Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(40)



“Of course it didn’t.”

“What happened afterward is beyond comprehension,” she said. “That’s what I find so crazy. No one faulted Vicki. My parents completely absolved her from any wrongdoing. Because she was sorry, I was supposed to look the other way and pretend this was nothing out of the ordinary. She kept telling me she never meant for it to happen. She sobbed and cried and pleaded with me to forgive her, and I couldn’t. The irony is I felt nothing. Not hate, not right away. That came later. I just looked at her, unable to believe that she was capable of anything that ugly, that deceitful.”

“I wish I could put my arms around you and take away the hurt,” Seth said with such tenderness that she had to fight back the emotion.

“I wish you could, too.”

“Close your eyes and pretend I am. Pretend your head’s on my shoulder and my arms are wrapped around you.”

She shut her eyes and did as he instructed. Caught in the fantasy, she could almost feel his fragrant breath close to her ear. Feel the comfort of his hands as he ran them up and down her spine. Feel the sweet pressure of his lips molding against hers, the taste of his tongue as he claimed her mouth and drove away the demons of the past.

“I think I could love you, Seth Webster.” Reba didn’t realize what she’d said until she heard the husky words leave her lips. She cringed at revealing her own vulnerability and tilted her head toward the ceiling.

“I’m beginning to think the same thing about you, Reba Maxwell. It’s as if we’re two of a kind, a matched set.”

The line hummed with awareness. Reba would have given anything to actually be in his arms just then. “Thank you for not lecturing me about my relationship with my sister.”

“You understood why I gave up playing the piano,” Seth reminded her. “Plenty of people have given me grief over that.”

“We’ve both been hurt,” she said, realizing that it was this knowledge of pain that had drawn them to each other. They had come together like magnets, two of the world’s walking wounded.

They talked for an hour longer, the barriers down, freely and without reserve, laughing and crying together. They shared secrets and dreams, and when she hung up, Reba had rarely felt closer to anyone, male or female.

A half hour later she crawled into bed. The sheets felt cool and crisp against her heated skin. She stretched out her arm and ran it along the wide-open space beside her. She’d found him. The man who would return to her everything that she’d lost. Her sanity, her pride, her dreams. Utterly content for the first time since her canceled wedding, she closed her eyes.

Beyond a doubt she realized that one day she would sleep with Seth, would share her bed and her life with this man who understood her pain.



Jerry Palmer paced the house like a caged gorilla, walking from one empty room to the next. He wasn’t sure what he sought, but whatever it was repeatedly escaped him.

Movement seemed only to agitate him further, but sitting and doing nothing was intolerable.

He’d been married to Sharon for forty years and overnight she had become a stranger to him. Without rhyme or reason his loving wife had turned into a hotheaded feminist. It was enough to drive a man to drink.

At first he’d assumed the brusque personality changes in his wife were due to a hormonal imbalance. A few years back she’d had every window in the house open and was fanning herself like crazy because of one of her hot flashes. He’d been forced to don his coat in the middle of his own house while she sweated until her clothes were damp enough to wring out.

She’d visited her doctor soon afterward, and there hadn’t been any more repeats of that. Unfortunately whatever the doctor had given her hadn’t done anything to improve her waspish nature. Jerry had gotten into the habit of checking her prescription. She appeared to be taking the tablets regularly, not that it’d done much good.

For years Jerry had looked forward to retirement. He’d worked all his life for a chance to golf every day if he wanted. At first he’d thought that was exactly what he’d do, but to his surprise he’d soon grown tired of traipsing over the greens. Oh, it was good sport, and he enjoyed a couple of rounds a week, but more than that and the sport lost its appeal.

Playing cards was a good pastime, as was working with thirteen-and fourteen-year-olds on the basketball court, but all in all, retirement wasn’t what it was touted to be. He found himself restless and antsy and fighting with his wife to the point where she’d walked out on him and left her suitcase behind. She must have been upset to have taken off without it.

He sat and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Maggie claimed he’d been harsh and unreasonable with Sharon about visiting the grandkids over the holidays. His jaw tensed as he recalled the way she’d gone against his wishes and ordered the airline tickets. It used to be that Sharon valued his opinion and readily accepted his decisions. No more. If she didn’t like what he had to say, she did as she damn well pleased. Exactly what kind of wife ignored her husband’s decisions? But then, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, how often have you ignored hers?

Damn it all, Sharon could believe what she wanted about him and Maggie, he decided.

Unable to sit with his thoughts, he reached for the television controller and turned on the television, then just as abruptly turned it off again. He was in no mood to be entertained. Before he knew it, he was on his feet again.

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