Miracle of Love

by Victoria Chancellor

  Grant shook his head. "You shouldn't have had to work."

  "Haven't you been readin' your Bible? There's nothin' wrong with honest work."

  "Children should have time to play, not work for a living."

  "Workin' did no harm to me."

  "You were lucky to have a family, I suppose, even though you lost your father."

  "Aye, I was."

  "So you never found a young man you wanted to marry?" he asked, bringing her attention back to her earlier statement.

  He watched a slight blush creep into her cheeks. "No, not then. I'm afraid I was a bit spoiled by Mrs. Kirby. I didn't want to live in tiny room with six or seven babes clinging to my skirts and only cabbage and potatoes for the pot."

  "There's nothing wrong with wanting a good life . . . unless you violate your principles to get what you think you deserve."

  "I'm only admittin' that I aspired a bit above my station."

  "Above your station? Don't be silly."

  "I used to dream of having my own house and friends to come visit, but . . . well, I've never been more than a maid or a seamstress. Now I'm livin' in a fine place with a man and entertainin' his mother. The Fates have a fine sense of humor, I'm thinkin'."

  "Maybe you're just getting what you deserve. I mean, perhaps you were meant to have what you dreamed about."

  "I'm not sure that dreams come true."

  "That sounds pretty cynical for someone who believes in miracles."

  "Oh, I think you can make your dreams come true with hard work and a bit of luck, but I don't think everyone gets their heart's desire because they want it."

  "I'd agree to that. But sometimes luck--good or bad--plays a larger role in life."

  "Like the bad luck of your da dyin' young," she said gently.

  "That wasn't luck," Grant scoffed. "He did that to himself. No one poured those drinks down his throat."

  "Ah, but he was unlucky to be born cravin' the bottle."

  "And he was too weak to stop."

  "Perhaps. It's not easy to know what's in another's heart."

  That was certainly true. He was sure Erina's heart was good and pure, but he still had no idea who she really was.

  Before they could pursue the discussion, the telephone rang. Grant picked it up quickly so the ringing wouldn't waken Colin.

  "Hello?"

  "Mr. Kirby?"

  "Yes?"

  "This is Mrs. Henshaw. I need to schedule a meeting with you and Ms. O'Shea for tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock."

  "Tomorrow? Isn't that a little quick?"

  "I don't believe so. I'm concerned about the welfare of that child. To be quite frank, you seem to be hiding something. Now I'm not sure what, but--"

  "I'll contact our attorney and see if he's available."

  "Having a high-priced lawyer enter into our conversations is not going to help our investigation of Colin's condition."

  "I'll agree that lawyer's don't always help, but look at it from my perspective; you're insulting Erina's character by insinuating that she's not a good mother. I'm simply trying to protect her from that kind of thinking."

  "I haven't filed any report on Ms. O'Shea."

  "Good. But I'd feel more comfortable with my attorney present, just in case."

  "This is a preliminary meeting to get information. This is not an inquisition."

  "Whatever you say. I'll still need to see if my attorney is available."

  "I certainly hope he is. I wouldn't want to get a protective order for the child just because his parents are being uncooperative."

  "Don't threaten me with court orders, Mrs. Henshaw."

  "Don't impede this investigation, Mr. Kirby. If Colin is your child, then you are equally liable for his condition."

  "There is no condition. His heart has been repaired and he's doing great."

  "The condition is lack of vaccinations and emergency medical attention, combined with his low weight. Plus, Ms. O'Shea was unable to answer even the most basic questions and seemed completely unaware of her responsibilities as a parent. That's not the kind of person who needs to have primary care for a seriously ill infant. She obviously need training in parenting skills."

  "Erina is a great mother." Grant discounted his own suspicions of her abilities when she first showed up at his condo. He didn't know her then. He hadn't realized how deeply she loved her son. "And she's not alone. We'll be at your office tomorrow afternoon, Mrs. Henshaw, and I'll expect an apology for your suspicions about Erina."

