“We made a big round one.” Mira spread out her hands as wide as she could. “Like this big.”
“It smells yummy,” Shannon said.
“It is.” Mira giggled. “Daddy says I cook good.”
“You want some coffee?” Clint asked. “Maybe hot tea to warm you up?”
“Tea would be great, but don’t go to any trouble.” God, she could use a bucket load of wine right now. “I hope I didn’t interrupt your evening.”
“No trouble at all.” Clint took the teapot off the stove and filled it with water. “Sounds as if you had a long day.”
His back to her, she caught herself almost salivating when she took in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Oh, how Shannon wished she could walk up behind him, wrap her arms around his chest, and feel her breasts press into him. But she needed to take this slow. “Can I help?”
“Nothing to do except wait until the pizza’s ready,” Clint told her. “Mira, can you set the table?”
“Yep.” Mira hustled to the pantry and opened the door.
“Can I help?” Shannon asked.
Clint looked to Mira. “We’ve got it covered. Right, Peanut?”
“Uh huh.” Mira brought out paper napkins and carried them to the table.
Clint was such a gentleman. He’d been happy to see her, Shannon could feel it. Not being able to tell her how he felt about her was probably as hard on Clint as it was on Shannon. But he was an honorable man and until the divorce was final, Shannon needed to be patient.
During dinner, Mira chattered nonstop, and Clint caught Shannon’s eye and winked. What she’d give to lean over and kiss those beautiful lips.
“Mira,” Clint said as he cleared the table. “Time for your bath. Run on upstairs and don’t get into the tub until I check the temp, okay?”
“Okay.” Mira turned around when she reached the archway and looked back at Shannon, a ring of red pizza sauce around her mouth. “You gonna stay and have a sleepover?”
“Oh no, honey. I need to get home.” Please, please, please, Clint, ask me to stay.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Clint commented filling the sink with sudsy water. “The snow looks a foot deep already, and you can’t see a darn thing out there.”
“I can’t stay, but thanks for the offer.” She took her coat off the rack, praying Clint would intervene.
He walked to her, took her jacket out of her hands like the macho man he was, and hung it back up. “You’d be insane to go out there. I won’t let you do it.”
“I feel terrible.” Shannon hung her head. “I should’ve just gone on home and not bothered you.”
“You feel terrible because?” Clint asked.
“For putting you in this position.”
“Well, I’m glad we were here. Otherwise, someone might have found you in the ditch.”
God, she was crazy about him. “Thanks, Clint.” Just saying his name out loud warmed her heart.
As Clint washed the dishes and Shannon dried them, it felt like they’d been together forever. “So, you’re the dishwasher?” she asked.
“Charlie used to be. Says it relaxes her.”
Shannon wished to hell he’d stop bringing up that witch’s name.
“Daddy!” Mira called from upstairs.
“On my way.” He grabbed a paper towel off the holder and wiped his hands. “You want to come up after Mira’s bath? Maybe relieve me of reading a book?”
“I’d like that.”
While Clint was upstairs with Mira, Shannon tidied up the kitchen. Glancing out the window and seeing the fury of the snow storm, Shannon wished she could kiss Mother Nature right now.
“I’m ready.”
Shannon whipped her head around. When she saw Mira in a plaid flannel nightgown and fluffy, pink sock-slippers, Shannon smiled. She couldn’t wait to tell everyone that this beautiful child was her daughter.
“You look so pretty in your jammies,” Shannon said.
Mira walked to her and put her hand in Shannon’s. “Daddy said you’re gonna read me a story.”
“Is that all right with you?”
“Uh-huh. I want The Cat in the Hat.”
“Oh, goody, ‘cause Dr. Seuss is my favorite,” Shannon told Mira as they walked hand in hand through the living room.
“Me too,” Mira said.
Upstairs they passed a door that was slightly ajar across from Clint’s bedroom. When Shannon peeked inside all she could make out an old desk and chair. Other than that the room appeared to be empty. What a perfect nursery for her and Clint’s baby.
Walking into Mira’s room, Shannon couldn’t believe how different it looked. The night she was called the bedroom had been in shambles, with blankets and sheets crumpled up and Mira’s dolls thrown around the room.
Mira put her finger to her lips. “Shhh, my girls are asleep.”
“Your girls?” Shannon whispered.
“Well, they’re really dolls, but I call them my girls.”
“Gotcha.”
Clint sat down in the rocking chair in one corner of the room and Mira plopped down on her bed, she scooted to one side. “Can you sit by me like Daddy does?”
Shannon sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking how natural it felt to be here. When she finished the story, she stood, leaned over, and gave Mira a hug. “Good night, sweet girl.”
Faith threw her arms around Shannon’s neck. “I wish you were my mommy.”
Oh God, me too. “I’ll be downstairs,” Shannon said, not looking at Clint. Not to worry, Mira, Shannon thought. I’ll be your mommy soon.
Sitting on the couch in the living room with only a shadow of light coming from the kitchen, Shannon daydreamed as she stared out the picture window. In town Shannon could see the houses on either side of hers, but here, the view was so pretty, with trees blanketed in a thick coat of white. She was going to love it here.
