A Midnight Miracle

by Gary Parker

  “We agreed not to talk of it,” he said. “Maybe that was a mistake.”

  She put the picture back on the mantel and faced Roscoe again. “I better go,” she said. “If you talk to Rem tomorrow, please tell him I came by. Tell him I understand now.”

  Roscoe dropped his eyes. “I’m not supposed to tell you this,” he said. “But I don’t care what he does to me; I’m going to say it anyway.”

  “What?”

  He looked up again. “He’s not gone to Atlanta yet—but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Where he always goes on the way out of Hilltop.”

  Jenna waited for him to explain, but when he didn’t she suddenly understood his meaning. She’d find Rem where she’d first met him so long ago.

  “He won’t stay there long,” Roscoe said. “Best you go if you plan to catch him.”

  Jenna quickly hugged Roscoe, then stepped back. “Will he forgive me?” she asked.

  “As pretty as you are, I think there’s a good chance of it.”

  She smiled and rushed out, her heart soaring. If Rem would forgive her, who knew what could happen then? After forgiveness, anything was possible.

  11

  Jenna saw Rem’s Lexus as she turned into the cemetery, its silver paint glinting under the lights of her Bronco. Stepping quietly but quickly out, she trained a flashlight straight ahead and saw Rem standing hatless beside a small tombstone, his back to her. Without a word, she slipped over the grass toward him. A light smattering of snow began to show in her flashlight beam. She checked her watch—almost midnight.

  She stopped about twenty feet from Rem and hoped he’d turn around, but he didn’t. He kept his head down, his hands in his pockets. For the twentieth time since she’d left Roscoe’s house, she rehearsed in her head what she wanted to say. But right now it all seemed lame, frail words that couldn’t ever make up for the harsh way she’d treated him. When she opened her mouth, none of her planned words came out.

  “Can I talk to you a second?” she asked quietly, raising the flashlight so she could see him better.

  “I’d rather be alone,” he said, his voice as cold as the air.

  She waited another few seconds and prayed he’d give her a chance to explain. “I remember when we met,” she offered.

  “Dad tell you where to find me?” He still faced the tombstone. Her light lit up his back. Snowflakes danced lightly as they fell to the ground.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “I’m sure you had to torture him to get him to talk.”

  She tried to determine if she heard any humor in his words but couldn’t tell. “He showed me a picture,” she said.

  “That’s how you remembered,” Rem said. “He made it easy on you.” He sounded resentful.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t remember sooner,” she said. “But it was a long time ago.”

  “I suppose what changes one person’s life forever isn’t always memorable for everybody else.”

  “It’s sad it’s that way, but I think you’re right. One person’s tragedy is another person’s passing event.”

  He nodded but didn’t speak. She gathered her courage and took a step closer. He held up a hand but still didn’t face her.

  “I didn’t invite you here,” he said.

  “I know, and I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Then why are you?”

  She bit her lip to hold back her tears. “I judged you,” she offered. “I saw you through my own stupid problems. That wasn’t fair. I see that now.”

  “Is that an apology?”

  “Yes.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to face her. “I don’t know that it matters now,” he said. “But I accept it.”

  She tried to gauge his sincerity. Was he just letting her off the hook so he could leave without any more bother?

  “Thanks for coming,” he said. “At least we can part as friends.”

  She glanced up into the falling snow and tried to decide what to do, what to say. Was this it? A last few seconds together in a cemetery, then separated again forever? But why did she care? She didn’t love him. How could she? They’d spent so little time together. Plus, he worked too much and seemed too flippant about a lot of things she cared most deeply about. Yet . . . she couldn’t just let him go; something about him magnetized her, pulled her to him.

  She focused on him again, studying his eyes in the flashlight’s beam. His eyes looked back with a quiet strength. How could she ever have forgotten those eyes, the deep brown, the power in spite of the hurt, the depth that had obviously looked into places she’d never even considered? She couldn’t let him go, not yet, not until she’d said all she’d come here to say.

  “Your brother,” she started, stepping another pace closer. “I saw him in the picture.”

  “We don’t talk of my brother,” he said.

  “But maybe you should,” she blurted. “Maybe it would help you . . . help you . . . I don’t know . . . deal with it.”

  “It’s not your place to say that,” he said. “We deal with things as we do; nobody to interfere, nobody to say there’s a right way or a wrong way.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “But I do want you to know I remember; and your dad didn’t tell me any of this. Your brother died, and your family came to your dad’s old hometown to bury him. I expect that’s why your dad wanted to move here after he quit the police force.”

  “It’s why I didn’t want to move here,” he said.

  “I can understand that.”

  He took his hands from his pockets and balled them into fists at his side.

  “Hilltop folks came to the funeral,” she said. “Even though most of us didn’t know your mom and dad, we knew your dad’s folks.”

  “People brought casseroles,” Rem said.

  “Up here on the mountain, they always do.”

  Rem faced the tombstone again, and she moved slowly to his side. To her relief, he let her stay there. His hands relaxed a little.

