Milagro For Miranda (Book Three Oregon In Love)

by Bonnie Blythe

  Miranda closed the gap between them and slid onto the bench next to her, her gaze devouring every feature, every shadow and plane of her sister’s face. Words stuck in her throat. How can I tell a stranger I’m her long lost sibling? Is Soledad even aware of my existence? She longed to reach out and touch her, but refrained, worried her actions might alarm the girl.

  Her gaze fell to the book. The title was in English.

  “My name is Miranda Perez-Adams. I think you and I are—”

  “Miss Adams!”

  Miranda looked up to see the Torres' erupt out into the yard. Spencer followed behind, anxiety carved into his face. Miranda jumped up, suddenly sure she would be forbidden to speak with Soledad anymore—at least until a posse of lawyers had gone over the legal situation with a fine-toothed comb.

  She looked at Soledad, who gazed back with wide eyes.

  “I’m your sister,” she blurted. “Lupe Perez was our mother. And I’ve come to take you home.”

  “Miss Adams, please!” Señora Torres cried, coming to a halt in front of her. “Soledad, go to your room while we talk.”

  The girl rose from the bench, her shining gaze flickering between Miranda and her guardians. Miranda kept her arms at her side with an effort. She longed to embrace Soledad, to hold her tight and feel her heart beat against her own. She watched her sister walk to the house and go through a door, feeling her heart wrench at the parting.

  She turned to Spencer and sought refuge in his arms. He gathered her close.

  She buried her face against his chest, elation mixed with anguish swirling like a vortex within her. “I found her. Oh, thank God, I found her.”

  ***

  Miranda sat in a chair in the office of the orphanage. Her body felt strung up, her heart heavy. Something marvelous had happened and it seemed everyone around her wanted to steal away the joy.

  “You understand, Miss Adams, we’re only trying to protect Soledad. Until we have further documentation proving your identity and the connection to our ward, we cannot allow you to speak to her.”

  Spencer, sitting next to her, squeezed her hand. She could sense he was torn between supporting her and agreeing with what they said.

  “What more do you need?” she asked in a detached voice.

  Señor Torres rattled off an absurd list of documents necessary to prove familial connection. Miranda knew many of them would be next to impossible to obtain without years of time and pots of money.

  Spencer leaned close. “We need to hire a Mexican attorney experienced in these matters. The Torres' have a list of names to help in addition to the ones I found.”

  Miranda nodded, realizing it was expected of her. All she knew was that her own flesh and blood sister was now separated, not by vast geography, but by a few feet of building space and two very stubborn guardians.

  “You must understand our part in this, Miss Adams.” Señora Torres said in a kindly tone. “We have only Soledad’s best interest at heart. Many of these children are brought to us in such a way as they cannot be legally adopted out. This ties our hands. We want the children to find good homes, but most are forced to spend their entire lives in orphanages. We don’t want to get Soledad’s hopes up only to see them crushed later.”

  “They won’t be crushed,” Miranda said with a calmness she didn't feel. “I’m taking her with me one way or another.”

  Spencer began to sputter.

  “Soledad is my sister,” she continued. “And no piece of paper or expensive lawyer can change that.”

  Spencer cleared his throat. “May I have that list of names, please?”

  Miranda leaned back in her chair. She dreaded the bureaucratic nightmare of red tape facing her. It was unthinkable to find Soledad only to have some obscure document keep them apart. Plans of an escape attempt filtered through her mind.

  A knock sounded on the office door. Miranda looked up.

  Señora Torres didn’t look pleased by the intrusion. “Yes?”

  The door cracked open and Soledad peeked in.

  Both guardians jumped up at once. Soledad came all the way into the room, her bright gaze flitting from one face to another. She stepped in front of Miranda.

  “Soledad, this is a private matter,” said Señor Torres. “You must leave immediately.”

  The girl reached behind her neck and unclasped a necklace. She held it out to Miranda.

