With her finger, she flipped over each pendant and stared at the names etched on the back by her mother’s hand. Miranda and Soledad. The charms winked with silvery light from row upon row of candles in metal racks near the altar.
Miranda closed her fingers over the necklace when she sensed Spencer standing next to her. She didn’t speak when he sat down. Although he was close enough for her to feel the heat emanating from his body, she didn’t acknowledge his presence.
Miranda closed her eyes, the weight of her past draining her of all strength. More than anything, she longed to draw on Spencer’s nearness. But she knew there were just some things he couldn’t do for her.
He cleared his throat. “It’s been two hours. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Miranda smiled a little at his words. Dear Spencer. She reached out and touched his hand. His fingers curled around her own. They sat for several minutes without speaking. The room was hushed, with only the imagined sibilant whispers and endless echoes of previously uttered prayers.
She looked up at him. “I can’t do it.” Her voice came out cracked. Miranda tightened her hold on the necklace until she felt the bite of her fingernails cutting into the heel of her hand. “I came here to work out some things with God, but I just can’t do it.”
“Why?” he asked after a moment.
Miranda didn’t hear any condemnation in his tone, only curiosity. That, however, didn’t help with her answer. She pulled her hand away from his, and swallowed.
“I did a lot of stupid things when I was young.” She licked her dry lips. “And not so young.”
“We all do stupid things. That’s part of life.”
“Some things are worse than others.”
“True.”
Miranda turned her head and looked at him. He was staring toward the altar. He turned and met her gaze. His eyes appeared almost black in the dim interior of the church. The candlelight gilded his hair and the angles of his face.
She dropped her gaze. She stood to lose so much. Her heart burned with the excruciating weight of her failures. Next to her, he shifted on the pew. A moment later, a dull flash caught her eye as Spencer put something on the wooden space between them.
Miranda looked down and saw a photograph. When she recognized the image, she felt the blood drain from her face.
“Where—” she gasped. “Where did you get this?”
Spencer kept his gaze averted and didn’t speak for several moments. “I found it on the floor in my father’s study.” He turned to her, his expression solemn. “Is it you?”
More than anything, Miranda wanted to lie. But with a sense of impending doom, she knew she had to admit her folly. Spencer would probably never understand. He seemed immune from the frailties of other mortals. Her shoulders sagged and she felt like she’d aged a hundred years in the span of a moment. She turned the picture over to conceal the image.
“I told you about my rebellion as a teen. And I mentioned things got worse.” She took a deep breath. “I worked one summer at a marina. An older man took notice of me. His name was Carl. At first, he seemed more fatherly than anything. He took me places, spent money on me, made me feel special. I remember alarm bells going off in my head, but I didn’t care. I was so angry with my parents. Nothing I did pleased them. This man seemed to think I was wonderful.”
Miranda peeked up at Spencer, noting his grim expression. Just as I thought. She forced herself to continue. “I swear I never intended for anything to happen. I thought I could control the situation. In the end…he was stronger than me.”
Miranda closed her eyes to ward off the seething images in her brain. “I then found out he was married. I felt even sicker than ever. I went home completely demoralized and did everything my parents’ wanted, promising myself that I would change for the better.”
Miranda heard the sound of Spencer’s agitated breathing next to her.
“Some time later I realized I was pregnant. Even though I tried to keep it a secret, my parents found out. Of course they were devastated. I can’t blame them for what they called me. Bad blood and all that.” She waved her hand listlessly. “Just like my biological mother.”
Next to her, Spencer blew out a breath.
“I was sure they would kick me out, but after all the fuss died down, they said they would support me, which came as a complete shock.” She shook her head. “One of the weirdest feelings then was the realization that I didn’t even know my parents. And they certainly didn’t know me.”
The flames from the candles became smears of light through her watery vision. “In the end, nature took over. I miscarried at eight weeks.” She opened her palm and looked at the little images. “Even though that baby was conceived in every wrong way possible, I still grieved. The loss was a blow I wonder if I’ll ever recover from.”
“The flowers you left at the fountain,” he said quietly. “They were in remembrance for that baby?”
Miranda nodded. She raised her gaze to meet Spencer’s and she detected a sheen of moisture in his eyes. He reached out and pulled her to himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair.
Miranda didn’t resist his touch. At the same time, she wondered at his reaction. Where were the accusatory words—the condemnation and judgment she expected? Maybe he was in shock. Soon, however, the truth would steep in his heart like a toxin, and he’d change from the comforter he was now.
“How did my father get a hold of the photograph?”
Miranda sighed. “Carl mentioned the company where he worked. After everything happened, I became consumed with a thirst for revenge.” She gave a hollow laugh “Sounds melodramatic now, but in the mind of a nineteen-year-old, things can take on hysterical proportions. I had big plans of infiltrating his workplace and somehow engineering his downfall.” She shook her head.
“My parents moved back to the States, to Portland where this company was. After they died, I was more determined than ever, since I somehow blamed the company for all my ills. I applied for a job as secretary.”
