Milagro For Miranda (Book Three Oregon In Love)

by Bonnie Blythe

  “How are we going to get out of here without the boy?”

  Miranda peered up at him, leading him around a curve in the street. “I think I can find my way now.” She handed him back the wallet.

  He took it and frowned, as if noticing the lightness. “How much did you give to her?”

  “All of it.”

  “All—” He clamped his mouth shut and inhaled through his nose. After a moment, he looked at her. “While I congratulate your generosity, I would’ve liked enough saved for a taxi back to town. It will take us hours to walk the entire way back to the hotel.”

  Miranda bit her lip, chastising herself for her thoughtlessness. She dug into her purse and opened her own wallet. A few pesos remained from her shopping trip. “I have enough to get us back, I think.”

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Miranda longed to rejoice at the news she received, but Spencer’s annoyed expression curbed the impulse.

  “I’m sorry I gave all your money away. I can pay you back when we return to the States. I can easily sell my car and use the bus instead.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped. “I don’t want your money.”

  Miranda stared straight ahead. It was useless talking to him right now. Later, when he’d showered and changed, he’d feel better.

  She flagged the first taxi they came upon after leaving the neighborhood and soon they were on their way back to the hotel. The trip passed in silence, if she didn’t count the loud Latino music blaring from the driver’s transistor radio.

  The money she had only just covered the fare. A loud stream of Spanish cursing followed them out of the taxi when the driver realized no tip was forthcoming.

  Miranda hustled Spencer through the doors of their hotel and up the stairs. When they reached his room, she followed him inside and Miranda sat in a chair in the corner, hoping to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. If he was aware of her presence, he didn’t let on. He got a change of clothing and disappeared inside the bathroom.

  Twenty-Nine

  As soon as the door shut behind him, Miranda left Spencer’s room, making sure the door didn’t latch behind her. She raced to her room for a small first aid kit she traveled with. When she returned to his room, she opened a bottle of water from the tiny refrigerator and set it on the table.

  Next, she called room service and ordered up a light lunch for him. She stifled a sigh, knowing it would be added to his bill. At the rate she was spending his money, she’d have to sell everything she owned and would still be in debt to him.

  Room service had just delivered sandwiches and fruit when Spencer emerged from the bathroom. He looked almost surprised to see her there. Miranda pushed the chair over to the small table.

  “Sit down,” she said in her best professional tone. He arched his brow, but did as she said. Miranda pulled up the opposite chair until she sat with their knees touching. “First, medical care, then, food.”

  “I don’t need medical care,” he said in a weary voice. “I’m not really that injured.”

  Undaunted, Miranda opened her first aid kit and pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment and a small package of cotton balls. When she had everything ready, she took his hand, and began gently rubbing ointment in the scratches. Spencer didn’t resist. In fact, she suspected he was secretly pleased with the attention, having been more or less ignored earlier.

  She took the opportunity to admire the thick veins of his hands and arms. Miranda enjoyed the simple intimacy of tending to someone she cared about, wishing the sensation wasn’t marred by guilt for his injuries.

  When she finished, she looked up to find him watching her. He remained unsmiling, but seemed more relaxed. Miranda noticed the top several buttons of his shirt were left unbuttoned. Livid, red abrasions could be seen on his neck and collarbones. Shocked, she set about applying ointment to those scratches as well. His expression remained impassive while she doctored him.

  “My, you did have a run in with that dog,” she murmured. “Monstrous, savage animal.”

  When he stayed silent, Miranda decided to try and coax a smile out of him. “Thank you for protecting me from him.”

  He snorted. “I was trying to protect myself from rabies.”

  “Perhaps, if you’d had a broom…” She peeked up at him. Miranda thought she detected a spark of humor in his eyes, but his features remained set.

  He finally let out a sigh. “I can’t believe you didn’t hear it.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “When I realized Jesús’ grandmother knew of my mother, everything else went out of my head. Besides, I assumed you were right behind me inside the house.”

  “So you didn’t hear the sounds of a man being torn limb from limb just outside the door?”

  “I heard something, but didn’t pay any attention.” She sent him a look of appeal. “I’m really sorry that happened to you. Are you feeling better now?”

  He regarded her from under hooded lids. “A little.”

  Miranda placed her hands on his knees and leaned forward, touching her lips against his. She lingered as long as she dared.

  Spencer’s hand cupped her cheek, and for a precious moment longer, she reveled in his kiss.

  He pulled away and dropped his hand. “You shouldn’t do that.”

  Miranda shrugged, attempting nonchalance to give her reeling senses time to recover. “Just a little kiss to make it all better.”

  “Really.”

  Instead of responding to his dry tone, Miranda rose and cleaned up the result of her doctoring. She then brought over the tray of food and the glass of water. “Can I get you anything else? Massage? Palm fronds? Peeled grapes?”

  That got a smile. Miranda heaved an inward sigh of relief. She needed him in a good mood for what came next.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked, picking up one of the sandwiches.

