Kayla
I woke the next morning to a fresh snowfall outside, icicles dangling from the eaves of the house as evidence of the night’s freezing temperatures. The shed was already calling to me, the promise of a warm blanket and a book to soothe my nerves. Dressing quickly, I made my way downstairs and to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee.
But I was halfway toward the back door to the gardens when I heard it: the low murmur of voices, and the sound of the TV playing in the living room.
It was awfully early for anyone to be up and watching TV, so I poked my head through the doorway to see who it was.
I froze.
There, on the screen, was a pregnant woman with long black hair and the deepest brown eyes I’d ever seen. She looked at least seven months pregnant, her hand br
