Mini Miracles

by Melissa Storm

  “It was,” she agreed. “A long day.”

  “Merry Christmas, baby girl.”

  “Merry Christmas, Dad.” Abigail closed her eyes and leaned back into the chair, enjoying the quiet comfort of the evening. She was surprised when her father spoke again.

  “I know it somewhat breaks with tradition, but I was wondering if you might like to open your stocking tonight.”

  “That’s okay, Dad,” she answered with a satisfied sigh. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “Let me rephrase that. You should open your stocking tonight.”

  She opened her eyes and glanced at her father suspiciously. “Why?”

  He winked at her in a move that was very St. Nick, especially given his ever growing bowl full of jelly. “Let’s just say it has time sensitive material.”

  Abigail shrugged and went to retrieve her stocking from the mantle place. Immediately, she found that it was much lighter than it had been in years past. Reaching in, she found a single small item, which she wrapped her fingers around and pulled out.

  It was a silver locket shaped like a heart. On the front were the initials RE.

  “Was this Mom’s?” she asked, feeling the weight of it in her palm.

  His gaze softened. “Yes, I gave it to her the first Christmas after you were born. I figured this would be the perfect time to give it to you now that you’re a mother yourself.”

  “Thank you, Dad,” she said, practically short of breath from the sudden burst of excitement. “I love it.”

  “Open it,” he prompted.

  It took some doing since the necklace hadn’t been worn in decades, but eventually Abigail was able to pry open the little heart. On one side she found a close up of her and Owen’s faces on their wedding day, both very much in love and with no idea what the future would hold for them. The other side showed a candid shot of her and Gavin, heads leaned in close to each other as they both laughed over something she could no longer remember.

  “What’s this all about?” she asked, feeling hurt that her father would ruin this perfect gift by reminding her of both the men she had lost.

  He took a deep breath before explaining. “Baby girl, as your father, it was my job to teach you faith, and I’m so proud of the strong Christian woman you’ve become. The next great man in your life, Owen, taught you love, and I will forever be thankful to him for that. But Gavin… Gavin taught you laughter when you needed it the most. Don’t throw that away.”

  “You never moved on past Mom,” she said, fully angry with him now. “How could you expect me to move on past Owen? That isn’t fair.”

  “No,” he said simply. “None of what’s happened has been fair. The worst of it all is that you shut out someone who loves you just because you were scared.”

  “Of course I’m scared!” she shouted, praying the baby wouldn’t wake from her carelessness. “I lost everything.”

  “And how blessed you are to have found it again,” her father said before pushing himself up from his seat and leaving her alone in the darkening living room.

  Chapter 39

  Abigail

  On Christmas day, Abigail, her father, and little Owen joined her in-laws to celebrate. They lived about two hours away, but Abigail vowed to make the journey upstate to visit at least once per month so that the new grandparents wouldn’t miss out on getting to know their grandson.

  By the time they returned to Charleston that evening, Abigail was utterly exhausted from their long day of festivities coupled with the four hours of driving. The following day was Sunday, which meant her father would be in for another long day. She didn’t know if she could handle it herself, though—or if Owen could, for that matter.

  She turned off her alarm and decided to leave it to chance. By the time she awoke the following morning, her father had already left for first service. She was surprised that little Owen hadn’t stirred and gently padded to his nursery, only to find her baby had been replaced by a single sheet of lined paper.

  Abigail, it read in her father’s jagged scrawl. I took Owen with me to church. Mrs. Clementine would have my neck if I denied her Sunday cuddles with him. I didn’t want to wake you, but I did want to tell you to look in the top drawer of Owen’s dresser. I know you’ll make the right decision.

  Love,

  Dad

  She clutched the note to her chest as she crossed the room to the honey oak dresser and pulled open the first drawer. In it lay her first Bible, the same one her father had regifted her last year. When she picked the tiny book up, her mother’s locket fell onto the folded onesies below.

  Why was he giving these to her now, and why had he brought them to Owen’s room? She thought back to when she’d pulled the Bible from her stocking last year. He’d wanted to remind her of happier times and said that Owen wouldn’t want her to wallow. This year, she’d found the locket tucked into the bottom of that same stocking, and he’d told her not to throw away her chance with Gavin.

  But why was he harping on this? She’d found God again. She had a great job, a son whom she adored. She was happy again. The love she felt for her father, her son, her dogs, and her God had given her the strength she’d once lost. And now…

  Oh, no.

  Love wasn’t weakness like she had allowed herself to believe. It wasn’t something to be feared and sacrificing it wouldn’t be doing her son any favors. Love was what had made her whole again. Love was what gave her strength, life.

  And she’d thrown Gavin’s love straight out the window, when it had been a big part of helping her to find a life worth living again. He’d given her all of himself, but she’d been stingy. Afraid. Unable.

  What a terrible mistake she’d made.

  She opened up the Bible and found a torn page from her father’s page-a-day calendar. It talked about new hope, new chances, and on the center of the tiny sheet of paper, a giant 26 was written in big, bold strokes.