  “I can’t eat right now, I’m too excited.”

  “Sit down and tell me everything that happened.”

  Miranda lowered herself onto the chair and clasped her hands together to stop them from flying about when she spoke.

  “Well, Jesús’ grandmother did know my mother. There was too much matching information to be coincidental. Anyway, she remembered Lupe because my mother would make her special teas to help with her illness.

  “One time, she noticed the tiny milagro in the shape of an infant on a chain around my mother’s neck. When she asked about it, my mother broke down and told her about me and my sister. She said she was too ashamed of her sin to take the milagro into a church and place it on the hem of Christ.”

  Miranda blinked back tears. I understand that feeling of shame. “She mentioned the name of the orphanage because the one I was placed in had been closed down, and she had to find another for Soledad. Lupe was terribly distraught over this because she at least wanted us to be raised together. In fact, to keep the connection, she left a milagro with Soledad, with my name etched on the back.”

  Miranda glanced at her hands. “When she lived with me, she always spoke of her regret at having given me up. She felt that she was a bad mother. Nothing I could say would change her mind. The guilt ate away at her like cancer. A part of me wonders if that’s what really caused her death.”

  Inhaling, Miranda strove to regain her composure. “So, I now have the name of the orphanage my mother mentioned.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In San Miguel de Allende, which is in central Mexico, in the state of Guanajuanto.”

  “Why did your mother travel so far if she lived in Mexico City?”

  “She didn’t travel. That’s where the priest told her Soledad was taken.”

  Spencer studied her face. “I suppose you want to go today.”

  The nerves in her body thrummed like live wires. “Yes.”

  “How long of a drive is it?”

  “About three hours, if we hired a car. I mean, if you hired a car and I came with you.”

  Spencer ga
ve her a weak grin. “I might be persuaded to let you tag along.”

  Miranda smiled, then hopped up and headed for the door. “We have a lot to do to get ready! I’ll go to my room and pack and meet you back here. The hotel could probably arrange for a car rental or whatever we need.”

  She looked back at Spencer. He was draining his water glass. She crossed back to where he sat and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. Planting a kiss on his cheek, she whispered, “Thank you.”

  When she released him, Spencer stood and gazed down at her. “No more kisses, Miranda.”

  “Why?” Although she often angered him, she could sense he was attracted to her.

  Spencer took her hands. “Because it’s just best that you don’t.”

  “Best for whom?” she teased.

  “Miranda—” he said with a warning tone in his voice.

  Well, I might as well get this over with. “Does even love have rules where you come from, Spencer?”

  When he made no response, she tugged her hands free and rested them on his chest. “I want to kiss you because I love you. It’s that simple. If you don’t return the affection, fine. Tell me now and I’ll leave you alone.”

  His shoulders sagged. “It’s not that simple.”

  She gave him a little shove. “Yes, it is! I’m being completely honest with you, Spencer. For better or for worse, I can’t change how I feel about you. I can change my behavior toward you, but the only thing that would compel me to do that is if you don’t love me.”

  She searched his eyes, looking for the truth. Surely, he couldn’t be devoid of feelings for her, not after the way he kissed her. She swallowed, her heart pounding. “Yes or no.”

  “This isn’t the time or place,” he said raggedly.

  “Then what is? When will that magic hour arrive?”

  He grasped her upper arms. “Miranda, you know I care about you. That’s not the issue. The issue is what to do next. How can we have a real relationship if you don’t believe in God?”

  Miranda stared at him, stunned. “Who said I didn’t?”

  “Well, isn’t that the case? You’re the one who argues with me every time the conversation turns to spiritual matters.”

  “Oh, so I have to agree with you completely in order for us to have a relationship?”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  Miranda shook his hands from her arms. “Spencer, I have never had an issue of whether or not there is a God. My issues are with the practice of religion, with the cultural differences. How can they be reconciled? How can you know if you’re doing it right?”

  Spencer regarded her, his gray eyes soft in the diffused light of the room. He blew out a breath and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I’ve completely misunderstood you.”

  She took a step closer. “Do we have to be in total agreement about everything? Why can’t I question what I don’t understand?”

  “Of course you can ask questions. Maybe I’m just not the best person to answer them.”

  His dejected tone went straight to Miranda’s heart. She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. “I don’t expect you to have all the answers. I just want an honest discussion.”

  Spencer’s arms went around her. Miranda closed her eyes, enjoying the solid feel of him. After a moment, she tipped her face up to him. “Kiss me.”

  The pained expression on his face would’ve made her laugh if it didn’t hurt her feelings so much.

  “Miranda, you have to believe I really would like nothing better, but—”

  “But what? I’m not asking you to involve yourself in something wicked.” She winced, remembering that night when she had. She cleared her throat. “Have you considered that maybe this thing between us is from God? That maybe He brought us together?” She gazed up at him, seeing a distinct change in his features. “Maybe you’re fighting Him,” she whispered. “You really ought not do that.”

  “Really?” he said, lowering his head.

