Christmas Miracle

by Patrice Wilton

  Problem was—he wasn’t paying the price for having a good time, she was.

  She put her dishes away and went into the bathroom to shower. She needed to get out of the house, finish her shopping, then begin to make some plans. If she stayed in Heaven, she’d want her own place. That meant finding a new job.

  Dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved tee, boots and a pink parka, she grabbed the keys to her Prius and decided to drive to the mall. Maybe the activity would trigger her brain cells, and give her some answers.

  Sarah followed a road out of town when she saw a guy striding with his head down. She knew the train station was this direction, about a block away. The sky was heavy with dark clouds ready to rain. She couldn’t see his face, but her gut told her it was Mick. Keep driving, she told herself. Don’t look at him. Don’t engage.

  She drove past him. Guilt dinged her conscious. Sarah tapped the brake, then put the car in reverse and stopped a few feet from him. She hit the button and her window slid down. “Hey, Mick. You going to work?”

  He glanced up, his brown eyes dark, his expression blank. He didn’t answer her.

  “Mick? Jump in. I’ve got nothing to do today. I’ll drive you. I want to see where the veteran’s hospital is.”

  Again he ignored her, and, hands-in-pocket, he walked past her car, focused on the station. He didn’t have a hat on, and his light brown hair was damp, his complexion ruddy from the cold.

  Making a quick decision, she flung her door open and ran up to him. She grabbed his arm. “Mick. Come on. Take a ride with me. Please?”

  “Let go of my arm.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” She glared at him. “I’m trying to be nice.”

  “Too late for that.” He shrugged away from her. “I don’t want your pity or your concern.”

  “I don’t pity you. Why should I?” Her brows knitted in a frown. “Is there something wrong with you?”

  “No. Just leave me alone. Okay?”

  She should have returned to her car and gone about her business, but his attitude touched a nerve. Something seemed off. Instead of getting angry, she wondered if he wasn’t quite as together as he’d have her sister believe.

  The war did crazy things to the men who served; some never could get their lives straightened around. She’d see them on street corners of Philly muttering to themselves, sleeping on park benches, or in and out of the ER. There wasn’t much she could do for those strangers, but here was one that perhaps she could help.

  “Mick. I really could use some advice. Won’t you let me drive you to work? Just this once?”

  He gave her a quick look. He blinked, and blinked again. “I had a bad night. Not much up to talking.” His eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

  They had stopped walking, and now stood on the sidewalk—her pink parka bright next to his dark gray jacket. “Bad how?”

  “Some nights I can’t sleep.” His jaw clenched. “My head fills with nightmares. Nothing new. It’s been going on for years.” He pushed past her.

  She ran after him, touched by the pain evident on his face. “They have meds for that. Aren’t you taking any?”

  “Nope.” He kept walking. “Been there, done that.”

  “You can’t do this alone. You need meds, therapy, all that crap.”

  “Says who? You?” He smirked. “You’ve got your own problems, lady. You don’t need mine.”

  “Yes, I do!” Tears welled in her eyes, then streamed down her face. “Don’t walk away from me. I want to help you. Maybe that’s what I need. To focus on something besides me.”

  Her mouth trembled and as she looked into his eyes, she began to sob, big gulping noises that ripped from her chest, her throat, and frightened her. Where had they come from? What was happening to her? Having a meltdown in the middle of the street?

  He reached out and pulled her into his chest. Her head fit between his collarbone and his chin, and his comfort made her cry harder.

  They stayed that way for several minutes, he not saying anything, just holding her, letting her cry it out, and then he withdrew a tissue from his pocket and pulled back far enough to dab at her eyes.

  “Better now?” His voice was gentle, warm like good whiskey.

  Her gloved hands clutched at his jacket, afraid that he’d walk away. “No, I’m not sure. I don’t know where that came from.” She peeked up at him. “I’m so embarrassed.”

  “You should be,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m the one who’s depressed. Suicidal sometimes.”

  “That’s terrible.” She touched his cheek. “You can’t think that way. You’ve got a chance to live, to be happy. You have to do that for all the others who can’t.”

  Her mouth trembled and she thought she might cry all over again. She sucked in a breath and let her fingers slide away from his jacket. Every instinct in her wanted to hold on tight, but she didn’t want to drag him down with her.

  He touched the pad of his thumb to the corner of her mouth. “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m pregnant.” She whispered the words, and felt an ache in her heart.

  “I know you are. And that’s no reason for tears.”

  “You don’t know!” she cried. “I can’t do this to Meghan!”

  “Yes, you can. She’ll be happy for you.” His chocolate eyes seemed to see right through her excuses.

  “That’ll only make it so much worse.”

  “I have an idea.” He stepped back. “How about you drive me to work and we can figure this out together?”

  “I like that.” She sniffed and blew into the wet tissue. “That’s a great idea.”

  He put an arm around her back and led her to the car. When she was seated inside he hopped around the front and joined her in the passenger seat.

  “How about some Christmas carols?” Mick asked. “I think we both need some upbeat music, don’t you?”