  With a feeling of wonder, Miranda accepted the necklace. The pendant was a tiny silver milagro in the shape of a cross. She turned it over. On the back, the word Miranda had been etched in spidery letters. She folded her fingers around the pendant and looked up at her sister through a haze of tears.

  Soledad turned to Señora Torres. “Remember when you gave that to me on my last birthday? You said it came with me when I was delivered to the orphanage. I always wondered why it had someone else’s name on it.” Her gaze rested on Miranda. “Now I think I know.”

  Miranda rose to her feet and pulled the necklace from beneath her blouse. She unfastened it, and with trembling fingers, handed it to Soledad, who peered at the little silver piece in her palm.

  “This has my name on it,” Soledad said in a voice tinged with awe.

  Miranda reached for the girl, not caring about anything but the need to hold her sister. She kissed her cheeks and held her tight. Miranda inhaled deeply of her, trying to commit every sensation to memory. She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer of thanks. Only God could have accomplished such a thing.

  Someone coughed. With great reluctance, Miranda eased her arms from Soledad. She felt the break intensely.

  Soledad appeared embarrassed by the attention, but Miranda had no intention of apologizing. She’d waited a long time for this. Unable to resist, she reached out and put her arm around her again.

  Soledad handed her the necklace. “You keep them both,” she said in a low voice.

  Miranda took them, mesmerized by the winking light reflecting from the figures.

  Señora Torres sighed. “I hope for both your sakes that all the paperwork bears out your relationship. Otherwise, I am sorry for the pain this may be caused.”

  “You’ll have your paperwork, Señora Torres,” Miranda said, gazing at her last living blood relative. “One way or another, you’ll get it. And I’ll get to take Soledad home.”

  Thirty-Two

  By dint of offering extra money, Spencer was able to convince a lawyer to meet with them that same day. It was worth it if it stopped Miranda from any crazy escape attempts. He wouldn’t put it past her. The feral look in her eyes frightened him.

  The lawyer had a bluff manner, white hair, and a white handlebar mustache, which he twirled in an alarming manner. Spencer hoped he was correct in placing his trust in the Torres’ recommendation.

  They all sat in a small conference room that had probably at one time been a bedroom. A heavy oak table dominated the room, flanked by high-backed carved chairs. A fluorescent light hummed overhead. Huge potted palms in pots and bright murals completed the décor.

  “The students painted the murals,” Señora Torres said, noticing his interest.

  “Very nice,” he said, wishing this was a social occasion and not a matter of such gravity. Miranda sat stiffly in a chair, her hands clutched together, her knuckles showing white.

  He sat in the chair next to her and took one of her hands, gently massaging it, hoping to encourage her to relax. The grateful look she sent him sent a feeling of love surging through him in a wave. He knew he would do anything and everything to make sure she could bring Soledad home.

  The Torres' pushed Miranda’s small pile of papers over to the lawyer, who took his time perusing them. Tense silence filled the air as the minutes ticked by. The lawyer stroked his mustache and grunted from time to time, but his face gave no hint of what he was thinking.

  Finally, he looked up at Miranda, peering over the top of a pair of bifocal glasses.

  “There are some key documents missing that I’ll need before we
can proceed with any adoption.”

  “I don’t now if I can obtain them,” Miranda said, misery obvious in her voice. “Can’t we do some DNA testing or something to prove that we’re related?”

  “It’s not just proof we need, but documentation. Each state of Mexico has its own guidelines and laws. Your mother was apparently from one state, and you and Soledad from two others. That makes it very difficult.”

  “How long will it take to get all the paperwork in order?” Spencer asked. He held Miranda’s hand in a firm clasp, knowing she wasn’t going to like the answer to her question.

  “These things routinely take years.”

  Miranda shot out of her chair. “Soledad is my sister! It’s not like I’m trying to adopt an unrelated baby from an orphanage. I just want to take her home!”