When she heard water running upstairs, she wondered if Clint was taking a shower. She got goose bumps envisioning him naked with her beside him. She could almost feel his hands in the small of her back, pulling her gently into him, her head nestled into his chest as he kissed the top of her head, her cheeks, and—
“Don’t want to startle you.”
She gasped.
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Clint said, coming down the stairs wearing lounge pants, slippers, and a white T-shirt that clung to his upper body. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Shannon saw he was carrying a pillow and blanket.
“Sorry. My mind was a million miles away.”
“I want you to take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” A clump of damp dark hair fell over his forehead, and she fought the urge to lovingly push it back in place.
“I will not put you out of your bed.” She patted the couch cushion. “I’ll be fine right here.”
“I insist.” He sat down on a foot away from her.
“You doing all right?” Shannon asked.
“If I hear that question one more time—”
“Sorry.” Uncomfortable, she changed positions. “I’m not good at saying the right thing sometimes.” Even with the faint lighting, Shannon saw his expression turn somber.
“No, I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He turned toward her. “But would you be all right if you had to choose between your daughter or wife?”
“Is Mira warming up to the idea of Charlie visiting?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“She throws a fit whenever I talk to Charlie on the phone.”
Shannon had always hated women who were home wreckers. In this instance, however, she had nothing to do with Clint and Charlie’s marriage failing. Charlie had done this to herself.
“As a professional do you think there’s a chance Mira might change her mind?” Clint asked. “Want to see Charlie?”
“I’m going to be honest. I have never seen a child turn against a parent like Mira has. No matter the circumstances, a parent-child bond is rarely broken.”
Clint set the p
illow and blanket on the floor. “Mira needs a parent in her life.”
“You’re right. If the judge feels your daughter is in danger, he’ll never allow Mira to live with Charlie.”
“I miss her.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “My wife.”
Damn it, why couldn’t he get it through his skull that Charlie was evil?
“The schools are closed, but that won’t keep Mira from waking up early.” Clint stood. “I laid out some clean pajamas of Charlie’s for you. And the bathroom is across the hall.”
He’d changed the subject quickly.
“Thanks, Clint.” She pushed off the couch. “I’ll just grab my purse in the kitchen.”
When Shannon came back into the living room, she saw Clint’s head was bowed. She started to say good night, but didn’t, thinking that maybe he was working through the feelings he had for her.
She tiptoed up the stairs and into the bathroom. On the sink Shannon noticed three toothbrushes in a holder: two adult sized and a smaller one for Mira. The larger blue and yellow brushes were side by side, infuriating her. “Can’t have that.” She snatched up the yellow brush, and tossed it into her purse.
After she changed into Charlie’s warm pajamas, Shannon slid underneath the covers. She pulled the blanket up around her neck, catching a whiff of Clint’s masculine scent on the sheets. She closed her eyes and wished that before the night was over, she’d hear Clint’s footsteps coming up the stairs.
It won’t be long now, my darling.
She couldn’t wait for the day she’d fall asleep in his arms every single night for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“MRS. ABBOTT?”
“Yes,” Charlie said when she heard the unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line.
“This is Winston Fry.”
When she realized he was the psychic she’d written for help, her stomach did a nosedive. “Mr. Fry? Oh my gosh. I’m so glad you called.” She glanced at her mother who was standing at the kitchen counter making lunch. “Hey Mom, I’m going to take this in my room.” She held out the phone to her mother. “Can you hang up when I pick up?”
Charlie’s mother wiped her hands on a tea towel. “Of course.”
“I’ve got it, Mom,” Charlie said when she picked up the receiver, and then waited for her mother to hang up. “Mr. Fry?”
“I have some questions,” Winston said in a businesslike tone.
“Okay.” Charlie walked to the door and closed it, stretching the phone cord as far as it would go.
She had no idea if Winston Fry could help. Charlie only knew she’d try anything to find answers.
“As I understand it from your letter, you feel your daughter…” He paused.
“Mira,” she interjected.
“I apologize. You feel Mira might benefit from my help.”
Charlie sat down on the edge of the handmade quilt made by the women in her mother’s quilting club. “To tell you the truth, I’m at a loss. I don’t know where to turn. I found your name in some newspaper articles in the library.”
“You said that Mira sometimes says she’s Faith.”
“Yes.”
“Her identical twin sister, right?”
“A sister that to my knowledge she knew nothing about,” Charlie answered. “I think I wrote that it started three or four months ago when Mira told me she had a new friend.” Charlie rubbed the top of her head, feeling a headache coming on. “I took her to a child psychologist and he said he felt she had personality disorder.”
“DID.”
“Yes.” Charlie stood and started to pace. “But I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”
“And you think that no one else told Mira that she had a conjoined twin who didn’t survive?”
“Only my parents and Mira’s physicians knew. The hospital assured Clint and I that this would be a private matter. The HIPAA thing.”
“I’m going to be frank. I’ve never worked with anyone who had this type of situation.”
