Mrs. Miracle Part 23

Frustrated because she couldn't speak, Harriett waved her good hand about, not even sure what it was she wanted to say. She wasn't sure if Emily was reading her thoughts or the expression in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, there'd always been something peculiar about the Websters' housekeeper.

"You okay?" Emily asked.

The answer was far too complicated, so Harriett penned the words As well as can be expected, As well as can be expected, but when she glanced down at the tablet she found the words but when she glanced down at the tablet she found the words I feel like an old fool. I feel like an old fool. She looked at the sheet again, certain there must be some mistake. Perhaps more was wrong with her than just a few broken bones. She looked at the sheet again, certain there must be some mistake. Perhaps more was wrong with her than just a few broken bones.

Emily chuckled and patted her hand. "Don't worry. Most of us are guilty of making a.s.sumptions now and again. It helps when we decide to resign as general manager of the universe. Personally, I don't need the headache." She laughed again and was gone.

This time the door didn't so much as open. Harriett was sure of it. The door didn't budge an inch, yet Emily had disappeared.

One moment the Websters' housekeeper was there and the next she was gone.

Something very weird was going on. Harriett Foster pressed the b.u.t.ton to call the nurse. She needed help; clearly she'd had a reaction to the pain medication.

Chapter 28

If the gra.s.s is greener on the other side of the fence, you can bet the water bill is higher.-Mrs. Miracle

Sharon didn't see much of her husband the entire day. Her stroll to the park had helped her sort through her feelings about the divorce, and she'd been eager to share her thoughts with her husband. But he'd disappeared-and when he returned late in the afternoon, he didn't even offer an explanation of where he'd been or what he'd been doing.

If it wasn't for the twins' enthusiasm for Christmas, dinner would have been a glum affair. Seth had apparently had a falling-out with Reba and looked about as cheerful as a cadaver. Jerry wasn't much better. Emily appeared to be in a rare bad mood as well. If it hadn't been for Judd and Jason, who rattled on like chatterboxes, Sharon would have suggested they all meet later for a ma.s.s suicide. and Jason, who rattled on like chatterboxes, Sharon would have suggested they all meet later for a ma.s.s suicide.

The evening wore on, and knowing that the following day, Christmas Eve, would be full, Sharon opted to retire early. When Jerry joined her shortly afterward she was already in bed, propped up against several pillows and reading.

"Where were you this afternoon?" she asked. Considering that they'd agreed to divorce, she had no right to pry into his business. Nor did he have any responsibility to report his whereabouts to her. "You don't need to answer that," she added quickly, embarra.s.sed.

"I don't?" He sat on the end of the bed and untied his shoes.

"Unless you want to, of course." Every time she opened her mouth she seemed to make it worse.

"I went to the movies."

"Oh." She would have enjoyed going with him, but it was senseless to admit as much.

"To think," he added.

"Oh." Apparently her entire vocabulary had shrunk to words of one syllable.

He twisted around to look at her. "Aren't you going to ask me what I was mulling over?"

"Do you want to tell me?" Clearly he did, or he wouldn't have prompted the question.

"I was remembering our first Christmas in San Francisco and comparing it to this year...the last one we're likely to spend together."

"I went for a walk and couldn't help wondering at what point we stopped being good to one another?"

"I wish I knew," he mumbled. His right shoe landed with a clunk onto the floor, then his left. He undressed and pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slipped inside.

Sharon continued to read, or pretend to read. Jerry lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

"I had Chinese food for lunch."

He'd never been fond of Chinese, but it was her favorite. She had to bite her tongue to keep from reminding him that he complained every time she suggested Szechuan. It used to be-when they lived in San Francisco-that he'd take her to Chinatown. It was such a rare occasion when they could afford a meal out, and Jerry loved to treat her to a dinner he knew she'd find special. She recalled that back then they could eat dinner for two for under five dollars. How times had changed!

"Funny how a dish of chow mein can bring back the memories," Jerry added.

"We were happy then." The lump in her throat felt as large as a grapefruit.

"Yeah," Jerry agreed on a sad note.

Giving up the pretense of reading, Sharon removed her reading gla.s.ses, set them on the end table, and turned off the lamp. The room went dark. For the last several nights they'd slept side by side, each as close to the edge of the mattress as they could manage. They'd acted as though touching each other would be akin to pulling the plug on a hand grenade and tossing it into a crowd. as they could manage. They'd acted as though touching each other would be akin to pulling the plug on a hand grenade and tossing it into a crowd.

Sharon lay on her back now, too, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"Remember our first real Christmas tree?" he asked unexpectedly.

"Of course." Clay had been barely two, and Neal had been a year old. Two babies within two and a half years. Living on one income, they'd had no money for luxuries like tree ornaments.

"You strung popcorn and cranberries."

Sharon laughed softly. "Which the boys promptly ate."

"We ended up putting the tree inside the playpen, remember?"

She laughed again. "Neal was so excited to open a gift, he ran around it three times and then tore into it like a Tasmanian devil."

Soon Jerry was laughing, too. "Remember the time Pamela stuffed a bead up her nose and we had to take her to the emergency room to get it out? That d.a.m.n bead cost us a fortune."