  “You sat down by this tombstone after the minister finished the service,” she whispered. “On a day as bright as any I’ve ever seen. Everybody started talking. I sat down by you and asked your name.”

  “You weren’t shy back then,” Rem said.

  “A man hadn’t cut my heart out back then,” Jenna said.

  The snow thickened. “You asked me what happened,” Rem said. “I told you. You asked my brother’s name.”

  “Tyler,” she said. “A good name. I liked it.”

  Rem wiped his eyes, then touched the top of the tombstone. “He died of leukemia,” he said. “Not exactly the same as Mickey Strack’s, but close enough. That’s why this trip home has seemed so strange to me, ever since I saw you at the grocery store and heard about Mickey. It was almost like reliving what happened to Tyler all those years ago.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jenna said. “I had no idea.”

  “How could you? I didn’t exactly let on about any of it.”

  They stood quietly as the snow fell. Jenna trained her flashlight on the tombstone.

  “Robert Tyler Lincoln. 1979–1982. A child of the Lord.”

  Rem sat down on the ground and stared at the tombstone. Without asking permission, Jenna sat beside him and tried to take his hand, but he pulled it away and shoved it into his jacket.

  “Is this why you lost your faith?” she asked, pointing the light at Tyler’s name. “Your brother’s death?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What then?”

  He looked up. Snow fell into his face, but he didn’t seem to notice. “A preacher,” he said. “A young guy, the pastor of our church back in Knoxville. We prayed for Tyler, me and my mom and dad. The pastor said if we prayed and had faith, the Lord would heal Tyler. We prayed like you wouldn’t believe, every night, every morning, all day long. My mom went on fasts, didn’t eat for days while she prayed. But nothing happened. Tyler got worse; we prayed
more. Tyler suffered, hurt, cried. Finally he died.”

  “You thought God let you down.”

  He shook his head. “No, we never doubted God, not really. But that preacher, he . . .” Rem wiped his eyes again.

  “What?” she asked. “Tell me.”

  He shook his head again. She reached for his hand once more, but again he refused to let her take it. “You have to say it,” she said. “What did he do?”

  Rem faced her. “He came to our house after the funeral,” he said through gritted teeth. “He talked with my mom and dad; I sat on the floor and listened. Mom asked him why our prayers hadn’t worked. The preacher took a big drink of tea and shrugged his shoulders like he was talking about the price of apples. Then he said that one of two things must have happened; either we didn’t have enough faith or we had some hidden sin in our lives.”

  Jenna froze, her body numbed by the misguided words the minister had spoken. How could anybody, no matter how young and inexperienced, have said such things? Didn’t he know the power such statements held, the power to alter a life the second the words came out?

  “His words burned into my brain,” Rem said. “Made me furious. Yeah, maybe I didn’t have enough faith, maybe I had sin in my life. But my mom, my dad? They were as good as anybody, Mama especially. I decided then and there that the preacher didn’t have a clue. Nobody could say that about my mom. I swore off preachers that day and the rest of religion not too long afterward and haven’t seen much reason to ever change my mind.”

  “He was one bad apple,” she said. “Nelson isn’t that way.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t fix what the guy in Knoxville did.”

  Snowflakes fell on Jenna’s nose, and she brushed them off. “So what now?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you plan on staying angry the rest of your life?”

  “I don’t know; I’m just taking it a day at a time.”

  “What about us?”

  He wiped snow off his face. “I’m not what you need,” he said. “You’ve made that plain.”

  “I don’t know what I need,” she said. “So how can you?”

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever trust a pastor again,” he said. “The church either.”

  “I’m not asking you to change anything,” she said. “That’s between you and God.”

  “You think I need changing?”

  She shivered as the snow began to fall faster. “We all need changing,” she said.

  “You think you do?” he asked, facing her.

  “Sure.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m too self-righteous, too judgmental. You’ve already told me that.”

  “And me?”

  “Well, you need to give up your anger, bitterness. It’ll eat you up if you let it; believe me, I know.”

  “Are you saying you’ve given yours up?”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said. “But I’ve decided to try. You can too.”

  The snow swirled around them, and the wind picked up. “You’re going to freeze out here,” he said.

  “You could put your arm around me,” she said.

  He turned to her, surprise in his face. “You’re awfully bold all of a sudden,” he said.

  “I’m turning into a popsicle,” she said. “That’ll make a girl bold.”

  He looked sideways at her. “What do you want from me?” he finally asked.

  “Besides your jacket?”

  “Yeah, other than that.”

  She reached for his hand one more time, and this time he let her take it. “I want you to stay in Hilltop a little longer,” she said. “See what happens.”

  “You really think there’s a chance for us?”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m not asking you to marry me,” she said. “Just for us to spend a little time together. Maybe we can help each other—both of us have some things to get over. You keep me straight on my self-righteousness thing; I’ll show you that not every preacher is like that guy in Knoxville.”

  “I can get Nelson to do that,” he said.

  She pinched his hand. “You’re not making this easy,” she said.

