16

Milli carefully arranged the iced shortbread cookies the Church Ladies’ Auxiliary had ordered for the evening service on several large trays. She had made almost two hundred more than needed to make sure the twelve hundred she brought tonight were perfect. Mrs. Wallace and Mrs. McConnell had oohed and awwed over the blue and white iced stars. Each cookie covered in two colors of flares, swirls, dots, and loops; this filigree work had taken a long time. The six-pointed stars looked more like abstract snowflakes or quilted ornaments than cookies. They were art, her art, but they were also an offering, each made with a prayer for her son while she ignored the inevitable.

Truthfully, Milli was grateful for the work to keep her mind off the fact that Charlie’s monitor was now beeping more and more frequently. Any time his heartbeat became erratic, it beeped. Milli knew what was coming, and refused to admit it, or her fears. She may hate Edgar, but she wanted Charlie to live. The