Читать книгу A Holiday Prayer - Debra Kastner - Страница 8

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

“Why won’t they just leave me alone?”

Maddie Carlton glared at the offensive pile of giltedged invitations crammed through the mail slot of her town house, then shook her head at her bulldog Max. “Don’t they have anyone else to bother?” Max lifted his soulful eyes to her and shook his jowls.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she mumbled. With a tired sigh, she bent down and retrieved her mail, tucking it under her arm as she shuffled into the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered dressing for the day, and was still in a frayed gray terry-cloth bathrobe and matted slippers.

It was her mourning outfit.

She usually dressed and showered before waking her six-year-old son Nicky, but today it was too much effort.

Christmas. Her first Christmas without Peter. And the anniversary of his death. All wrapped up in one morbid package.

The first months of grieving. Peter’s birthday. Their wedding anniversary. Each date came and went, the sun rose and set, and Maddie was still walking and breathing, still cleaning and cooking—though sometimes it amazed her.

Life went on. But it was always a struggle.

It was Nicky who kept her rising every morning, moving through the day. For Nicky’s sake she would do anything. Even get dressed when she felt like staying in bed, her head buried under mounds of covers.

With a cup of coffee to increase her fortitude, she slumped at the kitchen table, spreading her mail before her. Invitations, mostly. Every charity this side of the Mississippi River had heard of her tragedy, and every one of them wanted to partake of her monetary settlement, the flower that they believed grew from the ashes.

Maddie snorted aloud, causing Max, who was trying to nap at her feet, to sniff and give her his best doggie put-down for disturbing his rest. If he could, Maddie thought, he’d be rolling his eyes. As it was, he groaned, rolled to his feet, turned his back on her, and flopped to the floor again.

“Sorry, Max.” She took a handful of envelopes and flipped through them. Who wanted her money today?

She was about to toss the whole unopened lot into “file thirteen” when a bright green envelope caught her eye. Usually the invitations and pleas came in fancy silver or burgundy, or at the very least in a crisp business envelope.

In addition to being a merry Christmas green, this envelope had a child’s drawing of Santa and his reindeer.

Children’s Hospital.

Even the name made her tremble. The other envelopes dropped unnoticed to the floor as she ran a quivering finger across the seal.

For Children’s Hospital, she would at least take a look.