime. For the next week she belonged to him and no one else. No work, no calls in the middle of the night to come to a crime scene. In fact, he thought they might take a trip to Denver to look at a crib, something for the baby. How he loved thinking about his child!

      Damn, he was getting sappy-eyed! It was the holidays. They always did that to him. He loved the bright cheerful red and green lights that twinkled on their Colorado blue spruce, the smell of pine, clean and sharp. He’d finished his Christmas shopping. There were dozens of brightly wrapped packages beneath the tree that hadn’t been there when Kayla left for work. Yes, she would be surprised. He laughed. That was an understatement.

      Looking at his watch seeing that it was quarter to one, Max jumped when the phone rang.

      Most likely it was Kayla calling to let him know she was going out for breakfast with a few friends from the department. She did that about once a month, and it was fine with him. She needed the time to unwind.

      Max answered the phone on the third ring.

      “Max Jorgenson?” a male voice inquired.

      “Yes, this is Max.”

      “We’re sending a cruiser to pick you up. Officer Jorgenson has been involved in a shooting…”

      Both she and the baby died before they made it to the hospital.

      Chapter 9

      Sunday, December 21, 2008

      The First Day of Winter

      Grace tied the bright red ribbon around the last package, then added a matching bow. She surveyed the mountain of gifts she’d spent the morning wrapping. This was truly going to be the best Christmas Stephanie and her girls had ever had.

      She’d bought both girls the latest American Girl books along with a special doll of their own: a Julie Albright for Ashley and an Ivy Ling for Amanda. Both American Girl dolls were going through big changes in their home lives, too. Grace thought the girls would identify with the dolls and the stories that accompanied them. She’d purchased all the extra clothes, shoes, and ribbons that she could find for the dolls. The girls would love changing their clothes and fixing their hair.

      She bought Stephanie a new ski suit and jacket because she’d never owned a new one, saying all that she’d ever owned were secondhand castoffs. There were skis, poles, boots, hats, and gloves that promised warmth in subzero temperatures. Briefly, Grace thought of Max. Stephanie had been an avid skier before marrying Glenn. Maybe now that she was putting her life in order, she would find time to take up the sport. Max would’ve been an excellent instructor for her.

      She barely knew the man, yet she couldn’t seem to shake the image of him standing at the door when she’d left. It had been barely twenty-four hours, and here she was pining away like a lovesick teenager. Maybe a lust-sick teenager. It’d been a while since she’d had a real relationship. Actually, she hadn’t had a real relationship since Matt, her college sweetheart, who turned out to be anything but. Oh, she’d gone on tons of dates. There was always a friend of a friend who had a cousin in town, or someone’s newly divorced brother who needed a date for his annual company picnic. She liked dating but had never thought too much about marriage. She was thirty-five years old. Marriage might not be in the cards for her. That was okay because Grace was reasonably happy, loved her profession, enjoyed the life she’d made for herself. More than anything, she felt like a proud parent, helping the many women who passed through Hope House. If she didn’t accomplish anything else in her life, she knew she was okay with that. Opening Hope House had been her biggest dream. She’d fulfilled it, and anything extra was simply a bonus.

      “Are you about to finish in there?” Juanita called out to Grace. “I have a few things I’d like to wrap.”

      Grace watched her mother standing in the doorway. Hope House had six available bedrooms. With Stephanie and the girls as her only “guests,” just two of the other bedrooms were in use. Grace had turned the smallest bedroom into a temporary wrapping station, where she could wrap presents without being caught. She loved surprises and couldn’t wait to see the look on the girls’ faces Christmas morning.

      “It’s all yours, Mother