A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(21)

The crowds were thick and the two stayed only long enough to make their way through the upper floor. A walkway from the market led down to the waterfront, but by then Helen had grown tired, and they made their way by bus back to the house.



* * *



—

    When Laurel returned from school, she found Helen sitting in her chair, knitting. “How was your day?” Helen asked her granddaughter.

“Busy. What about you?”

“Mrs. Miracle and I had a wonderful day,” Helen said, sharing a satisfied smile with her Caring Angel.





CHAPTER SEVEN




Helen watched as Laurel left the house to return to school for the meeting with the parents regarding the holiday program. As soon as the door closed, Helen looked toward her companion.

“I want so badly to tell her about the baby that’s coming,” she said with a disgruntled sigh.

Mrs. Miracle joined her in the living room, delivering a fragrant cup of Christmas tea along with a plate of cookies. She sat next to Helen and gently patted her hand. “Now isn’t the time, dear.”

Helen trusted her angel friend. How could she not, seeing that Mrs. Miracle had been sent specifically for this mission? Her granddaughter was certain to think this news was yet another sign of Helen’s dementia.

    “She would pretend she didn’t hear me, wouldn’t she? She might even laugh it off,” she said, knowing the subject of a baby was the last thing her granddaughter would want to discuss.

“Sarah did, too, if you recall.”

“Sarah?” Helen couldn’t recall anyone in her acquaintance with that name.

“Yes, Abraham’s Sarah. When the angel of the Lord came to Abraham and told him he would have a son at that time in the following year, Sarah overheard and did her best to smother a laugh.”

Ah yes, the Bible story. Helen knew it well. While Helen understood that her granddaughter might doubt her sanity, she wished there was a way she could infuse Laurel with faith. She badly wanted to give her granddaughter a reason to believe without outright announcing there would soon be an infant in her arms. She trusted that Mrs. Miracle knew best.

Her eyes returned to the Christmas tree. She was mesmerized by it, caught up in the memories of Christmas past. How quickly the years had flown by. It seemed like only yesterday that the troubled ten-year-old Laurel had come to live with her and Robert. And here she was now, married and teaching at the local school, the very one her daughter, Kelly, had attended. As an adult, her granddaughter’s heart was once again hurting, as she dealt with another significant loss. Only this time, baking cookies wasn’t going to help smooth the road.

    “Laurel has reached a place of resignation,” her companion said. “That’s understandable, but Zach isn’t there yet. What I’m hoping is that Laurel will see all that’s good in her life, instead of focusing on what she doesn’t have, and be grateful for what she does.”

Mrs. Miracle was right, Laurel needed to find a way to be genuinely grateful for what she had, not sorry for what she was lacking, and let that gratitude fill the hole in her heart.

Caught up in her musing, she hadn’t noticed that her friend had left the room. It was several moments before Mrs. Miracle returned, carrying a dilapidated box with her.

“What in heaven’s name is that?”

“I believe it’s the nativity set you mentioned,” she said. While on the bus ride home, Helen had reminisced about the set from her childhood that she’d once had and lost.

Helen’s musings quickly came to a halt. “Where did you find it? Was it stored in the garage, like all those other long-lost ornaments you discovered?”

The other woman smiled and left the question unanswered. “Where would you like me to put it up?”

Her mother had set up the ceramic nativity scene every Christmas on a small table next to the fireplace in the family’s farmhouse. It was the first thing visitors saw when entering their home during the Christmas season. It was the item she’d wanted most when her parents had passed. Over the years, several of the pieces had been broken. The original set had seventeen pieces but had dwindled down to three or four. Helen had despaired when the arm of the Baby Jesus had cracked. She glued the Christ Child back together as best she could, and tucked the remaining pieces away in Bubble Wrap, never pulling them out of storage after that.

    “It’s a lovely set.”

“It was at one time,” Helen agreed, saddened by the loss. “I made the mistake of placing it under the tree. Kelly loved the animals and would play with them. She was careful, but accidents happen. I should’ve known better than to let her treat them as toys, seeing how precious that set was to me. The donkey and one of the sheep were the first to be broken.”

“Yes, children do love playing with nativity scene pieces.”

Kelly had wept at the loss of that donkey, and she was genuinely sorry. Silent tears had fallen from Helen’s eyes, too.

“What would you think if we put it up on the end table closest to the tree?” Mrs. Miracle asked.

That sounded fine with Helen. The tea had cooled, and she sipped it. The orange-cinnamon flavor was the perfect complement to the season and exactly what she needed after their shopping expedition.