Miracle

by Kimberly Shursen

  “Where’s Mira?” he asked Faith.

  “Don’t know,” Faith slurred.

  Faith was in a deep hypnotized state, her eyes glazed over.

  “Can’t you see her?” Winston asked.

  Her eyes slowly rolled back into her head. Winston took hold of her hand and started for the forest.

  “Mira?” he called every few feet. But all that came back was the echo of his own voice.

  When he spotted the red door of the little house, he noticed that the deep green ivy was brittle and most of the leaves had fallen off the vines. The flowers that once filled the yard had shriveled up and died. This wasn’t a good sign. Everything here was dying.

  On edge, Winston called again. “Mira?”

  Still holding Faith’s hand, he walked up the sidewalk to the door, turned the knob and stepped inside. The one-room cottage felt gloomy and had a foul odor. The dozens of white candles had been reduced to puddles of hard wax, and the Christmas lights strung around the room were no longer lit.

  When his eyes landed on a small form on the bed, his heart sank. Thinking that his worst fear was about to come true, he let go of Faith’s hand. “Stay here,” he told her.

  Moving toward her, he smelled a stench that only came with death. Winston bent over the emaciated child who was lying in a fetal position. He touched her cold forehead; watching, praying for any signs of life. The healthy pink cheeks he’d seen in the photos at the Abbott farm were gone, her wheat-colored hair was matted to her head and her clothing disheveled. Afraid that he’d lost her, Winston cautiously bent over her and whispered, “Mira?”

  She let out a soft, sad sigh.

  Relieved, he said, “Wake up, honey. It’s time to go home.”

  Her eyes closed, she pulled her legs tighter to her chest.

  Winston went back to Faith who stared straight ahead at nothing. “You’re going to be okay.” He put his arms around her and pulled her to him. God, he hated to leave her here, but he had no choice.

  “Do you hear me?” he asked.

  “Uh-huh,” Faith murmured.

  Winston’s heart was breaking. Even though he knew that Faith’s soul needed to be released, he’d grown fond of her.

  He laid his hand on top of Faith’s head. “God bless you, child,” he said, took the few steps back to the bed and picked up Mira.

  With Mira limp in his arms, when he walked past Faith, he said, “I want you to stay here.”

  No response. No movement.

  He used his foot to push the door open wider and carried Mira outside. Making his way through the forest, the skies grew even darker as the wind whistled through the branches of the trees. The air was damp and the fog so dense he could only see what was directly in front of him.

  Winston, he heard Saul say as he traipsed over dead branches and leaves. I’m with you.

  Winston didn’t have time to chat. He needed to stay focused. If Faith woke up, there’d be trouble.

  A sizzle of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder that shook the ground. Winston picked up his pace.

  A loud noise above him made Winston look up just in time to see a towering tree start to fall, heading straight for them. He bolted to his right, cowering when the thick trunk missed them by inches.

  When another pine started to tumble, Winston weaved around bushes and brush, and again, barely avoided being crushed.

  With each step he took, Mira grew heavier. And when his shoes sunk into sand, Winston felt some hope, remembering that it was soon after he came out of the tunnel that they’d reached the beach.

  Suddenly, torrents of rain began to pour down, the heavy deluge feeling like needles pounding into Winston’s head and shoulders.

  Smelling smoke, he turned around briefly and saw the cottage was engulfed in fire. Angry flames shot out the roof and windows as thick gray smoke spiraled into the pitch-black skies.

  He started to run, but when his right knee buckled, Winston let out a cry. Unable to bear the pain, he jiggled Mira. “Wake up, honey. I need your help.”

  “My head,” she moaned. “It hurts.”

  He took a few more steps and felt his feet hit solid ground. His back aching and both knees starting to give out, he set Mira down. “We can do this, but I need your help. You have to try, Mira. Do it for Mommy and Daddy.”

  The waves looked a mile high as they propelled swiftly toward the shoreline, and water from the torrential rains pooled around his feet and ankles.

