A Curve in the Road by Julianne MacLean EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Julianne MacLean
- Genre: Family Life Fiction, Family Life Fiction, Women’s Domestic Life Fiction
- Publish Date: 14 August 2018
- Size: 3 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
Intuition is a funny thing. Sometimes it’s a gut feeling, and
you look around and just know something bad is about to
happen. Other times, it’s elusive, and later you find yourself
looking back on certain events and wondering how in the
world you missed all the signals.
Tonight, I’m on my way home after Sunday dinner with
my mother. It’s a one-hour drive on a dark two-lane highway.
As I turn the key in the ignition and shift into reverse, my
mother comes running out her front door, waving her hands.
“Wait! Abbie! Wait!”
I see a look of panic in her eyes and wish she wouldn’t
rush down the concrete steps as if the house were up in flames
Careful, Mom . . .
I shift into park and lower the car window.
My golden retriever, Winston, rises in the back seat and
wags his tail. Mom reaches toward us and passes an enormous
Tupperware container through the open window. It’s full of
chicken leftovers from the dinner she just cooked for me.
“You forgot this,” she says, out of breath.
I take it from her and set it on the passenger seat beside
me. Winston sniffs and paws at my shoulder, wanting to know
what’s under the blue plastic lid. I give him a pat on his big,
“Settle down, mister. This isn’t for you.” Then I turn to
smile at my mom, who is shivering in the late-November chill.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “The guys would never forgive me
if I came back empty-handed.”
By guys, I am referring to my husband, Alan, a
cardiologist I’ve been married to for twenty years, and my
seventeen-year-old son, Zack, who didn’t come with me today
because he had a hockey game this evening.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take some of that pie
with you?” Mom asks, speaking to me through the open
window as she wraps her sweater around herself to keep
I know it’s not a conscious thing, but it’s obvious that she
wants me to stay a little longer. She’s never enjoyed being
home alone in that big, empty house—especially on cold, dark
nights like this. You would think that after more than twenty
years of widowhood, she’d be ready to downsize, but I can’t
fault her for anything. I love her too much. It’s why I drive
over an hour from the city every Sunday afternoon to spend
time with her in the house I grew up in.
“No, thanks,” I reply. “Alan’s trying to cut calories again.”
Truthfully, he isn’t, but I don’t have time to wait because
I’m hoping to make it back to the city in time for Zack’s game.
Then I have an early-morning case in the OR—a gallbladder
surgery scheduled for seven o’clock.
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