In the few hours that remained of Tuesday night, a writhing snake pit of nerves took up residence in the pit of her stomach, keeping Hallie from the sleep she craved. Early next morning, that same snake pit had her moving as clumsily as the proverbial bull in a china shop.

She slipped and fell, getting out of the shower, only to emerge with a lump on her forehead from its hard hit against the tile wall. Fortunately, her reflection in the bathroom mirror showed no serious damage. Half an hour spent in the soothing company of an ice bag, and two aspirin with her breakfast cup of coffee, kept her going.

Speaking of breakfast, the snake pit was still at work in the kitchen. The eggs burned, the overlooked slices of bread toasted themselves into inedible black ash, and the plastic butter tub melted from square to nearly round as it was placed too close to the stove burner’s heat.

Then came clean-up. A glass dropped from fumbling fingers shattered into a few million little shards on the floor. More clean-up. A carton of milk tipped over on the counter. Vacuum, mop and paper towel put into action.

Chaos continued after she’d finally decided on an outfit and gotten dressed in her favorite turquoise top, floral skirt, and beaded sandals. She managed to drop her bottle of foundation, which catapulted from the sink and somersaulted into the tub, leaving a fine mess in its wake. Her one spritz of hair spray—with a nozzle aimed in the wrong direction—caught her full in both eyes instead of its intended target.

“What on earth is going on?” she finally wailed.

The whole pattern of her past life was taking over her present one with a vengeance. All the accidents, the mishaps, the unplanned occurrences; things falling down, things falling off, things falling apart—her evil star was once more wreaking havoc, just when she needed the steadying, calming influence of some guardian angel.

Just where was that guardian angel, anyway, and how could she get hold of one?

“Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetheart. How is everything today?”

“Well…I’d rather not get into it. What are you up to?”

“Right now, your father is changing your son’s diaper. Quite a sight, in the middle of my kitchen table. I’ve told him again and again it isn’t sanitary, but he refuses to listen to me.”

Hallie laughed. The laugh was a bit too loud and prolonged to sound genuine, and her mother heard it right away. Momma hen Joanne had always been extra-perceptive about her only chick.

“Hallie? I’ll ask the same question. What are you up to?”

“Uh. Okay, here goes. I called Karim last night, after I talked to you. And I—well, I’m leaving shortly to meet him at a coffeehouse.”

A gasp. “Oh, honey. Do you think that’s wise?”

She couldn’t hold back her surprise.

“But, Mom! After all I told you about what happened, I thought you’d want me to confront this problem head-on, and get everything cleared up. Don’t you?”

“I do. And I don’t.” Joanne seemed more uncertain than at any time her daughter could remember. “You’ve already been hurt. I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

Inside her chest, Hallie’s heart twisted on a spasm of half-love, half-pain. This was the woman who, along with her husband, had raised her child as a loyal, compassionate, and generous soul, sending her out into the world to do the best she could with what she had. Where would Hallie be without that foundation?

“I know, Mom,” she said quietly. “But I’m the one responsible. I’ve gotten myself into this, and I have to get myself out. And see what I can do for Karim, in the meantime. Please give Aaron a hug and kiss for me. I’ll be over to pick him up just as soon as I get off work.”

“Hallie?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Just a minute, honey. Dad wants to say hi.”

“Hey, there, sweetheart.”

Her father’s voice—sweet and rich as a cup of hot chocolate—travelled over the miles, blessed by all the security of a happy home. Not financially well-off—Lord knew, money had always been a problem for the Jameson family—but safe and centered in every other way that counted.

“I hear you’ve got some stuff going on.”

That was certainly one way to describe it.

“Yup. But in another couple hours, I plan to have everything cleared up. Then, I’ll scoot on over to Cranston for my shift, and come by to have a late dinner with you guys. Okay by you?”

“Okay by us. We’ll be here. Oh, and, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“We have faith, your mother and I, that you know what you’re doing. Whatever happens, we’re here, and we love you.”

Hallie, pinned to her kitchen chair by emotion, felt tears stinging and the old, familiar prickle of a sensitive nose.

“Thanks, Dad. Love you, too. Gotta run.”

And run she did, before she melted into a little puddle, right there on the floor.