Mr. Miracle (8 page)

In other circumstances, she would simply walk away and let him suffer, but she had an obligation to see to his needs, whether he wanted her around or not. Perhaps she could reach out to Ashley. From Erich’s response when he learned about the text messages, it was clear they’d had some kind of falling-out.

Addie hadn’t read the full text, but it appeared Ashley was terribly, terribly sorry and wanted to make amends. Perhaps the ever-so-contrite Ashley might be willing to step into Addie’s place as caregiver to the injured Erich. With that thought in mind, she headed toward his house.

The lights were off, and Addie feared he might be asleep. No matter, it was too early for bed. If Erich went to sleep this early in the evening, he’d be awake in the middle of the night and soon his entire schedule would be off balance.

After one polite knock, Addie let herself into the house. “I’m back.” she said, coming into the living room.

He was still in the chair—she could make him out in the gloom. He ignored her.

“Can I get you anything?”

“No.”

His mother was right. Erich was set on being difficult, if not downright impossible.

“You’re sitting in the dark.”

“So?”

“Would you like me to turn on the lights?”

“If I wanted the lights on, I’d do it myself.”

She sighed. “You’re getting snarky again.”

Silence.

“If we’re going to make this work, Erich, we’re going to have to be civil to each other.”

“Okay, whatever. As you might have guessed, I’m not in the best of moods.”

“No kidding.”

He ignored her comment. “The thing is, I’d rather be left alone.”

“Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help, you know.” Experience had taught her as much.

He didn’t respond, so Addie reached for the lamp and turned the switch. Bright light instantly flooded the room. Erich squinted until his eyes had time to adjust to the change.

“Your mother mentioned that you hadn’t eaten much. Can I get you anything?”

“No. Thanks anyway.”

That was a slight improvement. “You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“Thank you, Dr. Oz.”

“It’s the truth, especially when you’re on pain meds. Most prescriptions are best taken with food.”

“There you go again with the medical advice.”

Ignoring him, Addie went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, looking for something Erich could eat without the need for utensils. She found an orange, which she peeled and laid out in sections on a paper towel.

“What’s that?” he asked, when she returned.

“What does it look like?” she returned, and set it on his lap.

He ignored the question. “Addie, you still can’t take a hint. What part of ‘no thanks’ do you not understand?”

That was a low blow, and completely unnecessary. If he wanted to be nasty, then fine, she’d let him. Addie sighed expressively, and then before he could stop her, she grabbed his phone off the side table. Walking to the other side of the room, she tapped the screen of his phone a couple times.

“Addie?” he shouted after her. “What are you doing?” This was followed by a few choice words she was sure would shock his mother.

Addie walked around the corner where Erich couldn’t see her.

“Hello, is this Ashley?” she said, loud enough to be sure Erich could hear her. “I’m a friend of Erich’s. He’s been badly hurt. It’s a matter of life and death, and he’s begging to see you one last time.”

“Addie?” Erich’s growly voice was low and angry. “What have you done?”

Addie stuck her head back around the corner and, holding the phone in her hand, smiled sweetly back at him. “What have I done? Why, Erich, I’ve shown you proof positive that two can play at that game. Oh, by the way, Ashley sounds terribly, terribly upset. She wanted me to reassure you she’ll be here as soon as she can. Is there anything else you’d like me to tell her?”

“Give … me … the … phone,” he demanded, speaking each word slowly and distinctly. “Give me the phone, otherwise I swear …” He started to get out of the recliner
but was struggling to stand up without being able to use his arms. He looked like he was about to hurt himself.

“Oh, for the love of heaven,” Addie said, returning to the living room. She handed Erich his phone.

He tried to grab it, but with limited use of his fingers, it fell to the carpet.

Addie retrieved it for him. “Stop freaking out. I didn’t call her; there’s no one on the other end of the line.”

His relief was instantaneous.

“But I should have called her. It was what you deserve for being so difficult.”

He continued to glare at her with a look that would have made other women run for cover. Not Addie.

“Listen,” she said calmly, “this won’t work if you’re going to continue being so immature. It’s only for two weeks. You can manage to be agreeable for that short amount of time, can’t you?”

He exhaled slowly. “Me? You’re just as immature as I am.”

“That’s a matter of opinion. I’m not the one behaving like a five-year-old.”

Erich took a moment to consider her words and then shrugged. “Okay, you’re right, I was acting a bit childish. Can we start over?”

Addie hadn’t expected a concession on his part and did her best to hide her surprise. Sitting down in the recliner
next to his, she reached for the remote control. “Do you ever watch
Jeopardy!
?”

“Some.”

She flicked a look in his direction. “I suppose you get all the answers right.”

“Not all.”

She snickered. “Modesty doesn’t become you.”

He chuckled again. “I’m not that smart, although it does my ego good that you seem to think so.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“No problem there, considering the source.”

Addie decided to ignore the comment and changed channels until she found the right station. They sat in silence, except for calling out answers when they knew them. Not surprisingly, Erich got far more than she did. If they’d been keeping score, by the end of the game show his total would have been well ahead of hers.

When the show finished, Addie stood. “Can I get you anything before I leave?” She had homework yet and was determined to read the assigned pages, no matter how long it took.

His face revealed regret, as if he would have liked her to stay, although it went without saying he’d never admit it. “I’m fine, but thanks for asking.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“What?”

“Being civil.”

