Texas Miracle

by Mae Nunn

  As she pulled Sam’s Prius into the carport beside her grandma’s blue truck, the screen door opened. A silver-haired woman with bright green eyes stood there in a yellow apron. Like the house, she hadn’t changed, except to look a little more comfortable, even a little sweeter than before. Grandma Violet waved and descended the steps, arms open wide.

  “Jackie! You made it!”

  Jacqueline jumped out of the car and ran to meet her. Grandma Violet enfolded Jacqueline in a hug, and in that moment, all of the smells of home rushed back. The fresh air of the country. Topsoil. Flowers. Bleach for cleaning. And lemon verbena—her grandmother’s signature perfume. “Grandma.” Both of their cheeks were wet.

  Wiping her eyes, Grandma Violet held Jacqueline out at arm’s length to look at her. “My, my. You’re even more beautiful than last time. And I didn’t think that was possible!” She picked up a lock of Jacqueline’s hair from where it fell over her shoulder. “Look at this hair! Like satin!” She touched her face. “And this skin! Are you real? I know I’m going to have to pinch myself a thousand times to believe you’re really here.”

  They held hands and walked into the house. “You must be so tired of driving. Are you hungry?”

  “Actually, I just need to go to the bathroom.”

  “Well, I’ve got you set up in the back bedroom. And you have your own bathroom back there. Remember how you and Sam used to love sleeping in that room?”

  Jacqueline remembered. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need.”

  * * *

  WHEN JACQUELINE RETURNED from the bathroom, Grandma was puttering around in the kitchen. Jacqueline sat down in one of the rolling chairs at the low bar and watched her.

  “I can’t believe you still have these chairs. Sam and I got into more trouble rolling around in them.” She laughed.

  Grandma Violet beamed. “Would you like some tea? Or coffee? What are you drinking these days?”

  “I’d love tea. Whatever kind you’re having.” Jacqueline noticed the kettle was already on the stove.

  “I’ve taken a liking to Darjeeling here lately.”

  Jacqueline grinned, impressed. “Well, Darjeeling it is. I like it, too.”

  They steeped their tea and Grandma cut slices of banana-nut bread, laying them out on a plate. She placed the plate on the bar and handed Jacqueline a cloth napkin. Then she set down a dish of room-temperature butter with a knife. Grabbing her teacup, she sat in the chair beside Jacqueline. “It’s so good to have you here.”

  “I’m glad to be here.”

  “Tell me everything that’s going on in your life.”

  Jacqueline blew a few stray hairs out of her eyes. “Well, where to begin?”

  “Don’t start with your job. I want to know what you long for, what you love, what makes you come alive.” Grandma Violet’s green eyes sparkled.

  “Wow. Okay.” Jacqueline thought for a moment. Then she said, “What I long for right now is to help immigrant children coming over the border from Central America. I’ve learned recently there is a crisis situation in Texas, with unaccompanied minors flooding in—fleeing terrible situations—and yet they have nowhere to go. They are often abused, mistreated and lost in the system. What I long for is to give them hope.”

  “That’s beautiful. Sounds like the original vision of this great nation.”

  “I think so, too, Grandma.”

  “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free...” Here Grandma Violet held up an imaginary torch as though she were the Statue of Liberty.

  Jacqueline laughed. “Exactly!”

  “Not exactly the message that comes across with that fence we have down at the border.”

  “No. And it saddens me.”

  “What do you plan to do about it? What’s your dream?”

  “I don’t know how, but I want to build a house for them—a home.” Jacqueline buttered a piece of banana-nut bread.

  “In Kilgore?”

  “Maybe. I mean, I think so.”

  “You don’t sound so sure.”

  Jacqueline took a bite of the bread. She savored it before speaking, measuring out her words. “Well, that brings me to what I love. Or, I should say, who.”

  Grandma Violet’s lips curved into a smile. “Ooh. This is getting juicy.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  Grandma rubbed her palms together. “Who is the lucky person?”

  “His name is Mac. McCarthy Temple. He’s my boss.”

  “I think I remember you mentioning something about him.”

  “Yes. Well, it’s really weird how it all happened. You know I went to Kilgore to try to sell that land for Mom and Dad, and I answered an ad for some work in a CPA’s office, just thinking I’d work a few months to make some money and occupy my time while I was there.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable plan.”

  Jacqueline raised her cup for a sip of tea. “So I go in to interview, and it’s this—it’s this amazing man. He’s actually the brother of an old acquaintance of mine when I went to high school in Kilgore. And we just had this instant connection. A chemistry.”

  “So he’s hot.”

  “Grandma!” Jacqueline blushed. “Well, pretty much, yes. Smokin’.”

  Grandma laughed.

  “But that’s not all.”

  “Of course, it wouldn’t be.”