  “I can’t do it,” Mira said tearfully.

  Seeing the wet mud was now halfway up her leg, he turned around. With his back to Mira, he bent his knees, put his hands on top of his shoulders and wiggled his fingers. “Put your hands in mine and wrap your legs around my waist real tight.”

  Winston caught her hands in his and slowly stood, groaning as he pulled her up with him. The raging wind made it difficult to keep his balance, and the thought that Faith was fully awake and angry gave him the will to trudge forward.

  When he finally caught a glimpse of the tunnel, he limped forward, telling himself just a few more steps. “We’re going home, Mira.”

  Suddenly, a sharp pain sizzled through his upper body, sending Winston to his knees. He clutched a hand over his chest and let go of Mira’s hands.

  “Go… to the… tunnel.” It was difficult to catch his breath, let alone speak so, he waved Mira on. “Go.”

  “But…” Mira started, her sad eyes begging for help.

  Winston shooed her away. “You have to do this. Go now! Get into the tunnel and go home to Mommy and Daddy.”

  He watched her weave toward the opening.

  “Noooo!” Faith shouted as she flew by Winston.

  He tried to get up, but didn’t have the strength. The thick mud was like quicksand pulling him under deeper and deeper.

  “Faster, Mira!” His words were lost in the ferocious roars of thunder.

  His left arm was numb, and his chest felt like it was caving in. Winston was useless to help Mira.

  “Stop, Mira,” Faith demanded. “I said stop, or you’ll be sorry.”

  All Winston could make out were two miniature silhouettes fighting, their shrilling screams ringing in his ears when they toppled to the ground.

  When he saw one of the girls dive into the tunnel, Winston felt defeated. There was little chance that Mira was strong enough to overcome Faith. He’d not only failed Charlie and Clint, but himself.

  As his heartbeat began to slow, so did his breathing. His strength depleted, his face fell forward. Chunks of mud filled his mouth, throat, and lungs. .

  Flashes of the past few weeks clouded his mind: the letter from Charlie… conjoined twins… Faith dying… the twins somehow still connected. And then it came to him. Oh God, somehow, he needed to tell Charlie.

  With a sudden surge of energy, Winston’s head shot up. The sun was shining, the rain had stopped, and the air was calm. Faith’s imaginary world was just like it had been when he’d first met Mira.

  Come on, buddy, Saul told him. It’s about time you came home.

  The last thing Winston heard before he crossed over was the sound of birds chirping.

  And the last thing he saw was a small figure coming toward him.

  CHAPTER THIRY-FIVE

  SHE DOVE HEAD FIRST into the shaft, breathing so fast and so hard that her lungs hurt. It took a minute or two to gain her bearings. When the she tried to stand, her legs were too weak and wobbly to hold her up.

  Coming up to her hands and knees, a sharp sting in her head made her see stars. “Owww,” she cried.

  The fight with her sister had been brutal, leaving bruises and cuts all over her body.

  She started to crawl, stopping every few seconds to catch her breath. “You can do this,” she whispered.

  When the fog started to lift and the end of the tunnel came into view, tears rushed into her eyes. “I’m gonna make it.”

  Relieved when one hand plopped out, and then the other, she somer
saulted out onto a thick bed of carpet.

  When the opening disappeared, she looked around. The little girl saw a big bed, a table with a lamp on it and, when she raised up, she noticed the top of a chair on the other side of the bed.

  “Is anyone here?” she called and waited, but no one answered.

  Wincing when she sat up, everything hurt all over.

  She placed her hands on top of the mattress to help pull herself up. And when she saw the bruises and cuts, she couldn’t remember how she got them.

  Every step was pure agony as she made her way to the other side of the bed.

  When she saw a man on the floor, she gasped.

  “Hello? Can you hear me?” Cautious, she sat down next to him. She didn’t know who this person was whose eyes were open lying perfectly still.

