Mr. Miracle Page 10
Nothing could compare to the music he’d heard in heaven, but the concert had been lovely, the music quite good. When the presentation ended, there was a large round of applause.
Before Michelle could find him, Harry quickly left the performance center. He sought Celeste at the Hub. She was just getting off work and left with him so they could talk privately.
“So how’d your day go?” she asked, as they walked side by side.
Harry held his hands behind his back as he matched his steps with hers. He knew this was a rhetorical question, as she knew very well his day had been a challenge from the moment he’d set foot on campus. He was walking on eggshells after his meeting with President Conceito.
“Better, I hope.” No need to try to fool Celeste. “I’m doing everything within my power to avoid making another mistake.”
“You’re learning.” The words were devoid of censure. “The adjustment from heaven to Earth takes time. You’re bound to make errors in judgment until you find your footing.”
“I am? I mean …” He bit off the rest of what he’d intended to say, for fear anything he said would be digging himself deeper into a hole from which he couldn’t escape.
“I understand you sat next to Addie at the concert and the two of you were able to talk.”
She would bring that up. “We had a short conversation.” Short because Addie had been quick to cut him off. She’d buried her face in the program flyer, letting him know she had nothing more to say.
“She’s upset that Ashley stopped by.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
“Apparently so.” The less he said, the better.
“Did Addie mention what happened?”
Harry felt bad for Addie, who didn’t seem to recognize her own feelings for Erich. “She didn’t say, but she was unwilling to discuss it with me.”
Celeste considered his words, then suggested, “Why don’t we check out the situation for ourselves?”
“You mean now?”
His mentor smiled at him. “Don’t look so worried. This won’t be an inquisition. We’ll take a nice stroll in their neighborhood just as we have before and check out the two houses.”
“Ah, sure. Good idea.”
Addie’s home was several miles from campus, but they had walked only a few minutes when they turned the corner to Addie and Erich’s street.
They stood across the street, again hidden against the backdrop of fir trees. The neighborhood was bright, with colored lights strung across rooflines and tree trunks, and with the chill in the air it was beginning to feel very festive. It was a beautiful clear night, and the stars sparkled above the lights sparkling below.
“Both houses are lit up inside, so both Addie and Erich seem to be home,” Celeste said, as she motioned toward the two houses.
“I see Addie,” Harry said, a bit excited. His young charge stood in the dining room, holding back the drape and looking out the window at Erich’s home.
“Yes, I see her. She’s wondering if she should check on him before she turns in for the night.”
Harry didn’t ask how Celeste knew what the other woman was thinking.
“She brought him dinner right after the concert, but she barely said a word to him.”
“I was afraid something like that might happen,” Harry said. He had a feeling that matters had taken a turn south in their relationship and that he might have inadvertently contributed to that.
Celeste sent him a meaningful look. “Apparently, your remarks shook her up a bit, not to mention Ashley’s visit earlier. Addie was in and out of the house within minutes. Conversation was kept at a minimum.”
“I was only trying to speed matters along,” Harry murmured. He wanted Addie to recognize her feelings for Erich, but now he realized his comments had done more harm than good.
“Addie’s miserable,” Celeste said, sighing.
“What’s Erich thinking?” Harry asked. If she was privy to Addie’s thoughts, she could probably read Erich’s as well.
Celeste moved slightly and looked up at the full moon that shed golden light across the lush green landscape. “He’s confused. While Addie was at the concert, he painstakingly changed clothes and anxiously awaited her return. He was going to suggest she stay and watch television with him.”
This was going from bad to worse. Harry felt guilty. “Any way to fix this?” he asked.
“Addie likes hot cocoa.”
Harry wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.
“Erich does, too.”
“And?” He needed a bit of direction. More than a hint, because he didn’t have a clue what a hot drink had to do with the situation.
“You might plant the idea of Addie taking Erich a mug of hot cocoa.”
“I can do that?” he asked, and then realized that he could. “I can do that!” he repeated emphatically. He shouldn’t have forgotten. He had special powers he could use to help those in his classic-literature class.
Closing his eyes, Harry concentrated on placing the thought in Addie’s mind.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that Addie remained standing in the dining room, looking out the window at Erich’s house. “It didn’t work,” he said, feeling defeated.
“Don’t be so sure.”
“She hasn’t moved.”
Celeste smiled. “She’s weighing her options. We can only suggest, Harry. Humans have the gift of free will. They have to make the decision themselves once we prayerfully urge them in one direction or another.”
This wasn’t new information. Yet Harry needed the reminder. He tried again and watched as Addie released the drape she’d held to one side and moved away.
“Where’s she going?” Harry asked, anxious now.
Celeste glanced in his direction and smiled. “She’s headed toward the kitchen.”
