For years Jerry had looked forward to retirement. He’d worked all his life for a chance to golf every day if he wanted. At first he’d thought that was exactly what he’d do, but to his surprise he’d soon grown tired of traipsing over the greens. Oh, it was good sport, and he enjoyed a couple of rounds a week, but more than that and the sport lost its appeal.
Playing cards was a good pastime, as was working with thirteen-and fourteen-year-olds on the basketball court, but all in all, retirement wasn’t what it was touted to be. He found himself restless and antsy and fighting with his wife to the point where she’d walked out on him and left her suitcase behind. She must have been upset to have taken off without it.
He sat and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Maggie claimed he’d been harsh and unreasonable with Sharon about visiting the grandkids over the holidays. His jaw tensed as he recalled the way she’d gone against his wishes and ordered the airline tickets. It used to be that Sharon valued his opinion and readily accepted his decisions. No more. If she didn’t like what he had to say, she did as she damn well pleased. Exactly what kind of wife ignored her husband’s decisions? But then, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, how often have you ignored hers?
Damn it all, Sharon could believe what she wanted about him and Maggie, he decided.
Unable to sit with his thoughts, he reached for the television controller and turned on the television, then just as abruptly turned it off again. He was in no mood to be entertained. Before he knew it, he was on his feet again.
Holding the refrigerator door open, he stared inside at the contents. This wouldn’t be the first night he’d cooked his own dinner. He reached for the bread and pulled a jar of peanut butter from the shelf. He’d never thought he’d see the day that he’d be married and responsible for cooking his own meals. But then he’d never expected to be married and sleeping alone, either. It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.
He slapped the two pieces of bread together and was about to take the first bite when he noticed Sharon’s prescription bottle on the windowsill. In addition to her suitcase, she’d apparently forgotten to take her pills with her to Seattle.
He scratched the side of his head. There was only one thing to do.
He’d deliver them himself.
Chapter 18
The mighty oak tree was once a little nut that held its ground.
—Mrs. Miracle
“I’m not wearing any dress,” Judd insisted, crossing his arms and tilting his chin at a stubborn angle. Seth recognized that look all too well and was pleased his mother-in-law was the one dealing with his son’s bullheadedness.
“It’s not a dress,” Sharon returned calmly. “It’s your costume for the Christmas pageant.” After a good night’s sleep, she was almost herself once again. She hadn’t offered any explanations as to what had happened between her and Jerry, and Seth hadn’t pressured her.
“It’s a dress.” Judd left no room for doubt as to his feelings. “And you can forget about strapping those wings on my back.”
“Judd, you’re playing the part of an angel.” Seth knew it would be a mistake to enter the fray, but he couldn’t stop himself. While he sympathized with his son, he knew how much time and effort Reba was putting into this program. She didn’t need any more problems.
“I want to be a soldier,” Judd announced, and raised his arms the way he’d seen the older boys do when carrying the painted cardboard shields. “They won’t let me because I’m only in the first grade.”
“You’ll get your turn at being a soldier,” Seth assured him.
“Perhaps we could make the angel costume something other than white,” Sharon suggested, stepping back from the chair. Judd and Jason stood on the seats, both wearing old white sheets that had been fashioned into—Seth hated to admit it—dresses.
“The shepherds get to wear bathrobes,” Jason muttered, his head drooping. “Am I too young to be a shepherd, too?”
“Maybe next year,” Seth said.
“Aaron Greenburg broke his leg, and I thought that Miss Maxwell might give me the part and everything, seeing that you like to look at her in church and kiss her under the mistletoe.”
Seth noticed the way his mother-in-law diverted her attention to him. He swallowed uncomfortably and ignored the comment, hoping that Sharon would as well. He planned to tell the kids’ grandmother about Reba, but he’d wanted to do it in his own time.
“Miss Maxwell’s got short curly hair,” Judd added for his grandmother’s benefit. This fact seemed to have some significance to the first-grader.
Seth wasn’t sure how Sharon would feel about him dating someone else. She’d encouraged him to do so, but saying it was one thing and introducing her to the woman who might one day assume her daughter’s role in his and the children’s lives was another.
“Miss Maxwell?” Sharon’s question was directed at Seth.
“A friend,” he said, making light of the relationship. He couldn’t very well admit that she occupied every waking thought and had from the moment he’d walked into the travel agency.
“She’s our teacher at church,” Jason explained, then frowned. “Sort of teacher.”
“Reba’s directing the Christmas pageant,” Seth explained, wishing now that he’d remained in the living room. He should have known that the conversation would soon work its way to Reba. The kids talked about her constantly.
“What’s this business about her having short hair?” Sharon asked.
Again it was Jason who took it upon himself to explain. “Dad and Reba went out to dinner, and Mrs. Miracle was watching us.”
“She’s better than any baby-sitter we ever had ’cause she lets us do fun things,” Judd added.
Jason glared at his brother. “I was the one telling this.”
“All right, all right.” His twin looked greatly put-upon. It was one thing to have to wear a white dress and another to let his brother do his talking for him.