  “Wake up.” When he didn’t respond, she pleaded, “Please, Mister, wake up. I don’t know where I am.” But still, he didn’t move.

  Something shiny caught her eye and she noticed he was clutching something round and gold.

  Placing a hand on his shoulder, she shook him once. He felt heavy, like a big rock. “Please, please, wake up.” But nothing she said or did would wake him. Was he dead? Is this what dead people looked like?

  The thought of touching someone who’d died made her shiver. When she started to stand, she stumbled and fell across the man.

  “No, no, no,” she wailed, crawling over him and scooting backward toward an open door.

  Bang… bang… bang. Oh God, her head hurt so bad. It sounded like someone was playing a big drum. The man still wasn’t moving and seemed to be staring right at her. Afraid, she scooted backward out the door.

  Finding herself in a long hallway, she stood. Her legs barely able to hold her up, by the time she passed three more bedrooms and a bathroom, she felt as if she was going to pass out.

  “Hello?” she cried out, but again, no one answered.

  Finding herself in a big room with couches, chairs, and a fireplace, there was nothing here that looked familiar. She was so tired it was hard to keep her eyes open. Maybe if she went to sleep for a little while her head would feel better. And maybe when she woke up, someone would be here.

  As she started for one of the couches, panic hit her when she realized she didn’t know her name. Or where she lived, or her parents names. Crippled with fear, she had to find someone who could help her.

  Using the furniture as a crutch to help her stay upright, she moved slowly through the room until she reached a wide opening with a shiny floor. She saw two big doors and a big light hanging from the ceiling.

  It seemed to take forever before her hand clasped over a door knob, but when she turned it, she found the door wouldn’t open. “Please, please.” Running her fingers around the metal, she found the lock. Sobbing when she put one hand over the other and rotated the handle to the right as hard as she could, she pushed open the door.

  Immediately, a loud beep went off, one after the next, paralyzing her. She slapped her hands over her ears as the sound in her head intensified.

  When the tone turned to a deafening, continual blare, she became hysterical.“Stop. Please stop. It hurts.”

  Outside on the stoop, she tried to ignore the siren, her eyes moving over a big yard with lots of trees.

  “Is anyone here?”

  When she saw a dark spot whip by at the end of a long driveway, and then heard a horn honk, she knew what she had to do.

  Black spots moved in circles in front of her eyes as she swayed down the wide cement drive.

  It was so cold. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, and tried to hobble faster. If she could make it to the street, someone would see her and stop.

  She tried to take her mind off her pain and concentrated on remembering her name and where she lived, but it was useless.

  By the time she neared the street, her vision was a blur. When she noticed a patch of dark blue coming toward her, she held up a hand.

  “Heeelllp!” she shouted, but the car went past, leaving her behind.

  “I can’t do this,” she whimpered and crumpled to the ground. “I can’t.” She bowed her head and, when a small drop of red fell into the snow, she swiped her finger underneath her nose. Blood? And then another drop fell, and another.

  A few seconds later, with her nose bleeding profusely, she heard the faraway sound of a siren. Someone had seen her and called for help. She had to get up or they wouldn’t see her.

  The hammering in her head was powerful when she anchored her hands flat on the freezing ground, and let out a groan when she pushed up and stood.

  Shaky and weak, the rumble in her head overwhelming, just as she started to raise her hand, but collapsed.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHARLIE HAD BEEN ASLEEP since they’d brought her back from recovery. Her shoulder and the top part of her chest was bandaged, and the hose that inflated her lung and helped her breathe peeked out from underneath a white sheet.

  Clint hadn’t slept in over two days. And not only did he face telling Charlie they’d lost a child he never known about, but he’d yet to hear from Winston.

  He could understand why Charlie hadn’t told him about the pregnancy. Their lives had been pure hell and she was waiting for everything to calm down before sharing the news.

  After he stood and stretched his arms up over his head, he strolled to the window and pushed a couple of slats up on the blind. The first light of dawn was coming up on the horizon and the world outside looked sleepy, with no cars moving in the parking lot.

