Mrs. Miracle Page 15

  “Well,” Harriett said with a belabored sigh, “I have a number of concerns on my mind that I’ve made a matter of prayer.”

  “You mean about the holidays?”

  “Some,” Harriett answered, and stirred sugar into her tea. This issue with Ruth Darling and the new man at church was a delicate one, and she’d decided to test the waters with her niece. “You realize I’m playing the piano for the Christmas program.”

  “Yes, it’s very generous of you.”

  “It is, but then I don’t see that I had much choice,” Harriett muttered, pinching her lips closed. “No one else seemed willing to step forward. It was the least I could do. No one seems to appreciate that if it wasn’t for me, the program would have been canceled this year.”

  “You?”

  “Why, yes,” Harriett said, holding Jayne’s gaze. “I was the only one of the women in the Martha and Mary Circle with the gumption to come up with someone who could take over the project. While it’s true, I suggested you as the leader, a natural choice, you being related to me and all. You’ve got your mother’s and my blood in your veins…it’s only natural for you to step in wherever you’re needed.”

  “Reba Maxwell took over as the pageant director.”

  “I know that,” Harriett snapped, “but you were the one who convinced her to do so.”

  “But, if you’re concerned about the Christmas program…”

  “It isn’t the pageant that concerns me.”

  “It isn’t?”

  Harriett took a tentative sip of her tea, eyeing her niece above the rim of the china cup. “I have a…delicate…prayer concern I want to share with you,” she said, lowering her voice. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted the children to overhear. “One that’s been burdening my heart for several weeks now.”

  “Of course, Aunt Harriett. Who is it you’d like me to pray for?”

  “It has to do with…one of the women at the church.” Harriett averted her gaze. “You might know her. Ruth Darling.”

  “Mrs. Darling…oh, of course.” Jayne perked up instantly and sounded positively delighted for the opportunity to pray for the older woman. “I know Mrs. Darling. She’s such a dear heart. A month or so after I brought Suzie home from the hospital, Mrs. Darling spent an entire afternoon watching the baby so I could rest. It meant the world to have those few hours to myself. She’s always been so kind and generous. She isn’t ill, is she?”

  To hear her niece, the woman was a candidate for sainthood. “As far as I can tell, Ruth’s in the best of health.”

  “Is everything all right with her husband? I think Fred is one of the nicest men I know.”

  This was the avenue that Harriett had been waiting to open. “I fear there are problems brewing with Fred and Ruth,” she said. “It’s for the two of them that I’m seeking prayers.”

  “Oh dear, what’s the problem?”

  “I’m afraid it’s Ruth,” Harriett said, hoping her words would show her niece exactly the kind of woman Ruth was. She squared her shoulders at the pure distastefulness of her disclosure. “Ruth has a roving eye.”

  “A roving eye?” Jayne repeated as if it were a medical condition. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you met Mr. Fawcett yet? He’s a widower who recently moved to Seattle and started attending church. He’s been visiting for several months now. Tall, good-looking man.”

  “I’m sorry, Aunt Harriett, I can’t place him.”

  “He sits on the right-hand side of the church, about halfway up in the middle of the pew.” One would think her niece would notice such a strikingly handsome man. “Ruth’s eyes have been roving in his direction, if you catch my drift.” That was all she would say. Jayne would soon see for herself that Harriett had cause to be worried for her friend.

  Jayne frowned. “Are you saying that Mrs. Darling is romantically interested in Mr. Fawcett?”

  Harriett stiffened her spine. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m here to tell you that this woman you regard so highly is flirting with sin. I can see it plain as day. Just watch her, Jayne, and you’ll know exactly what I mean.”

  “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Aunt Harriett.”

  It didn’t help that her own flesh and blood sided with the other woman. “I know what I see, and Ruth Darling has her eye on Lyle Fawcett. Trouble’s brewing. Mark my words, Jayne. Mark my words.”

