Mr. Miracle Page 8

  “Thank you.” Harry claimed a chair and, hoping to look casual and relaxed, crossed his legs. In his nervousness, his calf slipped against the fabric of his pants and his foot thumped against the floor.

  The assistant’s eyes caught his, and Harry grinned nervously.

  “Not to worry,” the woman assured him kindly. “Dr. Conceito’s bark is worse than his bite.”

  The college president was going to bark at him? Knowing this did nothing to settle his nerves. Earlier in the day, Harry had tried to find Celeste but couldn’t. The limitations of Earth could be downright frustrating. In heaven there was no such thing as distance or, for that matter, time. Everything flowed together. Nothing was ever lost, nor did he need to look for someone. All he had to do was think and they were there. So easy. So convenient.

  Earth was at a grave disadvantage, and sadly, humans had yet to realize it.

  A buzzer went off on Patricia’s desk. She looked back at Harry. “Dr. Conceito will see you now.”

  Harry leaped to his feet as if the chair came equipped with a huge spring that propelled him upward.

  “It’ll be fine,” Patricia whispered, as she escorted him to the door with the frosted-glass window.

  Harry stepped inside and the assistant closed the door behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the clicking sound, then turned his attention to the college president. “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Conceito said, and motioned toward the chair in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”

  Obediently, Harry sat. Perhaps it was better that Celeste not know about this meeting. He’d already gotten on the negative side of the man by walking on the grass, getting caught red-handed. The president’s reaction had made it seem that Harry had taken a machete to bushes and desecrated the landscape of the entire campus.

  Dr. Conceito leaned forward in his high-backed desk chair, pinning Harry with his gaze. “I got a report about you from Officer Brady Whitall.”

  Officer?

  “I have to assume this is in regards to Elaina Gomez?” Harry asked, presuming innocence.

  “Yes,” the college president confirmed. “In case you weren’t aware, it’s strictly against school policy for an employee to leave their position while the kitchen is still open.”

  “I understand,” Harry said. Elaina had explained that she’d managed to finish cleaning up early and her supervisor had dismissed her for the night. Because she had extra time before the bus arrived, she’d come to listen to the lecture in Harry’s class. “But—”

  “There are no buts at this school,” Dr. Conceito said, interrupting Harry. “The rules are the rules, and bending them even the slightest amount is unacceptable.”

  “I understand, however—”

  “Furthermore, I am told this woman was listening in on your lecture.”

  If the school president was looking for evidence to take away Elaina’s job, Harry was determined not to give it to him. “That I wouldn’t know.”

  “Did you or did you not see her outside the classroom?” he pressed.

  “I did, but only after the class was dismissed.”

  “Not before?”

  “No.” Harry could say that in all honesty.

  Dr. Conceito thumped his fingers against the desktop as if weighing his options. He sighed and then said, “I was also informed that you gave Ms. Gomez a copy of the Dickens novel A Christmas Carol, which I understand the class is currently reading.”

  “Yes—”

  “You do realize the book is school property.” This was more statement than question.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Mr. Mills,” Dr. Conceito said, impatiently interrupting him a second time. “What did I just tell you about buts?”

  Harry looked down in an effort to avoid eye contact. “There are no buts at this school.”

  “Correct. Now, would you like to rephrase what you were about to say?”

  Harry took a couple moments to collect his thoughts. “I wanted you to know that I stopped off at the bookstore to personally pay for the copy I gave Ms. Gomez.”

  “That’s unnecessary,” Dr. Conceito insisted, his face tightening.

  Harry was undeterred. “It’s my feeling we should encourage reading at all ages and economic levels.”

  “I agree,” the school president said. “Tell me, did the bookstore accept payment?”

  “No.”

  The grin on Dr. Conceito’s face revealed no real amusement. “Did they give you a reason they wouldn’t take your money?”

  Harry didn’t know where this conversation was going. “No, they didn’t.”

  The smile disappeared. “Then let me keep you abreast of the results of your actions.”

  Harry leaned back and tried to appear to be relaxed. “Yes, please do.”

  Dr. Conceito exhaled sharply. “First off, you should know that I was required to visit Ms. Gomez and ask for the return of the novel.”

  Harry’s shoulders sank, picturing the disappointment the young mother must have felt, having to return the book she’d accepted with such appreciation and excitement.

  “I was willing to pay for the book,” Harry reminded the president.

  “That is unacceptable,” Dr. Conceito argued. He stood and leaned toward Harry, planting both hands on the desk. “In case you are unaware, the Dickens novel was part of a government grant. To freely hand it out indiscriminately would be in violation of the terms and conditions of the grant.”

  “Ah …” Harry was fairly certain the government that had generously supplied the grant would be more than happy to see that Elaina Gomez receive the novel. Arguing, however, would do him no good.

  “I hope you understand that by bending the rules, you have, within a few short days, put our entire community college in serious jeopardy of receiving future funding.”

  Harry clenched his teeth to keep from arguing. How ridiculous; Dr. Conceito was overreacting. What a small-minded man. Celeste had warned him, and without even trying, Harry had already waded waist-deep in trouble.

