The day was
illuminated by glorious sunshine as Garrett left to meet with a couple about an
upcoming charity event. An hour later,
she received a phone from the couple asking whether or not Garret had left for
their appointment. She assured them he had
left on time then became alarmed. It
wasn’t like him to be late and not telephone someone. Ten minutes after she hung up the telephone,
she received a phone call from a police officer informing her of a car accident
in which Garrett was hurt. She called
her sister to pick up Carlos from daycare and Chantelle from school and hurried
to the hospital. She arrived too
late. Garrett was gone. The happiness that she had known was eclipsed
by the blackness that shrouded her heart.
Knowing she could never again look into his soft brown eyes or see his
teasing smile, she was grateful for the gift of her children.
Chantelle
was a lithesome five-foot-ten young woman.
She had her mother’s looks and coloring, but her father’s charisma.
Carlos was a mirrored reflection of his father.
He had his height, features and even the stubbornness that tended to
display itself on occasion. As long as
could look at her children, she would always have Garrett.
Shaking
herself out of her reverie, she realized she had been in the shower much too
long and really had to hurry. She dashed
into her bedroom to dress; pinned up her hair and put on her makeup. She had laid out a navy suit with matching
shoes and put them on quickly. Giving
herself a backward glance in the mirror, she rushed out of her room to get her
coat and briefcase. They were near the
door where she had placed them earlier.
“Oh no!”
she cried as she opened the door.
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