  “He’s smart and funny and kind.” Jacqueline’s voice trailed off. Thoughts of Mac were a double-edged sword.

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “There wasn’t one at first. He hired me on the spot, and I started working and I really liked the work. Lots of numbers.”

  “And you’re good with numbers, as I remember.”

  “Yes. And he wasn’t used to that. I replaced an assistant who had been with him for years—a sweet older lady who retired. But she was strictly a front-desk person.”

  “I see. But you did more than that.”

  “Yes. A lot more.”

  “Like kissing him.”

  “Grandma!”

  “Is he a good kisser?”

  Jacqueline shook her head at her grandmother.

  “Well?”

  “Yes, he is,” she admitted. “A great kisser.”

  “That’s important.”

  “Things kind of escalated quickly. I guess because of being in the office together all day, and we would spend some more time in the evenings.”

  “Man cannot live on numbers alone.”

  “True. And neither can woman.”

  “So, this all sounds good so far. What’s wrong? Why is there a sense of foreboding in your tone?”

  “Like I said, things moved kind of fast. At some point, he said he was falling for me. He wanted me to meet his family.”

  “Wow! Sounds like a really smart guy.”

  “I know, right? So I went with him to a family gathering. He has three brothers, and they all live there in Kilgore, and one of them—well, his wife—just had a baby. We went to see the baby and hang out with everyone.”

  “It’s quite special that he asked you to be a part of that.” Grandma Violet stirred her tea.

  “It was. And I liked them—I really did. But that night, while we were there and then on the way home, I started feeling overwhelmed.”

  “Why? What was wrong?”

  “It seems stupid to me now. But you know how nontraditional m
y upbringing was. Never staying in one place, no strong ties to anyone really. No roots, no responsibilities.”

  Grandma Violet sighed. “Ah, yes. I know. I know.”

  “And I’ve lived like that myself since college. It’s different in the sense that I stayed with KARIS and worked steadily into better and better positions, but I’ve still been a nomad. And other than you, and Sam, sort of—well, I’ve got friends. But no real roots anywhere.”

  Grandma Violet’s face saddened for the first time since Jacqueline had arrived.

  “I hate that for you, Jackie.”

  Jacqueline placed her hand over her grandmother’s soft, wrinkly one. Her skin was like the petals of a poppy, or papier-mâché. “It’s not been bad. I guess I’ve simply accepted it as normal. And I’ve had a good life. It’s just that this chance for something different seemed to be coming along with Mac. And it scared me. I kind of balked.”

  “I see.” Grandma nodded.

  “But then I adjusted. It’s a long story. But Mac went on this trip with his brother out west to look for his grandfather’s grave. And while he was gone I spent some time with his brother’s wife, and did a lot of reflecting. Something shifted in my heart, and I knew I was ready to commit to him—to his kind of life.”

  “Hmm.” Grandma’s green eyes widened. “Did you tell him?”

  “I did. I told him the night he got back from his trip. I thought he would be so happy, so excited.”

  “You mean he wasn’t?”

  “No. It was weird. And it’s like ever since then he’s been running in the other direction—away from me.”

  Grandma Violet put her hand over her mouth. “That’s terrible! And hurtful—I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t know what to do or where to go from here.”

  “Well, if he’s running in the other direction, I’d say let him go. Good riddance!” Grandma Violet crossed her arms just as if she was crossing Mac off her list.

  Jacqueline laughed sadly. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it is, but I can’t see it yet.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  Jacqueline stirred her tea, tracing the bottom of the cup with Grandma’s vintage rose-patterned silver spoon. “You know, I’d be the first to be done with him if I thought he didn’t care. If anything, I’ve always erred in that direction, bailing out of relationships at the first sign of trouble. I’m trying not to make that mistake here.”

  Grandma Violet nodded. “Okay. I see. I understand that.”

  “There’s a backstory. I know he’s been hurt before, really bad.”

  “Hurt how?”

  “He was engaged to a girl who got a brain tumor. Died on what should have been their wedding day.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “So, he was opening himself up to love again, for the first time in many years, and I shrunk back after meeting his family. I believe it made him rethink things. And now, I don’t know, maybe I rushed in by declaring my feelings.”

  “It’s not wrong to declare your feelings or to be direct.”

  “I’m not saying it’s wrong. I’m just trying to understand where he’s coming from.”

  “What has he done since then? You made it sound like he dropped you like a hot potato.”

  “Not exactly. He’s still kind. He still acts like he cares. But he’s very cautious. Got totally absorbed in the tax code and numbers after that—I hardly saw him outside of work. And then when he gave me this long weekend off, I invited him to come along. But he didn’t want to. Said he had too much to do.”

  “What does your heart tell you?”

  Jacqueline sighed. “I’m not sure. That’s one reason I wanted to get away and come here. To see if I could hush the rest of the noise in my life and figure it out.”

