Dashing Through the Snow by Lisa G Riley Page A

the
still quiet. Unfortunately for Lily, she was not the first to find
her voice.
    “Pardon?” Glenda asked in a soft tone that
didn’t fool Lily one bit.
    Lily bristled. “Come on, Mom, you know what I
mean,” she said, and knowing she was in for it, took a huge gulp of
wine. “We hadn’t seen each other in months and we wanted to talk
and catch up. We could hardly have done that in church while
sitting there listening to Reverend Carpenter pontifi – uh, preach,
I mean, preach ,” she said hurriedly when she saw her
mother’s and her aunt’s mouths fall open, ready to read her the
riot act.
    “Lily Elise Carstairs! I raised you better
than that.”
    “Where’s, Dad?” Lily asked, blatantly trying
to avoid the conversation. “I want to see Dad.”
    Glenda chuckled. “Oh, no you don’t. This is
important, and I want you to listen to me. You can’t go running to
your father to save you like you did when you were a little
girl.”
    Lily frowned and pursed her lips. “Can too,”
she mumbled into her glass with a pout.
    “Hi, y’all. How’s everybody doing
tonight?”
    Everyone turned to see Smith standing at the
entrance to the kitchen. Lily’s eyes narrowed in thought for a
moment. Smiling, she walked toward him. “Hello, Smith. You enjoy
church today?”
    Smith looked confused – first by the smile
and then even more so by the question, she was sure. “Church? Huh?
Actually, I didn’t make it to church this morning. I --”
    “Um hmm,” Lily murmured as she came abreast
of him. “Tell it to the judge, cowboy,” she whispered and handed
him her wine. “You’ll need this more than I.” In a louder voice,
she said, “I’m going to find Dad for dinner, Mom. Be back in a
tick.”
    She didn’t bother to look back. “ Just when was the last time you stepped inside a church, Smith
Cameron? ” Glenda demanded sternly. Lily smirked and kept
walking.
     
    “Hi, Daddy.” Lily had walked up the stairs to
find her father in the den. He was sitting in an easy chair and
reading what she was sure was the Sunday paper.
    He looked up from the paper with a smile.
“Baby girl!”
    Lily resisted rolling her eyes at the
nickname. At one point in her life, the entire family had called
her that. At the age of ten, however, she demanded that they stop,
explaining that the name made her feel like a baby. Everyone had
complied, except for her dad. He’d refused to stop using the name.
Explaining patiently to him why she didn’t like the nickname
several more times didn’t deter him, nor did ignoring him when he
called her by it. That last action, in fact, had gotten her a sore
behind. Lily had eventually given up the fight, realizing that she
was no match for her father’s stubbornness. “No, there’s no need to
get up,” she told him as she walked over.
    “No need?” Peter Carstairs demanded as he
stood. “The day I don’t stand up when a lady walks into the room is
the day they tell me I can no longer stand. Now give your old man a
hug. Hi, honey,” he said into her hair once he’d pulled her into
his arms. “How is every little thing?”
    Lily returned his hug and stood on her toes
to kiss his cheek. Taking his hands in hers, she stepped back. At
fifty-five, her father was still lean and handsome. His hairline
had started to recede and he now wore thicker reading glasses, but
none of that took away from his attractiveness. “Every little thing
is just fine, Dad,” she said with a grin. He’d been asking her that
since she was two and could hold a conversation. “How are you?”
    He smiled hugely again and pulled her into
his arms again, this time for a bear hug. “Just wonderful,
especially now that you’re here. It’s so good to see you,
baby girl!”
    Lily laughed when she felt her feet leave the
ground. “You just saw me last week, Dad. Will you put me down,
please?”
    “No matter, no matter,” he said as he
squeezed her one last time before he released her. “Last week or
last