Miracle of Love

by Victoria Chancellor

  Life could not be much better than this, she thought as she rocked slowly. Her baby was home, his heart healed; she had a warm, secure place to live; she was with a wonderful man who seemed to truly care for her and her child.

  If only he would believe that she was from the past. If only he had faith in miracles. And if only she'd be allowed to stay in this wonderful time.

  She opened her eyes when Colin stopped nursing so strongly, ready to put him back to bed so she could get a little rest. Grant's mother was coming in the morning and Erina had no idea what the woman would say or do. She'd been surprised yesterday, to be sure, but she'd been polite after Grant had told her about Colin. Erina felt a bit sorry for the lady, because Colin wasn't really her grandchild. Even if Erina wished it were so with all her heart.

  Colin looked around the room, no longer interested in her breast. "What can you see, my little one?" Erina whispered. "Do you like your new room? Grant bought you some fine furniture, I'll have you know."

  "He'll need his own room soon."

  Erina jumped, clutching Colin against her breast. Her heartbeat leaped when she saw Grant, standing in the doorway with those loose pants, barely tied low beneath his waist, his arms crossed over his wide, muscled chest. She swallowed in response to the surprise.

  "You startled me," she said softly.

  "I'm sorry. I just wanted to watch you nurse Colin. The sight is beautiful."

  "You . . . you shouldn't have gotten up."

  "I told you I was a light sleeper. I heard Colin whimper."

  "I tried to keep him quiet."

  "I don't mind," Grant said, pushing away from the door and walking toward the rocking chair. "Here, let me take him while you . . . well, I suppose you need to pull your gown together. Not that I mind the view."

  She blushed from her forehead to her breasts. How could Grant be so nice, then so outrageous? She didn't know whether she should hug him or scold him.

  He reached down and lifted Colin in those big hands--which brushed against her breast and caused a flurry of tingles through her body. Her eyes met his hooded gaze. He smiled slowly. "Sorry," he said, but his expression claimed just the opposite.

  She jerked her gown together and clamped her lips shut. She wouldn't say a thing because any words that came out of her mouth right now would be nonsensical babble.

  Grant strolled across the room with Colin against his chest, talking in hushed tones.

  "So you like your new room, hmm? I thought you'd like Mickey. He was always my favorite too. When you get older, we'll take you to Disneyworld. Your mother and I will have a great time and we'll tell you all about the trip later, because you won't remember. But that's okay, because we'll go back."

  Erina smiled at the two of them and Grant's silly talk to the baby. She had no idea what the Disneyworld place might be, but suddenly she wanted to see it. She wanted to know who Mickey was and why Grant liked him as a child. She wanted to have a life that included Grant holding Colin, treating him like a real son.

  She blinked away tears of happiness and yearning as Grant paced the floor. Within minutes, Colin fell asleep, nestled snugly against Grant's wide, warm chest. Erina felt a twinge of envy; she wished she had the right to snuggle against Grant and fall asleep in his arms.

  He lay the baby back in the crib and covered him with the quilt. Grant was smiling as he tiptoed away from the bed.

  "He's sound asleep," Grant whispered. Reaching down, he pulled Erina from the rocking chair. "Now it's your turn."

  "You're wonderful with him."

  "I'm not sure why. I've never been around babies much."

  "I think it's a natural talent."

  "How about my talent with women? You in particular. What do you think of that?"

  "I think you're used to gettin' what you want," she said as he pulled her closer. "And I think you have some real natural ability too."

  "Oh? What kind of ability?" he asked playfully, holding her loosely in his arms. His hands rubbed up and down her back.

  She closed her eyes and just enjoyed his touch. This was wrong; she knew she shouldn't be in a bedroom with a man, especially all alone, at night, with someone like Grant. He could tempt a saint. He'd certainly tempted her so she struggled to be virtuous.