“That was when Mrs. Miracle asked us what we thought about having a new mother. She said Daddy might marry again and wondered what Judd and I thought.”
“I think it’d be great. I want a mother who lives on earth and not just in heaven,” Judd added, and dared his brother to fault him for interrupting.
“I don’t remember Mommy very well,” Jason said sadly. “Judd says he does, but I don’t.”
“She used to sing to us,” Judd insisted.
Seth doubted that either child could possibly remember Pamela. They’d both been so young.
“She used to come and sing to us at night when everything was dark and quiet.”
“I don’t remember, I don’t remember,” Jason repeated wistfully. “I want to remember, but I don’t.”
Seth noticed how Sharon averted her eyes as the children talked about their mother. This was hard for her, he knew, because it was difficult for him to hear his twins talk about their dead mother.
“I got to thinking about what a new mommy would look like,” Judd added, picking up the tale. “So I drew her picture.”
“And Judd’s picture looks like Miss Maxwell,” Jason finished triumphantly.
“That’s wonderful,” Sharon said, but Seth noticed that her voice trembled slightly. She walked over to the other side of the kitchen and picked up the aluminum-covered wings. A silver garland-wrapped halo was attached, rising from the back side of the wings and held into place with a bent hanger. Seth had to give Sharon credit, she’d done a good job.
“Dad.” Jason looked to his father for support, his eyes large and imploring. “You aren’t going to make me wear wings and a halo, are you?”
“Son, the show couldn’t go on without you. Being an angel is an important role.”
“The guys are going to make stupid jokes.” Judd tucked his chin against his chest and pouted. “It’s bad enough that I’ve got to wear a dress.” He spread out the material at the hips, making sure Seth recognized the sacrifice he was already making. “But wings and a ha
lo?”
Seth had to admit that the twins weren’t the ones he would have chosen for the parts, given their bent toward the mischievous, but it was too late to quibble now. The pageant was only a little more than a week away.
“Mrs. Miracle said that not all angels have wings,” Judd added on a near frantic note.
“Really?” Seth didn’t appreciate the housekeeper taking his son’s side in this issue.
“It’s true,” Jason added. “Mrs. Miracle said that some angels look like ordinary people, with regular jobs and everything. Some even come disguised as regular people. God sends them down to earth when He has a special task that needs careful handling.”
“Complicated circum…circumstances and such,” Judd said, sounding very adult for his tender years.
“It seems to me that Mrs. Miracle is a wise woman,” Sharon murmured.
“She cooks real good, too,” Jason said, and then whispered just loudly enough for Seth to hear, “Lots better than Dad. I was worried about what was going to happen to us before Mrs. Miracle arrived. We might have starved.”
As if hearing her name, the housekeeper strolled into the kitchen with a fresh batch of folded towels.
“Isn’t that right, Mrs. Miracle?” Judd asked, all but leaping down from the chair and grabbing hold of the portly woman.
“What?” the housekeeper asked, taken aback by the frontal attack.
“What you said about some angels not wearing wings. My dad says I have to put them on for the Christmas pageant.”
“Well,” she murmured thoughtfully, “while it’s true enough some angels don’t need wings, I wonder how the church audience would know exactly what you were without them. It’s an unfortunate truth that some narrow-minded people wouldn’t recognize an angel without something to flap behind them.”
“They make me look like a girl,” Judd insisted.
“Don’t let the Archangel Michael hear you talk like that,” Mrs. Merkle said with great dignity. “Why, he’s one of the mightiest warriors of heaven.”
“You mean angels can be soldiers, too?”
“The fiercest kind of all.”
“It’s true,” Seth added, wishing he’d thought of that himself.
“Michael carries a sword of truth with him at all times. And from what I understand, he isn’t afraid of using it, either.”
“Then so will I,” Judd said, satisfied. “I’ll be a warrior angel. And if anyone calls me a sissy, they better watch out, ’cause I’ll knock them down with the sword of truth.” He thrust his imaginary weapon forward, leaping down from the chair, prepared to wage battle. Jason’s actions pantomimed his brother’s.
“As I recall the Christmas story, the shepherds guarding their sheep were afraid of the angels,” Sharon reminded him.
“‘Fear not,’” Jason shouted his memorized line, “‘for we come with news of great joy.’”
“‘For unto you this night is born a Savior,’” Judd added, and for good measure growled.
“This is what I love about Christmas,” Sharon said, laughing for the first time since her arrival. “The season of love and goodwill toward all mankind.”
“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Judd promised, “I just want to scare people. No one told us angels could be soldiers.” He straightened and stood a little taller. “How come I didn’t know about this Michael dude before now?”
“We just weren’t thinking, son.”
Judd yanked the costume over his head and handed it to his grandmother. “I’ll wear the wings and the halo, as long as I can carry a sword, too.”
Seth grinned. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He shared a smile with his mother-in-law.
“It seems to me it’s time for you two to head toward bed,” Mrs. Merkle said, tapping the face of her watch.
“Already?”
“Already.” She had a no-nonsense manner about her that his children rarely questioned.
