Mr. Miracle

by Debbie Macomber

  “Addie Folsom?” he asked, approaching her expectantly, grinning broadly.

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  His eyes widened and he quickly glanced down, as if she’d caught him red-handed at something he knew he shouldn’t be doing.

  “Ah … you look like an Addie.”

  “I do?” Seeing how she felt about her name, this was depressing news.

  “Oh yes. The minute I saw you, I said to myself, ‘That young woman looks like an Addie.’ You’re going to do very well here.”

  She frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I … just do.”

  He wasn’t making sense, but then she didn’t have great expectations when it came to classes and teachers. Experience had taught her to quickly take her seat and keep her opinions to herself, especially if she wanted a passing grade, which she did. Her one desperate hope was that he never called on her to read out loud. She had nightmares about that from grade school.

  He handed her a book, which was Dickens’s novel A Christmas Carol, and Addie found a vacant desk toward the back of the room. A man dressed in fatigues who looked to be about her age sat in the farthest desk in the row behind. A mixed-breed shepherd lay by his side, his chin resting on his paws. The dog’s gaze followed her closely. The name band on the front of the soldier’s shirt identified him as Fairfax. He slouched in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and his head down. He didn’t appear to be any more pleased to be in class than Addie did.

  “This seat taken?”

  The question caught her by surprise, and she turned to find a large, muscular man with a huge tattoo on his neck. She didn’t need to be an expert to recognize it as a prison tattoo. “No, feel free,” she said, and gestured toward the empty desk directly across from her.

  He slipped into the seat and slumped so far down that it was a wonder he didn’t slide directly onto the floor.

  Other students entered the class, and before long every desk was filled. A couple high school running start for college teens took the front desks and stared up expectantly at the teacher. The teacher took a marker and wrote his name across the whiteboard:

  Harry Mills.

  “Any alphabet soup go with that name?” the guy with the neck tattoo called out.

  The high school students twisted around and stared back at him.

  “Alphabet soup?” Harry reached for a sheet from his desktop and read it, as if that would supply the answer. “You’re Danny Wade, right?”

  Danny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Has my parole officer been talking to you?” he demanded.

  “No, no,” the teacher assured him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

  “That’s crazy. How do you know who I am?”

  Again, the teacher looked flustered, as if once more he’d committed some error in professional etiquette. “Lucky guess?” he suggested on a hopeful note.

  “Sh—”

  “No bad language in the classroom,” Harry said sharply, cutting him off. “Now, what did you mean by asking me about the alphabet soup?”

  “You know,” Danny continued. “Like Ph.D.”

  “Or CPA,” another student suggested.

  Danny chuckled. “Looks to me like he’s got a degree in BS.”

  The professor appeared all the more confused and simply shook his head as if he wasn’t sure how to answer.

  “Say, just how long have you been teaching, anyway?” someone else wanted to know.

  “Well …” Using his index finger, Harry pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Awhile now.”

  A few of the students snickered. The remaining students simply stared, Addie and the vet with his dog among them. Almost immediately, someone knocked on the door. The teacher looked relieved at the interruption as a security guard entered the classroom.

  He was dressed in a campus security uniform and had a Taser gun strapped on his belt. His hand rested on the handle. “Everything okay in here, Mr. Mills?”

  The teacher glared at the weapon. “Yes, of course. Everything is under control.”

  The security guy focused his attention on the class, removed his hand from the gun, and inserted his thumbs into his waistband, rocking back on his heels. “I just like to check in on things—hope that’s okay.”

  He glared toward the back of the room, in Addie’s direction. It took her a minute to realize he was focused on Danny Wade. Addie almost felt sorry for Danny. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was on parole. It didn’t look like he was going to have an easy time of it, first with the teacher and now campus security breathing down his neck.

  “Officer Brady Whitall at your service,” he said, and bounced his fingers against his forehead, saluting Harry. “You have any problems and you know who to call.”

  “Ghostbusters?” Danny muttered under his breath.

  Brady’s arm flew out and he pointed directly at Danny. “I heard that.”

  Danny looked behind him at the shepherd lying contentedly on the floor, his chin resting on his paws, and shrugged as though he didn’t know what the man was talking about.

  “Thank you,” Harry said, and quietly ushered him out of the room.

  “Now, where were we?” he asked, looking back at the class.

  Thankfully, the remainder of the sixty-minute class went considerably smoother. They talked about Charles Dickens, the author of A Christmas Carol, and Addie had to admit she was impressed. Harry, for all his discomfort earlier, seemed familiar with the author. He clearly knew the subject matter.

  “Charles was the second of eight children,” Harry said, “and he fathered ten of his own. He moved around quite a bit as a child and was forced to drop out of school to help support his family when his father was thrown into debtors’ prison. It devastated poor Charles.”

  Danny sat up straighter. “His father did time?”

  Harry nodded. “Those were bleak years for his family.”

  “Yeah,” Danny mumbled. “Were they able to write him letters? Mail is everything to a guy in prison.”