  His lips brushed against her forehead as she leaned closer to him. If they truly were married, he'd have the right to be in her bedroom. To hold her, kiss her. To make love to her. The act itself wouldn't be like before; Grant was tender and thoughtful, not given to violence or drunkenness. He would provide for her and Colin, and they would be a family. She'd have everything she ever wanted.

  She lay her cheek against his naked skin and breathed in his scent. Beneath her hand, which had crept up to his chest of its own accord, she felt his strong heartbeat and the crisp hair of his chest. He was a large, strong man, but not one that would use that strength against her. She and Colin would be safe in Grant's care.

  But to give in to her own desires would be wrong. Grant thought that he wanted to marry her because he desired her, and also because he needed to keep Colin safe. That wasn't the reason Grant should marry. He should find someone he loved, because Erina knew that now people married for love, not fortunes. He didn't need the money of a dowry, if a thing even existed any more. He needed a home, a wife who loved him, children that he could love in return.

  She could not be that woman. She didn't even know if she'd stay in this time. What if they married and then she went back to her own time? Grant would be tied by holy bonds, but would have no wife, no child. He would need to petition the church for an annulment to marry again. And that didn't even consider the legal problems her disappearance might cause.

  He probably hadn't considered these problems because he was thinking of the present, and besides, he didn't believe that she was from the past. If only he could believe . . .

  "Marry me, Erina," he whispered against her hair. "Then we can be together like this always. You wouldn't be violating your principles. And I know you want me."

  She tried to shake her head, but she was too close to his chest. She only managed to rub against his warm skin. "I can't," she whispered so softly she wondered if he could hear her.

  "Why?"

  "Because you don't believe I could be sent back to my own time. Because you want to marry me out of sense of duty and kindness, and I don't want to bind you in marriage to save us from Mrs. Henshaw and the INS."

  "Does it matter so much why I want to marry you, as long as it's right? I know you want to be with me too. I can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way your heart beats fast when I hold you."

  She didn't know how to reply. She didn't know at this moment if the reasons mattered. "But what if I do go back in time?"

  "What if you don't?"

  She had no answer to that. "I need to think about what you're askin'. In my heart, I know you'd be sacrificin' yourself for me and Colin, and that's not right."

  "If holding you and Colin close to my heart is a sacrifice, it's one that I'm more than willing to make."

  "Oh, Grant." She closed her eyes again and let him hold her. How would it feel to lie on the bed beside him, warm and secure? If they married, she could be with him every night. Every night . . .

  "I can't," she said, pushing away from him with a hand against his chest. "I need to think, and that's impossible with you so close."

  He drew in a deep breath. When he stood straighter, the loose pants fell even lower below his waist. She looked away quickly before she learned more about a man's body than she was ready to see.

  He tightened the string of his pants so they didn't threaten to fall off his body. "I'll give you all the time I can," he said, "but I want you to know that I've never asked a woman to marry me before. This isn't just a good deed. I really want you, Erina. I know I shouldn't. I know you're too young for me, but I can't help how I feel."

  "But what if I must return to my own time?"

  "You don't have to go anywhere."

/>   "If I'm called back--"

  "Just say that you can't go. No one will come between us."

  "No person, but . . . but the Holy Mother may want me to return to my own time."

  "Erina, that's a fantasy."

  "No, it's not."

  "Let's not discuss it. Just think about what I said, okay?"

  She nodded.

  He dropped his hands and stepped back toward the doorway. "I could lie beside you in the bed," he offered, smiling so that his dimple showed.

  She smiled back, unable to resist his humor. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

  "I think it would be a very good idea," he said softly, raising his eyebrow.

  She placed a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. "Good night, Grant."

  "Good night, Erina."

  She checked on Colin once more, then curled up in her bed. If only she could think of a way to marry Grant without feeling as though she'd taken advantage of him. If only she believed he was truly happy with the bargain.

  He'd asked her to think about his offer. How could she not?