  “Aunt Harriett—”

  “The only reason I’m sharing this deep spiritual burden God has placed on my heart,” she continued, cutting Jayne off, “is so that you’ll take it upon yourself to pray for the dear, weak woman.”

  “You want me to pray about Mrs. Darling’s roving eye.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Have you shared this prayer request with anyone else?”

  Harriett wasn’t sure she liked her niece’s tone of voice, but she gave her the benefit of the doubt. “A few carefully selected…friends.”

  “Aunt Harriett!”

  “You will pray, won’t you?” Harriett set the teacup in the saucer, glad now that she’d said her piece.

  “Oh yes,” Jayne murmured, “and while I’m at it, I’ll say a few prayers for you!”

  Chapter 21

  To forgive is to set the prisoner free and then discover the prisoner was you.

  —Mrs. Miracle

  “Your Aunt Gerty and Uncle Bill arrive late on the twenty-third,” Joan Maxwell said, stabbing a large pink shrimp atop a seafood Caesar salad. “Then they’re leaving the morning of the twenty-sixth for Hawaii. I can’t tell you how excited those two are. To hear your aunt talk, one would think they were newlyweds. Gerty says this is the honeymoon trip World War Two cheated them out of.” Reba’s mother’s delight overflowed at the prospect of her aunt and uncle’s arrival.

  “It’ll be good to see them again,” Reba said. Her aunt and uncle were favorites of hers. They lived in the Midwest and now because of her uncle’s poor eyesight didn’t travel much. It had been three years or longer since Reba had last visited with them.

  “Aunt Gerty is anxious to see you.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing her, too.” Her aunt had always made her feel special. It was her godmother who’d stood staunchly by Reba’s decision not to marry John, at the same time recognizing her hurt and pain. Her reaction had been a blessed contrast to those of the other members of her family. Her parents had offered platitudes that it was all for the best. The best for whom? Reba had wanted to know. For her? It hadn’t felt that way, not then.

  She could remember her aunt saying how very sorry she was, when everyone else seemed to want to celebrate, wedding or no wedding. The food had been ordered, they pointed out, the cake baked, the hall rented, so why not get together? It had been her aunt who had wrapped her arms around her and comforted her. Her aunt who’d taken into consideration her anguish and humiliation. Aunt Gerty had helped her escape it all by finding her that cabin at the beach.

  “You’ll be there for dinner Christmas Eve, won’t you?” her mother asked, her gaze sobering as she studied Reba.

  So this was the reason for the unexpected invitation to dinner out, Reba reflected. It all boiled down to this one question. One more chance to pull the rug out from under her.

  Reba waited for the words to filter through her mind and emerge as a carefully measured response. Her mother already knew the answer: she’d been told perhaps a dozen times that Christmas Eve dinner was impossible. She’d even been given a reason that couldn’t be argued with.

  But apparently she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Reba sighed, watching her mother as she waited for an answer. “Mom, I’ve told you and told you—I can’t be there Christmas Eve.”

  “But I thought. I hoped—”

  “I’m responsible for the church program, remember?”

  “Yes, but I hoped that you might see your way clear to join us. It’s just that Aunt Gerty and Uncle Bill—”

  “There simply won’t be time. There’s too much to do
. It’s going to be hectic pulling everything together.”

  “You’re sure you can’t arrange something? This is your father’s oldest brother, and he’s getting on in years. Who knows if we’ll get an opportunity to spend the holidays with them again?” The pleading quality was back in her mother’s voice, the soft, almost whiny tone she used whenever Vicki was involved. Reba didn’t doubt for a moment that her sister had something to do with this. It was all too convenient, this dinner too contrived.

  “You’ve known for weeks that I can’t make the dinner. Why are you bringing it up now?”

  Joan shredded her dinner roll into tiny bits. One would think she was about to feed a flock of pigeons.

  “Mother?”

  “It’s nothing. I’m sure everything will work out for the best, don’t worry. Okay?”

