Mr. Miracle (10 page)

Addie moved all the way back into the living room. “I guess we all go through that kind of rejection at some point or another.”

“You, too?” he asked, keeping his voice soft and low.

“Big-time.” Funny, a few months earlier she would never have admitted this, least of all to him. “I moved to Montana and met the love of my life. Some love. Some life. The relationship didn’t last six months. If I’d been smart I would have packed my bags and headed home right then, but oh no, I wasn’t about to put on my big-girl pants and admit I’d been wrong. I refused to give my dad the satisfaction, and so I stuck it out, freezing in the winter in a leaky trailer.”

How foolish she’d been. How stubborn.

“We all make mistakes,” Erich said sympathetically. “The key is learning from those mistakes and not repeating them.”

Addie hadn’t expected him to show this much self-awareness. “What mistake did you make with Ashley?”

He took his time answering. “It wasn’t just one; it was several. I fell for a pretty face, but unfortunately she didn’t have the heart to go with it. She was the sun of her own universe. It took far longer than it should have for me to recognize how shallow and vain she is.”

Actually, now that she thought about it, Addie was fairly sure she had seen the beautiful Ashley one Thanksgiving when she’d flown home to be with family. As she recalled, Erich had paraded her into the house as if she were on a fashion runway. She’d been dressed all in bright, flashy colors that made her stand out wherever she might be.

In an effort to be generous, Addie suggested, “She might have changed.”

“Doubtful.” He dismissed that out of hand.

Addie had a small confession to make. “I didn’t read the text she sent, but I did see the word
sorry
.”

He sighed. “Ashley can’t stand the thought of not having the last word. I was the one who got away, and she will say or do anything to get me back just so she can dump me again. I’ve seen her do it with other men and I refuse to play that game. Apparently, there was a report of my accident in the newspaper and she read it.”

“Oh.”

“You asked about her. A few hours ago you would have had to torture the information out of me.”

“And now?”

“Now … I guess you earned the right to know. I appreciate your help tonight. I mean it. Thanking you hardly seems adequate. Telling you about Ash is my way of … I’m not sure … letting you know I trust you, I suppose.”

Addie sat in the recliner next to Erich. She didn’t know what to say. Twenty-four hours ago she would have said this transformation in her relationship with Erich would have been impossible. After years of ill will, it came as a shock to realize she might not actually dislike him. She might even be able to look past the fact that he’d broken her tender heart all those years ago.

“Are you going to say anything?” he asked, after an awkward silence.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” he repeated.

She waved her hands. “In case you hadn’t noticed, something has happened between us.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re talking.”

“Yeah, and your point is?”

“We’re talking, like two normal people. We aren’t arguing or sniping at each other. I … might even discover that it’s possible to get along with you.”

He laughed as if that was one of the funniest things he’d
ever heard. “Don’t let this go to your head. You make it sound as if the next thing you know we’ll be kissing.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” she assured him.

His amusement faded. “Frankly, I don’t know that I’m willing to rule it out.”

Thursday evening was the dreaded Christmas concert. Harry had been uneasy about it from the moment Michelle Heath, the French teacher, had mentioned she would save him a seat next to her. But now he had other, bigger worries.

In fact, the concert and his fellow instructor were the least of his troubles. Dr. Conceito, the college president, had asked to meet with Harry. They needed to have a little chat, or so he’d been told.

By comparison, the concert was sure to be like a stroll in a winter wonderland. Harry enjoyed music, although Earth couldn’t compare to the thunderous choir of angels who
sang praises in heaven. Now, that was some kind of performance. The music was simply “out of this world” and completely unlike anything heard on Earth.

For the last twenty-four hours Harry had managed to avoid talking to Michelle. They’d passed each other in the hallway now and again, but either he or she had been caught up in a gaggle of students each time.

As Harry passed, she raised her hand and called out, “See you later.”

A sense of dread settled over Harry. If his attendance wasn’t mandatory, he would have skipped the performance and made excuses later. However, Dr. Conceito had made it abundantly clear that Harry’s presence was more than expected; it was demanded.

Dr. Conceito.

Although he’d been on the job only a few days, Harry had come to appreciate Celeste’s warning regarding the college president. The man was more than a stickler for the rules, he was a tyrant. Even while on his best behavior, Harry had already had two run-ins with the school’s dictator.

It seemed Dr. Conceito walked the halls looking for infractions with the same enthusiasm with which an anteater seeks out insects. He had a nose for it and a cohort in the security guard who took delight in reporting any behavior that appeared the least bit suspicious.

No doubt Dr. Conceito had heard from Brady Whitall, the security guard, about the cafeteria worker Harry had championed. Really, what harm did it do if the dear woman stood in the hallway and listened in on a literature class?

Angels weren’t accustomed to being nervous. Heaven was serene and calm. No worries, be happy. He’d made the assumption that it would be similar on Earth. Not the same, of course, but he’d expected that being in the very center of God’s will equated smooth sailing. He’d been wrong. And then there was the whole issue of dealing with human emotions … like attraction. Harry had yet to figure out how he was going to avoid sitting next to the French teacher at the concert.

With his heart pumping hard against his ribs, Harry entered the administration building and headed toward the president’s office, hoping to get this meeting over as quickly as possible. Dr. Conceito’s assistant looked up when he entered the room.

“Harry Mills,” he said, as a means of introducing himself. “I believe Dr. Conceito is expecting me.”

The assistant, a middle-aged woman whose thick, dark hair was streaked with gray, continued to stare at her computer screen. The name plate at her desk identified her as Patricia Ziglar. “Ah yes, here you are. If you’d kindly take a seat, Mr. Mills. Dr. Conceito shouldn’t be long.”

