Mr. Miracle (3 page)

“But Addie—”

“It won’t feel like Christmas without the trees by the porch lit up.”

“But Addie—”

“Mom, please, let me put up the lights.” Her dad would have wanted her to do this for her mother, Addie was sure. She owed him this, even if things hadn’t been so good between them when he died, or maybe because of that.

“Erich offered to put them up for me, but I said no.”

“Good.” Perfect Erich. She bristled at the mere mention of his name. He’d always been so thoughtful and kind … to others. But he’d tortured her at every opportunity. For
one thing, from the time they were in first grade together, he’d insisted on calling her Adeline. Addie had always hated the name. She’d never even known the great-grandmother she’d been named after. Saddling her with that name had been her father’s doing, no surprise.

Her mother moved a couple steps into the garage. “Um … there’s a reason I didn’t want Erich to put up the lights.”

Addie straightened. Her mother’s voice revealed hesitation and a bit of apprehension. “What is it, Mom?”

“I mentioned all those firsts without your father, remember …?”

“Yes.” It was one of the reasons Addie had returned home when she did. She didn’t want her mother spending this first Christmas without Dad by herself. Jerry couldn’t get away, but Addie could. Actually, she’d been more than ready to leave Montana. Although she’d come to love the state, everything else there had proved to be less perfect than she’d hoped. Her job at the mine had fizzled out after a few months, but pride hadn’t allowed her to return home so soon after her grand departure. For a while she drifted from job to job, until finally settling in at the diner. She’d made friends and the tips were good. It was easy enough to coast through the next few years.

“I didn’t say anything earlier when you called to say you
were coming …” her mother said, interrupting her thoughts. Her mother wrung her hands.

“Mom, what is it?” Clearly there was something her mother didn’t want to tell her.

“Please don’t be upset with me.”

This was all very strange. “Mom, please, don’t worry. You’re not going to upset me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. Just tell me.”

Her mother squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “I’m going on a two-week Christmas cruise with Julie Simmons.”

It took a second for the information to sink in. “A cruise?”

Her mother still hadn’t opened her eyes. “Julie’s a widow. I’m a widow. We figured that we’d both get away this Christmas with a trip to the Caribbean. We booked a few days in Florida before the cruise as well. The sunshine and all … please tell me you’re not upset with me.”

“Of course not,” Addie assured her, although her heart sank. This meant she’d be spending Christmas alone.

“Julie and I talked about it for months, and then right before Halloween we found this great deal from the cruise line and Julie said we should do it. If not now, when? I had no idea you’d be coming home, let alone for good, and … and, oh Addie, if you want I’ll cancel the trip.” Her voice became half plea and half regret.

“No way,” Addie insisted, strengthening her resolve. “You’re going on that cruise and you’re going to enjoy every minute of it while I hold down the fort here.”

“Erich offered to look after the house.”

Of course he would.

“He’s not married, you know, and neither is Karl.”

Erich’s younger brother.

As if she felt the need to keep talking, her mother continued. “Karl is dating a wonderful young woman and is spending Christmas with her family someplace back east. Neither Julie nor I have grandchildren yet, and being this has been such a difficult year …”

“Mom, please, you don’t need to make excuses. I want you to do this. Please go.”

“But you’ll be alone.”

“It’s fine. I’ll connect with a few friends and it won’t be a problem. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re sure …?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“It’s just that Julie and I have been so looking forward to this, and …”

Addie walked over and hugged her mother. “Stop. I wouldn’t dream of letting you cancel this trip. It’s perfect. You and Julie together on those warm sandy beaches. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

The relief in her mother’s face was nearly palpable. Addie was sincere. She wanted her mother to get away for Christmas. “I still want to put up the outdoor lights,” she said, returning to the plastic boxes her father had packed up the Christmas before and stored away.

“Oh sure, sweetheart, if that’s what you want. Do you need me to help you?”

“I can do it.” Among all the other valuable life lessons Montana had taught Addie, she’d learned resourcefulness. Though she’d never done it before, she’d figure out a way to string the lights on those two trees. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas without them.

“I’ll start dinner, then.”

“Great. I’m starving.”

After her mother left, Addie found the strands of outdoor lights and carted them to the front of the house. She needed a ladder, too. At five-foot-three, she wasn’t nearly tall enough to reach the top.

She’d gotten everything set up when she heard the sound of a car door behind her. Standing halfway up the ladder, she glanced over her shoulder to see a bright, shiny, silver BMW parked at the curb behind her dilapidated, fender-rusting, once-blue Honda.

Erich.

Her heart sank. He was sure to make some derogatory
comment about her car, right after he called her Adeline. He might even be so obnoxious as to mention her girlhood crush on him. Even before he spoke, her teeth were clenched.

“Adeline, is that you?”

Unbelievable!
“It’s Addie,” she said coolly.

“Oops, sorry, I forgot,” he teased, when clearly he hadn’t. Then he had the audacity to laugh.

She brushed a long strand of dark hair away from her face.

“Need any help with that?”

“No, thanks,” she said, as she continued to wind the strand around the bushy tree. She needed no help, least of all from him. It wasn’t only the teasing she’d taken as a kid that contributed to her dislike of him—that was only a small part. Erich, Karl, and her brother had often ganged up on her. Being something of a tomboy, she’d followed them, hungering to join in their fun. Instead, Erich had teased her mercilessly. It’d gotten worse as she grew older and got braces. He’d called her “live wire” and poked fun at her until she’d run and hide in her bedroom. But that was nothing compared to the way he’d stepped all over her tender, young heart.