It seemed to take forever to get the kids down, although the mission was accomplished in less than a half hour. Judd talked nonstop about being a warrior angel, and Jason kept repeating his lines for the program, saying them with greater and greater conviction.
Once the two were asleep, Seth poured himself a cup of coffee. This was the first time he’d had a chance to speak to Sharon without interruptions. He knew she was eager to hear about Reba, and he had a few questions of his own. Clearly things had gone drastically wrong between her and Jerry.
“Want some?” he asked, automatically filling a mug for her. He carried both to the table and took the seat across from his mother-in-law.
“You’re dating?”
Sharon never had been one to hedge when she wanted to know something.
“We haven’t known each other long,” he said, wanting to make light of his involvement with Reba.
“It’s this woman the children mentioned?”
“Reba,” he said. “She owns a travel agency, and stepped in at the last minute and took over coordinating the Christmas program.”
“The children certainly seem to like her.”
“They do.” He didn’t add that his own feelings for Reba grew stronger by the day.
“I was the one who used to sing to the children at night,” Sharon whispered, a faraway look in her eye. “It was a song I once sang to Pamela, an old German lullaby my mother taught me. When the twins first came to live with Jerry and me I’d sit in their room at night with the lights off.” She paused and nibbled on her lower lip. “Singing that familiar song helped me accept that my daughter was forever gone. Having the children with me gave me purpose again. Judd remembers. He was so young, but he remembers.”
Seth knew this was difficult for Sharon. He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Pamela will always be their mother.”
“I know,” she said bravely. “I don’t begrudge you happiness, Seth.”
“I didn’t think for a moment that you did.”
Her gaze wandered down the hallway toward the bedrooms. “Judd and Jason appear to have adjusted well.”
“We’ve had our moments.” He didn’t elaborate, but more than once he’d been tempted to reach for the phone and call Sharon. It had taken every bit of restraint he possessed not to plead with her to take over, to admit that he couldn’t handle the kids on his own. His lowest point had been just before Mrs. Miracle arrived. Mrs. Miracle, the kids had him doing it now. Mrs. Merkle.
“Mrs. Merkle’s a wonder.”
Seth couldn’t agree with her more. “It’s good to see you again, Sharon.”
She looked away. “But you’re wondering what I’m doing here now. I wasn’t scheduled to arrive until next week.”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” he admitted, thinking of last night’s angry phone call.
“Jerry and I—”
The doorbell interrupted her, and she glanced over her shoulder.
“I’m not expecting anyone.” It was after nine, and he doubted that the paperboy would be collecting this late.
While he answered the door, Sharon stood and walked over to the refrigerator to take out the milk.
“Sorry,” he said on his way to the door. “I forgot you like your coffee with cream.”
“No problem.” She looked much better today, he mused. Her color was back, and some of the weariness had left her eyes.
He checked the peephole and then, astonished, hurriedly opened the door for his father-in-law. “Jerry,” he said, trying to hide his shock, “this is a pleasant surprise.”
He heard the crash behind him and whirled around to find the coffee mug shattered across the kitchen floor and Sharon looking at her husband as if viewing a ghost.
Chapter 19
Too many people offer God prayers with claw marks all over them.
—Mrs. Miracle
Sharon couldn’t have been more surprised if Elvis himself had showed up at the front door. Certainly the last person she’d expected to see was her own husband. She’d have thou
ght he’d rather pluck chickens than chase after her. Not that he was exactly chasing her.
They stood a room apart, staring at one another, each waiting for the other to speak first. Neither seemed willing to be the first to breach the gap.
“I came to talk to my wife,” Jerry announced stiffly to Seth.
“Talk…fine. I’m sure you two would like some privacy.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Sharon said, preferring that her son-in-law stay in the room. If Jerry assumed they could neatly sweep everything under the carpet, he’d made a wasted trip.
“The hell it isn’t,” Jerry argued. “I didn’t come all this way to be left standing on the porch twiddling my thumbs.”
To Sharon’s way of thinking, that was exactly where he deserved to be. The man had put her through hell. By the time she’d arrived in Seattle she could barely function emotionally. Her husband and her best friend!
“Why don’t you two sit down here in the living room and sort matters out,” Seth suggested, and gestured toward the sofa. “I’ll clean up the spilled coffee and give you some space—I mean, peace.”
Jerry didn’t wait for Sharon to agree, but moved from the entry into the living room, hauling two suitcases with him. She was grateful to see him, if for no other reason than to have the clothes he’d brought along.
“Sharon?” Jerry waited for her.
It was either cause a scene or accept the only civil option available to her. Reluctantly she walked into the other room, sitting as far away from Jerry as possible.
The silence was thick and uncomfortable. She’d be damned before she’d speak first. An eternity passed, and the only sound came from Seth in the kitchen; soon that faded and disappeared.
“You forgot your medication,” Jerry said, and removed the brown drugstore bottle from his jacket pocket.
She supposed she should be grateful that he didn’t mention her luggage.
“I thought you might need your hormones.”
She didn’t know what it was that concerned Jerry about her pills. It was almost as though he feared she’d wake up with a beard one morning if she forgot to take them.
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