  The lawyer seemed unruffled by her outburst. “Well, then. Let’s start there, shall we?”

  Miranda sank onto her chair, her face looking unhealthy in the fluorescent light.

  “I’ll need some information about how you intend to care for Soledad in the event that this adoption is granted. Are you married?”

  Miranda shook her head.

  “Hmm, naturally, we prefer two-parent families.”

  “I already told you, she’s my sister, not an infant!”

  “Tell me about your job situation and your income.”

  She sent a terror-stricken glance at Spencer. He squeezed her hand. “I’m…unemployed at the moment—”

  This brought the bushy white eyebrows up. “You have no source of income? How do you plan to care for a child, much less yourself?”

  “I’m between jobs at the moment,” she said, her face white to the lips.

  The lawyer put down his pen and stacked the papers together. “I see no need to continue. Perhaps when you are either married or gainfully employed, with a secure future, you may attempt to this adoption. Otherwise, this is a waste of time.”

  Miranda stretched out her hand as he rose. “Please. I’ve searched so long. Don’t keep us apart any longer.”

  The lawyer gave her a pitying look before passing the papers back to the Torres'. After he left the room, they stood up and Señor Torres cleared his throat. “I’ll give you a few minutes to discuss your options.” He shook his head. “I’m very sorry.”

  Miranda sat ramrod straight, a stunned look on her strained features.

  Spencer waited until the couple had left the room. Only the hum of the lights and the sound of his heart could be heard in his ears. His mind a whirl, he searched for the right words to say. “Miranda—”

  Before he could continue, she stood and walked out of the room. Spencer watched her go, unable to think of a reason to stop her. From where he sat, he saw her stride past the window.

  His heart ached for her. To come so far only to be forced to lose so much. Spencer bowed his head and prayed a desperate prayer for wisdom.

  ***

  “They wouldn’t even let me say goodbye to Soledad,” Miranda said, thumping her hand on the back of the seat.

  The van driver peered at them in the rearview mirror. Spencer blew out a silent breath and wished he could think of something encouraging to say. It had taken a lot of persuading to get her to return to the hotel and think of the next step.

  “They seem to think I’m some stranger wanting a child. There has to be special rules for my situation.”

  “The lawyer didn’t seem to change his requirements even after you told him.”

  “It’s going to take ages to get all that paperwork. This hurry up and wait business is ridiculous.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it.” Spencer regretted his words the moment they were out. Miranda leveled him with an angry glare and turned away, slumping against the seat.

  He reached out and touched her upper arm, reveling in the smooth warmth of her skin.

  “I’m sorry, but you know what I mean,” he said, hoping that she might look upon him with the tenderness that had become so necessary to him.

  She eased around, her eyes bright with emotion. In the next instant, she was in his arms. Spencer held her tight, thankful for her affection.

  Her curls tickled his nose and he felt moisture against his neck. He murmured nonsense in her ear, wishing he had the power to make promises he could keep.

  Minutes later, they arrived back at the hotel. Spencer paid the driver and helped Miranda out. They walked to their rooms in silence. Spencer keyed open his door and drew Miranda inside. He intended to pull the chairs together so they could come up with a game plan, but Miranda had other ideas.

  She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest. He rubbed her back, content to hold her close. He could hear a dog bark in the distance, along with the sound of someone strumming tunelessly on a guitar. Voices rose and fell in muted conversation on the other side of the wall.

  Miranda tilted her chin and looked up at him. “We found my sister.”

  Those words hit Spencer in the gut. In the aftermath with the lawyer, disappointment had eclipsed that amazing fact. He tightened his arms around her and smiled.

  “Incredible,” he managed, finding it difficult to swallow as the truth sunk in.

  “God answered your prayer, Spencer.”

  He wondered at her choice of words. He opened his mouth to speak but she planted a kiss on his lips, erasing whatever thoughts he’d had.

