Mrs. Miracle (4 page)

“Luggage?” she repeated, and a look of surprise flashed in and out of her eyes. “Not to worry, I’ll get it myself.”

“I insist.” It was the least he could do.

“All right.” Again he noticed her hesitation. “I believe it should be on the porch…. That’s right, I left everything on the porch. I was so pleased when I learned of this new assignment that I packed as fast as I could.”

Seth prayed his twins wouldn’t give her reason to alter her opinion.

Humming what sounded surprisingly like a hymn, she returned to the children, ushering them like a mother hen out of the room.

Seth couldn’t remember a time Judd and Jason had taken so quickly to anyone. With every other housekeeper it had demanded the better part of a week before they’d been comfortable enough to address the woman. But then no housekeeper had arrived with a meal fit for a king. The vegetables had been so well disguised that neither Judd nor Jason had noticed.

“Mrs. Miracle…”

“Mrs. Miracle…”

Laughter erupted as the twins roared out of the bedroom, dressed in their pajamas, their wet hair combed away from their faces. Seth paused, seeing the joy and excitement in their eyes. It was
something he’d viewed only on rare occasions since they’d moved back in with him.

A warmth seeped into his heart. For the first time in a very long while, he had hope for the future.

H
arriett Foster prayed with one eye open as she studied the older, retired women in the Tuesday morning Martha and Mary Circle. She zeroed her prayer request toward Ruth Darling. Harriett had seen the way the sixty-year-old had been eyeing the new man in church. A married woman, mind you. Why, it was nothing short of scandalous. It was difficult enough for a widow like herself to find a new husband without having to compete with a married woman.

“Dear Lord,” Harriett said loudly, making sure her voice carried, “I’m selling my sewing machine. My Singer, Lord, with five separate attachments. Why, Lord, a person could embroider names on the thickest of towels with this ma
chine. Hemming skirts at the proper length, of course, would be no problem, nor would it be difficult to attach buttons. Those of us suffering arthritis can appreciate a sewing machine with all those built-in extras.” She paused and surveyed the group once more. “This modern marvel was reconditioned only six months ago. I’m a reasonable woman, Lord, and you and I both know that my Singer, although ten years old, is well worth the hundred-dollar asking price. You’ve placed that figure upon my heart, and I don’t feel I can let it go for a penny less. You know that I’d gladly tithe my ten percent of that sales price, too.

“Now, I feel, Lord, that there’s someone in this very group of women who could use this machine. Theirs may be out of date, or in disrepair, whatever the reason, they need this machine. I ask, Father, that you lay it upon that person’s mind to buy my beautiful, looks-almost-new, Singer sewing machine.” She breathed in deeply and peeked at Ruth Darling to see if the group’s leader revealed any interest. To her disappointment, she saw nothing. Discouraged, Harriett murmured, “Amen.”

A low murmur of “Amens” followed.

Slowly the women opened their eyes and raised their heads.

“We’ll meet again next week, same time, same place,” Ruth Darling announced.

Harriett noticed a smile wobbling at the edges of Ruth’s mouth and wondered what it was that the group’s leader found amusing.

Ruth zipped up the pouch around her Bible and placed it inside her bag along with the study guide for the Book of Philippians.

“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in buying my Singer, would you?” Harriett asked, cornering Ruth. Sometimes a hint just wasn’t strong enough. If ever a woman needed something to occupy her time, it was Ruth. Naturally it’d be considered unkind to mention that she’d noticed Ruth’s roving eye, although Harriett was certain she wasn’t the only member of the Martha and Mary Circle to recognize what was happening. Personally Harriett wondered if Fred Darling had wind of it. Fred wasn’t the kind of man who would tolerate any hanky-panky from his wife.

Ruth glanced up. “I have a sewing machine.”

“New?” Harriett pressed.

“Fairly new.”

“I thought you said yours was ten years old?”

This came from Barbara Newton, and Harriett didn’t appreciate it. “It is, but as I said earlier, it’s been reconditioned.”

“My daughter might be interested.”

Harriett spun around. “Really?”

The door opened and the church secretary, Joanne Lawton, burst into the room. “Oh, good, you haven’t left yet. Ladies,” she said, clearly distressed, “I just got off the phone with Milly Waters. Joe’s been transferred…. It’s all rather sudden, and they’re leaving within the next two weeks.”

