Mrs. Miracle

  Her husband’s gaze held hers and softened. Those had been frugal times, but some of the happiest of her life. She wouldn’t trade one of those years for all the diamonds in the world.

  Her mind wandered back to those early days and the one-bedroom apartment. They’d lived in an old, dilapidated building in San Francisco, away from family and friends for the first time in their lives. Her pregnancy had come as an unexpected surprise. It didn’t help matters that her employer wouldn’t allow her to work past six months, not even part-time, so their limited budget had been stretched even further. Somehow they’d made it, with love and laughter. Their finances might have been tight, but they’d held on to each other.

  “It was one of our best Christmases,” Jerry mused aloud.

  “Yes,” Sharon agreed. A hard knot filled her throat and she feared if she spoke again, Jerry or Emily would hear the tears in her voice, so she stood, mumbled an excuse, and hurried back to the bedroom.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed when Jerry came into the room. He didn’t say anything as he sat down next to her.

  The silence between them was long and profound.

  “What went wrong with us?” she asked in a whisper.

  Jerry leaned forward and braced his elbows against his knees. “I wish I knew.”

  Silence again as they mulled over the question neither of them could answer.

  “I never suspected we’d end up like this,” Jerry murmured at last.

  “Me either,” she said sadly, then stood and dressed. Jerry didn’t want this divorce any more than she did, but neither wanted to go on living the way they had been. Their lives had become a constant tug-of-war, a battle of wills, in which they’d both become the losers.

  Their marriage was a lose-lose proposition. The answers were more complicated than the questions.

  What she needed, Sharon suspected, was a bit of fresh air and some time alone. With that goal in mind, she promptly finished getting ready for the day. “I’m going for a walk,” she announced, and reached for her jacket.

  Jerry looked at her as if seeking an invitation to join her. She didn’t offer him one. She needed to mull over her future, what she intended to do with the rest of her life without a husband.

  When she stepped outside she found the wind was strong and cold, cutting through her. Aimlessly she strolled along the sidewalk. She buried her hands in her pockets and bent her head against the force of the weather. Having had no real destination in mind, she was pleased when she happened upon a small park about a mile from Seth’s house.

  A large gust of wind tossed and tumbled multicolored leaves across the lush green grass as Sharon walked across the lawn and sat on a bench next to the merry-go-round and swing set.

  All that talk about their first Christmas together had awakened her fears and regrets. She hadn’t wanted to think about the past. Moving on with her life should be utmost in her thoughts. Just doing what needed to be done, purging Jerry from her life once and for all. Progression was what was important. She couldn’t allow herself to dwell on all the good times or remember the love they’d once shared. A love so deep, it had defied their circumstances. All the reminiscences wouldn’t help her deal with the reality of what she faced now.

  That first Christmas, the two of them together alone, Jerry’s weekly paycheck had been a whopping ninety dollars. Their rent had been a hundred and fifty dollars a month, and that had been the cheapest apartment they could find. What there was of their furniture had been a mixture of what their families had given them and the television, their pride and joy, which Jerry had won in a phone-in radio contest.

  They hadn’t been able to afford to exchange Christmas gifts, not with a baby due and the two of them living on one income. Nevertheless, Sharon had bought yarn, and while Jerry was at work, she’d knitted him a sweater. Her neighbor, Mrs. Grayson, had helped her read the pattern.

  Despite the endless hours of effort she’d put into the project, one sleeve had turned out longer than the other. The neckline had sagged and the entire effort had been amateurish at best. No one would have seriously considered wearing that sweater. But Jerry had. He’d loved her enough to praise her efforts. She remembered when he’d opened the box. From the look of pride and wonder one might have thought she’d spun it from pure gold. He’d worn the sweater every night after work for years, and in all that time he hadn’t once noticed a single flaw. She’d made it for him, and that was good enough for him.

  Sharon’s gift to her husband hadn’t been the only one under the toothpick tree that Christmas. She’d awoken early Christmas morning to the sound of music and Jerry cooking breakfast, singing at the top of his lungs. It was a wonder their neighbors hadn’t complained. Jerry, for all his other talents, was completely lacking in the area of voice. The eggs had been runny and the toast burned, but it might as well have been ambrosia for all the notice she had paid. He’d escorted her to their kitchen and sat her at the card table with the mock Christmas tree in the center. Beneath it there’d been a small wrapped box. She remembered the bow was red, the most beautiful red bow she’d ever seen.

  Jerry had sat down beside her and, his eyes bright with love, handed her his gift. She’d unwrapped it carefully and found a pearl necklace. One pearl. He’d gone without lunches for two months in order to pay for it and the gold chain. He’d promised that someday he’d buy her an entire strand. Each pearl would be as beautiful and as perfect as she was.

  He’d kept his word, too. For their twentieth wedding anniversary he’d given her an eighteen-inch strand of pearls. She’d worn it a number of times since, but that single pearl had been a part of her for years and years, until it had become scratched and flawed and dented.

  Like her marriage.

