Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(35)

“I don’t, either.”

“You were married?” His eyes held hers, his look intense.

“No,” she whispered, and then amended, “Almost…the engagement was broken.” She didn’t offer any other information; didn’t see the point. He couldn’t possibly understand, and she wouldn’t ask it of him.

“It does seem a shame to waste that mistletoe, don’t you think?” He moved toward the kitchen doorway and stood under the Christmas decoration.

Smiling, Reba set aside her coffee and walked toward him. They stood facing each other, and for a long moment neither spoke. Then, as if this were what they’d been waiting for, what they’d both anticipated from the moment Mrs. Merkle had left with the twins, they moved into each other’s arms.

Reba’s eyes fluttered closed as Seth gathered her close. She wanted this, needed this, and sighed audibly when his lips met hers. His kiss left her breathless and clinging. It had been like this the first time, too. Her head had been spinning ever since. He gave her hope, helped her to believe that there could be a future for them.

“Do you think this is what she was talking about?” Reba asked.

Seth spread small kisses on the underside of her neck. “Who?”

“Mrs. Miracle.” She’d said all things were possible with God. Only this felt easy, much too easy.

“Maybe so.” Seth assured her once more with another deep, soul-stirring kiss.





Chapter 16


If you’re waiting for a sign from God, this is it.

—Mrs. Miracle





“You left the milk out again,” Sharon reminded her husband pointedly.

Without comment, Jerry scooted his chair away from the table, removed the milk carton from the counter, and placed it back inside the refrigerator.

Her husband looked at her as if he had something on his mind, but whatever it was, he let it go. They seemed to be at an impasse. Once they would have joked and laughed at how silly they were being, but that time was gone, and they both knew it. What had started out as a minor disagreement over a cruise and Christmas had evolved into something much more serious.

They were sleeping apart and cooking their own meals. It was ridiculous. Stupid. Childish, and a hundred other adjectives Sharon could think of.

Jerry cooking! She cringed as she glanced around at her once orderly kitchen. How any man could make such a mess scrambling eggs was beyond her. Eggshells and spilled milk puddled across the countertop, and runny egg had dried on her once spotless stovetop. The peanut butter had been left out, along with the bread and just about everything else Jerry had touched in the last several days.

Regretfully Sharon realized she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who’d insisted her husband cook his own meals. The words had been spoken in anger, but she’d regretted them almost immediately. Surely Jerry knew that, yet he chose to carry out this ridiculous charade. Even then she didn’t completely blame him. She wasn’t any better, opting to sleep in the guest bedroom when it was apparent they were both miserable.

If she hadn’t had Maggie to talk to, she didn’t know what she would have done. Her best friend had tried to help, but all she could do was listen. If ever Sharon needed a sympathetic ear, it was now. They’d gone shopping, and Maggie had taken her to lunch afterward. When she’d heard about Jerry and the cookie incident, she’d been furious with him.

As soon as he finished his breakfast, Jerry left the house. Sharon watched him leave. The problems within their marriage were compounding instead of simplifying. Maggie had listened, and although she hadn’t said it, the subject was there. Divorce. It had happened to some of their friends. Sharon just had never expected it would happen to Jerry and her.

For the first time since she’d spoken her vows, Sharon seriously considered contacting an attorney. With a heavy heart, she sat down, opened the local phone directory, and ran her fingers down the long list of lawyers’ names, shocked by how many claimed to specialize in divorce cases.

Divorce. What an ugly word it was, even uglier with a forty-year investment in what had once been a satisfying marriage. But something had to be done, Sharon realized. They couldn’t continue the way they were, constantly at odds, working against one another. Their home had become a battlefield.

She stared at the door. Jerry had walked out without telling her where he was going or what time he’d return. Sharon had a general idea of how he kept himself occupied. He golfed a couple of days a week, played pinochle with his cronies, and coached basketball for a group of junior high kids.

She had her own life, her own interests, her own friends. It would be difficult, but she could learn to live without Jerry. She might as well be alone now—what they shared wasn’t worthy of the word “marriage.” Their love had become a contest of wills and frequent battles.

Depressed and unsure if she was doing the right thing, she closed the phone book. As strained as their relationship was, she loved her husband and was convinced that in his own way he loved her.

The house was empty and silent. In an effort to lift her mood, she put on a Christmas album, turning up the volume as she finished with the housework. The cheerful, happy music was infectious, and she had the sudden desire to go shopping. With Christmas less than two weeks away, she still had several things she wanted to buy for the twins. Generally Jerry went Christmas shopping with her, but she would go without him this year. Just as she was visiting Seth and the grandkids for the holidays alone.