Miracle

by Kimberly Shursen

  When Faith tackled her from behind, Mira fell hard to the ground.

  “Owwww,” Mira cried, landing hard on her knee.

  “I told you, it’s my turn.” Faith was fuming. She was so mad at Mira that she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She didn’t even know what a heartbeat felt like until she became Mira.

  Her knee hurt, but Mira started to crawl toward the tunnel.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Faith kicked Mira in the side.

  When Mira burst into tears, Faith leaned over her. “Cry, baby!” she mocked. “Little cry baby Mira.”

  “Am not.” Mira wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “You promised. You said you’d only leave me here for a little while.”

  Faith put her hands on her hips. “But I like it where you live.”

  Mira sat up. She brought her knees up and started to rub her hurt knee. “You lied. You told mommy and Daddy you’re me.”

  “I had to.”

  “How ’bout we share?” Mira whimpered. “I’ll let you visit sometimes.”

  Faith looked around at the imaginary world she’d created from Mira’s memory: the carousel, the dolls and dollhouse like the one Daddy made, and the balloons in the sky that looked like big puffs of cotton candy. “Why don’t you like it here? It’s got everything you like.”

  “Except for Mommy, Daddy, Hank, and—”

  “If I let you go back,” Faith interrupted, “you’ll try to stop me from ever seeing Daddy again.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Mira shook her head. “I promise.”

  “I know.” Faith smiled. “How ’bout I come visit you every night?”

  “Please,” Mira whimpered. “I wanna go home.”

  “I said no.” Faith had almost had it with her.

  Mira looked up at her with tear filled eyes. Faith could feel her sadness.

  “I don’t like you anymore.” Mira glared up at Faith.

  “That’s not a nice thing to say.” Faith noticed one of Mira’s knees was scraped and bleeding. She sat down beside her on the cool grass. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “Sisters aren’t supposed to be mean to each other,” Mira told her.

  Faith’s eyes felt all wet, and she reached up and touched her cheek “Look!” she said. “I have tears.”

  “Everyone has tears.”

  “I never have. I have tears just like you.”

  “How come you live here?” Mira asked. “Mommy said we’re twins so we should live in the same house.”

  “’Member when Daddy told Charlie that she let me go?”

  Mira nodded. “But I don’t know what that means.”

  “Charlie killed me,” Faith said flatly.

  Mira’s eyes grew wide. “My mommy would never hurt anyone.”

  “She only wanted you, not me.” Faith put her arm around Mira’s shoulder. “We’re sisters, and sisters should share. It’s my turn to live in the big house.”

  Mira shrugged Faith’s arm off her shoulder. “You need to go ’way.”

  “Mira,” they heard a voice call faintly.

  Briefly, Mira and Faith’s eyes met. Simultaneously, they jumped up and started to race toward the tunnel. Mira, however, was slower because her knee hurt so bad.

  Running as fast as she could, Faith shouted, “You’re never going back. It’s my home now!” She jumped into the tunnel before Mira could catch up.

  As Mira’s cries grew weaker, Shelly’s voice got louder.

  “Mira, wake up. Wake up.” Faith felt someone shaking her shoulder.

  When her eyes popped open, Shelly’s kind eyes came into focus.

  Shelley put her hand on Faith’s forehead. “Did you have a bad dream? I heard you crying.”

  Trembling, Faith sat up and threw her arms around Shelly’s neck. Holding tight, she had to think of something. “I don’t want to go back.”

  “You mean home?”

  Faith was quiet for a few seconds. “I want to go home, but not if Charlie’s there.” She could never tell anyone about changing places with Mira. If she did, something bad might happen.

  Shelly put her fingers to her lips. “Shhh. Let’s not wake up Brittany. Were you dreaming about your mommy?”

  “Please, don’t make me go home to Charlie.”

  As Shelly assured Faith that she was safe, she started to calm down.

  Her head on Shelly’s shoulder, Faith could hear Mira crying.

  No matter what Mira promised, Faith was never going back.