  “Yes, but his mother and the younger children went to prison with his father.”

  “You mean he had conjugal rights?”

  “Well … yes, I guess you could say that.”

  “Charlie went to live with a friend of the family,” Harry continued. “He did what he could to help his parents and wrote them letters of encouragement. He was smart enough to make friends with a guard, and the guard snuck the letters in to his mother and father.”

  “How do you know that?” one of the eager students asked. “I never read anything about Charles Dickens knowing any of the guards.”

  “Oh … I can’t remember exactly where I got that information, but it happened, I can assure you of that.”

  Harry certainly sounded convincing, as if he knew these facts firsthand.

  “Dickens had to work in a shoe-blacking factory and he hated every minute. When his grandmother died and bequeathed money to Charles’s father, the family was released from prison.” The teacher’s face sobered and he sighed. “It gives me no pleasure to tell you what happened afterward.”

  “What?” Danny called out.

  It was clear Danny was going to be the most vocal member of their class. He seemed to have a comment or question for whatever the teacher said.

  “Even with his father employed and the family back together, Dickens’s mother left him with the family friend so he could continue to work in the factory under deplorable conditions. Sadly, he was never able to forgive her for not sending for him.”

  “My mother bailed on us,” Danny said to no one in particular. “She was on crack and the state dumped us in a foster family.”

  “You forgave your mother, though,” Harry said, with an approving look.

  Again, how he could possibly know that was beyond Addie. This was one strange man. He must be psychic—that was the only thing Addie could figure.

  The class ended and Addie was surprised at how quickly the h
our had passed. She slid out of the desk and reached for her purse and book. They were assigned to read the first fifty pages before they returned to class on Wednesday.

  She reached for her coat and slipped her arms inside. The vet with the dog stood and started out of the class.

  “You left your coat on the back of the chair,” Addie told him. He must not have heard, because he continued out of the classroom. Addie reached for the thick winter jacket and hurried after him.

  “You forgot your coat,” she said, louder this time, and touched his arm.

  The vet whipped around, his eyes blazing fire, with a look so intense she gasped and automatically backed up, fearing he might reach out and strike her.

  He blinked and immediately looked contrite. “I’m sorry … sorry.” He grabbed his coat and hurried down the hallway, the dog trotting obediently at his side.

  Addie pressed her hand against her chest in an effort to control her rapid heartbeat.

  The security guard was making a fuss again, she noticed. He had a woman by the upper arm, and it seemed his hold was unnecessarily tight. The young woman looked as if she was part of the kitchen staff over at the cafeteria. She had on a white apron and wore a net over her hair. The school cop half dragged her toward the teacher.

  “I found her standing outside your classroom, listening in on the discussion,” he dutifully told Harry. “It’s against regulations for her to be in this building.”

  Harry calmly spoke to the woman in Spanish. Her dark brown eyes widened and she adamantly shook her head. She answered in a flurry of her native language. The teacher listened intently, nodded several times, and then looked at Brady Whitall.

  “It’s not a problem. This is Elaina; she was simply curious about a few of the classes and decided to check them out.”

  Brady shook his head, dismissing the explanation. “College rules clearly state that the kitchen staff must remain in their designated area.”

  “Yes, but I think we can make an exception this one time.”

  Addie wanted to cheer. Harry Mills was something of a surprise. He made the class interesting, and yes, he was a bit odd, but he was willing to stand up to this overzealous school cop.

  The security guard looked doubtful. “Did you clear this with Dr. Conceito? There are regulations about this sort of thing.”

  “Well … no, but I will.”

  Brady inserted his thumbs in his waistband and glared at Elaina. “See that you do. Until I hear from Dr. Conceito myself, I want to make sure this doesn’t happen again. Understood?” He narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t want to lose your job over this.”

  The woman looked terrified. “Yes, sir, I mean, no, sir. I mean, I understand, sir.”

  Addie returned to the classroom to retrieve the Dickens novel, which she’d left on her desk. She watched as Harry reached for an additional copy of the book and handed it to the woman from the cafeteria. She looked so grateful that for a moment Addie thought she might actually kiss his hands. Holding the book against her breast, she spoke to him again in Spanish.

  Seeing how much the other woman appreciated the book made Addie realize how fortunate she was. As she walked across campus toward the parking lot, she saw that the cafeteria remained open, although they’d finished serving for the day. Addie had eaten a light meal before heading to class and could use a latte. The wind whistled through the trees, and the moon was bright and full, casting shadows across the lawn.

  Home only a few days and it felt as if she’d been back for years. It was a good feeling.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t a long line, so she ordered a skinny eggnog latte, which was the special for the month of December. As the barista with the name tag that identified her as Celeste made her drink, Addie slid onto the stool and removed her gloves. She reached for her phone and took it off silent, and noticed a text message from her mother.

  Call me ASAP.

  The last time she’d gotten a similar text from her mother it was to tell Addie her father had succumbed to a heart attack. Addie stared down at the phone, afraid of what this might mean.

