Christmas Miracle

by Patrice Wilton

  He was so selfless and undemanding that she wanted to give herself to him, to fill his empty spaces, and warm that cold, lonely and barren heart.

  They kissed deeply, his tongue making love to hers—she tasted him and wanted more. His hand was on her breast and she ached for it to be on her flesh. She lifted her thin sweater and his hand slipped behind her back and unhooked her bra. He knew what she wanted as well as she did.

  She moaned his name, and he made a guttural sound in his voice. His hand cupped her bare breast, his fingers tweaked her nipple, and desire shot through her center, her hips arching to his, her mouth open, hungry, taking his tongue deeply, while her hands played with his belt buckle.

  She got it undone and unzipped him, finding him already hard, as eager for her as she was for him. She sank onto the bed, pulling him down with her. “I can’t wait long. I’ve been waiting all night.”

  In a matter of minutes he had her stripped bare and was tossing off his own clothes. Sarah widened her legs and he slipped in, going deep, deeper with every thrust until he was at her core, then he began to rock, his hands under her, lifting her bottom, filling her completely as she surrendered to him and to her own needs.

  Little whimpers came out of her throat and she bit his neck, moaning for more. His hands, first on her breasts, teasing, flicking at her nipples, sucking on one and then the other, then her waist and hips. His cock, strong and thick, continued forward thrusts. She dug her nails into his ass, and wrapped her legs around his waist, laughing and crying, wanting him so badly she felt like she might burst.

  The climax built slowly, and then seemed to come with a rush, as she clung to him, calling his name to come with her too. He bellowed, shook, and she felt every drop of him as he poured into her. Sarah shuddered and held on tight, as her heart cracked open.

  Saturated, she lay on top of him, both panting, both not wanting to separate. She kissed his chin, his cheeks, his eyes, and he caressed her back and rump.

  Everything about Mick felt so good, so right. She didn’t know why his love-making was better than Rick’s, or why together, this act moved her so deeply, opening up feelings she didn’t know she had.

  Because he had so little, she wanted to give him so much. Was that it? Or was there more to the story? All she knew is that he made her want to cry. Droplets slipped out of her eyes and he kissed the corners, licking her tears with the tip of his tongue. He pulled away just enough to ask, “Why are you crying? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No. I’m crying because I’m happy, and because you feel so incredibly good, and I don’t know why.”

  A little smile curved his mouth and her heart beat quicker. She was an emotional wreck, feeling so much, too much for the time they’d been together. It was crazy and it couldn’t last. Could it?

  “I want to do it all over again,” he told her, flipping her over and underneath him. His hips began to move and she felt him growing inside of her.

  “We shouldn’t. We don’t have time.”

  “Your sister will wait, and it will only take a minute.”

  She laughed. “You sweet talker, you.”

  And then they stopped talking and let their passion take them again.

  When it was all over, she got up and took a quick shower. “You stay in bed. I have the car tonight, remember?”

  He punched the pillow into a ball and folded his hands behind his head. “Okay. I’ll just watch. Like a voyeur.”

  She threw her bra at him. “That’s gross.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it’s kinda nice.”

  She bent over and kissed him. “So do I. Enjoy the view before I go.”

  She dressed provocatively before him, teasing him with a smile. When she was fully dressed he was aroused again, the tent in the sheet giving it away.

  “Sorry, hon. Next time I won’t leave in a rush.” She gave him a last kiss then walked out, shutting the door softly behind her.

  She was grinning all the way to the car and the short drive to her sister’s house, but got rid of it as she opened the front door. This happiness she felt, this crazy passion for Mick, she just wanted to savor it quietly and hold it inside a little longer. If and when it amounted to more, then her sister would be the first to know.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Sarah slowly opened the door to her sister’s home, listening close but she didn’t hear anything. Most of the lights were off. She crept down the hall hoping to make it to her room, not wanting to face Meghan with her bed-hair and makeup smeared.

  No such luck.

  “Hey,” Meg stepped out of her own bedroom. “Thought I heard you come in.”

  Her sister eyed her closely. “You’re sleeping with him!”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” So much for keeping her secret to herself—and there was no point in denying it. Meg would get the truth out of her one way or another. She had super skills that way—being a counselor and all.

  “Depends.” Meg grabbed a tissue out of her bathrobe pocket and sneezed into it. “Getting a cold, so I was going to head in early.”

  “Don’t let me stop you. What I had to tell you earlier can wait until tomorrow.”

  “I’m not interested in that—I’m interested in this.”

  “Not much to tell. Really, sis, you should go to bed.”

  A big smile lifted the corners of Meghan’s lips and she quietly clapped her hands. “Let’s go make cocoa and talk. Girl talk. I don’t get much of that anymore.” She linked arms with her, and Sarah was dragged along.

  She took a seat on the bar stool while Meghan put two packages of Godiva hot chocolate into mugs, added water and microwaved them. Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her she was still stuffed from the delicious dinner with Mick and zonked from glorious sex.

  “Godiva?” she said instead.

  “Mmm. A present from a mother at the school.” Meg took the two cups out, added tiny marshmallows, and handed Sarah one. “I’ll be loaded with expensive and fattening goodies for the next two weeks, just you wait and see.”