  It was the day after Christmas, the same day she’d run into Gavin at the pet store last year, the same day they’d promised to meet under the Angel Oak and decide whether their relationship should go further. He’d asked her for one year, and she hadn’t even given him that.

  She didn’t deserve for him to be waiting for her under that magical old tree, but she had to at least try. She had to go and see if he remembered, if he still wanted her despite all the hurt she had caused them both.

  “C’mon, Mama Mary,” she called, not caring that she was still dressed in her pajamas. She needed to get to John’s Island and fast, and she needed the moral support that only her special little dog could provide.

  “Please, God. Please don’t let it be too late,” she prayed during the entire drive over. Her mother’s locket lay against her collarbone, and she lifted a hand to stroke it. Her mother had walked away from a good man, but Abigail would not repeat her mistakes, not if she could help it.

  She parked and jumped out of the car, racing around to grab Mama Mary from the passenger’s side. She caught a glimpse of herself in the side mirror and gasped. She looked a fright, but she didn’t care. She’d let silly things, incorrect notions, rob her of her joy before, and she was done making the same mistakes over and over again.

  She clipped Mama Mary into her leash and walked toward the giant oak looming in the distance. Just as before, its branches reached out to hug all of Charleston. She squinted as she drew near, searching each face in the park.

  And then she saw him.

  “Gavin!” she cried, breaking into a full sprint with Mama Mary trailing behind. She let go of the leash so she could run faster, knowing her dog would follow along obediently.

  He turned toward her, and that goofy grin she had missed so much lit his entire face. “You came!” he called to her, standing in place as she continued to run as fast as her legs would carry her.

  “Gavin!” she cried again, reaching him at last and tackling him with a hug. And wouldn’t you know it? There she was, crying again.

  “You came,”
he repeated, brushing her messy hair away from her face.

  “I finally realized a few things I should have known a long time ago,” she said between pants for air.

  “Such as?” he asked. It was then she noticed he was holding his breath. He still didn’t know. He’d never known because she hadn’t told him.

  “That I love you. I want only you. Little Owen and I both need you in our lives.”

  “You love me?” he asked, his grin growing even wider than she’d once thought possible.

  “So much,” she whispered. “So much it hurts. I’m so sorry I sent you away. I was scared.”

  “I know.” When he nodded his understanding, a fresh tear fell from his cheek and landed on Abigail’s pajama shirt.

  “I don’t want to be scared anymore,” she continued. “I want to be brave for you. For us. I love you so much, Gavin Holbrook.”

  “Are you done apologizing?” Gavin asked, raising his palm to stroke her cheek. “Because you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now and that’s more than I could have ever hoped for. I don’t care about your past, Abigail Sutton-Elliott. I only want your future, and I hope that maybe one day you’d be willing to become Abigail Sutton-Elliot-Holbrook.”

  Before Abigail could ask whether Gavin was officially trying to propose to her, he brought his lips to hers in a delicate, inspiring, life-affirming kiss.

  Sometimes love hurt.

  Other times it healed, but always—always—it was a miracle.

  Chapter 40

  Pastor Adam

  It may have taken a whole year, but finally my daughter found the gift waiting right in front of her. When I returned home from church that Sunday to find her and Gavin cuddled up together on my living room couch, I whooped so loud it made the puppies run in a barky blur searching the house for an intruder or some other such oddity that would explain my sudden outburst.

  Gavin rose to meet me, extending his hand for a shake and taking a hug right along with it. “Thank you,” he whispered into my ear. “Thank you for helping her see.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” I said with a smile despite the harshness of my words. “I did it for my baby girl. I’d do anything for her.”

  Gavin laughed. “I remember the shotgun.”

  “There never was a shotgun,” I admitted. “I just had to make sure you were good enough for my daughter.”

  “And what’s the verdict?”

  I hesitated to make him sweat a little before wrapping him in another hug, clapping him on the back, and saying, “Welcome to the family, son.”

  Of course, he’s not an official part of the family yet, but Gavin’s been one of us ever since he returned to our lives that fateful day after Christmas. It won’t be long until things are official, though. The kids are planning their wedding for May at that very same oak tree that’s become so important to them. I’ll be officiating, and little Owen will serve as the best man and the ring bearer all in one.

  Don’t worry, the church dogs will be there with us, too. They wouldn’t miss it for the world.

  What's Next?

  Some folks are born with a silver spoon jutting right out of their mouths. Others are a bit more like Miss Harmony King. That poor thing bounced in and out of so many foster homes growing up even my head spun circles trying to keep track of them all.

  Once Harmony hit eighteen, though, she disappeared from Charleston altogether. Fast forward nearly a decade and now she’s back, bent over a pew and praying like her life depends on it. I’d reckon that just maybe it does.

  Of course, I don’t know why this young woman left our town, and I don’t know why she’s come back now—but one thing I do know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, is that God meant for us to find each other again.