  For some reason an incident that happened in Clint’s senior year in high school came to mind. When a police officer brought Clint home when he’d stopped his car and smelled liquor on his breath. After Clint’s father thanked the cop for bringing Clint home instead of tossing him into jail, he turned to Clint and said, “What the hell is in your head?”

  If his dad were still alive, and knew Clint had let Faith go off with a psychic Clint barely knew, he’d say the same thing today.

  If he didn’t hear from Winston soon, Clint would be forced to call the police. He wouldn’t leave Clint and Charlie in the dark without good reason. Plus, he’d want to know how Charlie was doing.

  “Hey, big guy.” He turned around quickly, Charlie’s hoarse voice startling him.

  Clint went to her side. “You’re awake.” Hearing her voice was musical. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “And alive.” Charlie managed a faint smile.

  He picked up her hand and gently massaged each finger. “How you feeling?”

  “Old.” She placed a hand over her throat. “And like I swallowed a dinosaur.”

  Charlie was a class act. She never wanted him to worry, always making light of a situation.

  “Want some ice chips? I’m afraid that’s what’s on the menu for a few more hours.”

  “Not now. Maybe later, when my stomach settles down.”

  “Doctor said everything went well.”

  “Does Mom know?” Charlie asked Clint.

  “Yes, I told her I’d call her and tell her when you’re awake so she wouldn’t stew here at the hospital.”

  “You’re a prince.”

  “Every prince needs a princess.” God, he wished he didn’t have to give her the news about the baby. It would be just one more emotional disappointment to add to the list.

  When Charlie tried to change positions, she let out a moan.

  “You need a nurse?”

  “My shoulder.”

  Clint stood, reached over her, and found the call button. “Let’s get you some dope.”

  “Dope would be good.”

  After he asked the nurse for a pain pill, Charlie placed a hand over her stomach. “My stomach feels like it took a bullet too.”

  Clint looked away.

  “What?”

  He sat down on the edge of the chair.

  “What’s going on?”

  “After they took out the bullet, you we
nt back into surgery.”

  She wrinkled up her forehead. “Why?”

  “There was a complication.”

  “With the bullet?”

  “You… We,” he said, staring into her eyes, “lost the…”

  “My baby?” she finished, her anguished expression killing him. “No, please.” Charlie rolled her head back and forth across the pillow. She placed a protective hand over her tummy and looked to Clint. “Not the baby, Clint. Not our baby.”

  He swiped away a tear that escaped from the corner of his eye. “So you knew you were pregnant?”

  “I was waiting for the right time to tell you.” Weeping, she could barely get her words out. “I wanted to give you your boy.”

  Clint was silent. He pulled out a tissue from the box on the bedside table and lovingly wiped her eyes. Nothing he could say would be able to comfort her.

  “Here you go,” a nurse said walking into the room.

  When the nurse saw Charlie crying, Clint nodded, silently telling her that Charlie knew she’d lost the baby.

  “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “No, everything is not going to be okay.” Charlie sniveled. “Nothing is ever going to be okay again.”

  Charlie had been beaten down too long. It wasn’t only her heart that was broken, but her spirit.

  “Let’s get you some sleep.” the nurse dropped the pill into Charlie’s hand and filled a plastic cup with water. “You need rest, dear.”

  Charlie downed the pill. After the nurse left, she said, “I’m so tired. So tired of everything. And where’s Mira?”

  “She’s fine.” He hoped Charlie would believe him. “I talked to Winston.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They’re on their way to the house.”

  “Do you know anything? What happened? Do we have Mira back?”

  “Yes.”

  Charlie started to cry again. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t like lying to her, but in this case, she needed sleep more than truth.

  “And Faith?”

  Clint pushed his baseball cap back on his head. “He didn’t go into details.” Clint tried to think of something to say to calm her. “God doesn’t give us any more than we—”