  Ever.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHARLIE GLANCED OUT HER BEDROOM WINDOWat the thick carpet of snow that covered the fields, thinking about the appointment with the psychologist today. She wondered why she was even going. Mira didn’t want to see her, and the ongoing chats about her overcoming the loss of Faith were redundant. She’d dealt with losing Mira’s twin long ago.

  With the wind chill below zero, Charlie hoped the Honda would start. If she missed a meeting that had been court ordered, it would go into her file and work against her in court.

  “I’m going to see Mira this afternoon,” Clint said, startling Charlie when he came into the room.

  “Great. But I can’t go later this afternoon.” Charlie went to the chest of drawers and pulled out a dark-green wool sweater.

  “Not we,” Clint told her, going into the closet. “Just me.”

  “What do you mean, just you?” she asked, following him.

  “Shannon arranged it.” Coming out of the closet with a pair of boots, Clint sat down on the edge of the bed. “She wants to talk to me privately.”

  “So now she’s Shannon?” Charlie’s threshold for bullshit was at zero.

  Clint pulled a boot on, not responding.

  “What the hell is going on?” Charlie asked. “This isn’t what the judge ordered. He said we have visitation. As in you and I together.”

  Clint put his foot into the second boot and tugged. “Shannon said Mira is having nightmares and thought it might be better if just I saw her today.” He stood and pulled up the waistband of his jeans.

  Charlie pointed at herself. “Nightmares about me?”

  “That’s what the foster mom told Shannon.” Clint walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer.

  “I don’t believe it.” Infuriated by the sudden change in visiting Mira, Charlie yanked the green sweater over her head.

  “Maybe I can get to the bottom of this if I see Mira alone.” Clint took out a white handkerchief and pushed it into the pocket of his jeans. “Maybe Shannon has some suggestions.”

  Charlie was so angry she could have punched a hole in the wall. “Have you happened to notice the way Shannon Patterson looks at you?”

  Clint smirked. “Looks at me?”

  Charlie stomped to in front of him. “She’s got the hots for you, dummy.”

  Clint walked away and Charlie noticed his shoulders shaking.

  “Are you laughing at me?” She was going to kill him. But before she had the chance, he turned around, put his hands on her shoulders, walked her backward to the bed and pushed her down on the mattress. Lowering himself down gently on her body he smiled that mischievous grin that made Charlie’s heart melt. “I think someone’s jealous.”

  She slapped his upper arm and tried to get up, but he held her down.

  “Come on, ‘fess up. You’re jealous.” He rubbed his nose against hers.

  “Stop it.” She turned away. “Jealous of what? That stupid fang makes me thinks she’s going to bite me. Stupid cow.”

  Clint traced her face lightly with the tip of his finger. “You’re turning me on, woman.”

  Charlie glared into his eyes. “Mark my word, Clint Abbott, there’s something wrong with Ms. DHS.”

  “Consider your word marked.”

  Charlie started to get up, but Clint pushed her back down on the bed again and covered her lips with his. He kissed her lightly at first, but when Charlie responded, his breathing became rapid. She wrapped her legs around his wais
t and pulled him into her. The past few weeks had been such a blur that, until now, she had no idea how much she’d missed being close to him.

  She moved his hand to her breast, feeling the bulge in his pants against her thigh.

  Suddenly, Clint sat up and stood. “I’m going to be late and so are you.”

  Disappointed that they’d lost the moment, Charlie asked, “Can we pick up where we left off later?”

  “Either that or I’ll have to take a cold shower for a very long time.”

  Charlie knew, however, that it wouldn’t happen. Mira would upset Clint; the psychologist would irritate her; and they’d both go back into their shells again.

  “I should be home around four.” Charlie rolled off the mattress.

  “Be careful.” Clint nodded out the window. “We’re supposed to get three or four more inches this afternoon.