  “I deeply regret causing any problems,” Harry said, as contritely as he could manage. The pompous so-and-so. How he wished he could give this man what he so richly deserved. It took every shred of control Harry possessed to sit and do nothing. It hit him then: So this was what anger felt like. He was experiencing anger for the first time. Anger and frustration. The emotions were so powerful they nearly overwhelmed him.

  Dr. Conceito continued. “I want to be sure nothing like this will ever happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Harry managed to assure him.

  “Good.” He dismissed Harry with a wave of his hand. That smile that was no smile was back in place. “And you’ll be at the choral performance this evening.”

  “I’ll be there,” Harry murmured, more than eager to leave the president’s office before he said or did something to get himself dismissed entirely.

  He was halfway to the door when Dr. Conceito stopped him. “I have my eye on you, Mills. You’re a troublemaker, and if this sort of behavior continues, you won’t last long on this campus.”

  Harry clenched his fists. “I understand.”

  Dr. Conceito’s assistant sent him a sympathetic look as he left the office. He didn’t have a destination in mind, other than to escape. Passing the Hub, he headed toward his classroom and was stopped by a familiar voice.

  “Harry.”

  Celeste stood outside the cafeteria area, sipping a hot drink from one of the coffee bar’s cups. She wore a bright turquoise scarf, which was wrapped multiple times around her neck over a red coat.

  Harry paused.

  “What did I tell you?” she asked softly, then took a sip. Steam rose from her cup as she met his gaze above the rim.

  “Stay away from Dr. Conceito. But I blew it, and now Dr. Conceito claims he’s got his eye on me.”

  “He does,” Celeste agreed, “but that’s inevitable.”

  “It is?”

 
“The man has his demons, Harry, and your light clashes with his darkness.”

  What she said made sense. “He wants to get rid of me.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got you covered.”

  “We?”

  Celeste grinned. “You don’t honestly believe God would send you on your first earthly assignment without backup, do you?”

  Harry grinned. He should have realized he was being looked after. “I was angry.” The power of the emotion surprised him.

  “Eventually you’ll learn to deal with these human feelings. It takes time,” Celeste told him. “Emotions are what makes becoming friends with Michelle Heath so dangerous.”

  “How’s that?”

  The barista’s gaze showed sympathy. “You can’t become romantically involved with her, Harry. She’s a beautiful woman and she’s taken a liking to you.”

  He understood far too well; he’d taken a liking to the French teacher, too. “I fully intend to avoid her.”

  “What about the concert?” Celeste asked.

  “When the time comes, I’ll find a way to sit elsewhere.” Harry wasn’t worried. It shouldn’t be difficult.

  “How are matters with Addie Folsom progressing?” Celeste asked next.

  Ah yes, his assignment. “She was in class on Wednesday but seemed distracted.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Not completely,” he was forced to admit. “Erich fell, you know, and needed her help.”

  “And?”

  “Addie willingly came to his aid.” The young woman had made several strides in the right direction, and Harry was proud of her. “I’m still not sure what she is meant to learn from him, but she is evolving, conducting herself more maturely—and with more generosity—and that can’t be bad.”

  “What happened after she helped him?”

  This was the best part. “They started talking and realized their differences, despite everything, weren’t all that great. It’s a start. I think Erich is seeing her in an entirely different light.”

  “And Addie? Has her opinion of Erich changed, too?”

  Harry grinned and nodded. “I believe it has.”

  Celeste looked pleased. “This is excellent news. Humans tend to build walls when they should be opening doors.”

  Harry regarded his mentor in a fresh light. “That sounded almost poetic.”

  “Thank you.” She sipped her drink and then looked him square in the eye. “Now for the big question. Is Addie ready?”

  Harry’s thoughts felt as though they were caught up in a tornado, whirling around inside his head. Ready for what? He decided to wing it, no pun intended. “I think so.”

  “Good, because it won’t be long now before Ashley arrives.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was a couple days after her late-night summons for help, and Addie woke with her mind full of Erich. She pushed thoughts of him from her head and reminded herself that she hadn’t finished reading the next fifty pages of A Christmas Carol.

  Since helping Erich off the floor, their relationship had made a dramatic shift. Whereas before she was constantly on guard and tense around him, since his fall they’d found reasons to work together and even joke with each other. Never in all her life had Addie expected to laugh with Erich Simmons instead of at him or vice versa. This was completely unfamiliar territory. Even now she wasn’t entirely sure she could or should trust him. He was everything she’d spent the last six years trying not to be. But then, look where that had gotten her. Nowhere, to be precise.

  For breakfast, Addie blended fruit and protein powder along with milk and ice cubes into a frothy mixture that would be easy for Erich to drink without the use of his hands. This was the second morning she had mixed up the drink. She hoped the extra protein would give him badly needed strength. He’d seemed to enjoy it the day before, weakened as he was from all his efforts to get up off the floor.

  Inhaling a calming breath, she put on her coat and carried the glass over to his house, letting herself in after a polite knock.

  “Come in,” he called, just as she came through the door.