  When she broke away, he felt oddly melancholy. He tried to remember what he’d been about to say.

  “I’m starving.”

  Spencer blinked, then smiled. He glanced at his watch. “You should be. It’s three o’clock.”

  She stepped away. “I need to freshen up a little, then I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  He ran his hand down her cheek, noticing the shadows under her eyes. He nodded and watched her go.

  ***

  They lunched at a small café in the warmth of the sun. Spencer marveled at the difference between San Miguel and the City. Here, the bustle was at a much slower pace. The blue sky stretched beyond the church spires like a vast blue parchment. Instead of honking horns, he heard the sound of light laughter punctuated occasionally by the braying of a donkey. He stretched his legs under the table and inhaled the cool, mountain air.

  Spencer slid his gaze to where Miranda sat pushing salad lettuce around on her plate. Her eyes scrutinized the area, and he wondered what she was thinking. I’ll always associate her with Mexico, the vibrancy of life and color, the sprawl of confusion and drama, all of it’s reflected in her personality.

  How would she be back in the United States, secure, with her sister near? Would she lose that hunted, wary look? Would she lose the edgy contrariness that had vexed him since that night in his father’s study? What would Miranda without a care in the world be like? Do I have what it takes to place her in that situation?

  Spencer followed her gaze to a small doorway, painted a bright turquoise blue. A tiny, arched window with bars over the opening flanked the door. He could see a small flame flickering from a candle set in the window. On the other side of the door was a small, wooden cross.

  He looked at Miranda, wishing again he could read her thoughts, wondering how to be the support she needed right now—wondering what their future together, if any, held.

  “I’m going to church.”

  Spencer raised his brows. “Right now?”

  She nodded.

  He saw her playing with the tiny silver figures on the chain around her neck. He scooted back his chair and stood.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  Miranda reached out and touched his hand. “Alone.”

  He frowned. “Alone?”

  Her gaze implored him. Spencer hated it when she looked at him like that. He stifled the urge to release a noisy sigh. “Okay. If you need anything, I’ll be in my room.”

  Miranda stood and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Spencer. For lunch, too. For everything.”

  He returned the
pressure of her fingers before releasing her. Still touching her necklace, she walked slowly to the tiny church crouched beneath the shadow of taller, more elaborate churches and buildings.

  As she slipped through the blue door, Spencer kept his feet planted on the cobblestones. He longed to go with her. A part of him was stung by the fact that she wanted to be alone, another part was proud that she was listening to the whispers of her heart.

  With careful deliberation, he forced himself to turn around and walk back to the hotel. Spencer trudged up the stairs to his room and banged the door shut behind him. He shot up a silent prayer for God to minister to Miranda’s heart, whatever her need was.

  He sat in a hand-carved heavy oak chair and stared at the garish mural on the wall. He had to admit he’d come to expect Miranda’s dependence. It felt good to be needed, to be one who could solve problems. But she had issues he couldn’t touch. Still, he wished she would’ve wanted him to go with her.

  He stood and began to tidy the room, needing to occupy himself. In the bathroom, he tucked his toiletries back in their case. His hand brushed against the photograph. He pulled it out and held it under the light. He’d almost forgotten about it.

  Spencer still couldn’t discern whom the image depicted. It was just as grainy and fuzzy as ever. But something told him Miranda was the woman. Something about the tilt of the woman’s head. Who was the man? His gut constricted as lurid imaginings swirled in his brain.

  He shoved the photo in his pocket. Perhaps, he’d just come out and ask Miranda about it. It was about time he knew the whole story.

  Thirty-Three

  A shaft of air blew from behind, tickling the back of Miranda’s neck. Someone had entered the church. She heard hesitant footsteps on the stone tiles of the sanctuary.

  Spencer.

  Miranda clutched the necklace where it lay in her palm. The metal was warm from being in her hand. She could almost imagine the tiny symbols having warmth of their own. They represented real flesh and blood people after all.