A Midnight Miracle

by Gary Parker

  Jenna stayed late at the day care that night to make sure everything was in order before she shut down for a week. By the time she’d finished, dark had fallen and everybody else had left. Her bones achy with weariness, she flipped off the last of the lights, locked the doors, pulled on her coat and gloves, and headed to her car. To her surprise, she saw Rem leaning against a Lexus SUV parked next to her Bronco. She stopped in her tracks. “What are you doing here?” she asked suspiciously.

  He held up his hands, palms out. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

  “You didn’t,” she said. “It’s just a shock seeing you here, that’s all.”

  “You seem upset,” he said. “I’m not here to bother you. But I flew back in this afternoon and thought I’d ask you to dinner. If that’s a problem, I’ll just leave.”

  Jenna hesitated. Why was she acting like this? Although she really didn’t trust him, it wasn’t like he had two horns growing from the top of his head. But she still saw no reason to have dinner with him. He meant nothing to her, and he’d leave Hilltop in a couple of days and she’d never see him again. Why bother?

  “I need to go see my mom,” she finally said.

  “We can go after that,” he offered.

  Jenna rubbed her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why are you so interested in me all of a sudden?”

  Rem studied her for a few seconds but then sighed and waved both hands in dismissal. “Just forget it,” he said. “I won’t hassle you anymore.” He moved toward his Lexus, and Jenna watched him go.

  After he’d climbed in and started the engine, he backed the vehicle up beside her and rolled down his window. His black eyes stood out under the street lamp like twin pieces of coal, and something about them cut into her, trimmed out a piece of her heart. As before, she felt like she’d met him somewhere she’d only visited once, somewhere she wanted to go back and visit again but couldn’t remember how to get there.

  “I’m sorry you’re so scared,” he said. “I meant no harm. Just thought the two of us could have a quiet dinner and talk to each other. For some reason I feel like you need that; I know I do.”

  He sounded wistful, and all of a sudden she felt so alone, so afraid, so brittle that she knew if she didn’t talk to somebody, she might just crack into a million pieces on the asphalt parking lot. His window started rolling back up and she did something she didn’t quite understand even as she did it. She stepped to the Lexus and knocked on the window. It stopped about halfway up.

  “What?” Rem asked, leaning his head out.

  “My mom can wait,” she whispered. “She’s a grown woman.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she nodded, suddenly certain. “I’m sure.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Hop in.”

  She moved to the passenger side. He leaned over to open the door, and she climbed in.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  “Let’s go toward Asheville,” she offered. “There’s a decent restaurant about ten miles out on I-26.”

  “Don’t want to be seen in Hilltop with me, is that it?”

  She studied him to see if he was teasing and decided he was. “Exactly,” she said, going along with it. “I have a reputation to protect, you know.”

  “I hear it’s spotless,” he said. “I’ll have to do something about that.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  They both laughed, and he directed the Lexus toward Asheville. Leaning back, Jenna thought of her mom and knew she would wonder what had happened to her. For that matter, so did she.

  Red-and-white checked tablecloths covered the tables at the small restaurant where they ended up, and a large deer head hung over the fireplace. Jenna took off her coat and hung it on one of the wood pegs that stuck out from the wall by the door. Dim lamps lit the room, and people talked softly at their tables. A hostess led them to a booth.

  “It’s not exactly the Chop House,” Rem said as they sat down.

  “Why don’t you taste the food before you get snobby?” she asked.

  “Good idea,” he said.

  A middle-aged waitress showed up wearing an apron that matched the tablecloth and handed them a couple of menus.

  “What’s good?” Rem asked.

  “I like the steaks,” Jenna said.

  “You’re a carnivore,” Rem said. “Let’s get a steak then, say a T-bone, just pink in the middle.”

  “I’ll have the petite filet,” Jenna said. “Medium rare.”

  The waitress took the rest of their orders and hustled off.

  Rem settled back, and Jenna laid her hands on the table. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said. “My mom’s going to go ballistic.”

  Rem tilted his head. “I’m a little confused,” he said. “You’re thirty, close to it anyway, and you’re still worried about your mom’s reaction when you go out with a man? What’s the story with that?”

  Jenna studied her hands. “I know it’s a little bizarre,” she finally said. “But I don’t know . . . my mom’s got this power over me, this . . . well . . . she stood by me a few years ago when I thought I had nowhere else to go. I can’t just forget that now, toss her over. She needs me and I need her. I guess that’s the best way to explain it.”

  The waitress brought them glasses of water. Rem ordered hot tea, then leaned closer to Jenna. “You came back to Hilltop three, four years ago, right?”

  “You’ve heard about that?”

  He nodded. “A little. The story in town says some guy broke up with you before the wedding. You want to tell me what happened?”

  “Not sure I do.”

  Rem drank from his water. “I can understand,” he said. “But I also expect you’ve kept it bottled up a long time and had little chance to talk about it. Sometimes it helps though.”

  “I didn’t know you were a psychiatrist.”

  “Pretend I am.”

  “You’ll be gone the day after Christmas. Why should I tell you anything?”