  #

  At the last moment, Grant realized that Colin had no clothes. How had that happened? Grant had thought of everything--furniture, mattress, sheets, a soft Mickey Mouse--but no clothes. He felt like slapping himself in the forehead. Instead, he grabbed the keys and ran for the door.

  "If Mother comes before I get back, just entertain her. Maybe Colin will cooperate and play in his crib."

  "Entertain her! How would I be doin' that?"

  "I don't know. Make her some tea." With that, he dashed out the door.

  He wasn't sure where to buy baby clothes. He should have checked the Yellow Pages, he supposed, but all he could think of was that his mother was going to believe his baby had no clothes. That no one had thought enough of Colin to buy him a decent outfit.

  There was a maternity shop in a strip shopping center not too far away. They might know where to go.

  At ten minutes until ten o'clock, he remembered Brian's car phone number.

  "Brian, this is Grant. Is Mother with you?"

  "Yes."

  "Where are you?"

  "Just pulling into the parking lot."

  "Damn."

  "Well hell, it's nice to see you too."

  "I didn't mean it that way. It's just that I had to run out and get something."

  "So you're not upstairs?"

  "No, I'm on my way back. Can you stall Mother?"

  He heard a sound like the phone being dropped, then muttered curses. In a second, a voice said, "Grant, what's going on here?"

  "Nothing, Mother," he said.

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm on Sea Wall. I'll be there soon."

  "Well, I should hope so. You did invite us, after all."

  "Mother, just wait for me downstairs, okay?"

  "Where is . . . she?"

  "Erina is in the condo with Colin."

  "Then I'll see you there." She hung up the phone.

  "Damn," Grant muttered. He stepped on the gas, but didn't go far before seeing blue lights flashing behind him. Great. The morning was starting off just great.

  #

  Erina lay Colin down in his crib and answered the telephone. This was only her second time to use the modern device and she felt a bit nervous. "Hello?"

  "There's a Mrs. Kirby and Mr. Abbott to see Mr. Kirby," the man at the front desk announced.

  "They're here?" Erina knew she hadn't kept the panic out of her voice. How was she supposed to face Grant's mother alone?

  "Yes, ma'am. May I send them up?"

  "No! I mean yes." She couldn't leave Mrs. Kirby sitting downstairs in the lobby. She took a deep breath. "Please ask them to come up."

  She dashed into the bathroom to check her blouse and skirt. There was no need to pinch color into her cheeks; she was already flushed. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she walked quickly into the parlor--or the living room, as Grant called it--and looked around once more. Everything was in place--except Grant.

  Where was he? She didn't want to face these people alone. They might ask her something she couldn't answer, or comment on a modern custom that she wasn't familiar with.

  Fix tea! That's what she was supposed to do. She rushed into the kitchen and looked for a formal tea pot. Before she could find one, Colin began to cry. She forgot the tea as she hurried into the bedroom. She'd nursed him just an half hour ago, so that couldn't be the reason for his tears. The idea that something could go wrong with his heart was always on her mind.

  She scooped him into her arms. "Hush, darlin'. Your mother's here now."

  Colin continued to fuss. Erina checked his diaper, but it wasn't wet. She lay him back on the mattress and lifted the bandage covering his incision. The scar was even and pink with no sign there was a problem.

  "Oh, darlin', what's the problem?"

  The doorbell rang. Torn between caring for her son and making a good impression on Grant's mother, she chose her son. Picking him up, she hurried to the door.

  "Mrs. Kirby, please come in," Erina said over Colin's whimpering cries. "I don't know what's wrong with him. Just a minute ago, he began to fuss."

  "Well, I . . ." She turned to Mr. Abbott. "Brian, see if you can do something."

  "Ginny, I don't know anything about babies."

  Colin drooled on Erina's blouse, leaving a large we stain on the front. "Oh!"

  "For heaven's sake," Mrs. Kirby said, reaching for the baby. "Let me hold him while you change." With a flourish, she grabbed a kitchen towel and placed it over the shoulder of her pale pink suit.