  He hung up the phone, his hand shaking from the anger he'd tried to hold inside. So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he didn't think of how the conversation would frighten Erina until he heard faint sound from her. She sat beside him, a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.

  "I'm sorry," he said, slipping his arms around her. "I suppose our ideallic world was bound to collide with reality sometime soon. But we'll be okay. Sam Reynolds is on our side. That social worker isn't going to do anything to separate you and Colin."

  "I wish I had your faith in people," she said against his shoulder.

  "You'd be surprised how much faith money can buy," he said automatically. Well, it was true. Money talked, even if Mrs. Henshaw claimed it had no influence on the process. One had only to look in any jail or courthouse across the country to validate that assumption. When she realized that he was going to claim Colin as his son, marry Erina, and hire as many lawyers as necessary to fight these outrageous suspicions, she'd back down.

  "Erina, I admit that there was a time when I dreaded the idea of other people thinking that I'd fathered an illegitimate child with a young Irish girl. But no more. I'm proud of you and Colin, and I'm not going to let anyone separate us."

  "I hope you're right. We can place our faith in others to save us from the laws of man, but what about the laws of God? I'm tellin' lies and we're deceivin' your own mother. That's not right. I'm afraid that God might not be as easy to convince as Mrs. Henshaw."

  "I tell you what: Let me take care of the bureaucrats of the world and I'll leave the religion to you."

  "I wish life were that simple," she said, "but I'm thinkin' I'll need your prayers."

  "I'll give you what I can, Erina, but I don't have the same kind of faith as you."

  "I know," she said softly, sighing against his shoulder. "Then I'll pray for us all and hope that's enough."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Erina woke in a sweat near dawn on Thursday morning. Heart pounding, she struggled to remember what had caused such terror. On shaking legs, she stumbled across the floor to stare into Colin's crib. He slept peacefully, his fist resting against his parted lips.

  She held on to the rails of the crib and fought the sense of panic that still held her in its grasp. What had caused her to feel this way?

  Then the dream--or the night terror--filtered into her consciousness. She slipped into the rocking chair, unable to stand any longer.

  She was in her room over Mrs. Abernathy's shop, sewing her quilt. Today she was embroidering a chain stitch in red silk on a piece of silver velvet. Concentrating on the needle and thread, on their precise placement in the fabric, she didn't at first notice the silence. When she lifted her head and looked around, Colin's crib was gone. She threw the quilt to the floor and ran across the room, calling him, crying.

  When she couldn't find him upstairs, she ran below, calling "Colin" over and over again. Mrs. Abernathy came out of the shop and looked at her curiously.

  "Colin! Where is my baby?" Erina asked.

  "Who?" Mrs. Abernathy said. "You don't have a baby."

  "Yes I do! Where is he? Where is my Colin?"

  She ran through the dress shop, scattering bolts of fabric and trim in her wake. She rushed outside, blinking against the brightness as she cried for her son. Where was he? Everyone looked at her as though she was ready for Bedlam.

  "You don't have a son," they all chanted as she ran through the street.

  She fell to her knees on the rough
wood blocks of Strand.

  That's when she awoke, the terror so real she could smell it, touch it, taste it. Just re-living the dream made her feel the same panic.

  Erina concentrated on calming herself. She set the rocker in motion and told herself that no one was going to take her baby away. She was just reacting to Mrs. Henshaw's telephone call. Grant had promised that no one would take Colin away. And she trusted Grant as much as she loved him. The emotion she felt for him grew each day until it had become a part of her. To lose either Colin or Grant would make her feel as though her heart were missing.

  Grant would find a way to allow her to stay, both legally and in this time. Yes, she had faith that she would be here forever, together with Colin and Grant.

  #

  After the meeting with Mrs. Henshaw on Thursday afternoon, Erina was ready to do whatever necessary to save Colin from the clutches of the county officials. Although she was sure that many children benefited from such efforts, Colin wasn't one of them. He hadn't been abandoned or abused; he hadn't been denied medical care on a whim or because she was lazy. Yet Mrs. Henshaw had her rules, the hospital had protocols, and now Erina was being investigated.

