A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(45)

    “Listen, you two—if we don’t get going,” Helen interrupted, “we’ll be late for church. You know how busy it gets on Christmas Eve, and I don’t think you want to park a half-mile away.”

“There’s always plenty of parking, Nana,” Laurel said gently.

Nana was right. By the time they arrived at the church, Zach got one of the last parking spots in the lot.

“Do you see Mrs. Miracle?” Helen asked, scanning the inside of the church as they sought out a pew. “We have to save a spot for her.”

“I don’t see her yet,” Laurel said.

“She should be here by now.”

“She might have forgotten, Nana. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Mrs. Miracle will be here,” Helen assured her. “She’s a woman of her word. I’ve never known her to be late, though,” she added, looking concerned.

Zach escorted them into the pew and the three sat down. Laurel noticed that her grandmother saved a spot next to her and kept fidgeting, looking over her shoulder several times.

“Nana, didn’t you just get done telling me Mrs. Miracle would be here? Stop worrying.”

    Her grandmother immediately settled down. “You’re right. There’s no need for me to fuss.”

At that very moment, Laurel heard the distant harmony of tinkling bells. Nana straightened and looked over her shoulder again, knowing that they were all now in the company of special guests.

“You hear that, too?” she asked Nana. It was odd that no one around them seemed to notice.

“Yes!” Her grandmother smiled, seeming to hold back a secret. “I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but it’s the angels arriving.”

“The angels,” Laurel repeated skeptically.

“It’s Mrs. Miracle’s closest friends arriving—Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy.” Her grandmother turned completely around to look down the center aisle. It did seem that the sound of bells came from the back of the church and was growing more distinct.

“Mrs. Miracle told me three of her closest friends would be attending this evening.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “They are angels, too.”

Laurel hid her amusement as best she could.

“She said I’d know when they arrived when I heard the bells. What I didn’t know was that you’d hear them, too.”

Laurel looked to Zach and whispered, “Do you hear bells?”

    He looked up from his program with an inquisitive look and signaled that he did with a nod.

The woman on the other side of Zach leaned over. “I don’t hear a thing. What’s all this talk about bells?”

Laurel didn’t know what to tell the woman who had clearly made it a point to listen to their conversation, so she repeated what Nana had explained to her. “My grandmother says that the angels have arrived.”

The woman’s facial expression suggested that she thought they were a bunch of loonies. She scrunched a few more inches away from them in the pew and returned to minding her own business.

The service was just about to start when, sure enough, Mrs. Miracle arrived, looking a bit breathless. She scooted past several others in the pew to sit next to Helen. She whispered something to Nana, who clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her sharp burst of laughter.

Laurel didn’t know what was so funny but decided not to ask. Instead, she focused her attention to the front of the church, where the choir members were walking in single file, dressed in their long, dark blue robes. It was a small group of about a dozen members.

“Laurel,” Zach whispered, squeezing her arm. His mouth sagged open.

“What is it?”

    “That woman in the choir…the third one on the left in the front row. Do you know her?”

“No. I don’t think I’ve seen her before. Why?”

Zach lowered his voice. “She’s the salesclerk who sold me all those baby clothes—the ones that I couldn’t return. What is she doing here?”

“Honey, it’s church. And it’s Christmas Eve. Everyone’s welcome.”

“Of course everyone is welcome, but don’t you think it’s highly unusual this woman—someone I’d never seen until my strange experience at Macy’s—that this same person would show up at the Christmas Eve service, in the choir, acting like she were a long-standing member?”

“Zach, honestly—you’re making more of this than you should. I’m sure I told you about the choir seeking out replacements due to the flu going around.”

“Yes, but still…what are the chances?”

Their conversation was interrupted when Pastor Warren stepped forward and spoke a few words of welcome, then asked everyone to stand for the opening hymn of “Silent Night,” to be sung by the congregation and the choir.

Zach and Laurel shared a hymnal. The piano player’s fingers moved skillfully over the keys with the few opening bars of the introduction. As soon as the choir started to sing, Laurel snapped her mouth closed. Although few in number, the choir sounded as big and bold as one five times as large. They made—she hated to use the cliché—a heavenly sound. Even Pastor Warren was taken by surprise. He looked over his shoulder at the small group behind him, his eyes wide with wonder at the glorious harmony.