  He became serious again. “Sorry,” he said. “Guess I’m just a little scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “I’ve carried my anger a long time; I don’t know who I’ll be without it.”

  “You might feel a whole lot freer. You ever think of that?”

  “Yes, a lot.”

  “Then you’ll stay?”

  He sat quietly for at least a minute. The snow began to gather around their knees. Jenna shivered and her teeth chattered. Rem stood and pulled her up, and she wondered if she’d scared him off. He put both hands in his pants pockets. Her heart sagged again.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  He stared up into the falling snow as if to see some message in it. “I’m not sure what happens now,” he said.

  Jenna weighed what to do next. Should she press him further or give him space? Something told her she’d done all she could. She stepped back a half pace.

  “I want you to stay here,” she said more calmly than she felt. “But it’s up to you now. Before we go our separate ways though, I feel like I have to say this. You’re at a crossroads—no, not about me, but about yourself. I think . . . really I believe . . . that God brought you home this year to make you take a hard look at your life. Mickey Strack’s situation opened up a vault you’ve kept locked a long time. Some bad things walked out of that vault, and they scared you. Still do. But you’ve got a chance to get over those fears. Nelson can help you, I know he can. He’s a godly man and he’s your friend.”

  “His sermon tonight seemed straight for me.”

  “It was for all of us.”

  “Yeah.”

  The snow dropped softly. Jenna touched Rem’s elbow, and he faced her. “We both know you’re still a believer,” she said. “Maybe it’s time you admitted that.”

  Rem looked at the ground, almost white from the heavy, wet snow. Afraid she’d said too much, Jenna removed her hand. Rem shifted his feet, and she could feel the battle going on in his spirit.

  “It’s hard,” he said softly.

  She touched him again. “I’m your friend,” she soothed. “Nelson and Julie too. We care for you.”

  He shivered and shook his head. She waited again.

  “I’m afraid,” he said. “I don’t want to lead you on that I’m different all of a sudden when I know I might never be.”

  “I’ll take that chance,” she said. “I believe there’s good in you, maybe more than you know.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “Like Carl did. Don’t want to disappoint Nelson. Don’t want . . .” He stopped.

  “What?”

  “Don’t want to come back to God and then fall away again. If that happens, I’ll never get back. I know that.”

  “God gives us lots of chances,” she said. “People fall all the time, like bowling pins. Something knocks us down, God picks us up. Something knocks us down, God picks us up.”

  “You really believe that?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  He pulled his hands from his pockets, and she waited one final time. Snow fell into her hair, and she shivered again. Suddenly, he opened his arms. “Come here,” he said.

  She rushed to him and he hugged her, and she snuggled into his jacket, her arms tight around his back.

  “I sold my program,” he said.

  “Good,” she said. “No reason anymore for you to rush off.”

  “I don’t have much money,” he said.

  “How much is not much?”

  He laughed and looked into her eyes. “You looking for a rich man?” he asked.

  “I’m looking for a warm one,” she said. “And I’m not talking about the weather.”

  He pulled her closer. “I can stay a while longer,” he said. “At least long enough for a bike ride or two.”

/>   She laughed and he bent to her, his eyes gentle.

  “You think you remember how?” he asked.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  He kissed her as the snow fell, and she shivered again, but this time it wasn’t because of the cold.

  12

  A warm sun splashed through Jenna’s bedroom window and over her face as she opened her eyes the next morning. She thought instantly of Rem, and a smile creased her mouth and she stretched and almost purred. They’d gone back to his house after they left the cemetery, and Roscoe had served them hot chocolate and a piece of the apple pie he’d bought at one of the sales to raise money for Mickey. They’d talked long into the night, the conversation flowing freely, more easily than she’d ever talked to anyone.

  Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the clock. Almost nine thirty. Caller ID showed her mom’s number. Jenna’s smile vanished momentarily, but she quickly shook off the negative feeling and took the call. Nobody could spoil her humor today, not even her mom at her worst, and on Christmas she surely wouldn’t approach that.

  “Good morning, Mom,” she said.

  “What happened to you last night? I close my eyes to pray and you’re gone when I open them again? Then I called you until 1 a.m.”

  “I went to Rem’s house; we talked a long time.”

  “He’ll break your heart. That’s all I have to say.”

  Jenna almost made a smart remark, something like “It’d be a miracle if that’s all you have to say on anything,” but once more she fought her instinct. “I’m willing to risk it,” she said instead. “It’s been years since Carl, and even though I don’t have a clue if anything serious will happen between Rem and me, it’s a chance I’ll take.”

  “He’s just like your father.”

  “No, Mom, he’s not, and I’d prefer you not say that again. Besides, Dad’s a good man at heart; sure, he’s goofed up, but he’s no worse than the rest of us. I wish you’d see that.”

  “He wasn’t good to me.”

  “We all have our failures, me . . . you.”

  “Are you blaming me for what your father did?”

  Jenna got out of bed and walked to the window. At least four inches of snow covered the ground, enough to make everything beautiful but not stop anyone from getting around. Perfect.