“You home for Christmas?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she answered, without looking at him.

He hesitated, and when he spoke he sounded genuine
and sincere. “Like I said when we spoke at the funeral, I’m sorry for your loss. I loved your dad.”

“Yeah, me, too.” The lump was back and she swallowed hard, determined not to let him see how his words had affected her. Funny thing was, she didn’t remember speaking to him at the funeral. She’d been in a fog then, confused and grieving.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe,” she returned dismissively. At the moment, all she wanted was for him to leave her alone.

By the time she had the lights wound around the first tree it was pitch-dark. The only illumination came from the porch light.

A little while later, when Addie was half finished with the twin tree on the other side of the porch, her mother opened the door and called out, “Dinner’s ready.”

“I’m almost done,” Addie promised, unwilling to quit now. She worked quietly, traipsing up and down the ladder as she moved the string of lights around the tree, stretching her arms as high as she could without losing her balance.

The Simmonses’ front door opened. “Let me hand you the lights,” Erich offered, crossing the yard and coming up behind her.

Addie’s initial reaction was to reject his offer. She was more than capable of finishing this—she’d managed the first tree on her own. She’d rather avoid Erich’s company.

“It’s the least I can do to make up for calling you Adeline,” he said.

“If you had to place lights on trees for every time you called me Adeline, you’d be decorating the entire Olympic National Forest.”

“True enough. It’s Addie from now on. I promise.”

She wasn’t sure she should trust him not to be a jerk, but she was tired and hungry. So while it dented her pride to accept his help, at this point, she was willing. “Okay.” The second part took more of an effort. “Thank you.”

His sigh was audible. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Come on, Addie, admit it.”

“Harder than you realize.”

Erich chuckled.

He continued to feed her the string of lights, and they didn’t speak for several seconds. “I talked to Jerry the other day. We stay in touch on Facebook, but …”

Addie finished and hurried down from the ladder. “Listen, Erich. You don’t need to make small talk with me. We’ve never really gotten along and there’s no need to pretend otherwise.” She guessed he felt a little sorry for her—back at home, having failed at her big adventure. In her sad, decrepit car …

“Fine.” He held up his hands as if she’d pointed a gun at him. “You can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Thanks for the help with the lights,” Addie said, before heading into the house.

Harry watched the scene, standing beneath an evergreen tree, from across the street. Celeste stood next to him.

“What is it I’m supposed to do for these two again?” he asked, unable to hide his dismay. It had seemed like a piece of delicious rum cake earlier, but now that he saw the way Addie bristled around Erich, he was a bit more daunted. She was like a porcupine around him, defensive and unfriendly. And that was only a small part of what he sensed in her. She was full of fear, and trying desperately hard to hide her feelings of inadequacy.

“You’ll find out soon enough. God has obviously crossed their paths for a reason. There must be something they need to learn from each other, don’t you think?” she said, turning the question back on him.

“Just how am I supposed to help them find out what it is when they can barely tolerate the sight of each other?” he asked. He was an English teacher and Addie was in his class. There was only so much he could do while teaching her literature.

“As I explained earlier, circumstances have been set in motion.”

“Yes, but—”

“Patience, Harry, patience.”

“Do you have an idea about what’s going to happen?”

“I do.”

Harry frowned. “Don’t you think you should fill me in, seeing that I’m going to be working with Addie?”

Celeste grinned. “All in good time.”

Harry wasn’t pleased. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“Not yet,” she said, and tucked her arm around his elbow, shivered, and then glanced toward the sky. “Let’s get back. The roads are getting icy.”

Harry watched as Erich sped off in his shiny car. He had the distinct feeling Celeste had been trying to tell him something important.

The last time Addie Folsom had stepped into a classroom it had resulted in an argument with the teacher and her being escorted to the principal’s office. Later that same day, she’d walked out of Tacoma High School and never went back.

In hindsight, that hadn’t been a smart decision. As a result of her dropping out of school she’d had an argument to end all arguments with her father, and the shouting match that ensued could be heard three neighborhoods away. She’d been grounded: her father took the door off her bedroom, confiscated her phone, her television, her iPod, and her keys, and claimed she couldn’t have any of it back until she returned to school. Addie adamantly refused. She
was eighteen and headstrong. After weeks of fighting with her parents, she packed her suitcase, took back her phone and her driver’s license, emptied her closet and her savings, and left home.

So it was with trepidation that she entered this classroom. Frankly, she didn’t come with high expectations but was determined to give it her best shot and, God willing, pass the class and collect her high school diploma.

She hesitated only a few steps into the classroom, her heart beating fast and wild. The teacher locked eyes with her and smiled. His look seemed to be saying he’d been expecting her. Of course, it could have been Addie’s imagination. The look of welcome might have been a simple gesture except that it stopped her cold. It almost seemed as if he knew her and she was the one he’d been waiting to meet.

“Addie Folsom?” he asked, approaching her expectantly, grinning broadly.

“Yes. How did you know?”

His eyes widened and he quickly glanced down, as if she’d caught him red-handed at something he knew he shouldn’t be doing.

“Ah … you look like an Addie.”

“I do?” Seeing how she felt about her name, this was depressing news.

“Oh yes. The minute I saw you, I said to myself, ‘That
young woman looks like an Addie.’ You’re going to do very well here.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I … just do.”

He wasn’t making sense, but then she didn’t have great expectations when it came to classes and teachers. Experience had taught her to quickly take her seat and keep her opinions to herself, especially if she wanted a passing grade, which she did. Her one desperate hope was that he never called on her to read out loud. She had nightmares about that from grade school.