  “I will.” She hated the drive to Lenora to the psychologist’s office, but rationalized that if they lived in a big city, the twenty-some-minute drive would be nothing. “Tell Mira I love her.” It was hard to be left out, but maybe Clint was right. If he was alone with Mira, maybe she’d open up.

  She stopped in the doorway and turned around. “Do you think she’ll ever want to come home?”

  “I don’t know.”

  In the kitchen, Charlie bundled up and went out the back door. On her way to the garage, she looked at Mira’s sand pile that was now a dome of snow, and the seats on the swing set whipped back and forth in the blustery wind. Shivering, she noticed the branches on the trees hung a good two feet lower with the thick coating of ice. She pulled the collar of her coat up around her neck.

  Charlie knew the session would go as it usually did: What would you like to talk about? How is your marriage going? What do you feel you could do to move forward?

  Until Mira told the truth, there was no way Charlie would convince anyone that she’d never laid a hand on her baby. Even if Mira changed her story, Charlie would forever carry the stigma of a child abuser.

  She waved at Jim Purdy when he passed her on the highway, but he looked away. She might as well put a scarlet letter on every piece of clothing she owned because she’d already been found guilty, judged, and sentenced.

  “How’d the session go?” Clint asked when she opened the back door. Something was up as he never sat at the kitchen table alone.

  She bent over, shaking the flakes of snow out of her hair. “It’s freezing.” She hung her coat on the rack. “Same as every other session. Blah, blah, blah.” Noticing Clint’s pensive expression, she asked, “Is Mira okay?”

  He nodded. “Yup.”

  She untied her boots and stepped out of them. “Why do I hear a but in your yup?”

  “We need to talk.”

  She braced herself. “Okay.” On her way to the table, she rubbed her hands together to try and warm them.

  The dark, circles underneath Clint’s eyes even more prominent than when Charlie left this morning.

  “There’s fresh coffee if—”

  “Coffee? You made coffee?” He had one cup of coffee a day and that was before he went out into the fields before dawn. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I told you that Shannon wanted to talk to me,” Clint started.

  “Go on.”

  “Mira wants to come home.”

  Charlie leaned forward. “Are you kidding? That’s great news. I can’t wait to—”

  “Wait, there’s more.”

  “I don’t care what more there is. Our baby wants to come home. Oh God, Clint.” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around his neck. Finally, their lives might go back to normal again.

  When he didn’t hug her back, Charlie leaned back into her chair. “What?”

  “She… Mira won’t come home if you’re here.”

  “Huh?” She was prepared that he’d tell her something she didn’t want to hear, but not this. “So, what am I supposed to do? Just disappear?”

  “Shannon suggested that—”

  “Shannon?” Charlie jumped so fast that her chair flew backward across the linoleum. “Stop calling that woman Shannon like she’s a long-lost buddy.” She stomped to the refrigerator and took out a beer. “She’s the enemy, Clint. Do you fucking get it?”

  “Hey.” He craned his neck around so he could see Charlie. “I’m not the enemy. I’m simply telling you what Mira said.” He nodded at the beer in her hand. “Grab me one of those, would you?”

  Charlie reached into the fridge and took out another can. “And what did you say?”

  “I just listened.”

  “And what was”—she rolled her eyes—“Shannon’s input?”

  “She thought that,” he stammered, “that it was a good idea that Mira come home.”

  “And?”

  “And that it might be best if you moved in with your parents for a while until…”

  “My parents!” she shouted. “She thinks I should leave my own home? Are you out of your mind?” Charlie ranted. “I’m Mira’s mother!” Incensed, she slammed the can of beer down on the table in front of him. “So you and Mira live here, and I just pack up and go away quietly?”

  Clint took off his baseball cap and did the same routine he always did when he was cornered. “I think the first issue we need to deal with is getting Mira home.”

  The house grew silent. Incensed that obviously Clint hadn’t even stood up for her, she walked to the sink and looked out the window. The winds had come up, causing a near whiteout, but the fury of the snowstorm didn’t come near to matching the intensity inside of their home. A few seconds later when she calmed down, she turned around and said calmly, “Do you want a divorce?”