  So I told Harmony the story of the special Chihuahuas born in our church’s nativity scene last Christmas Eve, and that our Muffin, in particular, wanted to help her if she’d let him. Yes, these Little Loves have worked miracles before, and by the grace of the Almighty, I think they might just be about to perform another…

  Get your copy at www.MelStorm.com/LittleLoves

  Afterword

  It shouldn’t be a surprise to learn that I am head over heels for the mighty little breed commonly known as Chihuahua!

  It wasn’t always that way, though. I, too, bought into the negative PR that called members of the tiniest dog breed vicious, crazed ankle biters with a Napoleon complex.

  But then my little girl became utterly obsessed. She begged and pleaded for her own Chihuahua to love. Mind you, it took us several months to realize what she was begging for, as our then-three-year-old princess said she “needed a Jawa.”

  So, after several talks that always ended with, “Ugh, why a Chihuahua? I really don’t want one of those!” we finally took her to meet a litter of puppies. We reasoned she wouldn’t actually want one of these tiny terrors once she met some in person.

  But we were wrong again!

  A couple weeks later, we brought home our first Jawa, which she proudly named “Sky Princess.” Okay, fine. This was my daughter’s dog, and she already loved it like crazy. We had four other awesome dogs and—seriously—how much trouble could a one pound puppy actually get into?

  I was on a tight writing deadline at the time, so asked my husband to take care of the puppy during the day while our little girl was at school. He did, but occasionally the little pupster wanted to spend time with me in my office.

  And she always—always!—begged for me to pick her up and set her on my desk. Once there, she’d cuddle into my chest and even climb into my shirt to snuggle. She was too little to climb the stairs by herself, so I took to carrying her up at night for bedtime.

  Speaking of bedtime, the crafty little thing actually figured out how to open her crate and came to cry at our bedroom door during her second night with us.

  Little by little, I fell in love… and, oh, I was a goner!

  A few months later, we found out that Sky Princess’s mother needed a new home due to sudden health issues with her original owner, and now I was the one begging and pleading: “Please give me my dog’s mom!”

  And so we welcomed our second Jawa to the fold, Mama Mila, who—you guessed it—was the basis for Mama Mary in this book. With two wonderful, loving cuddle bugs to call our own, I quickly moved from hate, to indifference, to like, to an overwhelming devotion to these little dogs—these mini miracles.

  Did you know that Chihuahuas are the second most euthanized dog breed in America? It’s sadly true. That’s why I one day hope to open my own rescue and breed education program to show the world just how lucky we are to have Chihuahuas in it.

  I never knew such a tiny dog could fill my heart so completely! Now imagine having two. Or, in the case of Abigail and Pastor Adam, five.

  There are so many Jawas—so many dogs—out there who need a second chance at forever. Don’t look past the Chihuahua just because you’ve heard some not-so-nice rumors. Each dog deserves to be judged for her own heart.

  Each dog is a blessing.

  And, yes, a miracle.

  Acknowledgments

  I have wanted to write this book for such a long time. Once I fell in love with my own special Chihuahua girl, Sky Princess (and later her Mama Mila), I knew I needed to write a book series to celebrate them.

  And, finally, here we are!

  I always have so many people to thank, but I wanted to make this batch of acknowledgments special—so here we go, all the people who helped me make this book a reality, in chronological order of their contribution.

  Thanks go to my family for encouraging my creativity and rarely saying no when I wanted yet another book to add to my massive home library.

  To my husband, Falcon, for showing me what love was and that I was worthy of it. For taking care of things around the house so I can focus on writing, and for never failing to believe in me and encourage me to keep on going after my dreams. Just because you catch a dream doesn’t mean you should
ever stop chasing it, right?

  To my daughter, Phoenix, for turning me into a certifiably crazy Chihuahua lady.

  To my friend, Mina Jandou, for entrusting me first with Sky Princess and then Mama Mila. Thank you for bringing the magic of Chihuahuas into my life, thank you for loving them every bit as much as I do, and thank you for being your beautiful, wonderful self!

  To my two Chihuahua girls for inspiring the series and lending such life-like qualities to Mama Mary and her puppies. To my non-Chi dogs as well, because I also love and am inspired by them.

  To my cover designer, Mallory Rock, for bringing my vision to life with her art—and for suggesting that we use Sky Princess as one of the cover models!

  To my fabulous assistant and friend, Angi Hegner. Thank you for getting excited about my books and forcing me to write them in a timely fashion, even though I definitely know I’m not easy to manage. And to Becky Muth and Shanae Johnson for also getting excited as my word count increased.

  To Mallory Crowe for doing write-ins with me and just generally being awesome. You are thanked, my dear.

  To my amazingly talented editor—and another of my many cheerleaders—Megan Harris. She’s the real deal, folks, and my work is the better for it.

  To my proofreader, Jasmine Bryner, who always gives such great feedback and insights while she’s reading and lives the story right alongside me.

  To my readers. To you. For letting my books into your heart and giving me a voice, for writing me such kind notes of encouragement, and for getting excited about the characters who are so near and dear to my heart.

  And to anyone who’s ever loved a Chihuahua, who’s ever helped a dog in need, who’s ever believed in miracles—no matter how small.