“Do you think maybe Mira could be possessed?” Just saying the word possessed made her cringe.
“I don’t know.”
Charlie sat back down on the bed.
“I’d like to meet Mira,” Winston told her.
“But I can’t bring her to see you. She won’t even see me.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“Mr. Fry, I don’t have much money.”
“Well, I do have money.”
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat. “You would do that? Come to Iowa to help us?”
“I’m a curious man, Mrs. Abbott.”
“Charlie. Please, just call me Charlie.”
“I’ve spent much of my life helping others connect to the spirit world. If this is spiritual, I’d like to be part of it.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Charlie felt tears rush into her eyes.
“Would your husband be open to me meeting Mira?”
“Not if he knows you’re a psychic.”
“Technically,” Winston said, “I’m a telepathic medium.”
“I don’t understand anything about this,” Charlie admitted.
“You don’t need to.”
“I don’t want anyone to know who you are or what you do. Sheffield is a small town and”—she paused—“how do I say this?”
“Closed minded?” Winston asked.
“Yes.”
“You’re not living in the home right now, correct?”
“I’m staying with my parents.” If Clint knew she’d reached out to psychic, he’d never forgive her.
“Then you and I need to come up with a plan,” Winston said. “I don’t like deceiving anyone, but this could be a very serious matter.”
“I don’t either,” Charlie said. “But I agree with you. I’ll think of something. Just let me know when you’ll be here.”
After the call ended, and Winston told her he’d arrange to be in Sheffield as soon as possible, she called Clint.
“I need to see you,” she told Clint.
“Just tell me when and where.” Clint’s voice sounded weary, but she was happy he agreed to meet.
After they agreed to a time and place, Charlie grabbed her coat and came back into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked.
“I’m meeting Clint.”
“Why?”
Another worried look crossed her mother’s face that made Charlie feel yet another pang of guilt. She walked to her mom and kissed her on the cheek. “Everything’s fine. I just need to talk to him about a few things.”
“I don’t like you driving in this weather.”
“I know, Mom, but he’s still my husband and we need to discuss a few things.” Her mom was as protective of her today as she’d been when Charlie was growing up.
“You be careful driving out there.”
“I will. I promise.” When Charlie opened the door, the bitter wind hit her. Her car was parked in the driveway and had at least six inches of snow covering the hood and windshield.
The older Honda sputtered and chugged before roaring to life. After she turned on the defroster, Charlie found the scraper in the back seat, and started the task of chipping away the layers of ice.
Her fingers and toes were almost numb when she slid behind the wheel. Clint told her that he would drop Mira off at a friend's house before meeting her at the Corner Cafe. They would meet at one-thirty when most of the lunch crowd would be gone, and hopefully be able to talk privately.
Clint seemed willing to meet her, even though Charlie heard Mira screaming in the background, asking Clint if he was talking to Charlie. Every time Mira threw a fit because she didn’t want to see Charlie, her heart broke a little bit more.
In town Charlie tried to avoid the clumps of ice on the streets, her mind racing. Should she follow through with what she and Winston had discussed? Or should she tell Winston Fry not to come?
The psychic seemed not o
nly interested, but determined to find out what was going on.
When she spotted Clint’s truck in front of the cafe, her muscles stiffened. Lately whenever she discussed anything with him it turned into a fight. And yet what harm would it do to have Winston meet Mira? Even if Clint found out, if something didn’t change soon, Charlie was going to lose her family anyway.
When Charlie stepped inside the restaurant, she forced a smile when she saw Clint sitting in the last booth on the right. Except for two couples lingering over coffee and a piece of pie, the cafe was empty.
The owners of the restaurant were long-time friends of Charlie’s parents. Charlie had grown up with Mamie and Morrie’s children, but when her eyes locked with Mamie’s, the older woman averted Charlie’s gaze. It hurt when people she’d known for her entire life flashed accusing stares, but the experience had taught Charlie a lesson. There’d been times that Charlie had judged others without knowing the facts and that was never going to happen again, of that she could promise.
As Charlie approached Clint, he scooted out of the booth and stood.
“Charlie,” he said politely. His stiff body language told her he wasn’t open to a public embrace.
“How are you?” She sat down, pulled off the stocking hat and shook out her hair.
“Can I get you something?” an older waitress who’d worked at the restaurant forever asked addressing Clint.
“Black coffee would be great,” Charlie responded
“I’m fine, thanks,” Clint told her.
“You want lunch?” Charlie asked after the server left.
“Mira and I made pan—” He stopped himself.
“Pancakes?”
“Yes.”
“This is not your fault.” She refrained from asking him again if he really thought she could hurt Mira.
“So”—Clint looked across the table at her—“what did you want to talk about?”
“I…” Charlie started and then stopped when the steaming mug of coffee was set down in front of her. She waited for them to be alone before continuing. “I have a cousin coming into town that I haven’t seen in years.” She picked up the steaming mug with trembling hands and gently blew over the top. “I’d like him to meet Mira if that’s okay?” She took a sip of the brew that was difficult to swallow over the lump in her throat.
Miracle Page 11