Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(62)

Despite the endless hours of effort she’d put into the project, one sleeve had turned out longer than the other. The neckline had sagged and the entire effort had been amateurish at best. No one would have seriously considered wearing that sweater. But Jerry had. He’d loved her enough to praise her efforts. She remembered when he’d opened the box. From the look of pride and wonder one might have thought she’d spun it from pure gold. He’d worn the sweater every night after work for years, and in all that time he hadn’t once noticed a single flaw. She’d made it for him, and that was good enough for him.

Sharon’s gift to her husband hadn’t been the only one under the toothpick tree that Christmas. She’d awoken early Christmas morning to the sound of music and Jerry cooking breakfast, singing at the top of his lungs. It was a wonder their neighbors hadn’t complained. Jerry, for all his other talents, was completely lacking in the area of voice. The eggs had been runny and the toast burned, but it might as well have been ambrosia for all the notice she had paid. He’d escorted her to their kitchen and sat her at the card table with the mock Christmas tree in the center. Beneath it there’d been a small wrapped box. She remembered the bow was red, the most beautiful red bow she’d ever seen.

Jerry had sat down beside her and, his eyes bright with love, handed her his gift. She’d unwrapped it carefully and found a pearl necklace. One pearl. He’d gone without lunches for two months in order to pay for it and the gold chain. He’d promised that someday he’d buy her an entire strand. Each pearl would be as beautiful and as perfect as she was.

He’d kept his word, too. For their twentieth wedding anniversary he’d given her an eighteen-inch strand of pearls. She’d worn it a number of times since, but that single pearl had been a part of her for years and years, until it had become scratched and flawed and dented.

Like her marriage.

Sharon remembered she’d cried when she’d opened the necklace. Jerry had kissed the tears away, and then he’d romantically carried her into the bedroom and they’d made love until they were both exhausted.

Now it was over. Whatever they’d shared, whatever they’d loved about each other, had left them. It wasn’t what she wanted. If she could turn back the clock, she would have given everything she owned to recapture the love.

The years had destroyed it. Dealing with life’s complications. Children. The trying teenage years. The challenges of financing three kids in college all at the same time. Burying a child and rearing two grandchildren for four years. Retirement.

Somewhere along the path they’d fallen into a rut, one so deep that they hadn’t been able to crawl out. Eventually the joy, the adventure, the enthusiasm, had gone out of their marriage. Out of their lives. The day-to-day routine had become filled with pettiness and trivial arguments. A duel of words and deeds.

A death knell.

Her steps grew sluggish as she walked back to the house. Her thoughts were heavy and full of self-recriminations. So many things she would do differently now. Her pride wasn’t worth this agony, or was it? She’d thought she knew what she wanted, but now she wasn’t so sure. She was confused and unhappy.

They were both so stubborn. So obstinate and unreasonable. She was to blame, but then so was Jerry. He hadn’t made this easy.

She was tired, depressed, and about to make one of the most important decisions of her life.

The house was quiet and empty when she let herself inside. Not until she hung up her coat in the entryway closet did she realize she wasn’t alone. A faint sound, the television, she surmised, could be heard from the family room off the kitchen.

Jerry and his football games, she thought, amused. She never had understood football or men’s fascination with the game. The season seemed to last all year, August to January.

Jerry loved to watch the games. College. Professional. Pee-Wee League. The same with baseball and basketball.

For more years than she could count she’d sat at his side and knitted (her skills had improved over time) while he relaxed in front of the television, cheering on his favorite team. She hadn’t understood the complexities of the game but had enjoyed just being with Jerry, sharing these quiet moments with the man she loved.

“I’m back,” she called, unexpectedly cheered, knowing Jerry was in the other room. She had some things she wanted to say. Until that moment she hadn’t realized it, but the need to speak to him burned within her. It had all started with Emily’s comment about memories, and Sharon had soon found herself caught up in the years she’d shared with Jerry.

“Is that you, Mrs. Palmer?” Emily Merkle called back.

Sharon found Seth’s housekeeper in the family room, her bare feet propped up against the ottoman. She grinned and wiggled her toes. “These dogs are barking,” she said.

“Where’s Jerry?”

“You mean to say he didn’t meet up with you?”

“No.” A small sense of desolation took hold of her.

“Why, that’s strange. He left a few minutes after you did. I assumed…I thought he intended to join you.”



* * *



Winter Fruit and Chutney Cream Spread

1 ? pounds cream cheese

3 tablespoons dry sherry

3 tablespoons brown sugar

1 tablespoon curry

1 tablespoon ginger