Mrs. Miracle 01 - Mrs. Miracle(68)

The woman actually planned to leave. Swoop in, make a few candid comments, and then leave? With her one good arm, Harriett reached out and grabbed the other woman’s sleeve, then stopped. Because she was unable to speak, she reached for a tablet and pen.

Ruth has a brother? she wrote out quickly.

Emily Merkle grinned from ear to ear. “Lyle Fawcett.”

Harriett felt as if someone had hit her along the side of her head with a two-by-four. Lyle was related to Ruth. They were brother and sister. No wonder Pastor Lovelace had reacted the way he had. Her heart sank at the memory of what she’d said and done. Of the things she’d been thinking about Ruth.

“Don’t worry about it, we all make mistakes,” Emily said. “It comes with having to deal with the human side of ourselves. A real nuisance, if you ask me.”

Frustrated because she couldn’t speak, Harriett waved her good hand about, not even sure what it was she wanted to say. She wasn’t sure if Emily was reading her thoughts or the expression in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, there’d always been something peculiar about the Websters’ housekeeper.

“You okay?” Emily asked.

The answer was far too complicated, so Harriett penned the words As well as can be expected, but when she glanced down at the tablet she found the words I feel like an old fool. She looked at the sheet again, certain there must be some mistake. Perhaps more was wrong with her than just a few broken bones.

Emily chuckled and patted her hand. “Don’t worry. Most of us are guilty of making assumptions now and again. It helps when we decide to resign as general manager of the universe. Personally, I don’t need the headache.” She laughed again and was gone.

This time the door didn’t so much as open. Harriett was sure of it. The door didn’t budge an inch, yet Emily had disappeared.

One moment the Websters’ housekeeper was there and the next she was gone.

Something very weird was going on. Harriett Foster pressed the button to call the nurse. She needed help; clearly she’d had a reaction to the pain medication.





Chapter 28


If the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, you can bet the water bill is higher.

—Mrs. Miracle





Sharon didn’t see much of her husband the entire day. Her stroll to the park had helped her sort through her feelings about the divorce, and she’d been eager to share her thoughts with her husband. But he’d disappeared—and when he returned late in the afternoon, he didn’t even offer an explanation of where he’d been or what he’d been doing.

If it wasn’t for the twins’ enthusiasm for Christmas, dinner would have been a glum affair. Seth had apparently had a falling-out with Reba and looked about as cheerful as a cadaver. Jerry wasn’t much better. Emily appeared to be in a rare bad mood as well. If it hadn’t been for Judd and Jason, who rattled on like chatterboxes, Sharon would have suggested they all meet later for a mass suicide.

The evening wore on, and knowing that the following day, Christmas Eve, would be full, Sharon opted to retire early. When Jerry joined her shortly afterward she was already in bed, propped up against several pillows and reading.

“Where were you this afternoon?” she asked. Considering that they’d agreed to divorce, she had no right to pry into his business. Nor did he have any responsibility to report his whereabouts to her. “You don’t need to answer that,” she added quickly, embarrassed.

“I don’t?” He sat on the end of the bed and untied his shoes.

“Unless you want to, of course.” Every time she opened her mouth she seemed to make it worse.

“I went to the movies.”

“Oh.” She would have enjoyed going with him, but it was senseless to admit as much.

“To think,” he added.

“Oh.” Apparently her entire vocabulary had shrunk to words of one syllable.

He twisted around to look at her. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I was mulling over?”

“Do you want to tell me?” Clearly he did, or he wouldn’t have prompted the question.

“I was remembering our first Christmas in San Francisco and comparing it to this year…the last one we’re likely to spend together.”

“I went for a walk and couldn’t help wondering at what point we stopped being good to one another?”

“I wish I knew,” he mumbled. His right shoe landed with a clunk onto the floor, then his left. He undressed and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slipped inside.

Sharon continued to read, or pretend to read. Jerry lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I had Chinese food for lunch.”

He’d never been fond of Chinese, but it was her favorite. She had to bite her tongue to keep from reminding him that he complained every time she suggested Szechuan. It used to be—when they lived in San Francisco—that he’d take her to Chinatown. It was such a rare occasion when they could afford a meal out, and Jerry loved to treat her to a dinner he knew she’d find special. She recalled that back then they could eat dinner for two for under five dollars. How times had changed!

“Funny how a dish of chow mein can bring back the memories,” Jerry added.

“We were happy then.” The lump in her throat felt as large as a grapefruit.