Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(25)

“Me too.”

Their eyes met and held, and some unfathomable emotion flickered between them, as though this one small detail were crammed with incredible meaning.

Reba discovered her appreciation of Thai food wasn’t the only thing they had in common. With every subject introduced they uncovered a link in one form or another. For years she had been a Seahawks fan. Seth loved football, too.

She adored Steve Martini courtroom dramas. Seth had devoured every one of his books and considered him as fine a writer as Grisham.

She collected stamps and had from the time she was in high school. Seth’s collection dated back to his grandfather.

Reba barely noticed when their food arrived. Although every bite was delicious, she found it to be something of a distraction. She could have talked to him all night.

“This is almost spooky,” she said as she piled steaming rice onto her plate. “The next thing I know you’re going to tell me that you play the piano as well.” She’d taken lessons for six years and loved to sit down even now and pound out her favorite songs.

“I do.” His eyes crinkled with silent laughter; then abruptly it faded. “Or I did at one time…years ago. I haven’t touched a piano in quite some time.” This last bit was mumbled almost as if he didn’t want her to hear.

“It’s easy to get out of practice.”

“I haven’t played since Pam died.” He watched her as he spoke, as if he expected her to tell him it was pointless to deny himself that one small pleasure. She didn’t.

“People don’t understand why. Most people,” he amended.

“You don’t need to explain it to me.”

“I want to,” he said, his eyes solemn. “I suspect I need to.” His shoulders tightened as he leaned against the pillows, and he paused as though needing time to formulate his thoughts. “The piano was something we shared. Pamela loved to hear me play. She loved music. She’d lie down and close her eyes and…I can’t explain it, not with words. It sounds humdrum, almost silly. After I buried her, I couldn’t look at the piano any longer. Playing it again was intolerable, and soon after the funeral I sold it. Having it out of the house was a relief. Over time a lot of people have tried to convince me to play again. But I have no desire to do so.” His gaze held hers. “I suspect it sounds theatrical, perhaps a bit hysterical.”

“It doesn’t,” Reba rushed to tell him, wanting to assure him that his actions made sense, at least to her. She leaned forward and pressed her hand over his. “I understand, Seth.” And she did, more than he realized. More than he’d ever know. He’d given up his music because that part of himself, this one fiber of his life, was interwoven with his memories of his young wife. To sit down and run his fingers over those ivory keys again would be reliving those times he’d treasured with Pamela. The joy he’d once experienced with music would now produce only pain.

“Thank you,” he whispered after an awkward moment. “For not lecturing me, for not attempting to reason with me. It’s been four years….”

Four years. The rest of his words faded away. Another coincidence. Another irony. It’d been four years since she’d broken off her engagement with John, since she’d last talked to or had anything to do with her sister. Four long years.

The evening took a turn toward the somber following the discussion about music, but even that didn’t dim the sense of discovery she experienced.

Seth drove her home, and while they didn’t speak, the silence was warm and friendly. It was as though each one needed to absorb what had happened, absorb this second chance they’d been unexpectedly handed. Afraid to consider anything more than this one dinner together.

“I’ll see you Sunday at church, won’t I?” Seth asked as he walked her toward her front door.

“Of course. I’m going to sit in with the children during Sunday school. I’m a stranger to most of them, and my chances of a successful Christmas program will increase the sooner they’re more familiar with me.”

“Afterward…how about dinner with me and the boys? Mrs. Miracle is a fabulous cook.”

Reba was amused by the children’s pet name for the housekeeper. Mrs. Miracle. It felt as though a miracle had happened in her life already, just meeting Seth. She wondered if he’d kiss her and was amazed by how much she wanted him to.

The house was dark, the porch light dim, encouraging, and she longed for the feel of Seth’s arms. Hungered for the comfort she instinctively recognized she’d find in his embrace. When he did take her gently in his arms, she experienced that and much more.

Seth’s kiss was sweet and undemanding. Slowly, as though he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, his lips found hers. His touch was tentative, light yet tender and fierce all at once, as if he too were dealing with an abundance of frightening emotions. Exploring them, she suspected, was as scary for him as it was for her. Perhaps more so, since he’d been married.

When he lifted his head from hers, she sighed softly, then wrapped her arms around his middle and braced her forehead against his shoulder.

“I wasn’t sure if kissing you was the thing to do.”

“I’m glad you did,” she whispered.

“Me too.” He stroked her hair, his fingers tangling with the short curls. “You’ll come to the house after church? For dinner with me and the kids?”