Hand of Fate
“Again. The phone lines were still overwhelmed, even though the radio and TV stations were urging everyone to stay off the phone unless it was an emergency. She held Estella on her lap, the useless phone loose in her hand. "I guess she's ours to take care of, at least for now," she told Marshall.
He crouched down on his heels. "Well, that's not such a hardship, is it, sweetheart? Aren't you a pretty thing. And smart. I can tell just by looking at those bright eyes that you're smart." Estella watched him, her face serious, her rosebud lips pressed together as if she were waiting for something.
"Maybe try something in Spanish," Allison said. "You know more than I do." "Which is hardly anything," he said. Then he looked at Estella. "Hola. Me llamo Marshall," he said. He reached his hand toward her, fingertip extended.
To their surprise, she flinched, then turned her head and started to cry softly, a repetitive, exhausted sound. Allison pulled the little girl to her chest and patted her back.
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