  His goofy smile did her heart wonders, and for the first time since seeing the positive reading on the pregnancy test her mood lightened.

  “Okay.” She gave him a faint smile. “From now on, I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He fastened his seatbelt, and ruffled his damp hair. “Does that make us friends?”

  “Sure.” Sarah exhaled her doubts, as they had nothing in common. “Why not?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Mick flipped through the radio stations until he found one playing the hokiest Christmas music imaginable and then turned the volume up high.

  Sarah’s mouth tightened with exasperation. “Please. Not while I’m driving.”

  He grinned, and turned the volume even higher. “What did you say? I can’t hear you!” Then he sang along with Alvin and the Chipmunks, making faces that got her laughing.

  “Stop that! Or I’ll let you walk to work.”

  He changed the station and lowered the volume, still keeping the Christmas music going. “No, you won’t. You need someone to talk to.” Shifting in the seat, he put his back to the door and watched her for a few long minutes. It was probably good that she’d admitted her pregnancy, because tackling a problem required facing it.

  “You’re staring at me,” she said in a grumpy tone.

  “I like looking at you. You’re pretty.” She was much more than pretty. Sarah was the most stunning woman he’d ever seen. Hollywood beautiful, with all that long strawberry-blonde hair, and flashing eyes. A Disney princess driving a Prius.

  She wrinkled her nose and made a face at him. “Puffy red eyes are always appealing on a woman. I’m sure I have mascara running down my cheeks.”

  “Not much.” He took another tissue out of his pocket, and leaned over to wipe one cheek. “You can get the rest later, but even at your worst, you’re a good-looking woman.”

  “Thanks,” she said dryly. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

  “So, let me see if I’ve got the gist. You’re pregnant, the father wants nothing to do with the baby, your sister is pregnant too and excited as hell
, and you don’t want to rain on her parade. Am I missing anything?”

  “Uh, no. That about sums it up. But Meg and Byron don’t know, and I don’t ever want them to. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

  “I promise.” He wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t want her own sister and Byron to help her with this stuff. Why him? “We’ve got each other’s backs, remember?”

  “Yeah.” She loosened her grip on the wheel. “We’re friends now, and friends have to keep each other’s secrets.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “Scout’s honor.”

  “I’m no scout, but I don’t betray people either.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Sarah kept her attention on the road. “Do you know how to get to the Veteran’s Hospital?” he asked.

  “I know it’s to the north, half way to Philly.”

  “That’s true.” He rattled off the street names and exit numbers.

  She nodded. “I know the general area. You can give me the specifics once we get closer.”

  “Sure.” He hoped it wouldn’t take long because Sarah was looking for some answers and he didn’t have any. The offer of the ride hadn’t been made from the generosity of her heart, it had come with a price tag—advice. Man, was she barking up the wrong tree.

  “So, the point is that I don’t want the baby, but I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. The idea of an abortion doesn’t sit well with me, but neither does adoption. And I honestly do not want to have a baby right now, knowing who the father is, and changing jobs, and living with my sister. It’s just all wrong, effed-up, and I don’t want any part of it.” The knuckles of her hands gripping the wheel showed white.

  “That’s a weight on your shoulders, for sure.” He watched the trees pass by the window, thinking about her options. It didn’t sound like she wanted to have this baby, which meant she only had two choices. Termination or adoption. He didn’t like either one. Couldn’t see how that would make her life better.

  “It’s just so awful.” Sarah held her body rigidly as she drove. “I don’t know how to make this choice. No matter what I do, it won’t be the right one.” She cleared her throat, and peeked at him before returning her gaze to the road. “Please help me decide. I can’t do this by myself.”

  He heard the heartbreak in her voice, the agony of indecision, making it impossible to act. He’d felt that way before. He’d been trained as a sniper, and sometimes his target would not be alone. Another soldier, well, that was part of the battle they fought, but a child? A wife? Mick needed to pull that trigger anyway but it was an inner fight with himself over right and wrong.

  “I’ll try to help you, Sarah. But you have to think long and hard about this because the decision will haunt you for the rest of your life. You need a solution that you’ll be able to live with.”

  “Or I could just go on drugs and therapy,” she said in a half-hearted attempt at humor.

  “It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.”

  “I’m sure it’s not.” She took her hand off the wheel and touched his—the brief weight of her fingers sent a flare shooting right through him.

  “Or you could marry me.” The words slid out of his mouth, half in jest, but he wished he could swallow them up. Prickly heat rose up his back, into the lobes of his ears.

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “Like that’s really going to help matters. Both of us screwed up, living together, raising a baby.”

  He forced a grin. What would it be like, being with Sarah? “You’re right. Not a good option anyway.”

  “Okay, how about this idea? I’m out of a job right now, so I can start an intense workout schedule. Join the gym, find the hardest classes to enroll in, like kickboxing, and if that doesn’t get little junior out of here, I could go skiing, and take a bad tumble into a tree.”

  The image of Sarah hurt made him ill. “You’re not serious, right?”

  “Yes, of course I am.” She turned the music off. “It’s a darn good plan.”

