A Fateful Trip Back Home
On a frosty December morning, Eleanor and her husband William set off for the quaint little town of Oakbrook to visit Eleanor’s parents. Snow crunched underfoot, and the sky, heavy with grey clouds, promised a storm. Ahead lay a long journey, full of worries and surprises. Her parents were already waiting, and as soon as the car pulled up to the familiar house, warm hugs and joyful shouts greeted them. Together, they stepped into the cosy home, where steaming dishes already sat on the table. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, and the fire crackled in the hearth, wrapping everything in a sense of peace.
Eleanor’s father, Geoffrey, whisked William into the sitting room to discuss “manly matters”—politics, cars, fishing. Meanwhile, Eleanor and her mother, Margaret, settled in the kitchen, where, as usual, over a cup of tea, they spoke about the things closest to their hearts. Margaret fretted: why hadn’t the young couple started thinking about children yet? Eleanor smiled reassuringly.
“Everything in its time, Mum, don’t worry. Just another year, and we’ll sort it out.”
But uncertainty lingered in her voice, and a quiet unease settled in her chest. Night draped itself over the house, and outside, the wind howled, warning of the coming blizzard. Eleanor nestled into William’s arms, his embrace as tender as it had been in their early days together. She drifted off, safe in his hold, but somewhere deep inside, a foreboding stirred.
Morning arrived with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and golden pancakes. Eleanor splashed icy water on her face, shaking off the last traces of sleep, and joined William. Rubbing his shoulder, he suddenly winced in pain. His face twisted, and Eleanor froze, fear gripping her—something wasn’t right.
“It’s just my shoulder again,” he muttered, forcing a smile. “It’ll pass, like always.”
Margaret, overhearing, brought out a homemade salve and a warm scarf. She deftly wrapped his arm, murmuring that all would be well. But Eleanor saw him flinch, and her heart clenched with worry.
“Ellie, looks like you’ll have to drive,” William said quietly when they were alone.
She nodded, though every instinct resisted. The journey home would be rough, and after the night’s snowfall, the thought was even more daunting. But there was no turning back.
That year had been a trial for Eleanor and William. They couldn’t spend Christmas with her parents—William insisted on a crucial meeting with business partners, a chance to open new doors for his career. Though Eleanor understood, guilt gnawed at her. They’d visit two weeks before the holidays instead, bringing gifts and explanations. The presents—a new smartphone for her father and a pair of sturdy boots for her mother—were carefully wrapped, and the boot was packed with fruit, wine, and sweets. Just like always.
But the mood darkened with unexpected news. The night before their trip, Eleanor got a message: her colleague, Charlotte, had passed away. They’d worked together for over a decade. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her heart breaking. William held her, trying to soothe the pain, but the fragility of life weighed heavily on her.
The night was restless. Nightmares haunted Eleanor, though by morning, she couldn’t recall a single one. Only a heaviness in her chest remained. She said nothing to William, not wanting to worry him, and they set off at dawn.
To their surprise, the morning was clear. A light frost sparkled, and weak sunlight pierced the clouds. The roads in town were icy, but once they hit the motorway, relief washed over them—the tarmac was clear. But a hundred miles in, everything changed. The sky darkened, and snow began to fall. The car inched forward through the storm, Eleanor’s knuckles white on the wheel as she fought back panic.
When they finally reached Oakbrook, her parents were waiting at the gate. Hugs, laughter, the warmth of home—for a moment, the unease faded. Over dinner, Eleanor felt like a child again—the familiar scents, her mother’s jokes, her father’s stories. But the topic of children brought back the pang of guilt. Her mother’s hopeful gaze made Eleanor promise, just to reassure her, that things would change soon.
That night, the storm raged outside. The wind wailed like a mourning spirit. Eleanor curled into William’s arms, his touch so gentle she almost forgot her fears—but the thought of tomorrow’s drive lingered.
Morning came with a hearty breakfast, but William admitted his shoulder still ached. Steeling herself, Eleanor took the wheel. Her parents waved them off, but in her mother’s eyes, she caught a flicker of worry. As the car pulled away, Margaret whispered,
“May your guardian angel watch over you.”
The drive was a nightmare. Unploughed patches, slippery roads, oncoming lorries—Eleanor strained to stay focused. William stayed silent, only speaking to point out the next petrol station. He’d promised to take over, but she saw him grimace in pain.
Then—disaster. An oncoming car swerved into their lane. Eleanor jerked the wheel right, but the road was slick as glass. The car spun, and a thought flashed—*This is it.* Seconds stretched into eternity. Their car veered off, plunged into deep snow, and lurched to a stop against a tree.
The engine still ran, music still played. Strapped in, Eleanor and William sat frozen, hardly believing they were alive. He broke the silence first.
“Ellie—are you alright?”
She nodded, hands trembling. William, ignoring his pain, pulled her close, and just then, people rushed over. Other drivers stopped, helped them out, poured hot coffee from flasks. The car wasn’t badly damaged—just a dent and a broken mirror. Recovery services arrived quickly, hauled the car back onto the road, and checked it over. Everything worked.
“Lucky escape,” one of the rescuers said. “Soft snow saved you. Can you drive on?”
“We can,” William said firmly, taking the wheel.
They drove off, the escort vanishing into the dusk. At home, they called her parents, leaving out the near-miss. Eleanor couldn’t forget her mother’s words about a guardian angel. He’d protected them—she was sure of it.
Weeks later, at a doctor’s appointment, Eleanor got news that explained everything: she was expecting. That night at her parents’ house, new life had begun—and the angel had saved not just them, but their child too. Tears of joy spilled as she rushed to tell William and her parents.
Life’s unpredictable. But one thing’s certain—what’s meant to happen, will. Their guardian angel had been there in that fateful moment, and now, ahead of them, lay a new chapter—full of hope and happiness.