“Milly and Joe are moving?”

“Oh, dear, we’re going to miss them.”

A chorus of voices echoed, mixed with excitement and regrets. Joe and Milly were church favorites. Milly’s sunny disposition made her a popular Sunday school teacher, and the children loved her. Joe had been the Sunday school superintendent for several years running. They would both be sorely missed.

“What about the Christmas program?” Barbara Newton asked.

The mood of the room went into a tailspin. Milly had been working with the children for weeks, laying the groundwork for the Christmas pageant. Someone stepping in with just a month to go would have big shoes to fill.

Harriett took one step backward, not wanting to give the impression she might be interested. Not her. She’d served as a deaconess for three years, washing the communion cups after worship service, acting as a greeter. She’d sung with the choir twenty years or better and played piano for more Sunday evening services than she could count. Over the years she’d done it all and more. Her days of volunteering were over. Some might say she was resting on her laurels, and she’d let them.

The last thing she wanted or needed was to direct a group of loud, ungrateful schoolchildren. That was a task for the young, someone with more patience than she. Children, even her
niece’s two girls, were more of a handful than she could take, other than in small doses.

Never having borne children of her own, Harriett fawned over Jayne, her only sister’s child. She didn’t see Jayne as often as she would have liked, but then young people didn’t respect their elders the way they should these days.

Ever since Jayne had started working at that travel agency with…Oh dear, she forgot the woman’s name now. She’d met her once or twice. Reba, that was it. Reba Maxwell. Since Jayne had started working with Reba, she hadn’t seen near enough of her, or Suzie and Cindy. The five-and seven-year-olds were as close to having grandchildren as Harriett was likely to get.

The others in the Martha and Mary Circle were busy discussing Milly and Joe’s move. A low buzz filled the room as speculation arose as to who would assume the director’s role for the Christmas program. Finding someone, anyone, at this late date would be difficult.

“Sally couldn’t possibly do it,” Ruth Darling was telling Joanne. “She’s started back to college.”

“Oh, dear, you’re right.”

“What about Lillian Munson?”

“She and Larry have already made vacation plans for the holidays,” someone responded.

Harriett waited until the possibilities were exhausted and a pregnant pause followed. “I know who could do it,” she said. Every eye turned to her. She waited until she had the group’s atten
tion. This was almost as good as if she were volunteering herself. “My niece.”

“Jayne?”

“I’ll talk to her myself,” Harriett promised. “I’m sure she’d love the opportunity to step in at the last minute like this. Jayne’s the type of woman who thrives on a challenge.”

“But I thought she just started a new job.” Ruth, of all people, looked skeptically toward Harriett.

“That shouldn’t be any problem,” Harriett returned confidently. “I know my niece. She’s going to leap at the chance to help out like this. She’s a lot like me, you know. A lot like me.”

“Y
ou did what?”

Reba Maxwell watched as her friend Jayne Preston vaulted upright out of her chair, sending it shooting backward into the filing cabinet. Jayne’s face reflected her outrage.

“Aunt Harriett, how could you possibly volunteer me?…” She clamped her mouth shut. Apparently the news didn’t get better, because Jayne leaned against the poster of Mickey Mouse, arms extended, inviting everyone who entered the Way to Go Travel Agency to explore Disney World.

Reba had heard the stories about Jayne’s aunt from the time she’d hired her latest employee. Apparently Auntie was a holier-than-thou type. Personally, Reba got a chuckle hearing about
Jayne’s infamous aunt. She felt more at home attending church services when she realized there were others beside herself whose lives weren’t in shipshape order. According to Jayne, her aunt Harriett had been a thorn in her side most of her life. Reba could hardly wait to hear what the woman had done this time.

Reba had hired Jayne a few months back. She knew her from church, but only by sight, not by name. Her own attendance had been sporadic at best, although she enjoyed Pastor Lovelace’s sermons.

After breaking off the relationship with her sister, Reba had avoided church. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to attend at all. Habit, she suspected. Her mother faithfully observed the Lord’s day, and both Reba and her sister had tagged along. While in high school, Reba had gotten involved in the church youth group and played on the church volleyball team. The summer between high school and college she’d served as a camp counselor, and she remembered those times fondly.

