Mini Miracles

by Melissa Storm

  “All things!” they cried in unison.

  I smiled and nodded. “All things. Imagine that. All things in Christ.”

  When I glanced back over to my daughter, she was still nodding along, but now she was crying big, fat tears, and I didn’t know whether they were joyful—or if I’d somehow pushed her even deeper into the depths of despair.

  All things, I reminded myself. Including helping my daughter to heal. Amen.

  Chapter 26

  Abigail

  Abigail raced out of the sanctuary for the second time during that same service. With a quick hand gesture, she motioned for Gavin to stay behind as she tore a path to her father’s office with Mama Mary following closely behind. As soon as she shut the door securely behind her, she placed the excited mother dog into the box with her puppies.

  She didn’t mean to run off, but she needed a few minutes on her own, and she needed a break from her father’s hard-hitting words. He’d spoken right to the heart of her every fear. He’d said that God took time out to help Mama Mary and her litter, which was great… except that didn’t change the fact He’d chosen to deny Owen that same protective care.

  What made one life more important than the other?

  Her father claimed she could do anything with a little bit of faith, and she’d memorized the verses he cited long ago as a Sunday school student—but today she considered them in a new light. Was she willfully remaining broken by slamming her heart’s door to God?

  She wished she knew. Oh, how she wished she knew.

  Little Owen woke up and kicked her from the inside. What did he feel? What was he trying to communicate to her now? And why did it feel that everyone—even her unborn child and a handful of miraculous Chihuahuas—knew God better than she did?

  “Owen,” she whispered, not sure whether she was speaking to her husband or her child. Maybe she was saying something they both needed to hear. “I feel so lost. Like I’m standing just outside of where I need to be, but there’s this big giant wall blocking me from going in. How do I tear down that wall when I don’t have any strength left to fight?” she sobbed.

  The door creaked open behind her and her father’s voice floated in sure and strong. “Don’t you remember the story of Jericho?”

  She kept her back to him so he wouldn’t see her patchy face. “Dad…”

  “If you’re already there, all you need to do is march. And maybe blow a trumpet if you have one.” He crossed the room and took a seat on top of his desk, forcing her to look at him.

  “This is serious,” Abigail argued. What was he doing here with her? Shouldn’t he still be preaching? Or had she really let so much time pass her by without noticing?

  “I know, baby girl.” He sighed and leaned forward with his hands on either knee. “I’m proud of you for coming today. Just know this: you don’t have to figure it all out at once. To be honest, even I haven’t got it all figured out yet.”

  This was not what Abigail needed to hear. It already felt impossible, carrying on, being happy again. For her father to tell her that the answers would come little by little—if at all—dimmed her hope even further.

  “Then how can you tell others what to believe?” she needed to know. “How can you stand up there week after week telling others how to live a good life when you admit that you haven’t figured it out yet?”

  “It’s not me. It’s God speaking through me. And if you’ll listen, He’ll speak to you. If you let him, He’ll speak through you. Just like He’s doing with those dogs.”

  Abigail crossed her arms over her chest. He was always so predictable. Yes, he loved her, but his answers never wavered. He always, always brought it back to God.

  “Why are you so sure these dogs were meant for us? They’re just dogs,” she said, feeling guilty even before the words had fully left her mouth.

  “Faith like a mustard seed,” he said with a nod and the start of a smile. “But here’s a secret: if you don’t have a whole mustard seed, that’s okay, too. Take that half seed, that quarter seed, that one billionth of a seed, and water it. See what God can do then.”

  Did she have one billionth of a seed? Perhaps somewhere deep down in a part of her that she’d boarded up to protect from pain. But could it really be enough? Could something new grow from such a tiny fragment?

  She shook her head and turned her face away so her father wouldn’t see her frown. “You claim it’s a miracle they found us, but what if it’s just a coincidence? A freak accident even?”

  “If it is, then it is,” her father answered, surprising her for once as he placed a hand over his heart. “But I choose to believe in miracles. The world looks more beautiful that way. You don’t have to be right to be happy. Think about that.”

  She cracked a small smile. This line of reasoning she could relate to. It didn’t require her to sort through her feelings about God first. At last it gave her a place to start. “Are you saying ignorance is bliss?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat and loosened his tie. It always ended up a mess by the end of his second service. He hated wearing that thing, but still he donned it some time or another every single Sunday.

  “No, what I’m saying is I know you’re struggling with God’s decision to call Owen home,” he offered gently. “You want to understand why, but maybe you can’t understand. Maybe none of us can. So where does that leave you? Well, you can torture yourself trying to figure it out, or you can trust that God is good, that He loves you, and that He’s got a plan.”

  “That somehow involves Chihuahuas?” Abigail asked with a smile. Although it sometimes annoyed her, his unwavering faith also provided a constant in a world that felt like a dizzying blur even at the best of times.

