K-Town Christmas

About the time she finished eating, a reluctant dawn broke over the gray sky. The fog had gone completely, leaving a low overcast. The cold was intense. As the sky lightened, Julie seemed to shrink into the huge Army coat. Whatever lightness of spirit she'd experienced during the night, suddenly deserted her. While she was engrossed in the tank-pulling operation, she'd become otherwise totally unaware of the world and whatever pain it foisted upon her. But with the morning light on the deserted lake shore, she despaired. The thought of another day was nearly insupportable.

She was only vaguely aware of crying. Silent tears traced irregular paths along her thin face to be blown away by the freshening wind. Tired and alone, she looked around for a place to sleep. Back toward the trees was a disused, dilapidated boathouse. She turned stiffly and wandered up to it. One wall and most of the roof were gone but it would serve. She crawled into the one protected corner and settled down on the weathered, gray wood. She looked up to the sky longingly, then slept.

The sky looked down on her huddled form. It also stretched over the apartment where Anne Bedford slept fitfully in the bedroom while her husband was still comatose on the living room couch. Miles away, the same sky stood mute guard over a small cottage where a good but terribly torn man had hung himself.

And in the far reaches of that same sky, the seeds of disaster were being planted.