A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(36)

    “You’ve been standing by your car for a while now. I saw that you were on your phone. I hope it wasn’t bad news.”

Laurel tried to shake her head, but she couldn’t force her neck to move. She noticed the slight bump of Britta’s stomach. Not only was her teacher friend pregnant, but Laurel had heard that the latest ultrasound revealed that Britta and her husband were having twins. A boy and a girl. Yet Laurel couldn’t even conceive one.

“I’m fine,” she said, fearing Britta wouldn’t accept her lie. “Have a good evening.” With a sense of urgency, she climbed inside the car and started the engine. Unwilling to wait for the car to warm up, she barreled out of the parking lot, hitting the curb as she pulled onto the street.



* * *



—

Laurel had no memory of driving home. Only when she’d pulled into the short driveway did she realize she had traveled from the school to the house without remembering a single turn or street. Her hands were still white from clenching the steering wheel in a death grip as if it was the only thing in the world she had to hold on to. It took another minute for her limbs to cooperate enough to climb out of the vehicle and head into the house.

The warmth inside the entryway hit her like a fist, shocking her senses. She was grateful that no one was there to greet her, so she could have time to compose herself. What she’d learned had jarred her so badly that she was still struggling to breathe normally as she leaned against the closed door.

    Laurel suddenly recalled the time when she was eight and had fallen off the tire swing she’d begged her father to hang from a tree branch in the backyard. The pain had been horrific, and she’d screamed for her mother, who had come running out of the house. Seeing Laurel’s twisted arm, her mother had immediately called for an aid car, then held Laurel gently in her arms until the paramedics arrived. She could clearly hear her mother’s voice in her head, even now, calmly and tenderly asking Laurel to take deep breaths, to manage the intense pain.

With her back still against the front door, Laurel employed her mother’s words, drawing air deeply into her lungs and slowly releasing it, until she felt steady enough to move away from the door.

When she felt she could move, she forced a smile and stepped into the kitchen, looking for her grandmother and Mrs. Miracle, only to confirm that the quiet house was empty. She recalled that Mrs. Miracle and her nana were at the senior center for the annual Christmas dinner. That was something to be grateful for. She would be able to confront Zach without anyone else listening in on what was sure to be a difficult and painful conversation.

    Laurel wandered aimlessly from one room to the next like a zombie, rubbing her hands together, a chill coming over her. Warm. Then cold. Then warm again. She’d had this same sensation two other times in her life: the day she’d broken her arm, and the day she’d been forced to surrender Jonathan. Her body didn’t know how to respond to the intense pain that she had deep in her soul.

Hot tears burned on the rims of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. With an aching heart, she found herself standing in front of the nursery. The door had remained shut since they’d been forced to hand Jonathan over to the caseworker. Laurel hadn’t been able to bear going inside since then, as seeing it empty would only amplify the emptiness in her heart. That dreadful day had been the end for her. She knew she could endure no more, and Zach had promised. Promised. He’d given his solemn word that it was the end for him also…that it was time to let go and accept that they weren’t meant to be parents.

She must have stood there for a good five minutes before she realized the door to the nursery was ajar. It was never left open. Someone must have gone inside. But why? And who?

Nana?

Her grandmother would have no reason to venture there. Nor Mrs. Miracle.

It had to be Zach.

    Had he gone inside without her knowing? It must have been recently—otherwise, she would have noticed. But why would he enter this room of hurt? Laurel tentatively pushed against the door with just enough strength for it to slowly open.

A dark emptiness greeted her, and she sucked in a gasp. How long she stood there staring into the darkness, she couldn’t answer. Her lungs hurt and she realized she’d been holding her breath, which she slowly released. Subconsciously, her arm reached out to turn on the light. Instantly, light spilled into the room. She found it just as she had left it.

The first thing her eyes fell on was the empty rocking chair where she’d spent countless sleepless nights rocking her tiny, struggling, drug-addicted son, easing him through those first torturous months of life. She looked over at the crib with the musical mobile suspended above, which Jonathan had been fascinated by. Even now she could picture him stretching his tiny arms upward, so badly wanting to reach the zoo animals that circled above his head. For just an instant, she almost smiled with the memory. That moment escaped quickly as she looked below the mobile at the empty crib. The crib that would always remain empty.

The changing table was stacked with disposable diapers. Jonathan had been quite the wiggler as she’d tried to change him or dress him. He’d twist and turn and reach for his toes, a challenge for Zach and Laurel, but they’d always be victorious, and happy to see Jonathan move and grow in the time they had with him.

    Laurel blinked. The drawer was open. What? She knew for a fact that every drawer in that dresser had been tightly closed. Yet one was open only an inch or two—just enough for her to see a red bag. A red Macy’s bag. In an instant, she knew exactly what was inside—the baby clothes Zach had promised to return.