A Mrs. Miracle Christmas(11)



Sucking in a breath, Zach punched in the number that would connect him to the adoption agency.

“Loving Families Adoption Services,” the receptionist answered. “How may I direct your call?”

“May I speak with Mary Swindoll? This is Zach McCullough.” Mary was the caseworker who had been assigned to them when they’d first applied for adoption.

    No more than a moment later, Mary was on the line. “Zach. How good to hear your voice.”

“Yours, too, Mary.” The hollow chattiness was all Zach needed to hear to know there were no changes in their status, but he asked anyway. “I’m calling hoping for an update.”

“I’m sorry, Zach. I know it’s been a long time. Several babies have come up for adoption, and one specifically that we considered for you and Laurel, but something told me that the mother might have a change of heart. My instincts were right—she did pull out of the adoption right after the baby was born.”

Zach was relieved that Mary was insightful, so they wouldn’t have had their hopes set on that baby. Another incident like Jonathan would have destroyed his wife. Laurel might not have survived it. The truth was, Zach wasn’t sure he could have, either. The first failed adoption had been hard enough.

“I appreciate your wisdom.”

“I’ll be in touch after the first of the year,” Mary promised.

“Sure. Thanks for taking my call,” Zach said, his words lacking emotion. As soon as he ended the call, a heavy sense of defeat fell upon his shoulders.



* * *





    Laurel’s day had been going along well. Although her students were already keyed up about Christmas and a visit from Santa, she had no trouble controlling her classroom. That didn’t mean she wasn’t ready for her break for lunch. Her stomach was growling.

The lounge was buzzing when Laurel entered. Spirits were high. One would think this was the last day of school before the winter break. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out her roast beef sandwich and a bag of grapes. The roast from last night’s dinner had been the best she’d ever tasted, and both she and Zach had used it to make sandwiches to bring to work.

Chase Walter pulled out a chair and sat down next to Laurel. “Did you hear the news?”

Almost immediately the room went eerily quiet.

“Chase,” said Mona, who taught the other first-grade class. She glared at the fifth-grade teacher.

“What?” Chase demanded, glancing around the room, not understanding what he’d done that was so terrible.

“No, I hadn’t. What news?” After her argument with Zach from the night before, Laurel was ready to hear something fun. Whatever the news was, it had the teachers’ lounge humming with excitement.

    “It’s about me,” replied Britta Jackson, who was another teacher.

Laurel liked Britta. Everyone did. She was a favorite not only with the staff, but also with the students and their parents. She had two children, one in junior high, and the other was a freshman in high school.

“Well, tell me,” Laurel said, encouraging her friend to share.

The room went silent again, like everyone was waiting for a bombshell to drop.

“It’s completely unexpected…I mean, it’s almost a joke.” Her friend was clearly nervous.

“What is?” Laurel asked.

“Wade, my husband, didn’t even know what to think. It took us some time to let it sink in that this could happen at our age.”

“What happened?” Laurel pressed, not understanding the worried looks of her coworkers.

“I’m pregnant,” Britta said, not meeting Laurel’s eyes. “I never thought I’d be having a baby at my age.”

Laurel’s heart felt like it had stopped beating. Somehow, from some internal strength, she was able to dredge up a smile. “Congratulations, Britta. That’s wonderful news.”





CHAPTER FOUR




Mrs. Miracle arrived ten minutes before Laurel left for school the following day. Helen watched as her granddaughter pulled the caretaker aside. She could hear the two whispering in the kitchen and smiled to herself. She might be losing her memory and becoming more forgetful, but Helen was bright enough to know the subject of their conversation.

The whispering was sure to be about Helen’s claim that Mrs. Miracle was an authentic, genuine angel. Laurel looked guilty after the talk, avoiding eye contact with her grandmother as she rushed out the door, making an excuse that she was running late for school.

Mrs. Miracle joined Helen, taking a seat on the sofa. She brought out her knitting.

    Reaching for her own pair of knitting needles, Helen said, “They didn’t believe me.”

“I didn’t expect they would, and neither should you.”

Helen wished her granddaughter would have been more trusting. Then again, after the events of the last eighteen months, she couldn’t really blame Laurel.

“She thinks I’m losing even more of my mind, doesn’t she?”

Mrs. Miracle contemplated her reply as she wove the yarn through her fingers with the expertise of an accomplished knitter. “She is concerned, but that’s only natural.” She paused, resting the needles on her lap. “If anyone should be blamed for this, it falls squarely on me. It would’ve been better if I’d kept it a secret, as I often do. But by sharing it with you, and you passing it along to Laurel, it confirmed to her that your mental capabilities are failing at an increasing speed. That’s far from the truth, as you and I both know.”

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