Mr. Miracle (17 page)

Addie tossed him a saucy smile. “Aha, just as I thought. You have no objection to certain aspects of Christmas.”

Scowling, he refused to meet her gaze. “In the interest of compromise, keep the mistletoe, take back the tree.”

“Sorry, no can do.”

He mumbled something unpleasant under his breath.

“Complain all you want, Erich Simmons, but I refuse to allow you to ignore Christmas. It’s not happening on my watch.”

Erich tilted back his head and closed his eyes. “Why me, God? First I break both wrists and then you send me this stubborn woman who refuses to leave me be. Why? Why? Why?”

“God sent you exactly what you need,” she said. Inwardly, she was pleased God had sent her, not that she’d admit it to Erich, especially when he was in this sour mood.

“Get rid of it,” he returned.

“The mistletoe?”

He grumbled again and shrugged as if he didn’t really care one way or the other. “You can keep that.”

Addie was exhausted. This Christmas-tree business was hard labor. “My dad used to say I was stubborn. I would have thought you’d know that by now.”

“Now, that’s an understatement if ever there was one.”

“Ah, come on, Erich, lighten up. A Christmas tree is exactly what we both need. Okay, maybe you don’t, but I do,” she countered. This was as much for her as for Erich.

“Okay, fine; have it your way.”

“Your enthusiasm overwhelms me,” she joked.

“If you’re looking for enthusiasm, you’ll need to search elsewhere.” His face was tight and dark.

“What is it with you?” she demanded. He should at least appreciate the effort she’d made to bring a bit of cheer into his life. As a kid, she recalled that Erich had been as excited about Christmas as Jerry and she were. He might pin his bad attitude on the car accident, but there was more to it than that.

“My attitude is not changing,” he said, “so you’d better get used to it.”

She reached for her coat and headed toward the front door.

“Hey,” he said, stopping her, “where are you going now?”

She paused in the entryway. “To my garage for the tree decorations.”

“You’re coming back?” The question sounded as if he wasn’t sure he’d welcome her company.

“Would you rather I stay away?” She was only half-serious.

“It’s tempting to say yes.”

Addie grinned because she knew he didn’t mean it.

For the next half hour, Addie hauled plastic containers from her garage to Erich’s house. It was demanding work. Erich watched, his gaze following her movements, but he remained stubbornly silent. When she’d finished stacking the containers in the living room, she went directly into the kitchen.

“Now what are you doing?” he said, following her into the other room.

She opened and closed cupboard doors. “I’m looking for a pan to pop popcorn.”

“You’re hungry?”

She shouldn’t need to explain. “In case you’re unaware, it’s impossible to decorate a Christmas tree properly without eating popcorn and listening to the appropriate music.”

“What’s wrong with microwave popcorn?”

It shocked her that he was unaware of the most basic Christmas traditions. “It’s not the same. Real popcorn is popped on the stove.”

“This is a joke, right?”

She glared at him with a look that would have melted kryptonite.

“Okay, okay, you’re serious,” he said and backed away. “I’m sorry I asked.”

He returned to the other room and Addie was just as glad.
While he was out of sight, she set her phone on the kitchen counter and went into her playlist for her favorite Christmas songs, everything from Bing Crosby to Bruno Mars.

The popcorn smelled heavenly, and the scent of it soon swirled through the house. Addie filled a large bowl, brought it into the living room, and set it on the end table next to Erich.

He glanced at her, then the popcorn, and announced, “I’m going to my room.”

“Have it your way.” This disappointed Addie, but she refused to let him know it. The music played as she cheerfully strung the lights around the tree, stopping now and again to nibble on popcorn. It really tasted so much better popped the old-fashioned way.

She finished the lights and had started hanging the ornaments when Erich returned. He slumped down into his chair as if he expected her to make a derogatory comment. Instead she came over to the chair, leaned over, and kissed him, letting her mouth linger playfully over his for several breathtaking seconds. Then, without a word, she returned to the task at hand, placing the ornaments on the tree.

“You need a few more toward the left-hand side of the tree,” Erich instructed, sounding breathless following their kiss.

Stepping back, Addie tilted her head to one side and then the other. “You’re right.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” he said, almost regretfully.

The last decoration was the angel for the top of the tree. Addie brought it out of the protective box and studied it. The angel’s white dress had faded over the years and her wings weren’t what they’d once been; still, she was beautiful to Addie because of all the memories associated with her.

“Dad bought this for Mom the first year they were married,” she said, carefully cradling the figurine in her hands. “He always waited until Christmas Eve before he placed her on the tree. We’d attend church services and come home around nine or ten. Then Dad, with a great deal of ceremony, would put the angel on top of the tree.”

“Traditions are important,” Erich surprised her by commenting.

“They are. It’s those memories that stay with us, that bond us as family. It’s one of the reasons I made sure I was home nearly every Christmas. I couldn’t imagine not baking cookies with Mom, or decorating the tree with my father. We might have argued a good portion of the time, but it would be unthinkable to give up that special time together because of our differences.”

She’d finished with everything except the angel, which she tucked back into the box. Pushing the empty containers out of the way, she stepped back and then slowly smiled. “I
don’t care what you say, this is one truly beautiful Christmas tree.”

He shrugged.

“Oh come on, Erich, admit it, this tree is gorgeous.”

“I’ll admit nothing of the sort.”

“Twit.” That was a name he’d called her as a kid, when she’d get upset with his teasing.

He grinned as if he, too, remembered the name-calling of their youth. “When do you intend to put up that mistletoe?”

