The Black Hills, South Dakota
Christmas Eve
7:36 p.m.
“Winter wonderland, my ass,” I bellyached, my teeth chattering while the frigid wind rocked me in my boots. Snow pelted my face, sticking to my eyelashes.
I shivered, my shoulders pulling in tight as I stood in the middle of the two-lane highway. My SUV’s headlights blazed from behind me, but in a storm this fierce, the bright beams of light weren’t much help. They reflected off the swirling flakes, blinding me rather than illuminating the vast stretch of dark, empty snow-covered road in front of me.
Old Man Winter could be such a dick. He’d gone and coated the hills in a thick blanket of white on Christmas Eve of all days. It was going to take at least a week of December sunshine to melt this white fluffy crap away. I scowled long and hard, not giving a flying reindeer if my face froze that way either.
The wind raged and howled around me, tearing through my blue wool coat. It stole my breath and gripped my bones with its freezing fingers. I tucked my scarf tighter around me, weighing my options. The blizzard had crowded into the Black Hills so fast, pushing and shoving to make it in time for Christmas.
Trudging ahead through the frozen tundra would be right up there with dodging icebergs in the North Atlantic. Besides, my new purple snow boots were no match for the drifts, many of which were already knee-deep and rising.
“Razzle-frazzit,” I muttered through stiff lips.
Down on the prairie in the warm bosom of my parents’ house, my two kids were waiting for Santa and me to show. Earlier on the phone, I’d reassured them the snowy roads wouldn’t stop me from arriving in time to help them prep for St. Nick. Little had I realized then that Old Man Winter had a plan to knock me on my caboose and then kick me while I was down.
But I wasn’t waving any white flags yet. Nope. I still had plenty of grit in my gizzard. Raising my gloved hands, I aimed both middle fingers at the sky. “Kiss off, icehole!”
A strong gust of wind rammed me from behind, knocking me to my hands and knees in the snow. Cold wetness soaked through my jeans and gloves. Before I could catch my breath, another blast of air hit me, blowing snow into my face.
Son of a sugarplum!
I wiped at my eyes with my coat sleeve. Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the maelstrom whirling overhead. Somehow, I had to make it to my kids through this frozen wasteland.