Waiting for a Miracle

by Jennifer Wilck

  “It’s a wonderful desire, but it’s a lot of work and potential heartache,” he said.

  His wary tone made Rachel’s heart sink.

  “What if the child you foster has problems?” he asked. “Or what if you want to have a child of your own and there’s an issue between the two? Won’t your plan add undue stress?”

  Irritation flared. “Why are you so concerned about my plans?” Rachel asked. “You don’t think I haven’t thought this through? It’s not like I can have children of my own, and if I want to do this, I don’t understand why you’re trying to talk me out of it.”

  “I’m not—”

  “You are. Every time it comes up, you point out ‘problems.’ There are always going to be ‘what ifs.’ It doesn’t mean I should deprive myself of loving a child.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Really. I didn’t know you couldn’t have kids.”

  She shook her head. “Look, I have to go.”

  “Please don’t hang up angry, Rachel. Let’s talk about this.”

  “Goodbye, Benjamin.”

  “Rachel!”

  She hung up before her anger turned to tears.

  There was no way to make this work, and if Benjamin intended to boss his way over her desires, he was crazy.

  Chapter Five

  Benjamin stood outside Rachel’s door and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants legs. He could do this. Knock on the door, smile when she answered, apologize, as always, and ask his question. Simple. Except he hadn’t asked this particular question in more than ten years. Hadn’t considered it until yesterday.

  And then he’d royally screwed up their conversation. It started so well, progressed so naturally until he’d asked about her fostering plans. He ran a hand across the top of his head. God, he had to fix this.

  Maybe it was too soon. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. No, it wasn’t too soon. While he hadn’t mapped out a complete plan, he’d made the final decision yesterday. He’d made significant tweaks to it after their argument. And now it was time to follow through.

  Removing his hands from his pockets once again, he knocked on Rachel’s door and paced until she opened it.

  “Hi,” he said. He smiled, but he suspected it was more like a grimace. It felt tight and unnatural. Should he stop? How long did you leave a smile on your face before you let it fall? And who asked these questions?

  “Hey,” she said. Surprise made her brows lift. Her voice was quiet, her expression wary.

  He ignored his face, his thoughts, and his plans, and focused on her. “Hi.”

  “You said that already.”

  Great. He raised his hand to…he didn’t know what to do with it. “Can I come in?”

  She stiffened. She was going to turn him down. But then, she stepped away from her doorway and motioned him inside.

  He stepped over the threshold.

  “I thought I heard you!”

  His mother’s voice over his shoulder made him turn. His stomach dropped. Just what he didn’t need.

  She peeked out of her doorway. “I thought I heard your footsteps on the stairs, but when you didn’t come to my door, I figured I was mistaken,” she said, walking into the hallway. “And then I thought I heard your voice, and I was right.”

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Hi, Mom. I’m here to see Rachel.” God, it was like high school all over again.

  His mother’s face brightened. “I see. Where’s Jessie?”

  “She’s at a friend’s house for a play date.”

  “So you’re having your own?” His mother’s raised eyebrow set his teeth on edge. She’d never been this excited, or sarcastic, about his dates back when he lived at home. Not even with Lauren. Guess this was her idea of progress. In his opinion, it needed work, preferably back in her own apartment.

  “We’re going for a walk,” he said.

  “We are?” Rachel asked.

  He turned toward her. “Please?” The last thing he needed was a witness. Especially when the witness was his mother.

  Her brown-eyed gaze shifted between him and his mother. “That’s right, Harriet, a walk. It’s a gorgeous day.”

  The sleet and cold were miserable, but he wanted to kiss her for going along with him. Not in front of his mother, though. And certainly not until he settled what happened between them.

  “You two have fun,” she said, her voice filled with glee. He clenched his fist so tight, it was a miracle his hand didn’t shatter.

  He waited for his mother to close the door, but she remained stationed in her entryway like a guard at Buckingham Palace, minus the stone face. Then he waited for Rachel to go inside and get her jacket. He’d never been a fan of waiting. He was less so now.

  After the longest thirty seconds of his life, Rachel was bundled. She looked like the sexiest abominable snowman he’d ever seen. Once again, he wanted to kiss her, and once again, he’d have to wait.

  “Bye, Mom,” he said as he descended the stairs.

  “Bye, Harriet,” Rachel said right behind him.

  “Bye, kids!”