  “It’s a tough life helping others and being loved for it.”

  “I love what I do. Now, don’t try to divert this conversation to me.” She stirred the hot drink with a spoon and scooped up a marshmallow to pop in her mouth. “Do you really like Mick or is this just a casual hook-up for the two of you?”

  Sarah was pleased that Meg didn’t single her out but was unprepared to deliver a coherent answer. “I’m not sure. I really like him, but he hasn’t been with anyone in years. I might be nothing more than a temporary fix, but he doesn’t treat me that way.”

  “Hardly. Don’t sell yourself short.” Meg’s blues eyes were caring, almost motherly. “I don’t believe that for a second and neither should you. Anyone can see he’s crazy about you.”

  “Oh Meg…” her voice faltered, “I have something to tell you.”

  Her heart thudded and she knew this was it. She needed to confide her big scary secret and ask for her sister’s support. After all, an abortion was the right answer even if it sickened her to think of the defenseless baby inside of her.

  Meghan nodded. “Oh goodie. Real girl talk. So is he amazing?”

  She swallowed hard and felt ridiculously nervous. Her sister would understand. Meg had to. She opened her mouth to spit it out. “I…I.”

  “Oooh—what was that? Give me your hand, Sarah. The baby is kicking and rolling around.” Sarah’s hand was guided to her sister’s belly. “Look how active he is. I’m convinced it’s a boy.”

  Sarah felt the baby inside, and, girl or boy, that child would be unconditionally loved. She felt prickles of fear or guilt run up and down her spine and licked her lips, breathing slowly. “Wow—that is so cool. I can feel him, Meg. How exciting this must be for you and Byron. Have you thought of names yet?”

  “We’re thinking of Serena for a girl and Sheldon for a boy—they go nicely with Watts, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, and I love th
em both.” She grinned, glad she’d been interrupted and hadn’t confided her problem. She couldn’t do this to her sister. It would diminish Meg’s own joy and excitement and make it about her instead. No way could she allow that to happen.

  Meghan, being the loving, generous-hearted woman she was, would pretend it didn’t bother her and act all happy, but that would only make things worse.

  It was Sarah’s decision, her little mistake and a difficult choice, but she had to make it alone.

  Sarah sipped the warm chocolaty beverage. “I’m exhausted. I’ll just drink your cocoa and hit the hay.”

  “But you were going to tell me something.” Meghan turned big eyes to her. “Come on. Don’t hold out on me.”

  “It was nothing important—just that Mick took me to a great little Italian restaurant tonight. Near the park. Have you been to it?”

  “We have. Trevinis. Isn’t it the best?”

  “Yes. We had the whole place singing, “That’s Amore” even Mick.” She laughed and her sister joined in.

  “The four of us should book for New Year’s Eve if they aren’t already sold out.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Sarah finished half her cocoa then rinsed her cup and put it in the dishwasher. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She’d taken two steps then stopped and smacked her forehead. “I nearly forgot. I got a job today. It’s at an out-patient clinic in West Chester. I start in January.”

  “Wow—that is great news. So you were celebrating? And now you should get your mortgage, right?”

  “Hopefully, yes.”

  “Things are really starting to come together for you.”

  “As long as I don’t do anything to screw them up.” Like have a fatherless baby in nine months.

  “You won’t. You deserve this, Sarah. It’s your time.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She smiled. “Goodnight, Meghan and thanks.”

  * * *

  Mick had a hard time sleeping after Sarah left. He was really into her. He was a pretty good judge of people and heck—when they were making love it didn’t feel casual. It felt like something real—a special connection, and unless she’d missed her calling as an actress, she was feeling it too.

  It was way too soon to tell her, but dammit, if she got rid of the baby it might be too late. Having a chance at fatherhood would be like some damn miracle. Last year he was a shell of a man, but suddenly he was feeling whole again—a man with hopes and dreams. He wanted the things that Byron had—a home, a job. And with all of that, he imagined Sarah at his side.

  He had to have a plan. As a military man he knew that acting impulsively was a recipe to get him and his team killed. A well thought out plan skillfully executed could bring positive results. So instead of sleeping, which was way over-rated anyway, he figured out a strategy that almost guaranteed success.

  First—a real job that could help people but at the same time pay him as well. He gave it hours of thought, considering ideas and dismissing them. He’d always wanted to be a cop like his old man, but the idea of having a weapon in his hand didn’t fit. He hoped to God that he never had to pull a trigger again.

  He could train as a paramedic but after all the horrors of combat, seeing his buddies blown to bits, he couldn’t stomach the thought of patching up people. What did that leave? Helping people in trouble was his number one objective. There had to be something else he could do.

  Around dawn, it came to him. There was no reason why he wouldn’t make a very good 911 operator. He was used to dealing with folks in crisis and had learned to remain calm and make quick, lifesaving decisions.

  Once he was making money saving people he could look for a bigger, nicer apartment—might even buy a few things too. Like furniture, a TV, and a computer. But all that would take time. He needed to convince Sarah to keep the baby and take a chance on him—the only way he could think of to do that was to romance her and make love to her often so she could see his passion came straight from his heart.