  He shook his head. “God, no.”

  “Then what? What’s happening to us, Clint?” Silent tears trickled down her cheeks.

  “Shannon and I talked about how if Mira came home, you’d slowly come back into her life. Build Mira’s trust in you again.”

  “You think I hurt her, don’t you?” Charlie asked walking back to the table. The anger was gone and all she felt was tired.

  “Shannon seems to think that Mira might have repressed something that could have happened a long time ago and the memory is surfacing.”

  Charlie pulled her chair back up to the table and sat down. “And you believe her.”

  “Well, I—”

  “That wasn’t a question.”

  “She… Ms. Patterson thinks that maybe something happened when Mira was younger. Maybe something you didn’t mean to do that possibly hurt her.”

  “So she thinks I accidentally hurt Mira?” Charlie responded.

  “Yes, that’s what Shan… Ms. Patterson thinks.”

  “That’s baloney, and you know it.”

  “We need to do what’s best for Mira.” Clint’s unemotional responses were as if he’d already made up his mind. Charlie either had to move out of their home or their marriage was over.

  “That child you saw today is not Mira.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You know that, right?”

  “So who is she?”

  Charlie tried to think of a way to tell him what she felt, but there was no other way to tell him. “I think she could be possessed.”

  “For God’s sakes,” Clint downed the rest of his beer, stood and went to the refrigerator. “By aliens? Little green people?”

  Charlie held her breath, knowing how he would react. “By another spirit.”

  “Oh, for God’s sakes, first it was that crazy Harper guy who said Mira has a mental illness that I’ve never even heard of and now she’s possessed. What’s it going to be next?”

  “Fuck you, Clint Abbott.”

  There was no way out of this. Mira wasn’t going to come home if Charlie didn’t do what Patterson wanted. Charlie stood and started through the archway into the living room.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Clint tried.“You won’t be gone long, Just until—”

  “Right.” She waved a hand above her head and kept
on walking.

  Charlie was all out of fight. In the bedroom, she took out a pair of flannel pajamas. After she changed, she walked stoically into Mira’s bedroom and closed the door.

  Sitting in the rocking chair; the same rocker that she’d sat in and nursed Mira, the chair that she’d rocked Mira to sleep in for the first two years of her life. She stared out the window, deep in thought.

  She heard a whine and looked down. “Hi boy,” she said when she saw Hank at her feet. “Come on.” She patted her leg. Hank tried to jump up, but his legs were too short.

  Charlie leaned over and picked him up and he settled into her lap.

  Tomorrow, she’d pack up a few things and go to her parents. With Shannon Patterson’s input, along with Charlie being cooperative and doing everything she was told to do, maybe the judge would order the family to live under one roof. Tomorrow Mira would come home to a house without a mother. Good luck with Clint managing to take care of a six-year-old, the house, and Hank. When Charlie gave birth to the twins, he’d called her at the hospital multiple times a day either if he couldn’t find something, or wanted to know how to turn on an appliance.

  Charlie had lost Mira, and now her marriage was falling apart.

  “You knew something was wrong before we did, Hank," she whispered, petting him. “You’re the smartest one in the house.”

  A few seconds later, she heard the door to their bedroom close.

  As she listened to the wind hammer the siding, Charlie knew she had to come up with a plan.

  Even though she was worn out, there was no way she was going down without a fight.

  This battle was far from over.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  .

  WINSTON FRY, III sat on his leather couch next to Mrs. Mary LaBarr. He’d never met her before. It had been Mary’s daughter who’d contacted him asking for Winston’s help.

  The mother-daughter duo had driven from Nashville to Winston’s log cabin that was sixty-five miles southeast of Lexington, Kentucky. Winston retired more than twenty-years ago when he and his partner Saul found the secluded home on Deer Creek Lake.

  “Are you sure your daughter doesn’t want to join us?” Winston asked Mary. “Because she’s more than welcome.”