Miranda watched Spencer’s expression, longing to know what he was thinking. “Your father was the one who hired me.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. She tried to brace herself for his rejection. “By then, I found out Carl no longer worked there, but I stayed because it was a good job and the pay was very generous. But I was also lonely. I discovered papers my parents had with information about Lupe. Soon, I became obsessed with finding my biological parents. After I found my mother, everything fell apart.”
Miranda closed her eyes and leaned her head on the back of the pew. “It was by accident that I found the file your father had on me, all of it with photos and information of other women as well. Apparently he'd kept files on all the ones he...had plans for.”
Spencer eased his arm from behind her and shifted away. Miranda steeled herself against the pain of dismissal. Hadn’t she known what his reaction would be? He’d be as unyielding as the hard wooden pew beneath her. She rubbed her arms and shivered, determined to get everything out in the open for once and for all.
“Then your father found out about my mother. Armed with that information, and what he knew of my past, he apparently felt he had the leverage to use against me.”
Spencer put his head in his hands. Miranda looked at his wretched posture. She bit her lip. “That’s where you came in.”
“I can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t believe there’s really people in the world like that man and my father.”
He looked up at her, the lines of his face strained and pale. “I don’t know how to say I’m sorry for all that’s happened to you, Miranda. I don’t know how you can stand the sight of me.”
His words took her by surprise. She toyed with the edge of the photograph. “You had nothing to do with any of it, Spencer. I brought it all down on my own head.”
He touched her shoulder, his eyes sad. “No. You were just a kid, a victim of bad people.”
&nb
sp; Miranda drew strength from the glimmer of hope that flickered within her. “That may be, but I still bear responsibility.” She looked toward the altar where it wavered in the candlelight at the end of the aisle. “And that’s why I can’t work things out. It’s separating me from God, and I can’t get past it.”
Spencer’s fingers curled around her hand. “Miranda, you know what to do. You know God will forgive you.”
Miranda looked at the cross. “How can I be sure?” Her voice splintered. “Even if I believe He can, will He? For me?”
“Think how hard you’ve been looking for your sister,” he said in a low voice. “Scripture says that the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost. Don’t you think God has been seeking you as well? He longs for a relationship with you even more than you want with Soledad.”
Miranda stared at him, not daring to breathe, wondering if it could be true. After spending a lifetime alternately striving to please and running away from God, it never occurred to her that He might actually be seeking her. Did that mean all she had to do was turn and find Him there, waiting?
She closed her eyes, tired of fighting against the truth she sensed in the depths of her heart.
God, if You’re listening, I’m ready to be found.
***
Spencer’s heart went out to Miranda. He sent up silent prayers for her, knowing the inner struggle that preceded seeking God. He remembered his own decision.
Miranda sat with her head bowed. The necklace swayed from her fingers. Her whispered confession tore at him, bringing tears to his eyes. It took extreme self-control to allow her the room to do this on her own. If he interfered, he could get in God’s way. Help her Lord. Meet her at her point of need.
He thought about the actions of his father. The fact that there were more files implied Miranda wasn’t the only target. Worse and worse. Anger roiled within him at the wrongs committed against her and the others. The thought that a member of his family had something to do with the burdens she’d carried for so long ate at him like acid. He struggled against the bitterness toward his father seeking to take hold in his heart.
Spencer glanced at Miranda. The shine of tears on her face was too much. He reached out and took her hand, thankful when she responded by gripping his fingers. How had she fallen in love with him after everything that had happened? It boggled his mind, and filled his heart with longing to be deserving of her affection. As she poured out her heart to the Lord, he determined to make right any wrongs he had the power to affect.
***
Miranda blinked away her tears and took a shuddering breath. She’d confessed everything, held nothing back. Spencer’s words from the Bible shimmered in her mind, and soaked into her soul. On her quest to find her lost sister, God had been seeking her—despite her secrets and failures.
She closed her eyes. Save me, Lord. Please forgive me. I give my life to you.
Without understanding how, Miranda knew in that moment God met her where she was. The weight that had crushed her for so long lifted like the smoke from the votive candles flickering in the sanctuary. She breathed a prayer of thanks to the Lord for forgiveness, wondering why she’d fought Him for so long when relief had only been a prayer away.
Miranda unclenched her hand and looked down at the charms in her palm. She had just received forgiveness and peace from God, she couldn’t hold back what she needed to release to Him now.
She looked at Spencer and squeezed his hand, hoping to communicate her appreciation for his presence. There was one more thing she needed to do.
She stood and edged past Spencer to the aisle. Her footsteps echoed off the stone walls. She approached the plain wooden cross at the altar. It seemed so stark compared to what she was used to seeing.
Miranda remembered what Spencer had said. It was the heart that mattered, and she knew she’d allowed God into every nook and cranny. Nothing was hidden from Him. For what it was worth, she wanted Him to have it all.