  Reba’s agitation rose. “For whatever reason, this has to do with Vicki, doesn’t it?” Her mother couldn’t meet her eyes, a sure indication that something was amiss, which almost certainly meant the discussion ultimately involved her older sister.

  “Just tell me.” Reba wasn’t up to playing guessing games.

  Joan made a weak, frustrated motion with her hands, as if to say this was beyond her control. “You said to let Vicki choose which day she’d come and you’d take the other.” Suddenly she pushed aside her salad plate as if the sight of food disgusted her. “Oh, dear, this isn’t going to work at all.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Vicki and Doug can’t come for Christmas Eve, either. Doug’s family is having a large gathering with his grandmother. She’s almost eighty and in poor health, and Vicki doesn’t seem to think she’ll last much longer.”

  “Oh great, just great,” Reba muttered. She bent over backward to accommodate everyone but herself, and as always happened, everything blew up in her face.

  “Vicki, Doug, and Ellen are planning on spending Christmas Day with us.”

  Reba should have seen it coming. In other words, unless she changed her plans she wouldn’t be able to spend time with her aunt and uncle. As it was, their stay in Seattle would be brief. Reba had assumed Vicki would opt to attend the family dinner her mother had planned, freeing her to be there Christmas Day.

  “I see,” she murmured.

  “Vicki doesn’t really have a choice.” Once again her mother rushed to take her sister’s side. “It’s Doug’s grandmother.”

  “Of course she has a choice, the same choice as me.” The words echoed with her frustration.

  “We could have an early dinner and then all come to the church program,” Joan suggested.

  Reba could see that her mother desperately wanted to correct matters as best she could, but it was impossible.

  “It won’t work,” Reba insisted. “There won’t be time. I’ll have my hands full seeing to everything. I can’t very well take time off to run to your house for dinner and leave my volunteers. The program’s at seven.”

  “Afterward, then,” her mother offered.

  “I won’t get out of here any time before nine-thirty. That’s a bit late for dinner.” She recalled that her aunt and uncle were early risers and were usually ready for bed by nine or ten. She couldn’t very well drop in and expect to visit then.

  “Oh, dear,” Joan mumbled.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Reba said stiffly, “I’ll call Aunt Gerty and Uncle Bill on Christmas Day.” At least she’d get a chance to talk to her favorite relatives over the phone.

  “But that’s ridiculous! They’re your godparents, surely you should put aside this silliness with your sister and—”

  Reba’s jaw tightened. “Silliness? You call what Vicki did silliness?”

  “No,” her mother snapped, “that’s what I call your behavior ever since. How many times does Vicki have to tell you she’s sorry? How many times does she have to plead with you to forgive her?”

  Reba deliberately pulled the white linen napkin from her lap and slammed it against the table. “Why is it you always take Vicki’s side? I’m sick of it. Work it out with her, she’s far more reasonable than I am. I’m the silly one, remember? Vicki’s always been your little darling, the one who could do no wrong. The perfect daughter.”

  “I don’t take her side. I’ve tried to stay out of this from the first, but you make it impossible.”

  Their voices were raised and angry. Reba was the first to notice how much attention they’d attracted. This dinner was supposed to have been fun for them both. A chance to get away, shop together, and chat. Reba had agreed with a certain amount of reluctance, fearing her mother would use the time as an excuse to wave her relationship with Vicki in her face. Until now the evening had been enjoyable, but she should have known better than to lower her guard.

  “Tell me, Mother, what did you think when I told you I couldn’t make it to dinner Christmas Eve?”

  “You never said any such thing. You told me you were taking over the church program. How was I supposed to know that meant you wouldn’t be able to make dinner?”

  “It should have been obvious!” Reba argued.

  “You might have explained.”

  “I think it’s time I left,” Reba said tightly, and reached for her purse.

  “Don’t run away,” Joan pleaded, her voice much lower.