  “Because I’ll be gone the day after Christmas. What can it hurt?”

  She sipped her water, examined his question, and decided he was right. She had nothing to lose, and it might actually help to get his perspective. “I dated a man for almost four years,” she said, her tone empty of emotion. “He owned a couple of car dealerships—one in Winston-Salem, another in Greensboro.”

  “A man of means.”

  “Yeah. Handsome, successful, popular, kind, everything a woman wants in a man.”

  “A churchgoer?”

  “Yes. I wouldn’t get serious with any other kind of man.”

  “You’ve got standards.”

  “Yes.”

  The waitress brought their salads. Rem picked up his fork and picked at the lettuce.

  “Your guy finally proposed?” he asked.

  “On my birthday, after three years.”

  “Took him long enough.”

  “I thought so too. We’d been exclusive for over two years.”

  “But he finally popped the question.”

  “Yes, then suggested a wedding date about a year off.”

  “Again, he’s mighty slow. If I ever make up my mind to get married, I’m going to make it happen quicker than the first lap of a NASCAR race.”

  She smiled. “I should have taken his timetable as a hint,” she said. “Looking back now, I can see how unsure he was. But then . . .”

  “You were in love. Who can blame you?”

  She studied him to see if he was teasing, but she couldn’t tell. He nibbled on his salad; she ignored hers. “We were three weeks away from the wedding,” she said.

  “Not quite at the altar,” Rem said.

  “Close enough,” Jenna said. “He called me. I knew something was up the second I heard his voice.”

  “He didn’t meet you face-to-face?”

  She shook her head. “He told me he couldn’t do it,” she said. “He didn’t love me. Thought he did, he said
, and didn’t want to give up on something he’d invested four years of his life in. But he couldn’t commit to me. That was it. He hung up.”

  “That had to leave a mark.”

  “Like somebody had dropped a minibus on me.”

  The waitress showed up with their steaks and plopped them down. Rem thanked her, then gave his attention back to Jenna.

  “What did you do?” he asked.

  “What could I do? I started sending wedding presents back.”

  “You didn’t try to see him, find out what had happened?”

  “Oh, I found out all right.” She lifted her knife and fork and, fingers trembling, cut into the steak. “He married another woman less than a month later. One of my bridesmaids, a woman who taught school two doors down from me.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah.” She laid down her fork without eating the steak she’d cut. “I wanted to fillet him like a catfish.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I’m too nice. I even sent them a wedding present.”

  “You’re a fine Christian woman.”

  “Now you’re mocking me.”

  “Maybe so, but you should’ve had it out with the guy, the woman too. What kind of person does that to somebody?”

  Jenna hung her head. “I felt so humiliated,” she said. “I couldn’t stand to face either one of them. So I just left.”

  “That’s when you came back to Hilltop?”

  “Yes, moved in with my mom for a few months, then found the apartment where I live now. Never saw Carl again, Karen either.”

  “So you’ve never confronted either one of them?”

  “No. I’ve forgiven them . . . at least tried to.”

  Rem grunted.

  “What?” she asked. “You say I shouldn’t?”

  “It’s not that,” he said. “Forgiveness, fine, I agree with that. But my suspicion is you haven’t forgiven anybody, not really. You’ve buried it all instead, covered it up. You ran from Winston-Salem, never told either of them how angry you were, how much they hurt you. You ended up in a cave here in Hilltop, let Mommy take care of you, claimed to have forgiven these two people who’ve treated you like dirt. But have you? I doubt it. Let me ask you something. How many men have you dated since you moved here?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

  He nodded knowingly. “I bet you haven’t dated more than ten men in the last four years,” he said. “And probably only a couple of those more than once, and neither of those two as many as five times.”

  Although furious, Jenna mentally added up the dates she’d had since coming home. To her horror, she realized Rem had guessed correctly. “So what if you’re right?” she demanded. “What does it prove?”

  He leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I suspect it proves you haven’t moved on from Mr. Carl in Winston-Salem. You haven’t forgiven him, not really. You’re still angry, humiliated, bitter. Otherwise you’d have found someone else by now. I mean . . . look at you . . . you’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’ve got a great heart. But you’re not easy to approach; I can tell you that from the last couple of days. You’re frosty, like an ice cube on a ski slope.”

  “Maybe I’m just that way with you,” she said.

  He grinned. “Maybe, but I’m not willing to believe that.”

  Jenna thought of her mom, how she seemed so cold sometimes, and wondered if she’d inherited that trait. Pushing away the notion, she addressed Rem again. “Pretty high on yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I do all right.”

  She took a drink of water. Was Rem right? She’d tried so hard to forgive Carl and Karen, had prayed about it over and over. Yet when she was honest, she knew she still harbored ill will toward them, Carl especially. What did that mean? How weak her faith must be to have carried this grudge so long, to have let the bitterness lodge so deep.

  “I don’t know where to go from here,” she said. “It’s all so confusing.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He took her hands.