  “Why, yes, I believe it does.” He rose from the desk and straightened to full height, looking down the bridge of his nose at Abigail who was still folded in on herself. “And what do you believe?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. And then after a pause, added, “And maybe this time, that’s okay. Thank you, Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl.” His entire face lit up just as it always had whenever she told him she loved him. He’d tucked her in every night of her childhood, exchanged butterfly kisses and “I love you’s” every single time, but still—still—hearing that affirmation from her meant the world to him. It meant the world to her, too. Thank God for loving fathers.

  “And you know what else?” he asked.

  “What?” Abigail asked, allowing him to pull her to his chest in a gentle hug.

  “I don’t think the Chihuahuas are the only miracle that found us this Christmas season.” He smiled down at her, waiting to see if she’d been able to interpret his latest cryptic burst of gratitude.

  She had not. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll leave you to figure that out on your own,” he said as he departed toward the door. “I’ve got a second sermon to deliver.”

  Chapter 27

  Abigail

  Abigail stayed with Mama Mary and her pups until it was time to deliver her plea to the second service crowd. She was surprised to find that Gavin had waited for her despite her sudden departure.

  “You okay?” he whispered as she took a seat beside him at the end of praise and worship.

  She smiled and nodded. Shortly after, her father called her to the stage and she spoke with every bit as much passion as she had the first time, maybe even a little bit more… and then she was ready to go home. She’d faced more than enough for one day—especially after the emotionally draining talk with her father in his office.

  “Need me to drive you home?” Gavin asked, leaning in to her when she returned to his side.

  “Please,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and leading both him and Mary back to the office to retrieve the puppies.

  “You were gone for a while,” he said, concern knitting his brow. “I would have come to find you if I knew where to look.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Abiga
il brushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear and picked up the box of squirmy Chihuahua babies. “I needed a little bit of time after…” She let her words trail off and made a rolling hand gesture instead.

  “Yeah, that was something, all right.” Gavin sucked in a deep breath, filling his chest and lifting his shoulders, then let it out again slowly. “It’s been so long since my family changed churches, I guess I’d forgotten how great your father is at what he does.”

  That, she couldn’t deny. People loved her father for a reason. She loved him for many reasons of her own, too. One of them was that he was always willing to say what needed to be said, even and especially when it was hard.

  “Yeah,” she said with a smile. “And that particular bout of preaching was meant for me, so it was a lot to take in.”

  “You’re really lucky, you know,” he said, taking the box from her but remaining close as he spoke softly. His sandy hair fell over his brows as he leaned in. “You’re surrounded by love on all sides. Even the inside.”

  Gavin’s goofy grin darted across his face before he turned serious again. “You’re a special woman, Abigail, and sometimes it seems you’re the only one who doesn’t know that.”

  She forced a laugh, but Gavin held her eyes with his, refusing to treat his words as a joke. “How can you say that when we haven’t known each other that long?” she asked.

  Gavin cocked his head to the side, but kept his focus intently on her. “Haven’t we?”

  Abigail’s cheeks grew warm. All of her grew warm. “I meant as adults.”

  “The core of who we are doesn’t change, Abigail Elliott-Sutton, and you’ve always been beautiful in absolutely every sense of the word.” He drew closer still, bending briefly to set the box aside before taking her in his arms.

  “Gavin,” she murmured into his shoulder. “I can’t.”

  “I’m not asking for anything,” he said. “I just want you to know that I’m here. I’m close. I’m ready to go to bat for you in whatever way you need. Right now, I know that’s just as a friend, but maybe someday there will be a way for us to mean more to each other. I know you’ll need a long time to heal, to find yourself again, but I’m not going anywhere. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, unable to say anything in that moment. “I do,” she choked out at last. This she understood. It was faith that had become a mystery to her, but love made perfect sense. Had Gavin really carried a torch for her all these years, or did the broken part of him fit together with the broken part of her?

  She wanted to believe she could love him one day, but right now she honestly didn’t know how her heart could ever make space for any man other than Owen.

  Gavin’s chest beat beneath her cheek and for a moment she let herself believe it was Owen’s. The two men’s hearts beat out the same tempo until Owen’s had suddenly stopped.

  What if she allowed herself to fall for Gavin, only to lose him, too?

  Loving Gavin was terrifying, but so was not loving him. She felt as if she’d gotten stuck in an impossible place. Maybe she had.

  Gavin pulled away, placing a hand on each of her shoulders and holding her at arm’s length. “I’m not trying to scare you, and I’m not trying to saddle you with anything more than you can handle. I need time to heal, too, but ever since you came back into my life, I finally feel like I have a reason to try, to open myself back up again. I just want you to know that. Even if you don’t feel the same way now, even if you never feel the same way, I just need you to know what’s in my heart.”

  “Thank you, Gavin,” she said, unable to add anything more. What was right in this situation? She’d loved Gavin before, but that was years ago—practically a whole lifetime. He said the core of who you are doesn’t change, but what if he was wrong?

  The only thing she knew for sure is that she needed some time by herself to figure things out.

  God. Gavin. Everything.