"And ruined my favorite necklace."

They were silent for a while, each caught up in the rich texture of their years together.

"Remember the time in church when some poor unsuspecting elderly woman sat down in the middle of a song?"

"And I was holding Clay on my hip and somehow he got hold of the woman's wig and started shaking it like a dog with a dead rat."

"You were mortified."

"And you kept trying to put it back on the woman's head, and her hands kept getting in the way."

"Didn't we change churches shortly after that?"

"I don't remember, but I bet that woman did."

Sharon started laughing, and soon the tears ran unrestrainedly down her cheeks. For the memory, true, but mingled in with the laughter was sadness and regret.

"Are you going to tell the boys?" Jerry asked a moment later.

"I thought we should do it together."

"That would be best," he agreed.

The silence was back, but neither of them rolled onto their sides as they had previous nights.

"We had some really great years."

"Yes," she whispered, and to her horror her voice cracked.

"Sharon?"

She didn't answer, fearing she'd dissolve into tears if she did.

"d.a.m.n it, Sharon," Jerry said, tossing aside the covers as if he couldn't remove them fast enough. "I don't want a divorce. I never did, but I was too d.a.m.n proud to say so. Enough is enough. I've loved you all these years, and I'm not going to stop now."

Wide-eyed, Sharon sat up, clutching the covers to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"If you want to fight me on this, fine, but I'm telling you right now-"

Sharon ran her hand down his back. He jumped at the unexpectedness of her touch, then twisted around, moved in closer, and lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was filled with frustration and anger and need, and it took Sharon by surprise. It had been so long since her husband had showed her any physical attention that she momentarily shied away, but Jerry wouldn't allow it. He deepened the kiss, and, sighing, she wound her arms around his neck. "Jerry?" she whispered when he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

"Are you surprised the old man's still got some life left in him?"

"No. Oh, Jerry...I love you so much. I don't want the divorce, either, but I can't go on living the way we have been."

"Me either." She heard and felt his sigh, which came from deep within his chest. "I've been a stubborn fool."

"Me too. I was the one who decided to sleep in the guest bedroom."

"But I knew that you didn't want that Panama Ca.n.a.l cruise. I was being selfish and pigheaded." He raised his head just enough to meet her eyes. To her surprise, she found his beautiful dark eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Jerry," she whispered, and gently pressed her palm to his cheek. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why we let this happen."

Tenderly he held her hand to his face and kissed her fingers. "There's never been anyone but you. I wouldn't know how to love anyone else." He reached down and unfastened the b.u.t.tons to her pajama top. His hands shook with eagerness.

Smiling to herself, Sharon completed the task for him and then looped her arms around his neck. "Love me."

"I do," he murmured between deep, satisfying kisses. "I do."

He took his own sweet time proving how very much he did love her. The years fell away and it was as though they were young again, their eagerness for one another as strong as it had been in the early years.

Some time later Sharon lay in her husband's arms, her head cradled against his chest. "Do you think anyone heard us?"

"I don't see how they could help it," he teased, and kissed the side of her face. "You never could keep from making those little love noises. Thank heaven the twins are asleep."

Sharon felt herself blush and groaned with embarra.s.sment. "What will Seth think of us?"

"He'll think I'm the luckiest man alive, and he'll be right."

"Oh, Jerry, we've been such fools."

"No more. We're both going to have to work at this. It isn't a fifty-fifty proposition with us. It's a hundred percent and nothing less. Talking about when we were young and first married was the kick in the pants I needed. If you want to cruise to the Orient, then that's what we'll do."

"Thank you, but I insist we go through the Panama Ca.n.a.l first. You've been talking about it for years. You deserve this, and I want to share the experience with you."

He rubbed his jaw along the top of her head. "There's no shopping in the Ca.n.a.l," he reminded her.

"I'll survive." She could live without buying T-shirts and pottery, but she couldn't live without Jerry. "Now what was all this business about you having Chinese food for lunch?"

He went still and quiet. "I'm not entirely sure myself. I guess in my own way I was looking for a way to be close to you again. I had a miserable afternoon. The movies weren't nearly as enjoyable without you sitting there with me. I didn't even buy popcorn."

Sharon smiled to herself.

"While I'm at it, I might as well confess that I don't dislike walnuts nearly as much as I made out. I prefer almonds and cashews, but a walnut isn't as repugnant to me as I let on."

"Then why...?"

"I'd had a bad game of golf and was sick and tired of sleeping alone."

"I overreacted," Sharon conceded. "It was a bit dramatic of me to insist you cook your own meals."

"It taught me a lesson," Jerry said, and rubbed his hand down her bare arm. "I won't complain again for a long time."

"Good thing."

He chuckled, then grew serious. "If we've decided to make a go of our marriage, we can't be tossing the option of divorce in each other's faces again. It's too dangerous."

Sharon agreed. Bringing up the subject had been like opening a Pandora's box, creating more problems than it solved. Once she'd started thinking of leaving Jerry, her mind had justified her decision. Everything he said or did was further evidence that their love was dead.

"I love you, Jerry Palmer." The tears were back in her voice, only this time they were evidence of her happiness.

"I love you, Sharon Palmer. Forever."