  His face burned. It reminded him of the time he’d asked Lauren to the Matzah Ball when they were in high school. He was too old for this.

  Outside, the cold wind made him catch his breath. Sleet slapped his face. There was no way they could walk in this. He turned toward her, shielding her from the brunt of the precipitation. It was his fault they were out in this weather anyway. “Want to grab a coffee?”

  She nodded, and he seized her hand. Her fingers flexed like she was surprised. He kind of was too, but it belonged there. Besides, they needed to sprint to get out of the cold, and he didn’t want to lose her. Not before he fixed things and asked her his question. So he kept his grasp tight around her hand and let her get used to it.

  Two blocks away was a coffee shop. It took one block before her fingers curled around his palm. Finally. Against his bare skin, her gloves were soft. They might be deep purple, or navy maybe. He didn’t want to take the time to look. Not now, when he was in a hurry. Not when any attention he paid to her hand might cause her to let go of his.

  He led her into the coffee shop and paused as the interior heat slammed into them like a wall.

  “Table for two,” he said to the hostess.

  Rachel tried to pull her hand away, but he pretended he didn’t realize. Only when they reached a table in the back did he let go of her. It was either drop it or drag her onto his lap, something she’d object to. Even if the thought turned him on.

  “Coffee?” a waitress asked.

  With a glance at Rachel, he nodded. When the coffee was poured and the waitress left, he wrapped his hands around the cup, absorbed the heat, and wondered how to start the conversation.

  “You’re even bossier when you don’t talk.”

  “Whatever works,” he said. He took a sip of the steaming liquid.

  She sighed. “I give up. I can’t do this anymore.”

  No. He wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. “Please let me say what I have to say before you make any decisions.”

  She bristled. “Why is my fostering a child your decision?”

  His decision? Oh God. “I’m not talking about you fostering a child. I’m talking about us.” He squeezed his coffee mug. He’d made a mess of things. “Let me start at the beginning? Please?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m a planner,” he said. “After Lauren died, it was the only way I could get out of bed and take care of Jessie. And sometimes, my need to plan spills over into other things.” He took a deep breath. “I never meant to give you the impression I was against your fostering a child. I just jumped into planning mode, and I let my concerns about Jessie bleed into my questions. I’m sorry. I overstepped. You’ll be a great mother, regardless of where your child comes from.”

  Her smile stopped him. It often had that effect on him, especially lately.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded.

/>   The waitress walked over with her order pad. “Can I getcha anything?” she asked, in between cracking her gum.

  “No thanks, we’re good with coffee,” Rachel said.

  The coffee curdled Benjamin’s stomach. Although not hungry, he was about to order a six-course meal, just to be with her longer. He’d do anything to stall. Too bad he’d missed his window of opportunity. The waitress’ square back retreated, along with his chance.

  “You take my breath away.” Heat crept up his neck.

  Rachel’s coffee cup clattered to the table. “I—”

  “I know you’re afraid.” He held her hand across the table. It was icy cold despite having been encased in gloves. “I am, too. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Once again, she tried to pull away, and once again, he held on. “I lost one woman, the only one I ever loved. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

  She shook her head. “There are too many reasons why we can’t work.”

  He wouldn’t be dissuaded. “Name five.”

  She looked as if she didn’t expect his answer. Did she think he’d say “okay” and move on? He wasn’t that kind of man.

  “Well, one, I’m Jessie’s teacher.”

  “I like that about you. You’re wonderful with her. And she thinks you hang the moon.”

  Rachel smiled. “I love her, too. But people will talk and if my principal hears, well…”

  “Will you lose your job?”

  “No. There’s nothing in the handbook that prohibits it.”

  Benjamin raised an eyebrow. “You looked.”

  She bit her lower lip, and an insane desire to free it from between her teeth, touch its softness, and heal with his mouth whatever bruise she might have caused, overwhelmed him. He resisted. He needed to be cautious with her.

  “I looked,” she whispered. “But we’d probably have to switch Jessie to the other classroom, even though I don’t like the idea of displacing her because I like her father. And we’d have to be discreet.”

  His grin widened. “You do like me.”

  She met his gaze and swallowed. “Of course I do.”

  He squeezed her hand. “And you have a good solution. She has a few close friends in the other classroom. I think she’ll understand.”

  “But how will we make sure she doesn’t say anything? I hate asking a child to keep an adult’s secret.”