  The barista set the latte on the counter and looked at Addie. She must have gone pale, because Celeste asked, “Is everything all right?”

  “I … I don’t know.” She didn’t delay any longer but grabbed the phone and selected her mom’s number from the contact list.

  Her mother answered on the first ring, as if she’d been pacing the living room, awaiting Addie’s call. “Addie,” she said without greeting. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mom, what’s up?”

  “Erich’s been in a car accident.”

  “Erich Simmons? Is he all right? What happened?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. Julie was too upset to explain it all.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Yes, yes, apparently it could have been a lot worse. He’s been injured, though. Both his wrists are broken.”

  Addie sighed. “That’s awful.” But it didn’t explain why her mother appeared to have gone into panic mode.

  “It’s more than awful,” her mother cried, sounding close to tears. “It’s a catastrophe.”

  Addie wouldn’t go so far as to say that. She sympathized with Erich, and while it would be awkward for him for a few weeks, he’d recover. This wasn’t the end of the world.

  “Don’t you realize what this means?” her mother demanded.

  Obviously, Addie didn’t.

  “It means,” her mother said, her voice cracking, “that Julie and I have to cancel the cruise.”

  This wasn’t making sense to Addie. “Why would you do that?”

  “Why?” her mother asked, and then repeated herself. “Why? Because Julie can’t leave Erich in this condition. Someone has to be there to help him. For the love of heaven, Addie, both his arms are in casts. He’s going to be completely helpless.”

  “Oh.” Addie hadn’t stopped to think about that.

  “Julie didn’t tell me right away until she knew for certain the kind of help Erich is going to need. The accident happened the night he stopped by the house … when you put up the outside Christmas lights. He’s out of the hospital, but he has to stay with Julie until he’s able to return to work, and that will be up to six weeks. Can you imagine … that poor, dear boy.”

  Erich was no dear boy; Addie could testify to that. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  “Me, too.” A soft sob escaped. “And so close to when we were set to leave, too. Julie and I have been planning this cruise for months. We both had our suitcases packed. I just knew something like this would happen. I just knew it.”

  Addie had rarely heard her mother sound more devastated. “That’s dreadful, Mom.”

  “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  Addie couldn’t think of anything more to say. She was disappointed for both her mother and her mom’s friend.

  “There will be other cruises,” Addie said, and hoped she sounded encouraging. She felt bad, but really there was nothing she could do to change this unfortunate set of circumstances.

  Chapter Three

  Addie dropped her phone into her purse, feeling wretched.

  She noticed that her classic literature teacher had stopped by the latte stand himself. Harry Mills sat on the other side of the stand, opposite her. He sank onto the stool and braced his elbows on the counter and hung his head. He appeared to be having troubles of his own.

  Celeste, the barista, ignored her latest customer and asked Addie a second time, “Is everything all right?”

  Addie shrugged. Normally, she kept her problems to herself, but to her surprise she felt like talking. “The call was from my mother. She was set to take a two-week cruise over Christmas with her best friend. They’re both widows and, well, there was an accident involving the other woman’s son and now it looks like they’re going to have to cancel the entire cruise.”

  “That stinks.”

  On the other side of the latte stand, Harry Mills straighte
ned and looked sympathetic. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “Is the son doing okay?” Celeste asked, looking genuinely concerned.

  While Addie didn’t particularly like Erich, she did feel bad for him. “He broke both his wrists.”

  “Wow … ouch.”

  The idea of Erich in pain had a curious effect on her. It made her stomach go queasy. She’d been looking forward to enjoying the Christmas-themed latte only minutes before, but now she felt as if she’d wasted her money.

  Celeste looked toward Harry as if expecting him to say something. He stared back at her blankly as if to ask “What?” Addie had her money out, ready to pay for the latte, when Celeste turned back to her.

  “You say your mother is disappointed?”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Addie’s mother had sounded devastated. “My father died this summer, and the thought of spending this first Christmas without him was huge for her. The cruise was just the escape she needed.”

  Celeste tapped her index finger against her lips as if mulling something over. She glanced over at Professor Mills again as though waiting for him to offer a suggestion. When it appeared he had nothing to say, Addie slid off the stool, and the barista said quickly, “Perhaps there’s a way for your mother and her best friend to go on that cruise after all.”

  Automatically, Addie shook her head. “Julie can’t leave Erich. With both his wrists in casts he won’t be able to do much of anything without help.” It was an unfortunate situation. An idea played briefly in her mind. “I’d offer to go with Mom, but I just started classes and …” She couldn’t afford it and she definitely didn’t want her mother to pay for the cruise, and basically that was what would happen. Her mother needed her friend, a woman who’d walked that same path of grief with the loss of a husband.

  “What about you?” Celeste suggested, looking her straight in the eye. “Couldn’t you be the one to help Erich?”

  “Me?” Addie held up her hand, stopping the other woman before she said anything more. “That would never work. Unfortunately, Erich and I have been at odds nearly our entire lives. We’ve never gotten along, and I don’t expect we ever could.”