As an adult, she found herself feeling restless and bored Sunday mornings, so she’d begun to stop by the local community church. She didn’t go often. Every time she was tempted to become more involved, the pastor would preach some stirring message about forgiveness. It stopped her cold.

Few people understood that some wrongs
could never be forgiven. Or righted. This was a sermon she didn’t want to hear. A message she chose to ignore. It’d taken her the better part of four months to return after one such sermon.

Even at that she’d come to recognize a few people, Jayne being one of them. She’d hired the young mother because she was a familiar face, someone she knew and wanted to know better.

“I can’t believe it,” Jayne cried as she replaced the telephone receiver. She wrapped one arm around her middle as if protecting herself. “Aunt Harriett’s done it again.” She slapped her side with her free hand.

“What’s she up to this time?”

“Without consulting me, without so much as asking, she volunteered me to take over the job of coordinator for the Christmas program. Milly Waters was doing it, but apparently Joe’s gotten transferred to Oregon. With the move and everything, Milly had to resign.”

“So good ol’ Jayne’s willing to step in?”

Jayne plopped herself down on her chair once again. “Not this time. I can’t, Reba. Surely you realize that. Steve’s working overtime every night, and no one realizes that when Steve works overtime so do I. The girls miss their father and don’t understand why he’s gone so much. I’ve been having discipline problems with them. And now my lovely, interfering aunt assumes that I’ll take on the pressure of organizing and producing a
Christmas pageant. I refuse to be emotionally blackmailed. Not this time!”

“You don’t need to convince me.”

“You don’t know my aunt Harriett.” Jayne wiped the hair off her forehead. “She’s like a pit bull. I’ve never seen anything like it. She gets hold of an idea and won’t let go. She’s going to needle away at me, push all my buttons, and remind me of everything she’s ever done for me, and before I know how it happened I’ll give in.”

“Will you really?” Reba was more sympathetic than she sounded. In a number of ways Jayne’s aunt Harriett reminded her of her own mother. Ever since her falling-out with Vicki—although that was putting it mildly—Reba’s mother had hounded her to mend fences with her sister. Like Jayne’s aunt Harriett, Joan Maxwell didn’t give up easily, either.

Jayne glanced anxiously toward Reba. “Come to church with me on Sunday, will you?”

“Me?” If Jayne couldn’t dissuade good ol’ Aunt Harriett, it was unlikely Reba would do a better job.

“Steve won’t be able to come—he’s worked every Sunday for the last month, and Aunt Harriett is sure to corner me, especially with Steve not there. She has a way of getting to me.”

“And you want me there to ward her off?”

“No…well, yes. You don’t know my aunt Harriett. Before I can help it, she’ll have me backed up against a wall.”

Reba hesitated. “Maybe deep down you’re secretly dying to take over the Christmas pageant.”

Jayne mocked her with an abrupt laugh. “Read my lips. I refuse to do this just because my aunt Harriett thinks I should.” Her eyes softened and she looked imploringly at Reba. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

Reba didn’t refuse. This could prove to be downright entertaining. Besides, she’d like to formally meet Harriett. “I’ll be there.”

“Don’t let me down,” Jayne pleaded.

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Smiling to herself, Reba returned to the task at hand.

The phone pealed again, and since her other two employees were on their lunch break, and Jayne remained shaken after the confrontation with her aunt, Reba answered it herself. “Way to Go Travel.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mom.” So Reba was due to face her own nemesis. It must be the day for it, she reflected.

“I hate to pester you at the office. You’re not busy, are you?”

She opened her mouth to say that she was in the middle of something important. Her mother didn’t need to know it was merely alphabetizing her Rolodex cards. She wasn’t given the chance.

“I promise to only keep you a moment.”

“Mom…”

“It’s about Christmas.”

“Haven’t we already been through this?”

“No,” her mother denied. “Sweetheart, it’s less than a month away.”

Her mother held true to course: hurt, anger, guilt, in that precise order. It astonished Reba how the routine didn’t waver. Year after year, battle after battle.

Reba replaced the telephone receiver and released a pent-up sigh.

“Your mother?” Jayne asked.