  Chapter 28

  Abigail

  Abigail spent the rest of that day on her own. Neither her father nor Gavin pushed her for anything more. Instead, both thankfully left her to rest and recover from the tough conversations that had taken place in her father’s tiny church office.

  So, to pass the time, she finished reading the romantic adventure book she’d downloaded for free and immediately bought the next in the series. She also drew another picture of Mama Mary and just generally gave herself permission to relax for a change.

  One afternoon stretched into two, which quickly became three. The monotony was at last broken when the puppies finally opened their beautiful eyes and looked into Abigail’s for the very first time. She’d admit she cried, but then again, she always cried these days.

  Now that the pups had open ears and eyes, they became feistier than ever. Mama Mary was no longer able to wander away and hide to take a nap on her own. Tending to the puppies became a full-time job now that they were moving toward independence and able to uncover heaps of trouble if not watched constantly.

  To celebrate, Abigail decided to take the pups to a park for their first big outdoor adventure since that fateful Christmas Eve rescue. It didn’t take her long, though, to realize her mistake. There was no way she could handle all four puppies and their mom at once.

  She needed help.

  But when she called her father to ask for him to meet her at the park—so that the trip wouldn’t be a total bust—he said he’d been called in for a last-minute meeting at the church and suggested she call Gavin instead.

  Abigail thought about that one for a few minutes before deciding to act. She’d been putting off Gavin’s texts since his confession of love for her, and while she missed him, she just didn’t know how to act casual in his company either. After a bit of hurried deliberation, she decided to head home on her own rather than requesting that Gavin join her at the park.

  When she arrived back at her father’s house, however, Gavin’s oversized truck stood waiting in the driveway. Unfortunately, Southern manners dictated she welcome him warmly rather than driving around the block a few times until he gave up and went away.

  She cursed under her breath, put on her best smile, and ambled over to meet him with all five Chihuahuas nipping at her heels.

  “Hi Gavin,” she called, offering a small wave. “What a nice surprise.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is it?” he asked. “Because someone’s been avoiding my texts all week.”

  “Well… I’ve been busy with the puppies, is all.”

  “Uh huh.” He looked as if he wanted to hug her but thankfully held himself back.

  Despite the awkwardness of this unplanned meeting, she had missed talking with him these past few days—missed seeing him, too. But how could she admit that without leading him on? Everything would be that much harder now the she knew he had feelings for her. She couldn’t just get over her husband’s death in a matter of months. It wouldn’t be fair to Owen, but expecting Gavin to ignore his emotions and them relegating him to the role of a simple friendship wouldn’t be fair to him.

  So what was fair to Abigail, and—?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Gavin said with that goofy grin she found so much comfort in.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, all the while wondering: Does he actually know? Am I that obvious?

  “You’re not the one who needs to apologize,” he said with a frown. “I put a lot of pressure on you the other day when that was the last thing I wanted to do.”

  “Gavin, stop, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes,” he said pointedly. “I do. I owe you an apology, and I’ve also brought a peace offering. A deal, too, if you’re willing to make it.”

  Okay, he definitely had her attention now. She waited to see what he would say or do next.

  “Do you want the gift or the deal first?” he asked as a mischievous smile stretched from one cheek to the other.

  “Umm…” She thought about it but had no idea what either could be, which made it impossible to choose. Sh
e’d always been bad about making choices, no matter how frivolous. And somehow she doubted this one was.

  “Too slow!” Gavin cried, slapping the back of his truck. “You’re getting the gift. Think you can grab the door for me?”

  She ran back to the porch and opened first the screen door and then the heavy wooden front door. The small herd of Chihuahuas trotted merrily into the house. When she glanced back to the driveway again, she found Gavin struggling with a long piece of honey-colored wood.

  “Gavin Holbrook,” she scolded, placing her free hand on her hip “What did you do?”

  “I told you that already. I got you a gift,” he said after triumphantly extracting the furniture piece from his truck bed.

  “That doesn’t look like a small token of apology.”

  “Well, small is what you make of it. Right, Mama Mary?” he said to the dog who had come back outside to supervise the undertaking and now stood beside Gavin as if she, too, was in on the surprise.

  “Does that work both ways?” Abigail asked, hardly able to suppress a laugh. “Because I don’t think it does.”

  Gavin winked at her as he carried the first piece past her and through the open doors. “A friend of mine makes custom furniture, and he’s been having a rough go of things lately,” he explained with his back to her. “I figured this could be a great gift for you as well as a way to help him. Besides, you need one.”

  “What?” she asked as he brushed past her to return to his truck for a second trip.

  “It’s a crib,” he said before, stretching over to grab more pieces. “Tommy offered to deliver it in one piece, but I don’t know. I kind of wanted us to build it together. I hope that’s okay.” He popped back up and gave her a cautious smile.

  “That’s more than okay, Gavin. Thank you so much. This is a wonderful gift.” Her heart warmed as she pictured the two of them fitting together the pieces to build something wonderful for little Owen.