  Sharon remembered she’d cried when she’d opened the necklace. Jerry had kissed the tears away, and then he’d romantically carried her into the bedroom and they’d made love until they were both exhausted.

  Now it was over. Whatever they’d shared, whatever they’d loved about each other, had left them. It wasn’t what she wanted. If she could turn back the clock, she would have given everything she owned to recapture the love.

  The years had destroyed it. Dealing with life’s complications. Children. The trying teenage years. The challenges of financing three kids in college all at the same time. Burying a child and rearing two grandchildren for four years. Retirement.

  Somewhere along the path they’d fallen into a rut, one so deep that they hadn’t been able to crawl out. Eventually the joy, the adventure, the enthusiasm, had gone out of their marriage. Out of their lives. The day-to-day routine had become filled with pettiness and trivial arguments. A duel of words and deeds.

  A death knell.

  Her steps grew sluggish as she walked back to the house. Her thoughts were heavy and full of self-recriminations. So many things she would do differently now. Her pride wasn’t worth this agony, or was it? She’d thought she knew what she wanted, but now she wasn’t so sure. She was confused and unhappy.

  They were both so stubborn. So obstinate and unreasonable. She was to blame, but then so was Jerry. He hadn’t made this easy.

  She was tired, depressed, and about to make one of the most important decisions of her life.

  The house was quiet and empty when she let herself inside. Not until she hung up her coat in the entryway closet did she realize she wasn’t alone. A faint sound, the television, she surmised, could be heard from the family room off the kitchen.

  Jerry and his football games, she thought, amused. She never had understood football or men’s fascination with the game. The season seemed to last all year, August to January.

  Jerry loved to watch the games. College. Professional. Pee-Wee League. The same with baseball and basketball.

  For more years than she could count she’d sat at his side and knitted (her skills had improved over time) while he relaxed in front of the television, cheering on his favorite team. She hadn’t understood the complex
ities of the game but had enjoyed just being with Jerry, sharing these quiet moments with the man she loved.

  “I’m back,” she called, unexpectedly cheered, knowing Jerry was in the other room. She had some things she wanted to say. Until that moment she hadn’t realized it, but the need to speak to him burned within her. It had all started with Emily’s comment about memories, and Sharon had soon found herself caught up in the years she’d shared with Jerry.

  “Is that you, Mrs. Palmer?” Emily Merkle called back.

  Sharon found Seth’s housekeeper in the family room, her bare feet propped up against the ottoman. She grinned and wiggled her toes. “These dogs are barking,” she said.

  “Where’s Jerry?”

  “You mean to say he didn’t meet up with you?”

  “No.” A small sense of desolation took hold of her.

  “Why, that’s strange. He left a few minutes after you did. I assumed…I thought he intended to join you.”

  * * *

  Winter Fruit and Chutney Cream Spread

  1 ½ pounds cream cheese

  3 tablespoons dry sherry

  3 tablespoons brown sugar

  1 tablespoon curry

  1 tablespoon ginger

  1 teaspoon dry mustard

  3-4 green onions, minced

  2/3 cup chutney

  6 ounces shredded sharp cheddar cheese

  6 ounces chopped walnuts

  Whip cream cheese with sherry, sugar, and spices. Fold in onion, chutney, cheese, and nuts. Chill overnight. Serve with fresh sliced apples and pears to scoop up the dip.

  * * *

  Chapter 26

  It’s all right to sit on your pity pot every now and again. Just be sure to flush when you’re finished.

  —Mrs. Miracle

  “What do you mean your aunt Harriett can’t play the piano for the Christmas program?” It was all Reba could do not to clench Jayne by the collar and demand an explanation. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

  Jayne retreated one small step. Reba didn’t blame her. She could feel the hysteria rising. The Christmas Eve program was scheduled in less than forty-eight hours. While she was confident that any number of volunteers were qualified to replace Mrs. Foster, Jayne’s aunt was the only one who’d practiced the routine with the children. The only one who knew the program backward and forward.

  “She’s taken a nasty fall,” Jayne repeated. “She has to spend the night in the hospital and have her jaw wired. Her arm’s broken, too.”

  Reba didn’t mean to be callous about the older woman’s injuries, but she was the one responsible for the performance. All week she’d heard how much this Christmas pageant meant to the church family. How pleased people were that she’d stepped in and taken over for Milly Waters. How grateful they were. Friends and family were planning on attending, people of other faiths. The pressure was on her and the children to give the performance of their lives.

  And now she was without a pianist. Without hope.

  Reba sank onto her chair and resisted the urge to bury her face in her arms. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

  “I realize this isn’t the best time to ask, but would you mind terribly if I left a few minutes early?” Jayne asked, her words soft and cautious as if she were tiptoeing across a freshly polished floor. “I’d like to stop off at the hospital and visit my aunt. I know I complain about her a lot. She drives me crazy at times, but she is my aunt, and the only living relative on my mother’s side of the family.”

  “Of course.” Having Jayne leave an hour early wasn’t nearly the catastrophe of not having a piano player for the church program. “Give her my best while you’re there. Tell her not to concern herself about a thing.” No need to heap more trouble on the woman’s shoulders. She had enough on her mind without having to worry about the Christmas program.