“Soon. But I seem to remember kissing you only a few minutes ago.”

He smiled for the first time that afternoon. “And to think you didn’t even need to pay me,” he said, referring to her childhood attempt to buy a kiss.

“Very funny. Consider that kiss a reward.”

“What’d I do?”

“You left your room and joined me.”

“I did that because I was bored and the smell of the popcorn was too hard to ignore.”

“I don’t care what brought you back; I’m simply glad you decided to be with me.”

“I could leave and come back again,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

Addie held on to his gaze before glancing about the
room. “I’m going to need a bit of help deciding where to place the mistletoe. I’ve heard certain areas of the house offer advantages over others.”

“I’m at your service.” He urged her toward the archway that led from the entry to the living room. “How about here?”

“Yes, this location looks promising.”

Erich brought her into his embrace. “Don’t be hasty. We should try it out first. This is an important decision, after all.” Before she could comment, he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss they’d exchanged earlier was a prelude to the potency of this one. His arms were heavy on her shoulders, but Addie barely noticed as she tilted back her head and opened to him. The kiss went on until they were both breathless. Erich broke away, his shoulders heaving. He kept his eyes closed.

“Well?” she asked, her voice unsteady. “Should we place it here?”

“It’s definitely in the running, but let’s not be too quick to make this all-important decision. What about the hallway?”

Addie laughed softly and tightened her grip around his middle.

“You don’t agree?”

“Of course. Location is of great significance.”

Erich kissed the tip of her nose. “I feel we should test several rooms. Give each area ample consideration.”

Addie gazed up at him, marveling that this thing between them was real. “Can you believe this is happening, Erich?”

“What?”

“Us kissing. I never would have believed it.”

“Me neither. I never liked you, you know?”

She didn’t need the reminder, especially since the feeling was mutual. “And how do you feel now?”

“And now,” he repeated in a whisper. “The truth is, Addie, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve changed, I’ve changed. You’re wise and funny, caring, nonjudgmental, and fun. When you’re away I wish you were with me, and I wonder how long it will be before I can see you again. I told myself it was the circumstances, my situation, and then I realized I don’t care what it is. I like you. I can’t help myself. I enjoy your company.”

“Really?” Addie was far too tongue-tied to say anything more.

“It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

“Crazy and wonderful,” she agreed. “Now tell me you’re happy about the Christmas tree.”

The warmth in his gaze faded ever so slightly. “Can’t do it, sorry, but I am extremely happy that you’re here. The
last thing I intend to do when I’m holding you is argue. Now let’s test out that mistletoe in another room.”

Addie pressed her finger against his lips. “Before we do, I need to ask you something.”

He frowned. “Okay, ask, just as long as it doesn’t have anything to do with Christmas.”

“No, my literature class.”

“Ask me later,” he murmured, and lowered his head to claim another kiss. All too soon any thoughts or questions were gone from her mind.

Harry was nervous and uncomfortable. This was an unfamiliar emotion for angels. He wanted to talk to Celeste and share his concerns, but once he did, he was afraid she’d deem it necessary to send him scooting back to heaven. Heaven was wonderful. He wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. It was just that he’d worked so long and hard to earn this position on Earth.

Thankfully, class had gone well, even with the summons to Dr. Conceito’s office resting on his desktop. The entire period, Harry had done his best to ignore the request.

Meet me in my office following your class
.
President Conceito
Southshore Community College

Harry didn’t need to speculate as to the reason he’d been asked to visit the college president’s office. He assumed Brady Whitall, the security guard, had gone directly to Dr. Conceito following the disaster the afternoon it’d snowed.

Harry dismissed class. The papers his students had written on the Dickens novel were scattered about his desktop. He lifted a handful and straightened the pile while he mulled over the confrontation awaiting him.

Danny Wade stood in front of the desk. Harry liked the young man. Danny tended to speak his mind and had no qualms about sharing the fact that he’d served time in prison. He seemed to believe his public record earned him a certain amount of respect with his peers.

“Hey, Mr. Mills.”

“Yes, Danny?”

Danny was a big guy, tall, with broad shoulders. The tattoo ran halfway down one side of his thick neck. As large as he was, Danny would have excelled if he had turned out for football in high school. Being in sports—part of a team—would have helped him avoid trouble.

“Are you going to take points off for spelling on those papers you had us write? ’Cause I don’t spell so good.”

“No worries, Danny. Content is more important to me than spelling,” he assured him.

“Content? What’s content?”

“What you wrote. The meaning behind the words.”

Danny rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place? I like this book. It’s nothing I would normally read, though.”

“So you enjoy reading?”

Danny shrugged. “We got books when I was in prison. I read a few and they were okay, but this Dickens guy … he’s deep, man. Real deep. He made me think about the stuff I’ve done and how it’s affected others, and it makes me wonder, you know?”

“That’s good, Danny.”

“I went to see my mama. She’s messed up, but I told her I was taking a college class and I could see she was impressed. She didn’t ever think one of her kids would go to college. I told her I was gonna make something of myself, and I will.”

“I know you will,” Harry said, as he collected the remaining papers. “You’re doing just fine in this class.”

“I never did good in school before, but when Mr. Anderson, he’s my parole officer, suggested I take a class, I came to the college. This was the only class that had space available, and I wasn’t going to take a class that made me read, but then Mr. Anderson said that it would help me get
a job. I’m going to need a job to stay out of trouble, so that was when I decided I was going to do it, so now I’m here.”

“That was a good decision. Just keep doing the next right thing, Danny, and you’ll be fine.”