  Lying in bed, he analyzed his plan, searching for flaws, ways it could go sideways, or run into snags. Failure was not an option for a Marine, and if it meant losing Sarah and going back to the lonely existence before her, well, he couldn’t allow that to happen. Miracles were expected in Heaven—so why not him?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sarah woke up later than usual the next morning, hearing the Watts family getting breakfast, laughing and talking, rushing through the morning chores to get out of the house on time. She remained in bed, wanting the solitude, eager to relive her night with Mick.

  It was so weird. Her and Mick. Just a very short time ago she was thinking the guy was a messed up vet, another sad case suffering from PTSD, probably wasting away on drugs. A man with a bleak future, if he had one at all.

  Man, had she been wrong. He had all his mental faculties and could see the bigger picture better than she could right now. She was looking to him for answers, and even in such a short time, she knew his judgment could be trusted.

  She flipped over on her side and scrunched her face in the pillow, savoring the memories of his kisses, his rock hard body on top of hers. He might not have had a woman in a while but he hadn’t forgotten a thing when it came to making a woman happy.

  His kisses set her on fire and melted her at the same time. His touch was exquisite, a light brush that ignited her nerve ends and made her tingle with pleasure. When he entered her it was unlike any other experience she’d ever known. It was finding the perfect fit, her yin to his yang, as though no two people in the world were the same, and she’d found her perfect mate. A needle in the haystack kind of thing.

  How was that even possible? And if it was, she’d never have expected it to be this poor soul who’d wandered homeless for years, living off the streets, a tormented man that could not forgive the things he’d seen—the things he’d done. Oh, how she wanted to ease that guilt, take away his pain and help him become the man he was. The man he could be again.

  But she knew she couldn’t. An abortion would split them in two. He’d never forgive her for taking an innocent life, and yet what choice did she have? She thumped her pillow, stacking the two of them behind her head.

  She should do it today. This morning. Cancel the appointment with the doctor, for what good would it do? She’d only feel more guilt, and might weaken when she knew she had to be strong. The baby was not to be blamed—he or she was an innocent victim in all this. Bad timing. How could she start a new life, begin a new job, when she’d be popping out a baby in eight months? And how could she take care of the child? She’d need full-time daycare and with a mortgage it would be too much. Although Meghan had somehow made it work. But that was Meghan, someone special, a real miracle worker.

  Well, Sarah could use a miracle now. She had felt that little heartbeat, the tiny limbs kicking with joy inside of Meghan’s tummy last night, and it made her realize that once she felt her own baby it would be too late. She’d never be able to do what she had to do. So it was now or never.

  Slowly, she got out of bed. The house was quiet and she was alone. She headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She shed her nightgown and stepped into the shower stall under the hot stream of water. She lifted her face, allowing the tears to flow. Big gulping sobs poured out of her, relentless, not giving up. She slid down to the floor, water rushing over her as she cried for the baby that would never be—the life that would end before it even began.

  She might be a monster, but she was a monster with a heart.

  An hour later, Sarah sat in the waiting room at the pro-choice clinic in West Chester, since Heaven didn’t have one. The receptionist on the phone had told her to come in anytime, and that someone would be available to answer her questions. She’d told her that she didn’t have questions, she only wanted the solution.

  And so she was here.

  She didn’t look at the other women waiting in the office, and hoped they weren’t looking at her—but obviously no one here was about to p
oint fingers. She had been told that the wait wouldn’t be long, and they’d send a text to her cell. Kind of like a restaurant would do. First available table. The menu today is…a boy or a girl.

  Sarah flipped through the pages of a magazine trying to clear her head and get a fix on reality. What she was doing was perfectly legal, entirely her choice, and the best decision all around. No one would blame her, at least no more than she’d blame herself.

  Every minute that passed seemed like an eternity. The room was too stuffy. She could feel sweat dripping down her back, pooling into the waistband of her jeans.

  She glanced at the other women, covertly wondering if they were feeling the same as her. One woman caught her eye and quickly turned away. She looked sweet and so, so young. Too young to be sitting here, for sure.

  Sarah’s heart began to pound, her palms grew wet and she felt like she might throw up. Was that morning sickness? If it was, it wouldn’t last long. The text would come any minute now. She must have been here for at least an hour. She checked her phone. Only twenty-five minutes had gone by. How many babies would that be?

  She swallowed a lump in her throat and scanned the room for a water cooler. Sarah spotted one in the corner but never made it that far as her phone dinged.

  She froze. Her phone slipped out of her damp fingers, and full-blown panic set in. She glanced at all the faces of the women she’d never see again and saw the same look she must be wearing. Fear. Uncertainty.

  Or was it her imagination playing tricks? She didn’t know and didn’t care. Leaving the phone and the text where it was, she ran out the door and raced to her car. She had the engine running, but tears blinded her and she couldn’t see to drive.

  There was a knock on her window and she looked up to see one of the young women from the waiting room waving Sarah’s phone. Sarah hit the button for the window to slide down. “Thank you,” she whispered, her throat raw.