“Thank you.” Harry claimed a chair and, hoping to look casual and relaxed, crossed his legs. In his nervousness, his calf slipped against the fabric of his pants and his foot thumped against the floor.

The assistant’s eyes caught his, and Harry grinned nervously.

“Not to worry,” the woman assured him kindly. “Dr. Conceito’s bark is worse than his bite.”

The college president was going to bark at him? Knowing this did nothing to settle his nerves. Earlier in the day, Harry had tried to find Celeste but couldn’t. The limitations of Earth could be downright frustrating. In heaven there was no such thing as distance or, for that matter, time. Everything flowed together. Nothing was ever lost, nor did he need to look for someone. All he had to do was think and they were there. So easy. So convenient.

Earth was at a grave disadvantage, and sadly, humans had yet to realize it.

A buzzer went off on Patricia’s desk. She looked back at Harry. “Dr. Conceito will see you now.”

Harry leaped to his feet as if the chair came equipped with a huge spring that propelled him upward.

“It’ll be fine,” Patricia whispered, as she escorted him to the door with the frosted-glass window.

Harry stepped inside and the assistant closed the door
behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the clicking sound, then turned his attention to the college president. “You asked to see me?”

“Yes,” Dr. Conceito said, and motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”

Obediently, Harry sat. Perhaps it was better that Celeste not know about this meeting. He’d already gotten on the negative side of the man by walking on the grass, getting caught red-handed. The president’s reaction had made it seem that Harry had taken a machete to bushes and desecrated the landscape of the entire campus.

Dr. Conceito leaned forward in his high-backed desk chair, pinning Harry with his gaze. “I got a report about you from Officer Brady Whitall.”

Officer?

“I have to assume this is in regards to Elaina Gomez?” Harry asked, presuming innocence.

“Yes,” the college president confirmed. “In case you weren’t aware, it’s strictly against school policy for an employee to leave their position while the kitchen is still open.”

“I understand,” Harry said. Elaina had explained that she’d managed to finish cleaning up early and her supervisor had dismissed her for the night. Because she had extra time before the bus arrived, she’d come to listen to the lecture in Harry’s class. “But—”

“There are no
buts
at this school,” Dr. Conceito said,
interrupting Harry. “The rules are the rules, and bending them even the slightest amount is unacceptable.”

“I understand, however—”

“Furthermore, I am told this woman was listening in on your lecture.”

If the school president was looking for evidence to take away Elaina’s job, Harry was determined not to give it to him. “That I wouldn’t know.”

“Did you or did you not see her outside the classroom?” he pressed.

“I did, but only after the class was dismissed.”

“Not before?”

“No.” Harry could say that in all honesty.

Dr. Conceito thumped his fingers against the desktop as if weighing his options. He sighed and then said, “I was also informed that you gave Ms. Gomez a copy of the Dickens novel
A Christmas Carol
, which I understand the class is currently reading.”

“Yes—”

“You do realize the book is school property.” This was more statement than question.

“Yes, but—”

“Mr. Mills,” Dr. Conceito said, impatiently interrupting him a second time. “What did I just tell you about
buts
?”

Harry looked down in an effort to avoid eye contact. “There are no buts at this school.”

“Correct. Now, would you like to rephrase what you were about to say?”

Harry took a couple moments to collect his thoughts. “I wanted you to know that I stopped off at the bookstore to personally pay for the copy I gave Ms. Gomez.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Dr. Conceito insisted, his face tightening.

Harry was undeterred. “It’s my feeling we should encourage reading at all ages and economic levels.”

“I agree,” the school president said. “Tell me, did the bookstore accept payment?”

“No.”

The grin on Dr. Conceito’s face revealed no real amusement. “Did they give you a reason they wouldn’t take your money?”

Harry didn’t know where this conversation was going. “No, they didn’t.”

The smile disappeared. “Then let me keep you abreast of the results of your actions.”

Harry leaned back and tried to appear to be relaxed. “Yes, please do.”

Dr. Conceito exhaled sharply. “First off, you should know that I was required to visit Ms. Gomez and ask for the return of the novel.”

Harry’s shoulders sank, picturing the disappointment
the young mother must have felt, having to return the book she’d accepted with such appreciation and excitement.

“I was willing to pay for the book,” Harry reminded the president.

“That is unacceptable,” Dr. Conceito argued. He stood and leaned toward Harry, planting both hands on the desk. “In case you are unaware, the Dickens novel was part of a government grant. To freely hand it out indiscriminately would be in violation of the terms and conditions of the grant.”

“Ah …” Harry was fairly certain the government that had generously supplied the grant would be more than happy to see that Elaina Gomez receive the novel. Arguing, however, would do him no good.

“I hope you understand that by bending the rules, you have, within a few short days, put our entire community college in serious jeopardy of receiving future funding.”

Harry clenched his teeth to keep from arguing. How ridiculous; Dr. Conceito was overreacting. What a small-minded man. Celeste had warned him, and without even trying, Harry had already waded waist-deep in trouble.

“I deeply regret causing any problems,” Harry said, as contritely as he could manage. The pompous so-and-so. How he wished he could give this man what he so richly deserved. It took every shred of control Harry possessed to
sit and do nothing. It hit him then: So this was what anger felt like. He was experiencing anger for the first time. Anger and frustration. The emotions were so powerful they nearly overwhelmed him.

Dr. Conceito continued. “I want to be sure nothing like this will ever happen again.”