  “Well, I don’t know the answer. But I know someone who does. Let’s pray and ask God to help you.”

  * * *

  THE WEEKEND WENT by too fast. They got up in the mornings and made breakfast together—omelets one day, pancakes another, and biscuits and gravy the last day. Jacqueline paid special attention to Grandma Violet’s recipes and techniques. She wanted to memorize and repeat them when she got home, maybe even share them with Mac. After breakfast, they worked on the garden, at Jacqueline’s suggestion. They pulled out weeds and tilled the dirt, making it ready for planting after the last chance of frost.

  One day they traveled into town and picked out plants, bulbs and seeds to put in the flower bed. Jacqueline helped Grandma Violet mulch and rake, getting the beds back in shape for spring and summer. Despite the chance they might be ruined if it frosted again, Jacqueline splurged and planted petunias in the big iron pot. They were lovely, spilling out of it in bursts of bright pink, purple and red hues.

  She also cleaned out the cellar. There were jars on the shelves dating back a few years. It gave her a sad feeling to throw them out, even though it needed to happen. She realized what she had missed by not being around to share her grandma’s life. She wished she’d been there through those years to eat the green beans that were lovingly prepared and put away in the cellar. As often happened, she experienced a pang of anger at her parents for not bringing her to visit more while growing up.

  The evenings were spent kicked back in Grandma’s matching soft recliners. They watched Wheel of Fortune and CSI. Jacqueline found it hilarious that her grandmother was into the crime show.

  “I don’t watch it for the crime, you ninny. I’m into the love story!”

  Surprisingly enough, after several DVR’ed episodes, Jacqueline got into it, too. Then they’d pop popcorn and snack on it, talking late into the night.

  Monday morning came way too soon. Jacqueline was not ready to go back to Kilgore. She didn’t want to leave her grandma, didn’t want to go back to the office and didn’t want to face Mac.

  “What would you do, Grandma?” she asked as they sat at the bar for their last breakfast together. “If you were me.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that since you told me everything.”

  Grandma looked at Jacqueline earnestly with her deep green eyes.

  “My first impulse was to dump him, don’t you know. I don’t like to hear about anyone making you feel bad.”

  Jacqueline smiled.

  “But when I concentrated on trying to hear what your heart was saying rather than letting my own feelings get in the way, well, it seems to me you believe in him, believe in what the two of you have together.”

  A tear slid down Jacqueline’s cheek.

  Grandma Violet wiped the tear with the tip of her finger, tracing it down Jacqueline’s chin. “Some things—some people—are worth waiting for. I’m just praying God gives you the wisdom to know how long.”

  “I feel like I have to put my future on hold, in a way, waiting for him.”

  “You mean with the home for the children?”

  “Yes. Whether to pursue that in Kilgore, or move to El Paso with KARIS.”

  Grandma placed both hands on her knees. “The best advice I have for you is not to put that dream on hold. Start moving toward it. Do the next right thing and then see where it leads. I trust God will work all of this—as well as your relationship issues—together for good.”

  * * *

  BITTERSWEET WAS THE best word to describe the way Jacqueline felt as she drove out of the driveway of her grandmother’s house. She kept looking in her rearview
mirror until Grandma Violet was only a speck on the horizon, a tiny white handkerchief waving goodbye.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  TUESDAY MORNING MAC arrived at the office early, about eight thirty. When he saw that Jacqueline was not there yet, his heart sank. She’d answered his text Monday night about ten o’clock, confirming she was home, so he knew she was safe. And it would be unlike her not to show up for work. But she was usually early. And he liked it that way. He liked walking in to the sight of her.

  Mac turned the key to the front door and flicked on the lights. It was warm enough that day that he didn’t need to wear a jacket, but he hung his cowboy hat on the stand. He picked up the mail that had come through the slot in the door and carried it back to his office. He’d wait just a bit to turn the coffeemaker on.

  At nine o’clock sharp the door opened. He walked out of his office, telling himself he should check in case it was a customer. But the truth was that he hoped it was Jacqueline, and he couldn’t wait another moment to know whether or not it was.

  “Hey, Mac.”

  Jacqueline stood before him in a lace skirt the color of milk chocolate, layered with mesh and embroidery. It was paired with an ice-pink slub-yarn sweater and short tan boots with burnished leather straps. Her hair was parted down the middle and hung over her shoulders in soft, sensual waves. She took his breath away. “Hi,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “How are you?”

  Her voice was tentative. She didn’t look at him but moved toward her desk. He noticed she had a different bag, classic looking with floral upholstery fabric. Vintage.

  “New bag?”

  “My grandmother’s.”

  “I like it,” he said admiringly.

  “Thanks.”

  She sat at her desk and turned on her computer. Mac stood in the doorway, searching the air for words that didn’t materialize. Then he remembered she’d asked him a question.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “How are you? How was your trip?”