  Benjamin played with her fingers. They were long and supple and fit well in his palm. “I think if we explain we don’t want other kids to feel bad, she’ll understand. Break isn’t over though, and we can take things slow.”

  “I don’t want you to ever feel I treat her differently, or take anything out on her—”

  “—I know you wouldn’t. What’s your second reason? Come on, I said name five and you’ve only named one.”

  “You’re bossy.” Her nostrils flared, and she bit her lip. Her eyes sparkled with silent laughter.

  “But you like me anyway. You just told me.”

  She huffed and looked away but turned back a second later. “I want to become a foster parent.”

  His throat thickened at the hurt his careless words caused her. “I support you. I do, and I will. I think it’s wonderful, and I’ll help you in any way I can.”

  “But what if my dating a student’s parent disqualifies me? Or if you decide you want more biological children one day?”

  “I think you’re grasping at straws. Rachel, think about it. You’re way better qualified than the horror stories we hear in the news. Do any of the forms say you have to be single or you have to be married?”

  “No.”

  “Do they say you can’t date?”

  “No.”

  “I kind of love how you know these answers off the top of your head. I don’t think it’s a problem. And whatever problems you do face, we’ll handle them together. As for my wanting more biological children? I’ll love any child, regardless of how they get here. What’s your fourth reason?”

  She sipped her coffee. “Um…I don’t have one.”

  “Not even my mother? I thought for sure she’d be on your list somewhere.”

  “Are you kidding? I love Harriet! But there is one more thing.”

  There was more? She was close to five reasons. Maybe he should have asked for eight. It was Hanukkah, after all. He forced himself to relax. He was out of practice having rational arguments with adults. Most of his recent ones were pretty one-sided, considering his “foe” was usually a six-year-old.

  She fluttered her fingers on the table like she was nervous.

  “I’m not attempting to be like your wife. I know I’m not her and…”

  He leaned forward, trying to understand her. Discomfort showed on her face, and he remembered their argument in the Winter Village.

  “I’m not looking for a replacement for her, for someone to fit into some predetermined slot. I want to start over. And I’d like to start over with you.”

  She paused, and the silence stretched between them. His heart hammered in his chest. He didn’t want to rush her, but damn, waiting was hard.

  “Okay.”

  She’d run out of reasons. She didn’t say no. Joy, something he’d almost forgotten, ran through him, warming him from the inside out. He scooted out of the booth and wrapped his arms around Rachel. Drawing her close, he ran his hands through her hair. It was thick and silky and luscious. He pulled her closer and tilted his face so their noses almost touched. The scent of her shampoo—some sort of citrus—filled his nostrils. Her breath feathered against his chin. He stared at her and tried not to drown in her brandy-colored eyes.

  “May I please kiss you?”

  “Yes.”

  Finally. He brought his mouth to hers and brushed against her lips. They were soft. He kissed her and a second later, she kissed him back. Her hands wrapped around his neck, and her fingers massaged the base of his skull. She tasted sweet with a hint of coffee. Nipping her bottom lip, he waited for her to open her mouth, and when she did, he swept his tongue inside, tasting and exploring. Hunger and need coursed through him. This is what he’d waited for.

  She pulled away, and he stifled a moan. Resting his forehead against hers, he waited as his breathing slowed. A smile crept across her face, along with an expression of wonder.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “You said please,” she whispered.

  “For you, anything.” She was his Hanukkah miracle. She’d brought light into his life and his heart. She’d given him a second chance, and he wasn’t about to lose it.

  A word about the author…

  Jennifer started telling herself stories as a little girl when she couldn’t fall asleep at night. Pretty soon, her head was filled with these stories and the characters that populated them. Even as an adult, she thinks about the characters and stories at night before she falls asleep, or in the car on her way to or from her daughters’ numerous activities (anything that will drown out their music is a good thing). Her favorite stories to write are those with smart, sassy, independent heroines and handsome, strong and slightly vulnerable heroes; and her stories always end with happily ever after.

  In the real world, she’s the mother of two amazing daughters and wife of one of the smartest men she knows. When she’s not writing, she loves to laugh with her family and friends. She believes humor is the only way to get through the day, mornings are evil, and she does not believe in sharing her chocolate.

  Her books are all available through Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iBooks. She can be reached at:

  Website: http://www.jenniferwilck.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Jennifer-Wilck-201342863240160/

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  Twitter: https://twitter.com/JWilck

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