She nodded. A part of her wanted to explain what had happened, but she bit her tongue. Few people truly understood, and deep down she feared Jayne would be like all the rest. She didn’t want advice, didn’t want to hear that it would be far wiser to settle her differences with Vicki. Nor was she seeking pity. All she wanted was for someone to recognize that she’d been wronged.

“I need to run some errands,” she announced suddenly. “Will you be all right by yourself?” What Reba really needed was a few minutes alone to compose herself.

“Sure,” Jayne assured her, although they both knew it wasn’t true. Office procedure stated that no employee should be left alone to deal with both the phone and the foot traffic.

“I’ll be back shortly,” Reba promised on her way out the door.

“Take however long you need.”

Sunday morning Reba arrived for the worship service ten minutes early, knowing Jayne would
be waiting anxiously for her. She stood inside the vestibule as the organ music filled the small sanctuary.

She didn’t have long to wait. Jayne, with her two daughters in tow, arrived shortly.

“Thank goodness you’re here.”

“Have you met up with Aunt Harriet?”

“Not yet. I managed to escape her just now in the hallway outside the girls’ Sunday school classroom. I pretended not to hear her.”

“Mom, can I sit with Becky?” Seven-year-old Suzie tugged at Jayne’s sleeve.

“Even my daughter’s looking for a way of avoiding my aunt,” Jayne whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

“Can I, Mom?”

“All right, but no talking, understand?”

Suzie was off like a shot.

“Let’s take a seat,” Jayne urged, glancing over her shoulder. She accepted a bulletin from one of the deaconesses who acted as a greeter and slithered up the side aisle, seeking, Reba assumed, the one spot in the entire church where her aunt wasn’t likely to see her.

Not that Jayne had much chance of escaping the inevitable, Reba suspected.

“Oh, good,” Jayne muttered after they were seated. Cindy sat between them on the hard wooden pew.

“What?” Reba whispered.

“Aunt Harriett’s playing the organ.”

Reba’s gaze sought out the middle-aged woman sitting at the organ. She didn’t mean to smile, but she would have been able to pick out Jayne’s aunt Harriett from a police lineup. The woman wore a dress that seemed to suggest anything fashionable must surely be a sin. Her glasses rode down on her nose so far, they threatened to glide right off. Her pinched lips made her look as if it required a substantial effort to smile.

“Do you see her?” Jayne asked, leaning her head close to Reba’s.

“Shh…” Six-year-old Cindy pressed her finger to her lips and glared accusingly at the two adults.

Smiling to herself, Reba straightened and focused her attention straight ahead. She’d come for the express purpose of lending her friend moral support, but she was glad she’d come. The music, even if played by Aunt Harriett, was wonderful.

An older woman entered the church, a round portly soul, grandmotherly and kind looking. She paused, her gaze gentle yet focused as she looked squarely in Reba’s direction and smiled as if she’d known Reba her entire life. The directness of the stare caught her unaware. The older woman’s eyes brightened, and she nodded as if acknowledging someone.

Reba supposed her face was new and the woman was making an effort to welcome her. She responded with a smile.

To puzzle her further, the woman glanced pointedly over her shoulder at a man with two small children at his side. Reba’s gaze followed the woman’s.

It was him.
Him.
The man she’d seen so often at the grocery outside the strip mall. The very one who’d captured her attention weeks earlier. The one she found herself looking for day after day. The one who seemed as needy as she was herself. Another lost soul in a world full of the walking wounded.

“Who’s that?” she asked, gripping Jayne’s sleeve in the same urgent manner in which her young daughter had earlier.

“Who?” Jayne asked, tilting her head closer to Reba’s.

“The man with the children.”

“That’s Judd and Jason Webster,” Cindy supplied, drawing daisies on the church bulletin. “They’re in my Sunday school class. They’re twins.”

“He’s married, then?” Reba’s heart sank with the realization.

Jayne looked to her daughter.

Cindy shook her head. “Their mommy died in a car accident a long time ago. They don’t even remember what she looks like.”

“Do you know his name?”

Cindy nodded. Her grin spread from ear to ear; obviously she was pleased to be the center of attention, the one with all the answers. “That’s Mr. Webster, their dad.”