  "Please, be careful of his surgery," Erina said when Mrs. Kirby lifted him gently from her arms.

  "Of course I'll be careful. I know how to handle a child."

  The door opened then, letting in a burst of warm air and Grant, holding two bags in his arms. There was no place for him to go, however, since three other adults were standing in the tiny entry area by the kitchen.

  "What's going on?"

  "Colin is fussin'," Erina explained with a catch in her voice, "and I don't know what's wrong with him."

  At that moment, he let out an very loud burp.

  "That's what's wrong with him," Mrs. Kirby said, patting him on the back with her perfectly manicured hand. She turned to Grant. "Now just exactly what was so important that you went off and let Erina meet us alone?"

  "Colin needed some . . . things," he said with a shrug.

  "And Erina needs you here," his mother said. She walked into the living room, still lightly patting Colin's back. "A father should be there for his son," she said softly, gazing out the windows, "and for his . . ." She turned back around. "But then you know that."

  "Yes, I know that," Grant said, walking up to his mother.

  "He looks like you," she said, looking at Colin. The baby smiled back, reaching for her perfectly styled hair.

  "Yes, but he has Erina's eyes," Grant said.

  "I don't know. Your eyes were blue when you were his age."

  Colin grinned and cooed, making both adults laugh together. Then they looked at each other, longing in both their eyes.

  Erina crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, and blinked back tears. She had a feeling that Grant and his mother hadn't been this close in years. He'd said that he was a disappointment to his mother, but Erina didn't see that. She suspected that he was just very different than what Mrs. Kirby was accustomed to. Perhaps she didn't know him well.

  "Quite a scene," Mr. Abbott whispered beside Erina.

  She'd forgotten he was there. Turning, she expected to see censure in his face, but that wasn't the expression he wore. Instead, he seemed contemplative.

  "I think it's a beautiful thing we're seein'."

  "I think you're right." He turned away and looking inside the kitchen. "So, how about some coffee? I've got a feeling we're going to be here for a while."

  #

  Erina collapsed on the couch besid
e Grant after his mother and Brian left and Colin, dressed in one of his new outfits, took his nap.

  "Tired?" he asked, holding her hand. Her skin was soft, her fingers fine-boned and delicate.

  "I'm exhausted. I didn't know visitin' could be so hard."

  "I guess we weren't as prepared as we thought."

  She nodded. "I'm not good at that sort of thing. I've never had company come to visit before."

  "Really? Not even when you lived with your father in Ireland?"

  "We lived in a very small village. Any visitin' to be done was taken care of over the half-door of the kitchen or at the town market."

  "How about friends your own age? Did you go shopping in the city or whatever else teenage girls do?" Maybe she'd admit something that would give him a clue as to her real origins.

  "We had no way into the city, and besides, what would we have done there? Shopping and the like takes money, somethin' we were all without back in Ireland. That's the reason my da decided to come to America. There was no way to make a decent livin'. Mr. Kirby knew of my da's work through a friend in Ireland and asked him to create gardens for their new home on Broadway."

  Grant couldn't suppress a sigh as she talked about her fictitious life in the 1890's. "So what did you do in Galveston once you arrived?"

  "We lived above the carriage house. Mrs. Kirby allowed me to sit in with the children's tutor, so I continued my education from the parish school I'd attended in Ireland."

  "And what about when your father . . ."

  "I continued to live and work for Mrs. Kirby. She was very kind."

  "Your life sounds lonely to me. Didn't you miss doing what other girls your age were doing?"

  She tilted her head. "But I was doin' what other girls did, only I had a better time of it. Some worked in far worse places or had harsh employers. I was very lucky."

  "Child labor doesn't seem like a lucky condition to me."

  "You might think I was a child, but I wasn't. True, I was only thirteen when my da and I came to America, but I was seventeen when he died. I could have married before that if I'd found a man who caught my eye, but I enjoyed livin' with my da and working for Mrs. Kirby."