She lifted the necklace and draped it on the crossbeam of the cross. The two little milagros, crafted from junk silver, dangled and sparkled in the light. Miranda and Soledad. She’d entrusted her life to God. Now she needed to do the same with her sister. If He led her to Soledad, then He must have a plan to keep them together. She doubted He performed miracles halfway.
Miranda put her hands in the pockets of her pants, knowing she couldn’t take back the offering, no matter what. Her mind flinched from all the problems that could arise against bringing Soledad home.
She stared at the figures hanging from the fragile chain. They were supported by something strong and solid, something that wouldn’t fail. Lord, please help me have faith. Help me remember Your strength.
Miranda heard a noise behind her. She turned and saw Spencer at her side. She gave him a tentative smile. He took her hand, his expression uneasy. He raised his other hand, revealing the photograph.
Spencer lifted a corner of the photo to a candle at the altar. The flame licked around the edges and quickly engulfed the picture. He dropped it onto a metal tray when the fire reached his fingers. The last remnant curled up and was gone.
Miranda stared at where the photo had been, so thankful that her sins had disappeared as well, as if they’d never existed. She looked up at Spencer, seeing the tender light in his eyes. He reached up and touched her cheek, wetting his fingertip with her tears. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
“Qué milagros,” he whispered. “Little miracles.”
Miranda smiled and took his hand in her own, squeezing it tight. They walked out of the church together. Spencer settled his arm around her shoulder as they emerged onto the street. The sun had begun its descent, painting the old stone structures gold against a salmon colored sky.
The ending of the day felt like a whole new beginning to Miranda. While the town settled in for a quiet evening, a maelstrom of hope burgeoned within her soul.
To top it all off, she had Spencer by her side. She couldn’t resist stopping in the middle of the street and kissing him.
“I love you,” she said softly.
He slipped his arms around her. “I know.”
Thirty-Four
The following day, Miranda sat on the edge of her chair while a new lawyer, a reedy rail of a man with thick glasses and a dry cough, scribbled feverishly on a yellow legal pad. He ripped the sheet of paper off the pad and thrust it at Miranda.
She glanced over at Spencer, then at the Torres'. Spencer raised his brows and sent a pointed look at the paper. The Torres' sat composed, as if they already knew the outcome.
Miranda stared down at the Spanish, fighting a wave of discouragement. She swallowed, looked up at the man, and attempted a smile. It felt like a grimace.
He peered at her over the top of his glasses. “It will take time and resources, but I believe you will have a successful outcome when certain conditions are met, Miss Adams.”
Time and resources. Two words without limits. The lawyer thought it would take a year to get Soledad. A year! And with what he charged an hour, the resources required would be staggering.
She couldn’t forget his preamble either. When certain conditions are met. That was doublespeak for a job and marriage. Miranda briefly closed her eyes and sent up yet another silent prayer. At least she had confidence God heard her. The knowledge gave her hope.
The lawyer stood, shook hands all around, and passed a business card to Spencer. “Call me when you’ve begun the process.”
After he left, she glanced at Spencer. He smiled reassuringly as he tucked the business card in his shirt pocket. Miranda turned to the Torres'. “May I please see Soledad before I have to go?”
The lawyer’s confidence apparently held some sway. Señora Torres nodded and left the room. Several minutes later, she reappeared with Soledad in tow. Once again, Miranda was stunned by the resemblance to her mother. She bit the inside of her cheek, determined not to spoil this time by crying.
Smiling, Miranda stood, and hooke
d her arm through her sister’s. She led her out the door, to the yard, where they could have some privacy.
After they were seated on the same bench where Miranda had first seen her, she took Soledad’s smaller hands in her own and held them tight. She cherished the feel of her so close, praying this wouldn’t be the last time.
“So, what do you think about all this?”
Soledad smiled. “I believe you are my sister and am glad you are here. I only wish I could meet my mother.”
“You would’ve loved her, and she loved you. Never doubt that.”
“I don’t,” she said simply.
Miranda eased out a breath. “Do you want to come live with me in the United States?”
Soledad’s eyes, so like her mother's, sparkled like onyx. “Yes. I want to be with you, wherever you live.”
Miranda breathed a sigh of relief. One hurdle crossed.
Soledad ducked her head. “I prayed for many years that someone might come for me. God has seen fit to answer me.”
Miranda felt moisture pool in her eyes. “Yes, He answered my prayers for you, too.” She looked out over the yard, now empty of children. Blackbirds arched overhead against a thin blue sky. When she’d regained her composure, she returned her gaze to her sister.
“I have to return to my home before I can get you. There has to be legal forms filed here and in the States, I have to find a new job, plus I have to have a home study done—” She blew a curl from her face. “It seems endless. But I swear I will never stop trying until I can bring you home.”
Soledad gave her a sideways glance. “Perhaps Mr. Meyers will marry you. That will help, no?”
Miranda felt her cheeks burn, and she laughed to cover her embarrassment. “Is this the beginning of sassy remarks sisters make to each other?”
Milagro For Miranda (Book Three Oregon In Love) Page 24