  Mr. Reynolds had been a great help with the legal matters, and Grant had been so supportive, but as soon as she sat down in his Cherokee, she knew the time had come to take action. She'd told him once that she'd do whatever was necessary to save her child. Now she was going to have to compromise her principles by sacrificing the man she'd grown to love.

  She was going to have to marry Grant.

  She glanced across the seat at him. He was angry, she knew, at the "system," as he called it, and at Mrs. Henshaw in particular for pursuing the investigation. He'd once said that the officials were like a dog with a bone, and now she knew what he'd meant.

  "Grant?"

  He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Yes?"

  "If you'd still be willin' . . . that is, I think perhaps it would be best if we married."

  He was silent so long she thought he'd changed his mind. Or that she'd misunderstood his intentions all along. But then he smiled, revealing that dimple in his cheek. "It's about time," he said softly.

  "I'm bein' selfish to accept your offer," she said, looking into his eyes. They flashed with life even in the dim light of the parking garage. "But I'm worried about Colin. That woman--"

  "She's not going to be able to do a thing once Colin is legally mine."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Once I legally claim him in the U.S. and we're married, he'll have two parents, not just one. They're focusing on you at the moment because you had custody of him when he needed surgery. But now, they'll have to fight us both. And they know they can't win that battle."

  "Are you sayin' that Colin will be under your care and no longer under mine?" The idea that Grant could take her child away was almost as devastating as a stranger snatching him from her arms.

  "No," he said, reaching across the Cherokee and running a hand through her hair. "No, sweetheart, that's not what I meant. We'll be a couple. You know, fifty-fifty. I'm not trying to take your baby away from you."

  "It's not that I'm doubtin' you, you understand, but who can protect my right to raise my child? What if you decide I'm not a fit mother?"

  "I don't think that."

  "What if you did? You don't believe I'm from the past. Someday you might decide I'm daft--too daft to be a mother."

  "Erina, you're borrowing trouble. Just because I don't believe your story doesn't mean I think you're crazy. Oh, I might have thought that at first, when you showed up in my condo and I had to rush Colin to the hospital, but I don't any more. I know you're as sane as I am."

  "But what do you believe about me, Grant?" She had never asked him such a question before, but now she needed to know--before they became tied to each other for eternity.

  "Do you really want to talk about this in the car, sitting in a parking garage?"

  "No, but I'm thinkin' we need to discuss the subject."

  "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath and placing both his hands on the steering wheel. "Tonight, after dinner, we'll have a long talk."

  She nodded, looking away. Did she really want to know what he thought about her? Who he believed she was? Because if he didn't think she was from the past, where did he think she'd come from?

  #

  Mrs. Parker was walking the floor with Colin when they arrived home from the meeting. Grant was in no mood for chat, but smiled at the nurse before checking his messages and fax machine. Everything seemed to be running smoothly at Kirby Investments. He hoped Brian and Dottie weren't too busy without him there, but he knew he couldn't concentrate on business with so much going on in his personal life.

  After all, it wasn't every day that a woman agreed to marry him.

  He turned back just as Erina took Colin into the bedroom. Dinnertime, he supposed.

  "When you need me again, just give a call," Mrs. Parker said, picking up her purse.

  "As a matter of fact, something has come up and we'll need to be in Houston tomorrow. Would you be available then?"

  "Yes. Just let me know what time."

  "I'll call you later. Thank you, Mrs. Parker."

  The nurse let herself out. Grant followed her and turned the lock, then kicked off his shoes and walked through the living room, down the short hall, and stopped at the guest bedroom doorway.

  Erina sat in the rocker, nursing Colin. Late afternoon sunlight came through the high windows of her room, casting blue highlights in her hair. She talked softly to her baby, but Grant couldn't make out the words.