  Something in the gesture touched her, and she suddenly wanted to cry. A man hadn’t held her hands in a long time. His eyes bored into hers, and the same eerie feeling she’d had since she first saw him two days ago returned.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’ve known you a long time,” she said. “That I met you before high school . . . I know it’s crazy, but . . .” She stopped when she saw the frown on his face. He rubbed her hands gently for at least a minute.

  “You did meet me,” he finally said, his eyes fixed on her.

  She tilted her head, more confused than ever. “When?” she whispered.

  He shook his head. “You’ll figure it out; we’ll talk about it then.”

  “You sure you’re not just handing me a line? You know, the ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before?’ speech.”

  “You brought it up first,” he said.

  Her stomach churned as she tried to remember. Rem’s face stayed serious, and the look scared her and she pulled her hands away. “Eat,” she said, pointing to his steak. “We don’t want these to get cold.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t pull back.”

  She shook her head. “It’s no good,” she said. “Mom says you’ll be gone the day after Christmas. No reason to . . .”

  “To what? To talk to me? To have dinner with me?”

  “Yes, I admit it. Mom says it’s senseless. Men are trouble, more than they’re worth.”

  “You ever consider you might be listening to your mom too much? That her problems are seeping into your life, coloring your views in ways that aren’t healthy?”

  “Are you saying she’s wrong?”

  “I’m saying that anybody can be trouble, men or women. Relationships aren’t easy, no matter how you slice them. But are you going to let one awful experience make you a nun? Let it cut you off from something that might turn out great? Don’t give your mom’s bitterness or Carl’s stupidity that much power over you. You’re too smart for that.”

  “That’s quite a speech from a guy spending Christmas at home with his dad.”

  His eyes widened. “That’s a mean thing for such a fine Christian girl to say,” he said.

  “I’m tough,” she said. “You haven’t seen that side of me yet, that’s all.”

  “I like it.” He chuckled. “What else you got to show me?”

  “You don’t have the time,” she said. “You’re leaving the day after Christmas, remember?”

  He smiled again, and she loved his dimples. “Are you saying you want me to stay longer?” he asked.

  “I’m saying nothing of the sort.”

  “You wouldn’t admit it if you were, would you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why? What could it hurt?”

  Jenna dropped her eyes. “It could hurt me,” she said, the honesty pouring out before she could stop it.

  “That’s not my plan,” he said.

  She glanced back up. “What is your plan?”

  He took a drink of water. “Not sure I have one,” he finally said. “Got a lot on my mind.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “I’m trying to make a decision,” he said. “I’ve developed software to help clean up unwanted spam. A company wants to buy it. I have to give them an answer before Christmas.”

  “Not much time left.”

  “No, I’ll call them in the morning.”

  “You know yet what you’re going to do?”

  He rubbed his eyes. “At first I didn’t think I wanted to sell. But the last couple of days, I don’t know. I’ve worked like a slave for years, and the idea of getting out of it free and clear, spending some time off, suddenly looks real attractive.”

  “Are you really a tycoon like Nelson said?” she asked. “Going to make millions from the sale of your intellectual property?”

  “You looking for a man with money?”

&
nbsp; “No, just curious.”

  Rem nodded. “I’ll make a few dollars if I sell,” he said. “But not that much; I’ve got some debts to pay.”

  “Too bad. I hoped you’d struck it rich.”

  “I can start over,” he said. “I’ve done it before.”

  “I thought I’d ask you for money for Mickey,” she said.

  He sat up straighter. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of it before, but why not? I’ve asked everybody else. You got some to give?”

  He chuckled. “How’s all that coming along?”

  She dropped her head. “It’s not,” she admitted sadly. “I’m at a dead end. Timing is crucial in something like this. Mickey needs the transplant now, but we don’t have the money to make it happen, plus we have to use what we’ve collected so far to pay the hospital here. Looks like it’s over.”

  “So the kid dies?”

  “I’m afraid so. Another wonderful success added to my resume. Seems I can’t do anything right.”

  “You do lots of things right, a real Miss Do-Gooder.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that,” she said. “It sounds sarcastic.”

  “But aren’t you? Have I got it wrong? I suspect you’ve been that way a long time, maybe since you were a child.”

  “You’re the psychiatrist again?”

  “You’re avoiding the question.”

  She stared at him but she knew he’d hit a hot button. “Okay,” she admitted. “I’ve always tried to fix things, to make people happy. And yes, I did that with my mom and dad, all through their lousy marriage. But I never get it right.”

  Rem leaned to her. “You try though,” he said softly. “That’s a good thing, not a bad one.”

  “I’d like to succeed every now and again though—like with Mickey.”

  Rem looked out the window. “I wish you could,” he said. “It’s not fair, letting a kid die because there’s not enough money to pay some medical bills.”

  “He’s got less than a 50 percent chance even with the transplant,” Jenna said.

  “He deserves the opportunity though,” Rem said.

  “Yes, but it’s out of our hands now, up to the Lord.”

  Rem rubbed his eyes and looked at his plate, and she knew the mention of the Lord had bothered him. Unsure what to do, she picked up her fork but then laid it down again. “Tell me something,” she said. “It’s confused me since last night.”