He frowned. “I can be civil if you’re civil.”

She held up her hand. “No problem. Now, before I leave, do you have your phone close at hand so you can call if you need anything?”

“Right here.” He patted it, indicating it was well within reach.

“Okay.” She got all the way to the front door and then hesitated. This probably wasn’t the time or place, but curiosity took hold and got the better of her. “Can I ask you something?”

He seemed surprised by the question, and shrugged. “I guess.”

“What’s the story with Ashley?”

He groaned. “I should have guessed you weren’t going to go quietly into the night.”

Addie was curious, but not at the expense of this fragile peace. “Forget I asked,” she said, and held up her palm in an effort to keep him from explaining. “It’s none of my business.”

“Thank you.” He seemed genuinely grateful to find she was willing to drop the subject. It was plain that whoever Ashley was or had been at one time remained a sore spot with him.

Addie reached for the door handle. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep tight,” he called out after her.

“You, too.”

“Not much chance of that. I much prefer a bed over this chair.”

Addie didn’t blame him. Not only was he in pain, but sleeping in a chair was bound to be uncomfortable. No wonder Julie had mentioned Erich hadn’t slept well the night before. Addie wished there was something more she could do to help, only there wasn’t. Erich had basically told her he didn’t want her going all Mother Teresa on him. He’d hate it if she started hovering.

Once Addie was in her own home, she brewed a cup of tea and settled in the chair that had once been her father’s favorite. It still carried a faint scent of him, and she found comfort in that. How she wished she’d made a stronger effort to reconcile with him. For a long time she simply sat with the Dickens novel in her hand, thinking about her father.

From childhood, Addie had been described as different. She’d struggled the first few years in school until she was tested and learned she was dyslexic. She still remembered
when they gave her parents the diagnosis; Addie was in second grade, and in her mind, if she was going to be told she wasn’t the same as everyone else, then she would be as different as different could be. In order to stand out and find her own identity, she’d purposely chosen to wear mismatched clothing and cut her own hair. Her mother defended her and claimed Addie liked to march to the beat of a different drum, although she was never entirely sure what that meant.

Her grandmother called her eccentric. Once she figured out how to spell it, Addie looked the word up in the dictionary. She discovered it came from a geometry term and one definition was “not having the same center.”

The way she figured it, she was always a little off-kilter. Her grades improved, but school had never been her thing. While in elementary school she felt like she was being suffocated, and after a while, young as she was, she decided she could only be herself. She would never fit in with the norm. Pretty deep thoughts, she realized, for a girl barely eight.

Perhaps it was egotistical of her, but Addie liked to think of herself as uniquely shaped. Gifted, but not in the traditional way. As a result, she often clashed with authority figures, but no one more than her headstrong father.

She missed him. She missed him terribly. For years she’d
avoided talking to him. Now it came as a shock to realize the one she’d hurt, the one she’d been so intent on punishing, hadn’t been her father, but herself.

Addie ran her hand down the chair arm as if giving a silent apology to the father she had never fully appreciated.

Sighing now, and feeling a bit maudlin, she looked around the house at all that was familiar. Although it was only a week away, it didn’t seem like Christmas, although there were signs of it throughout the neighborhood. Several of the houses down the street had decorated with a dazzling display of lights. The single string around each of the two small arborvitae in the front of the house seemed like a meager effort. In past years, the whole house would have been decorated, top to bottom, inside and out. The Christmas tree would be up, with an array of cheerfully wrapped gifts stored at its base.

Not this year.

Her mother had escaped to a tropical paradise and Addie was alone … well, other than Erich, who wanted nothing to do with Christmas.

Her tea had cooled considerably before Addie tackled her reading assignment. She had fifty pages of
A Christmas Carol
to read before her next class. Even then, the text lay open in her lap as she considered her teacher and fellow classmates.

Mr. Mills was knowledgeable enough despite being a bit odd. He certainly wasn’t like any teacher she’d ever known. She liked his style, though. He brought Dickens alive, giving them the details of the author’s life, giving him a story of his own.

It was a tall order keeping the students engaged. Addie suspected that, like her, a number of the other students had signed up for the class because they needed the credits in order to receive their high school diplomas.

For sure, Danny, who’d served time in prison. She couldn’t help wondering about his story. He was a kick, chiming in with an opinion for nearly everything discussed. It was a bit much, but still he was a likable guy.

Andrew, the Army vet with the shepherd, was another interesting character. Addie wondered what had brought him there. She doubted he was in need of a high school diploma. He seemed to be in need of something above and beyond what was taught inside a classroom.

The security guard … it took her a moment to remember his name. Brady something … was almost a caricature of a mall cop. Just thinking about him caused her to frown. He’d been so rude to the woman from the cafeteria when it wasn’t necessary.

Her thoughts continued to wander from one subject to the next until Addie realized this daydreaming was all a delaying
tactic to avoid reading the Dickens novel. It was sure to be wordy and boring, but then on the bright side, she already knew the story.

“What’s wrong with me?” she said aloud. She’d been excited by this class. Perhaps
excited
was overstating her enthusiasm, but it had been years since she dropped out of high school and she’d been hopeful she could make it work this time.

It came to her then.

Addie was afraid.

The thought amused her. Gutsy girl Addie was afraid of failing, afraid that six years out of high school she not only would have the same problems getting through a lit class, she’d also flounder yet again, struggle with reading and comprehension.