  As she expected, he’d spent the night in the recliner and was awake.

  “Morning,” she said, with a bit of uncertainty, holding on to the glass with both hands. Her heartbeat felt like a pogo stick pounding against her chest.

  The evening before, they’d watched Jeopardy! together and then a movie. It’d been almost midnight before she’d gone to bed, and here she was again first thing in the morning. Given how incapacitated he was and that it was her job to care for him, that seemed appropriate. But she was unsure he would welcome her company so soon, so she waited a few seconds before moving into the living room.

  “Morning,” he said, and avoided eye contact.

  That said a great deal. He, too, was at odds over all the time they’d spent together in the last couple days. She was fairly certain he was as uncomfortable about this shift in their relationship as she was.

  “I made your breakfast,” she said, stating the obvious, with the glass in her hand.

  “I appreciate it.”

  She brought it over and set it down on the side table with a straw, and then stepped back awkwardly.

  She waited, unsure what to do or say next, if anything.

  The silence felt both heavy and bleak.

  “Did you sleep well?” she asked, hoping to make polite conversation.

  He glanced up and nodded. “Better than the night before. How about you?”

  “Okay.” Actually, she’d had a difficult time falling asleep, and when she did, her dreams had been filled with nightmares. She’d even dreamed of that time from her childhood when Erich handed her a dead worm and insisted she eat it if she wanted access to the fort he’d built with Jerry and Karl.

  Silence again.

  “Can I get you anything more?” she asked, eager now to be on her way.

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” There didn’t seem to be anything else to say. Clearly, they were both uncomfortable with each other now, uncertain and hesitant. Although they’d lived next door to each other nearly all their lives, she realized that basically they were still little more than strangers.

  His phone buzzed, indicating he had received a text. He read it and then glanced up at Addie. “Do you remember Carrie Hoffert?”

  “Of course.” They’d attended high school together. Carrie had been a homecoming princess and the leader of cheer squad.

  “She’s Carrie Welsh now. She heard about the car crash and wants to stop by.”

  Earlier, Erich had made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for visitors. “How do you feel about that?”

  He shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Carrie and I attended the University of Washington at the same time. Her husband and I work together at Boeing.”

  In other words, Carrie probably knew Ashley. That might prove interesting.

  After chatting a few minutes more, Addie returned to the house and settled down to finish her reading assignment. To her surprise, the pages of Dickens’s Christmas tale went rather quickly. It wasn’t as if Addie didn’t know what to expect in the story line; it was probably the most well known and loved of Dickens’s novels. But even knowing the plot, she still found herself caught up in the characters and turning pages as eagerly as she would have if she hadn’t known what would happen next. She looked forward to the classroom discussion and to hearing the reactions of her fellow classmates, especially Danny. He seemed to have a unique view of life in general.

  The sound of a car door closing alerted Addie to a visitor. This was about the time the visiting nurse usually arrived, but it could be Carrie, too. Standing, Addie looked out the dining room window, which offered her the best view of the Simmonses’ house.

  Only it wasn’t the visiting nurse, and it wasn’t Carrie, either. The tall, thin, fashionably dressed woman in skinny jeans could only be the beautiful Ashley. She walked up the path to the front door as if she owned the st
reet. She paused only long enough to flip her long, blond, perfectly styled hair off one shoulder before she rang the doorbell.

  Unable to look away, Addie watched as Ashley let herself into the house. Addie wasn’t sure how long she remained at the window. Her chest started to hurt, and after a moment she realized she’d been holding her breath.

  Apparently, Erich and Ashley were enjoying a lengthy conversation, because Ashley stayed inside the house for a good long while. Addie checked her watch and could have sworn far more than only ten minutes had passed. It felt more like an hour. This was crazy. What did she care if Erich reunited with his ex?

  Forcing herself away from the window, she returned to the kitchen and placed dirty dishes in the dishwasher. When she finished, she hurried back to the dining room window. Ashley’s car was still there.

  For reasons Addie didn’t want to examine, she was angry, pacing the house, walking aimlessly from room to room. By the sheer force of her will she refused to look out the window again.

  Thirty minutes passed, and when she could stand it no longer, Addie looked again. The other woman’s car was gone. While she stood at the window, another vehicle pulled in to the same space so recently vacated.

  It wasn’t the nurse then, either, unless Carrie Hoffert Welsh had taken up a medical profession. She didn’t look like any nurse Addie had ever seen, dressed in a red hooded coat. It seemed Erich had an entire parade of women at his beck and call.

  Addie watched as Carrie stood on the front porch with a basket draped over her arm. She suspected Little Red Riding Hood had lovingly prepared chicken soup for poor, disabled Erich.

  Addie pulled herself up short. Oh crap, she sounded as though she was jealous. Of Ashley and Carrie? Unbelievable! She refused to even consider such a thing.

  Determined to push aside her less-than-kind thoughts, Addie returned to her book, although her thoughts wandered away from the page. More than once she had to force herself to refocus.

  About fifteen minutes later her doorbell rang. She was surprised to find Carrie on the other side of the door.