Chapter Eleven
Addie released the drape and moved away from the dining room window that looked over the Simmonses’ property. Her nerves were on edge. When delivering Erich’s evening meal she’d been abrupt and short-tempered, eager to get in and out of the house with the least amount of fuss. It was on the tip of her tongue to make some derogatory comment about seeing Ashley, but she kept her nastiness to herself.
When she’d first arrived with his dinner, Erich had tried to engage her in conversation. She’d snapped at him about being extra-busy and hurried home.
Erich looked completely baffled by her behavior, and, frankly, she didn’t blame him. To this point, well, other than the first couple of meetings, they’d managed to be decent to each other. This evening she couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
As soon as she was home, Addie regretted the way she’d acted. For the last two hours she’d paced the house, angry with herself. Finally, she’d settled in front of the dining room window, wondering what she should do now, if anything. It might well be that her gruff behavior had destroyed the fragile peace between them.
Because she was upset, Addie hadn’t eaten dinner. She had no appetite, but felt she needed something in her stomach to stop the growling. Searching the kitchen cupboard, she found a tin of cocoa mix. For an elongated moment all she did was stare at it. Erich and her brother used to love drinking hot cocoa after one of their epic snowball fights whenever there was a rare Seattle snowstorm. It stung briefly to remember how the boys wouldn’t let her join in their fun. Cocoa would make a nice peace offering, she decided.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Addie made them each a cup, carefully heating the milk and stirring in the cocoa. Then she carried two steaming mugs across the yard. Precariously holding the mugs in one hand, she knocked on the front door with the other and then nervously let herself into the house.
Erich was up and about. Surprise showed in his eyes when he realized it was her. The instant he saw her, he scowled.
“What’s that? Poisoned cocoa?” he asked.
Despite herself, Addie smiled. “No, it’s a peace offering.”
“I’m here to apologize,” she clarified.
His gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What’s your problem? One minute you’re warm and the next minute I get the Arctic freeze.”
“I’ll be honest. I happened to look out the dining room window earlier today and saw you had … company, and I’m not talking about Carrie. That was Ashley, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t answer right away, and when he did his voice dropped several decibels. “Yeah, that was Ashley.”
“I can understand why you’re attracted to her. She’s … beautiful.”
“She’s heartless.”
Addie didn’t know what to make of that. “She seemed to stay quite a long time, and it seemed, you know, that the two of you might have decided to have another go at the relationship.” Now that she’d started talking, she couldn’t seem to stop. “Which is wonderful, if that’s what you wanted. I mean, she’s stunning and the two of you make quite a couple.”
The air went still and flat between them. Addie continued to hold both mugs of hot chocolate and was beginning to feel foolish.
After a minute, Erich said, “My guess is, you didn’t see Ashley leave.”
“No.” Mortified at her morbid curiosity, Addie had forced herself to move away from the window. When she’d looked again, Ashley’s vehicle was gone.
“If you’d been watching, you would’ve noticed that we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms. I told her before and I meant it: We’re finished. She’s out of my life.”
“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say beyond that.
A huge grin appeared, dominating his face. “I’m beginning to think you were jealous.”
Her denial was swift and adamant. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Au contraire.”
“No,” she insisted a second time. “I figured if the two of you were together again, Ashley wouldn’t want me around, so I decided to stay away.”
Grinning like the cat who’d found a bowl of cream, Erich slowly shook his head. “You were jealous.”
“Fine, think what you like. Now do you want the cocoa or not?”
He cocked his head to one side, narrowing his gaze. “If you’d decided to make yourself scarce, then why are you here now?”
She gestured with the mug. “Do you want this?”
“I want it.”
His smile relaxed the lines in his forehead. “Thank you, Addie. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am, too.” She probably shouldn’t be so willing to admit it.
“Would you like to hang for a while?” he asked.
She shrugged, struggling to hide her delight at his invitation. “I guess, sure.”
“Watching Jeopardy! wasn’t nearly as much fun without you.”
“That’s because your fancy degree guarantees you’ll win.”
“Nope,” he countered. “Truth is, you’re the only person my age who likes it as much as I do.”
Setting the mugs down on the side table, Addie made herself comfortable in the recliner next to Erich. A classic Christmas movie, The Bishop’s Wife, was playing.
“I remember seeing this as a kid and loving it,” Addie admitted, as she reached for her drink and took a sip, keeping her gaze focused on the television screen. She immediately recognized the ice-skating scene. What she didn’t tell Erich was that she used to close her eyes and try to imagine it was Erich who held her in his arms, guiding her across the ice. What fanciful dreams for a thirteen-year-old with her head in the clouds.
“It’s one of my favorite movies, too,” Erich said. “In fact, I’ve seen it two or three times. I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing it again.”
“You like The Bishop’s Wife?”
He looked a bit embarrassed. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m sort of an old-movie buff. I’m especially fond of the movies from the late 1930s and 1940s. Weird, huh?”
