Just as she reached in to retrieve the sacred
contents, the rain eased off and became a light drizzle. Looking at her watch,
she realized she was already thirty minutes late for the hospice admission.
Sarah inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and then closed the top of her heirloom.
She climbed back into the front seat, turned
the ignition and pushed the gas pedal. “Nooo,” she groaned when she felt her
tires spin. The harder she pressed the pedal, the deeper she could feel the car
sinking. It didn’t take her long to realize that she was stuck.
Okay, I’m not
going to melt – I can walk. She looked down at
her white nursing uniform and new clogs. This isn’t
going to be pretty, but Mr.
Crabfield is waiting. Throwing her nursing satchel diagonally across her shoulder and chest, she crawled out of
the car only to find herself ankle-deep in mud. She shook her head, determined
not to get angry as she stepped into the grass by the drive. Sarah used an oak
tree to scrape the red clay off as best she could and then marched back onto
the soppy road. She had only walked about a quarter of mile when she saw a blue
pickup truck driving toward her.
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