  “Yes. It might force Him to do something drastic to get your attention.”

  “Like what?”

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage at the huskiness in his voice. “Well, we can’t preclude the use of violence can we? Maybe that’s why you were shot—”

  “Correction. You shot me. You can’t blame that one on God.”

  His lips were a breath away. “I just meant in principle.”

  Spencer laughed softly. His arms tightened around her and his expression became serious. “I do love you, Miranda,” he murmured. “I really do.”

  Tears burned Miranda’s eyes and she bit her lip to keep from crying. The power of those little words overwhelmed her, and she rested her forehead against his chin for the space of several heartbeats.

  Spencer lifted her chin and closed the remaining gap between them. All her yearnings, questions, and misunderstandings whirled away in the satiny sweetness of Spencer’s lips moving against her own.

  Miranda sensed he held nothing back. She felt all the more undeserving of his affection. It was amazing that he admitted his feelings. How could she make sure not to trample upon them? How could she show how much she treasured his confession? She knew it cost him. She knew she’d even forced his declaration a little.

  At length, his arms relaxed and he lifted his head. “Are you finally convinced?”

  Miranda took a breath. “I never doubted it.”

  He seemed to consider her words. She decided they could be construed as arrogant. She looked at him, terrified at the tender light in his eyes, terrified she had the power to squelch it. “From the moment I met you, you’ve acted in my best interest. You’ve given of yourself in every way. And I know what the Bible says about true love. You’ve been patient and kind—”

  He raised his brows. “Not patient enough, I’m afraid.”

  “You haven’t been self-seeking or easily angered.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have me mixed up with someone else?”

  His pleading look made her smile. “You’ve protected me and have persevered on my behalf, just to name a few attributes.” She toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Besides, you kiss like a dream.”

  Spencer turned beet red. He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

  She touched his cheek and released a little sigh. “Put me in a car to San Miguel?”

  He smiled. “I guess that will have to do for now.”

  With reluctance, she released him and stepped away. Her attempt at a little teasing might give her a few moments to regain a semblance of composure.

  Miranda turned her mind to her sister. She was too close now to slow down. Spencer seemed to sense it too. He gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Meet me back here as quick as you can and we can get going.”

  “Okay.” With a last look at him, which made her heart turn a somersault, she went out the door and hurried to her room.

  Twenty minutes later, as Miranda returned to Spencer’s room, her earlier feelings of confidence had fled. While she was in his arms, she’d forgotten all about her past, about her failings, about her secrets.

  Now, she felt like a cheat when Spencer’s eyes lit up as she walked into the room.

  Schooling her expression, she helped him with the last few chores.

  “I’ve made arrangements for a car. I also hired a driver thinking they’d know the best route,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Perfect. I’m not familiar with the area.” Miranda took his hand and tried to prepare herself for whatever came next.

  Thirty

  Spencer leaned back against the seat of the van, feeling more relaxed than he had since arriving in Mexico City. Miranda rested her head against his shoulder, fitting perfectly against him.

  He turned his head and looked out at the passing vista. Miranda’s words went around in his brain. What if God had brought them together? But clarity of thought eluded him as much as ever. He just knew
her presence in his life felt right. Living for the moment, however, living by feelings, wasn’t what he did as a rule, so the niggling spur of doubt remained.

  The fresh scent of her shampoo made him bury his nose in her curls. She tilted back her head and looked up him. Spencer saw his own state of mind mirrored in her eyes, affection tempered by anxiety at what it all meant. One thing was sure, he loved her. It amazed him he could feel so strongly for someone in such a short space of time, but there it was. It made his past relationships feel like schoolboy crushes.

  Spencer settled his arm more firmly around Miranda’s shoulders and gazed out the window. The skyline of the city gave way to hills silhouetted by the setting sun as they headed northwest on Highway 57 toward San Miguel.

  The forlorn, concrete structures on the outskirts of the city changed to cactus-studded, hilly grassland and exotic desert plants he couldn’t identify. Along the dusty roadside, he saw clusters of simple houses, tiny chapels lit from within by candles, and crumbling stone walls.

  “It’s getting late,” Miranda said in a low voice.

  Spencer heard the disappointment in her tone. As the miles passed, the darkness fell around them like a hushed curtain. “We’ll make it to San Miguel, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find the orphanage.”

  “Waiting makes me crazy,” she said, wrinkling her forehead.

  Spencer smiled. “I’ve heard something like that before.”

  “But maybe tomorrow will be the day.”

  He squeezed her shoulders and sent up a silent prayer, hoping they were going in the right direction.

  “If not, I won’t know where to go next.”

  “Let’s not consider that right now,” he said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “We’ll have dinner tonight and head for the orphanage first thing in the morning.”

  Miranda touched his face, her expression vulnerable in the failing light. “Thank you, for everything. Even if things don’t turn out like I hope, it won’t be because you held anything back.”

  When she looked at him like that, Spencer knew he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. He didn’t know quite how to respond, so he brushed a kiss against her lips.