A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(8)

Helen couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer. “I have a secret,” she whispered, looking both ways before she continued. “A wonderful secret.”

“Do share,” Laurel whispered back, her eyes brightening.

“Mrs. Miracle is a Caring Angel.”

“Yes, Nana, I know.”

“I mean…she’s a real angel.”

“A real angel?” A frown started to form on Laurel’s face.

“Yes. God sent her.”

Laurel’s look went from one of puzzlement to one of concern.

“You have to believe me, Laurel.”

“I agree with you, Nana; she’s a wonderful, highly qualified Caring Angel from the agency I contacted.”

    “And there’s more, so much more, I have to tell you, and I will, but not yet.”

“Nana?”

“Don’t look so concerned,” Nana said, clapping her hands together. “Oh, this is going to be the very best Christmas yet!”





CHAPTER THREE




With her mind whirling, Laurel headed to the kitchen, anxious for Zach to get home from work. This latest development in her grandmother’s mental stability was deeply concerning. That her grandmother would seriously believe her new caretaker was an actual living and breathing angel provided Laurel with stark, sad proof of how far Nana’s mental condition had deteriorated.

“Doesn’t that roast smell intoxicating, Laurel? Mrs. Miracle said she’d share the recipe, if you wanted.” Her grandmother’s voice dipped. “Like she said, this recipe has been handed down through the generations.”

Laurel was so deep in thought that the offer went unanswered.

“Laurel, did you hear me?”

    “Sorry, Nana, I was daydreaming. Yes, I’d love the recipe.”

“I thought you would. I’ll ask Mrs. Miracle to write it down for you.”

Her grandmother sounded so cheerful. Laurel hadn’t seen her this happy in several weeks. Laurel had to believe it was due to having someone at home with her all day now. After one day, Mrs. Miracle was already making a difference. Laurel knew her grandmother had been lonely during the day, and she had instant regret that she and Zach hadn’t tried this sooner. Mrs. Miracle, angel or not, seemed to be an answer to their prayers.

“How’s the holiday program coming along at school?”

“The children are quickly learning the song.” The first-grade classes’ part was adorable. Laurel was convinced they would be the hit of the show, singing a familiar, upbeat Christmas carol. Six-year-old Priscilla, one of her students, was a wiggle worm and couldn’t stand still when she started singing. Her arms and legs moved the entire time, bouncing to the beat of the music. It distracted the other children, but Laurel didn’t have the heart to discourage the little girl’s enthusiasm. She was the sweetest child, full of spunk and energy. Each one of Laurel’s students held a special place in her heart.

“Tell Mrs. Miracle the snickerdoodles were a huge hit at the birthday party. Everyone raved about them.”

    “She gave you snickerdoodles? Oh yes, that’s right. Do you want me to see if she’ll share that recipe, too?”

“I’d like that, Nana.”

“Mrs. Miracle is a knitter—did I mention that?”

“Ah, no…”

“Working alongside her has helped me to remain more focused on what I’m knitting. It’s been quite some time since I finished anything, and I can’t believe how fast my fingers fly when I’m knitting next to her.”

This was welcome news. Laurel had watched her nana’s life narrow down to doing little more than sitting in front of the television set and aimlessly knitting a couple of rows. Day after day it was the same thing. The big excitement of Helen’s life had become the weather report. The interests she’d once enjoyed had slowly faded away one by one. She no longer met with friends at the senior center or participated in the church prayer-shawl ministry. Several of her dearest friends had died. Nana had all but given up cooking for fear she might inadvertently forget to turn off the burner.

“It’s wonderful that you have someone to knit with, Nana.” Laurel was enthused. This was exactly the kind of thing she’d hoped would happen. “What did you start on?”

Nana fidgeted, acting like the question made her uncomfortable.

    “You don’t need to tell me if you prefer not to.” Maybe it was a Christmas gift, so Laurel didn’t want to press her. Over the years, Laurel had been gifted with beautiful shawls, scarves, and afghans that her grandmother had knit. Nana used to fly through yarn and patterns. A project had always been on her needles.

“Oh, it’s fine, dear. I was saving it as a surprise, but it won’t do any harm to tell you. I’m knitting a pair of booties for when your adoption comes through.”

Laurel instinctively turned away and closed her eyes until the sting passed. Her grandmother had no idea the pain her words caused. Her remarks were like rubbing a fresh lemon over a wound—an injury that remained open and raw from losing Jonathan.

Her gaze shot to the closed bedroom door, Jonathan’s nursery. She’d closed that door in more ways than one and demanded that it remained closed. Both Nana and Zach had abided by her wishes. The room was essentially sealed off and left exactly as it was from the day Jonathan had been taken from them. No one had set foot inside it since then.