  “Worst ever. You could get seriously hurt, and lose the baby.”

  “Uh, I thought that was the point.” Her hands clutched the wheel like she was afraid it would run away from her, and her jaw set stubbornly.

  “Okay, okay, just chill out—don’t let anxiety get the better of you. The solution will come, I’m sure.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  He dug into his pockets and found a package of gum, offering her one, but she shook her head no. He opened the wrapper and put a piece in his mouth, liking the taste of spearmint on his tongue. “You have a month or two before you need to decide anything, right? Don’t force it, get used to the idea, and see how it feels a month from now. A baby isn’t the worst thing in the world, and for some people it’s even the best.”

  “Is that how you feel?” Her lovely eyes narrowed into slits. “Then you have one.”

  He choked on his gum. “Guess I deserved that.”

  “Okay, this conversation isn’t helping. Tell me about yourself, Mick. What was your childhood like? Where do your parents live? Distract me, would you?”

  Since she didn’t like his advice, he supposed he could answer a few questions. “Dad was a police lieutenant in the Bronx. We lived a mile or so from Van Cortlandt Park in an old brownstone. Mom was a teacher at a local elementary, worked there for twenty-eight years and retired with a nice pension.”

  “Any siblings, or were you the only child?”

  “My sister Mary is four years older than me, now married with three kids. They live in New Jersey. He’s a firefighter.”

  “Your mom and dad, are they still in the Bronx?”

  “Dad was shot on active duty. I was fourteen at the time. I’d always figured I’d be a cop one day, but after his death, I don’t know. I got into some bad stuff, and it took the military to straighten me out.”

  She kept her eyes on the road, but he could see her processing this information. “Yeah, that must have been tough. And your sister was eighteen. Did she take it hard too?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much then. Still don’t.”

  “Well, at eighteen she was probably into boys, her friends, going off to college. Tougher on you, staying at home with a grieving mother.”

  “I guess. Mom’s remarried now. Lives in Sarasota, west coast of Florida with Jim. He owns an insurance company and a big boat. Mom likes it there. They’ve taken up golfing,” he rolled his eyes.

  “You don’t golf?” Her eyes twinkled when she said it.

  “Only in Afghanistan. All that lush green grass and those pretty ponds to hit over, well, it was hard to resist.”

  She laughed. “Glad to see you’ve got a sense of humor.”

  “Only thing that keeps a man sane over there.”

  “What branch of the service were you in?”

  “Marines. I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” He looked out the window. “You turn off two exits from now. Then you need to bear right.”

  “Got it.” She turned the radio back on. “I normally listen to country or pop.”

  “I like all music,” he said.

  They drove for the next few minutes in silence. Mick noticed she looked more relaxed as she expertly navigated to the exit lane. “Right lane, or left?” she asked.

  “Stay right. About two miles, and the hospital’s on the left.”

  “How do you manage this without a car?”

  She made it sound like he had to climb Mount Olympus. “The train takes me about fifteen minutes from here. I catch a bus from the station and have to make one transfer. Bad weather, I Uber. Piece of cake.”

  “Hmm. Wouldn’t it be easier to drive?”

  “Might be.” Mick shrugged. “But I don’t have a license or a car.” He’d found he didn’t really miss a lot of things that he used to consider important.

  “I could teach you to drive if you like.”

  He could drive just fine. “No thanks.” Mick usually asked the questions to steer the c
onversation away from personal stuff. Maybe it was weird that he had no possessions, not much more than the clothes on his back. Didn’t own his furniture, not even a TV. His only watch was a stainless steel Navigator that his mother and Jim had given him last Christmas. Didn’t have a cell phone, didn’t need one. He had a land line that he rarely used. It was enough.

  Sarah pulled up in front of the huge brick and glass building. “So this is Veteran’s Hospital. Big, huh?”

  “Sure is. But not big enough. Sometimes the vets have to wait an hour for their appointments, and they had to make them six months in advance. It stinks.”

  “That would,” she agreed. “Well, have a good day, Mick. Want me to pick you up?”

  “Hell no. You did enough for me already. I’ll be home when I’m home. Nothing waiting for me there except cable TV.”

  “Okay. And it was nice talking to you, even though our conversation wasn’t exactly cheery. It still helped, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. It’s good to talk out your problems and not keep them bottled up inside.”

  “Exactly.”

  He flung open the door and stepped out. “See ya.”

  She gave him a little wave goodbye and he remembered that he’d forgotten to thank her. Well, he hadn’t asked for the ride, now had he?

  CHAPTER TEN

  As Sarah drove back to Heaven, she couldn’t help but think what a misery Mick’s life must be. Not close to his family, no real friends to speak of, and nobody in his life who cared. He was a veteran, a soldier who’d fought for his country in that God-forsaken desert on the other side of the world.

  She was in a tough place, but her life was far more joyful than his. He had nothing, while she had a family who adored her, friends back in Philly that were probably worried about her. Trouble was, all her friends were fellow nurses, and had worked with her at Penn Med on Spruce Street.