  Who was Colin's real father? Did she know his name, or had an anonymous man attacked her? Grant could understand why she'd make up a story about Jerrold Kirby if the truth was too hard to face. But someday, Grant knew that Colin would want to know the truth. What would Erina tell her son then? Hopefully, she'd be able to face reality before that happened.

  Grant told himself again that the identity of Colin's real father didn't matter. Colin would be raised as his son, no matter who the biological father was. But a part of him wanted to know the truth. He wanted Erina to trust him enough to confide in him, no matter how horrible or embarrassing.

  She looked up, as though she'd listened to his thoughts and heard his doubts. Her face serious, she rocked in the chair without her usual discomfort at being caught nursing. She was so modest that he had no idea what she would really look like naked. But he could dream. Oh, he could dream.

  He felt his body stir at the image of Erina walking toward him, natural and uninhibited. When they married, would she do that? Or would she be as modest as ever?

  He couldn't wait to find out. His body definitely wanted to know the answer.

  "I think I'll go out and get us some dinner," he said, shifting due to the uncomfortably tight briefs and slacks. "What would you like?"

  "Anything is fine with me."

  "Seafood, steaks, Italian?"

  "I liked those wee shrimp we had the other day," she said.

  "Good. I'll get those."

  "I can cook, you know," she said as he was about to turn away. "You'll not be gettin' a woman without skills."

  He smiled. "I'm not worried about whether you can cook. I want you to be a wife, not a maid or a chef."

  "I've no experience bein' a wife."

  "That's okay. I don't have any experience being a husband."

  She smiled back. "I suppose we'll both be learnin'."

  "I suppose so." A stray thought crept into his mind. "Erina, you do know I expect us to be really married, don't you."

  "Yes, I suppose so," she said, even though she looked a bit confused.

  "And that means we'll be sharing a bed and . . . everything."

  That earned a blush. "Yes, I know."

  He took a deep breath. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure we were clear about that."

  She nodded. "I mean to be a good wife to you, Grant Kirby."

  "And I
promise to be a good husband and father."

  Erina shifted Colin on her lap. "Grant, I've got a powerful yearnin'--"

  "For me?"

  "For those wee shrimp."

  He laughed at one her first attempts at humor. "I won't be gone long."

  #

  After they bathed Colin and put him to bed, Erina followed Grant into the living room and sat beside him on the couch.

  "Do you want to talk now?" he asked.

  She nodded. "I need to know what you believe." Although she'd been busy this evening, uncertainty continued to plague her. How could Grant want to marry her and not believe her?

  "I admit I was pretty confused when you first showed up. I mean, I go through securing the condo as a ritual. I have too many business and financial documents here from time to time. I know that I locked the condo and turned on the system before I went to bed. And I know that you didn't climb the side of the building and enter through the balcony."

  "Heavens, no! I could not stand the height."

  "I figured that. I suppose that means you don't want to learn to climb with me."

  "I don't think I could even watch from the ground," she stated, shivering at the thought of Grant hanging from a rock ledge, hundreds of feet about the earth.

  "So anyway, I decided you must have gotten in before I locked up. You must have hid until later."

  "You think I hid in this place with an ill baby? Do you not think he'd cry?"

  "He was asleep, I'm sure, or he would have."

  "Colin was dyin'! Do you think I'd hide in a closet while his heart stopped beatin'?" Grant's story was more ridiculous than her own. At least hers made sense--if you believed in miracles.

  He shrugged. "That's the only explanation that makes sense."

  "Or you could just believe that the Virgin Mary sent me to the future."

  "I'm sorry, Erina, but I can't believe that."

  "So you think I'm lyin' to you," she stated, her heart breaking at the idea.

  "No, I don't. I think you absolutely believe your story."

  "I don't know what you mean. Of course I believe my story; it's the truth!"

  "As your mind knows it. Look, let's say something traumatic happened to you. Maybe you really were raped and your mind just can't deal with the emotional pain. You read a book about Galveston's past and unconsciously created this fantasy about Jerrold Kirby. That's much easier to deal with because Colin's father has a face and a name."