  “Run away?” Reba challenged. “What makes you think I’m doing that?”

  “You’ve been doing it for years.”

  “Mother, please, don’t start on me.”

  “I can’t help it,” she cried. “You’ve been running away from your sister for four years. It’s past time the two of you sat down and settled this.”

  “Why should I talk to a woman with the morals of an alley cat?”

  “Reba!”

  “There you go defending her again.” She removed a ten-dollar bill from her wallet and set it on the table next to her half-eaten meal. “I love you, Mom, but I think it’d be better if we didn’t have these little get-togethers any longer. We get along better when we don’t see so much of each other.” Having said that, she whirled around and quickly wove her way through the dining room and out of the restaurant.

  By the time she arrived home, Reba was trembling. She sat in her car in the driveway, her hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel as she battled to keep her head above water in the flash flood of emotions that followed.

  It sounded juvenile to claim her mother loved her sister best, but that was the way Reba felt. All her life she’d been forced to accommodate Vicki. Her sister’s plans had always taken priority. And now, once more because of Vicki, she was about to be swindled—this time out of a visit with her favorite aunt and uncle.

  Perhaps this was her mother’s less-than-subtle attempt to trick her into mending fences with her sister; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d tried to manipulate events. After four long years, she still refused to accept that Reba wanted nothing more to do with her sister.

  She felt lost, alone. Friendless. The temptation to talk to Seth was strong, even though she hated to subject him to the emotional baggage she carried around with her; he deserved a woman whose life was not complicated with family problems. Still…

  Before she could change her mind, she backed the car out of her driveway and drove to Seth’s house. She’d told him that he wouldn’t be hearing from her that evening, and why, but she needed to see him, needed the comfort of his reassurances, of his arms.

  The woman she assumed was his mother-in-law answered the door and smiled a warm greeting. “Ah…is Seth available?” Reba asked.

  Sharon ushered her inside. “You must be Reba.”

  Feeling self-conscious, Reba nodded. “Seth isn’t expecting me….”

  “He’ll be glad for the break. He’s been busy inside his study all evening. I’ll get him for you.”

  “Hi, Reba.” Judd raced into the living room at full speed.

  “Hi, Reba,” Jason cried, following on the wave of excitement. “Our grandma and grandpa are visiting.�
��

  “I told Grandma all about you and how I drew your picture and that you might be our new mom, and—”

  “Judd!” Seth’s stern voice cut into his son’s enthusiastic tirade, but his gaze softened as it met hers. “Hello, Reba.”

  “Seth.” Her eyes pleaded with him, for what she wasn’t sure. Support, she suspected. Comfort.

  He walked across the room and took her hands, gripping them firmly with his own. “What’s happened?”

  The gentle concern in his voice produced tears. They filled her eyes and threatened to slip down her cheeks.

  “Mom,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Sharon, “would you be kind enough to bring us some coffee in the den?”

  “Right away. Come on, kids, you can help me make up the tray.”

  Judd and Jason willingly followed their grandmother.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” Reba whispered. She was sorry now that she’d come, sorry to be involving Seth in her problems. She was a big girl, and this wasn’t the first time her plans had clashed with those of her sister. Nor was it uncommon for her mother to take her sister’s side.

  He led her into the study and sat her down on the high-backed leather chair. Sitting on the ottoman directly in front of her, he reached forward and tenderly brushed the short curls away from her temple. His gentle touch sent shivers of awareness shooting down her spine.

  “I thought you were having dinner with your mother.”

  “I did, but we got into a terrible argument.” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from spilling out all the sorry details.

  Seth leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, scooting her forward enough to bring her into his arms.

  “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he countered.

  She didn’t want him to know that part of that was due to the thrill of being in his arms. They’d known each other such a short while, and they hadn’t been able to see much of each other, what with his work schedule and hers, visiting relatives, the church Christmas program, and the busyness of the season. Still, they talked every day, often two and three times….