A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(12)

“I should’ve been quiet about it,” Helen said, regretting the impulse. If only she had thought matters through more carefully. “Are you upset with me? Was I wrong to tell them?” Helen hoped she hadn’t alienated this angel who had come into her life, this caregiver whose companionship she’d come to treasure in such a short time.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Miracle reassured her.

    “You didn’t tell me not to tell anyone. If you had, I would’ve kept the secret to myself.”

“It’s fine, Helen. Your granddaughter’s faith is fragile at best. I’ve come for her and for Zach as much as I have for you.” Finishing her row, she set the knitting on her lap. “It’s such a lovely day. Do you feel up for a walk a bit later? It will do your heart good and take your thoughts off Laurel.”

A walk was the perfect way to break Helen’s melancholy mood, and she quickly agreed. The rain of the last few days had stopped, and the weather forecast was for intermittent clouds and sunshine. Helen welcomed the opportunity to breathe in the fresh air. Getting lost and confused in her own neighborhood had badly shaken her. Since that fateful day, she hadn’t traveled outside for more than to collect the mail.

The two women knitted side by side for the next hour, chatting now and again, with the television keeping them company. Without asking, Mrs. Miracle turned the channel to the morning game show that Helen routinely enjoyed. She found it entertaining to watch the crazy things people were willing to do in order to participate in these silly games.

When the sun finally peeked out of the clouds and through the living room window, Mrs. Miracle stood and gathered their coats and scarves. “Let’s venture out while we have sunshine.”

    “That would be lovely.”

As they readied for their walk, Helen noticed the colorful Fair Isle scarf her home companion had around the collar of her gray wool coat. “Did you knit that scarf yourself?” she asked Mrs. Miracle as she put on her own coat and scarf.

“I did.”

“It’s lovely.” Helen was impressed. She’d been right to assume the other woman was an accomplished knitter.

Once outside, the two women looped their arms together and set off down the sidewalk. As they strolled together, Helen gave a detailed description of the family who had once occupied each house. All but one family had since moved. She dearly missed her old neighborhood friends. New families had moved in and Helen was unfamiliar with them. Most were young with small children.

“I don’t know my new neighbors as well as I did my old ones. A few seem to know who I am, but I forget their names.” She reluctantly admitted how she referred to them as “dear” or some other generic title whenever she’d bump into them.

Mrs. Miracle patted her hand, silently telling her she understood. It was a comforting gesture that encouraged Helen to continue sharing.

    “The neighborhood has changed,” she said, retelling her memories of when children once crowded the yards and sidewalks up and down the street. This was before video games, cellphones, and social media. “Children played outdoors, rode their bicycles, and had impromptu soccer games right in the middle of the street. I rarely see children outside these days.”

Helen continued her reminiscing. “Robert and I always decorated the house for Christmas, as did most of the neighborhood. Only a few put up outdoor lights or displays anymore.” One house had a family of lighted deer in the front yard. Another, five houses down, displayed a giant blown-up snowman.

“Christmas has always been my favorite holiday,” Mrs. Miracle commented as they continued ambling down the sidewalk.

“I love Christmas, too,” Helen reflected. She grew somber thinking back on the Christmases from long ago when Robert had been alive. Even now, seven years after his passing, she missed him. Not a day passed when he wasn’t on her mind or in her heart. Sometimes she’d forget that he was gone. On those days, it was easier to pretend he was still alive. Occasionally, when no one was in the house, she’d carry on one-sided conversations with her late husband, out loud, pretending that he was there to listen to her ramblings.

    One time, Laurel had overheard her talking to him and had grown worried. Laurel had taken Helen by the hand and gently let her know that Robert had died several years ago. Helen hadn’t tried to explain herself and let it drop.

“You miss Robert, don’t you?”

This angel seemed to be able to read her every thought. “Oh yes, so much. He was my everything.”

“He misses you, too.”

Helen’s pulse accelerated upon hearing the news. “You’ve talked to Robert? In heaven?” Keeping her voice level was impossible. Excitement fizzed up inside her like a shaken soda.

“Of course. Meeting your family was part of my preparation for this assignment. I talked to your parents, your brother, your husband, and your daughter.”

“You met my Kelly?” Her heart pounded so loud that it left a ringing noise in her ears.

“She’s very much like you.”

Tears gathered in Helen’s eyes. Losing their daughter at such a young age had nearly destroyed them. Helen had leaned into God, but it had taken Robert time to let go of his grief and accept their daughter’s untimely death.

Having Laurel come live with them had been a tremendous help in their recovery from losing their only child. Their full focus was now on the needs of a ten-year-old girl whose entire life had been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. When she’d arrived at their home, she’d been angry and confused. Laurel had not only lost her mother, her home, her friends, and her school, but all that was comfortable and familiar.