“No, not at all. I am, too.”
That opened the conversation to other classic movies they enjoyed, and Addie was surprised by how in tune their likes and dislikes were. It surprised and pleased her. She never would have guessed that their tastes in movies or anything else would be the same.
When the last scene played, Erich turned off the television. Addie couldn’t think of a reason to linger; they’d both finished the hot cocoa and it was getting late. She started to get up.
“How’s the reading for your class coming?” he asked, stopping her.
“Really good. I find it particularly interesting to hear the perspective of others in the class.”
“What’s your take on the novel?” he asked, and seemed genuinely interested.
“It’s about change.” Addie had gleaned that from the text from the first, but now she was more sure than ever. “It could be my thoughts are leaning that way because of where I am in my own life. I’m making a big change, and that’s the message I want and need to hear. Still, I think that’s what Dickens was writing about.”
“How so?”
“Look at Scrooge,” she said, becoming more animated as she spoke. “Isn’t he a great character? We haven’t gotten to the part near the end of the book where he purchases a Christmas goose and delivers the gifts to Bob Cratchit and his family, but everyone already knows that’s how the book ends. Scrooge went from that greedy, self-absorbed individual to a man who was giving and kind; it was an overnight transformation.” She realized that kind of dramatic change didn’t generally happen as quickly, but this was fiction and that was the way the story needed to be told.
Erich appeared to be weighing her comments carefully. “Do you believe this turnaround in Scrooge’s personality lasted more than a few days or weeks?”
Addie had the feeling Erich was really asking about her and the steps she’d taken to change her own life. “I’d like to think it did. Scrooge recognized that he was wasting his life. He had nothing but his gold. It took three ghosts to show him that all the stuff in the world was incapable of bringing him happiness.”
“Giving his money away did?”
“Scrooge didn’t give away his gold,” she corrected kindly, speaking off the cuff. “He gave of himself … and in doing so, he found what he’d wanted and needed all along.”
“And what was that?”
“His heart. Until then, Scrooge had completely ignored his need for others, for relationships, and because he did, he became bitter and mean.”
Erich’s look became thoughtful. “It sounds to me like you have a good grasp of the story and the symbolism.”
She relaxed back in the chair, more pleased than she wanted to admit by his compliment. “The thing is, I wonder if Dickens was thinking about symbolism when he wrote the story.”
She went on, “This is pure conjecture on my part, but it seems to me that Dickens’s purpose more than anything was to engage the reader in the tale. The symbolism was all part of the story, a natural by-product of a good storyteller.” In sharing her insights, Addie voiced her thoughts aloud for the first time.
“I can’t say what Dickens was thinking,” Erich said.
“I can’t, either,” she was quick to tell him. “Like I said, my thoughts are speculation.”
“Still,” Erich continued, “you make a good point.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t meant to prattle on as if she were an expert on the subject, because heaven knew she wasn’t. If anything, reading was her weak spot. But it would be interesting to hear what others in her class had to say about Scrooge.
They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, at ease with each other.
Erich glanced out the window. “Did you hear the weather reporter is forecasting snow over the next couple days?”
“Snow?” Addie hadn’t paid much attention to the television since she’d gotten back from class. The prospect of snow thrilled her. “No, I didn’t hear. I love it when it snows!”
“Don’t look so happy. You know what it’s like around Tacoma; everyone goes a little crazy.”
While snow in the Pacific Northwest wasn’t unusual, it wasn’t the norm, either.
“But it’s perfect for Christmas.”
“Bah, humbug,” Erich said, scowling again. “I may have just watched a classic holiday movie, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to get all celebratory.”
Oh yes, she’d forgotten, Erich wasn’t a fan of the holidays. “I can’t forget about Christmas, and I don’t know how you can, either.” Earlier Erich had said something negative, but she honestly couldn’t believe it was possible to hate Christmas. “I hope you didn’t actually mean you don’t like celebrating Christmas. That was all a joke, right?”
“I meant every word. People go way overboard, spending money on things they can’t afford, buying gifts for relatives they don’t like who will either regift or return them.”
Addie was aghast. “It seems to me you need a visit from three spirits yourself, Erich Simmons. Where’s your goodwill-toward-men attitude? Your Christmas spirit?”
He snorted. “I must have left it behind in the car after the crash.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” She got up from the chair. “It’s clear to me you’re going to need a bit of help getting into the true spirit of Christmas.”
He rolled his eyes. “Spare me, please.”
“I most certainly will not. You and I are stuck together for Christmas, and I refuse to let you put a damper on it.”
“Stuck together?” he asked, adding inflection to his voice. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then tell me, how did you mean it?”
“What I intended to say was …” She hesitated, unsure how best to explain herself. “Seeing that we’re going to be spending the holiday together, I’d like to make it a happy occasion.”