  Something like this was bound to happen, Reba thought as Jayne silently gathered her things and left the agency. She glanced over her shoulder on her way out the door, and Reba managed a brave smile.

  “Don’t worry,” Jayne said, “everything will turn out the way it’s supposed to.”

  Reba didn’t believe that for an instant. She was supposed to go through this agony? Supposed to conjure up a piano player at the last minute? If she believed that, she’d have to accept that her sister was supposed to have ruined her wedding and her life. This was one of those clichéd comments she’d come to hate. It made no sense.

  “Just remember, God doesn’t close a door without opening a window.”

  The door closed, and Reba muttered, “Yeah, right.” She closed her eyes and sighed deeply, releasing her pent-up frustration.

  It never failed. Just when she was beginning to see the light at the end of a tunnel, she discovered it was an oncoming train. Just when she was beginning to believe that she’d found a man who would love and accept her with all her faults and foibles, Seth revealed his true self.

  He was like all the others, preaching love and forgiveness, telling her how much better it would be if she forgave Vicki. It hurt—far more than she cared to admit. She’d been so hopeful with Seth. She’d started to believe again. And trust. Still, she hadn’t said anything yet about ending their relationship. All the emotional strength she possessed would be focused on getting through Christmas and New Year’s. Afterward she’d deal with the situation with Seth, although there really wasn’t much to say or do. As far as she was concerned, it was over between them. Over before it started.

  Their brief relationship wasn’t all that different from the others she’d had in the last four years. Only this time her heart had gotten involved. She cared about Seth, cared about his children.

  Working with Judd and Jason, getting to know them, love them, would make parting all the more painful.

  The bell over the door chimed, indicating that she had a customer. She looked up, expecting another last minute walk-in desperate for her to part the Red Sea and book Vegas on New Year’s. But it was much worse than that.

  It was her mother.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” Joan Maxwell strolled inside, as cheerful as a canary. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Reba returned with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

  Her mother’s face fell. “What’s wrong?”

  “Have you got a year?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” She pulled up a chair beside Reba’s desk and plunked herself down as if she intended to sit right there until all was right with the world once again.

  “The piano player fell and broke her arm.” No need to mention that her jaw was out of commission. It was her arm that mattered. At her mother’s blank look, Reba continued, “The Christmas program, remember?”

  “I’m sure there are other people in the church who’re qualified.”

  “It’s not that simple, Mother.” Such matters rarely were. “First off, no one else has practiced with the children or knows the songs. It’s more than just pounding out a few numbers on the keyboard. It’s knowing when to play, giving the children their cues, and playing the background music. It’s…everything.”

  “Oh, dear, you do have a problem, don’t you?”

  For the first time in recent memory her mother wasn’t trivializing her troubles. Reba was grateful enough to comment. “Thanks, Mom.”

  Joan suddenly looked unsure and flustered. “Thanks for what? I can’t help you. I would if I could, you know that, but I don’t have any musical ability. Why, I don’t even know where middle C is on a piano.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” Reba explained.

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed, but Reba forgave her that.

  “Can I help you with something, Mom?” She didn’t think this was a social call.

  Her mother smoothed out her skirt, brushing her hand down the length of her thigh. “I understand…actually Doug was the one who brought it up…that you bumped into your sister.”

  “Yes,” Reba answered shortly. She’d b
een hoping the conversation wouldn’t turn to Vicki, the way it always did when she was with her mother. Just once she’d like it if they could talk without involving her sister. Just once. It shouldn’t be too much to ask.

  “Vicki said you looked well and happy.”

  “You know what I look like,” Reba returned, unable to disguise her irritation.

  “It was the happy part that pleased her.”

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  “Oh, Reba, don’t you know how eager your father and I are to resolve this? All we want, all everyone wants, is for you to be happy. Meeting Seth has been the best thing to happen to you in years, and—”

  “I won’t be seeing him again after the holidays.” She might as well get that out in the open now.

  The sadness and regret that filled her mother’s eyes were immediate. “But why? I thought…we all did. You two are so good together….”

  “You don’t know that,” Reba challenged. “You’ve never even met him.”

  “I don’t need to. I saw the difference in you.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Reba muttered.

  “Oh, Reba,” her mother murmured sadly, “there are so many things you don’t know.”

  “Then tell me,” she challenged, waving her arms in the air. She was tired of hearing it, tired of having her mother throw it in her face, as if any excuse she offered would change the way she felt.

  “It involves your sister.” Her look was skeptical, as if she expected Reba to stop her. The assumption was a fair one. Her mother had attempted to talk some sense into her plenty of times before, and Reba had refused to listen.

  “Doesn’t everything?”

  Joan briefly closed her eyes, as if praying for patience.

  “Are you going to tell me again how very sorry Vicki is?”

  “No,” she responded, pressing her lips together tightly. “There’s no denying Vicki did something foolish.”

  “There are a number of other adjectives I’d like to add, but won’t.”

  “Good. I appreciate that. She’s paid dearly for her mistake….”