The snow clung like a thin cotton blanket to the sidewalks and pavement of New York City. Andrew ran madly down the middle of the nearly empty street, a determined man with a desperate purpose and not a moment to spare.
He turned a corner, slipped, and hit the ground hard. As he sprang back up, headlights and the grill of a blaring city bus bore down on him. He jumped out of the way, kept moving, moving forward toward Third Avenue, where fate awaited him.
As Beth reached the corner at 88th and Third, she heard Lulu’s familiar yelp. She stopped and looked around. It wouldn’t be easy to spot a white dog in a snowstorm. Then she saw the trembling little terrier parked in the middle of the street. Beth breathed a sigh of relief and gave a quick prayer of thanks for the fact that there was scarcely a car in sight to threaten the little pup on this stormy Christmas Eve.
“Lulu?” The dog’s tail wagged at Beth’s familiar voice. “Hey, you crazy girl. What are you doing out here?”
Andrew rounded the corner at a dead run just as Beth crouched down in front of the dog. He watched Beth scoop the pup up in her arms. The sound of the speeding cab seemed louder than before, so deafening it nearly drowned him out.
“Beth!”
He did the math as he dashed for his wife. He had the angle on the taxi, but the car was moving so much faster. There was no way he could make it. It was too late. He had no chance. He could see Beth as she turned toward the sound of the screaming engine. She was bathed in headlights, and he could see her watching the speeding taxi as it bore down on her, kicking up a dusty white wake as it zoomed toward its deadly destiny.
As he sprinted toward her, time seemed to slow down, and Andrew saw it all happening again. He was a hundred feet from her, then fifty. He felt his hamstring pull and pushed even harder. This time he wouldn’t be a helpless spectator; this time he wouldn’t be too late.
He saw Beth stare at the fast-moving death machine with unblinking eyes, as if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening.
In the moment before impact, Beth performed one final unselfish act. She tossed the skittish dog out of the way. Again, the cabbie saw her much too late, tires skidding on the icy street. There was no way to brake, no time to swerve.
For a flickering moment, Beth watched her life flash before her. The end had come far too soon for the young mom-to-be and her unborn child.
I am going to die, she thought. My life is over.
Suddenly, Beth felt herself being lifted off the ground. Only it was not the crushing metal of the taxi’s front bumper that had hit her. It was Andrew who slammed into her like a charging linebacker. He knocked her out of the street and into a big pile of plastic garbage bags that cushioned her landing.
Beth watched as Andrew stood in her place and defiantly faced the skidding taxi. He didn’t flinch or cower. He just stood there staring right into the headlights.
“Nooo!” Beth screamed as the taxi slammed into her husband, knocking him fifty feet back down the street. The impact was horrific and devastating and final.
In the moments before his death, Andrew Farmer was strangely calm. He’d been given three days to find a way to save Beth’s life, and he’d accomplished the task just in the nick of time.
Andrew had always wondered if he’d have the courage to give his life for someone he loved. And now, in the last instant of his life, he had his answer. He would die knowing that he had what it took, that he was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. His wife, his beloved friend, his Beth, would be all right. She would have their baby and be a wonderful mother and move on.
He had done it. He had given Beth the greatest Christmas gift possible.
He had given her his life.
“Andrew!”
Beth’s initial shock turned into a desperate scream. As she rushed to her fallen husband, Beth knew in her heart there wouldn’t be a happy ending this Christmas. She knew that Andrew Farmer, the love of her life, the father of her unborn child, wasn’t going to make it.