Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One) by Diane Moody Page B

got, oh maybe 150 pounds on
me. My knees are Jell-O!”
    She stood at the
stove over a sizzling omelet sharing the story with Frank, Laura, and Marissa who
all sat at the kitchen table over mugs of hot coffee. Dressed in gray sweats Jason
had loaned her with her hair swept up on top of her head, she felt surprisingly
relaxed and at home talking to these people.
    “He’s so close I can smell the bratwurst he had for lunch. He’s saying, ‘oh
baby, oh baby, you know you gotta have me . . . I’ll make
all your dreams come true.’ I thought I was going to hurl right there on his
size 14 Nikes!”
    She tossed some shredded cheese and bacon bits into the omelet then folded
it, never missing a word. “And all of a sudden I remember the PE whistle in my
pocket. He’s moving in, got his hands up against the wall so I’m literally
pinned like a prisoner, right? He leans his fat head down and starts whispering
in my ear, ‘c’mon baby, you ‘n me, let’s try a little play action pass of our
own.’”
    The groans of
her small audience urged her on. Hannah grew more animated, waving her spatula
in the air to punctuate every word. “I slowly reach down in my pocket, grab my
whistle, and before he can say another word, I’m blasting that thing!”
    Frank’s roaring laughter bounced around the kitchen walls as Marissa doubled
over with laughter.
    “And it’s so shrill and so loud, he’s holding his ears and
screaming at me—‘Stop it! Stop it!’ like some big ’ol sissy boy. But I just kept
blowing and blowing, louder and louder ’til I thought for sure he was gonna cry
for his mama.” She scooped the omelet out of the frying pan and flipped it onto
a plate, dropped the spatula, and turned to face them again. “And then?” She
paused for effect.
    “Then what?” Laura begged.
    “I jerked my knee up in his nether lands.”
    “Oh no you did not!” Marissa yelled.
    Hannah howled. “Oh, I most definitely did!”
    Laura stopped laughing just long enough to add, “Oh, honey, that was very
brave!”
    Frank whimpered, cowering a little, the way men do when they hear tales
of such strategic “targets,” but his laughter never dissipated.
    “He’s lying there, all curled up in the fetal position, just moaning and
groaning and carrying on like a big ol‘ baby. So I straightened my clothes, stood
up all straight and said, ‘Tommy Joe, you ever come near me again, I’ll make
sure you sing soprano for the rest of your sorry life. You got that?’”
    “Oooo, Hannah! You are my hero!”
    “Thank you, Rissa. I’ll have you know, all he did was nod his pitiful
head and drag himself out of there. But I can tell you one thing, that was the
lasttime he ever said a word to me. He sees me coming in the
hall and he bee-lines the other way. Does my heart good! Did my daddy teach
this girl a thing or two or what?”
    “I believe he did at that,” Frank chuckled. “Good for you, setting him
straight. Just remind me to walk on the other side of the room when you’re
coming my way!”
    “Oh please, as if I’d ever have cause to set you straight?” Hannah
passed a plate with the steaming omelet to Marissa. “Laura, what would you like
on your omelet?”
    “Just some of those bell peppers and cheese with a few sprinkles of  bacon.
Thank you, Hannah.” She lifted her mug. “Marissa’s looks yummy. I’m not sure I
can wait.” She quickly forked a small bite off Marissa’s plate, barely escaping
the playful swat in return.
    Marissa moved her plate away from Laura. “Mama Mac, you keep your fork
off my plate or I’ll be showin’ you a play action of my own. I’m just sayin’ . . .”
She flashed her a huge, mischievous grin.
    Raising a brow, Laura feigned innocence as she continued to enjoy her
stolen mouthful of cheesy omelet. When she followed it with a sip of coffee,
she started to laugh, her coffee going down the wrong pipe. Her coughs echoed
across the room.
    Frank patted her on the back amidst the