go into that just now.”
“Did she give you specific details?” Zach asked.
“Not yet, but I’m sure she will.”
Laurel watched as Zach went along with her grandmother’s story. She could tell he was amused, but not to the point of making fun of her nana. Zach had loved Helen from the minute he met her, and they shared a special bond.
“I can’t wait to hear more,” he replied, sharing a smile with Laurel.
Helen had a hearty appetite, which was unlike her these days. Laurel and Zach were pleasantly surprised.
“I had such a wonderful day,” Nana said with a sigh. “It was so good to hear about my brother.”
“Uncle James?” Laurel asked.
Nana passed the cooked carrots and potatoes on to Laurel and continued her story. “Mrs. Miracle told me he’s doing well in heaven. That’s reassuring. My brother was such a prankster.”
“Yes, Nana,” Laurel said, the smile fading from her face. This was getting to be more than just her grandmother believing that her caregiver came from heaven.
“Mrs. Miracle knew all about him.”
“Did she, now?” Zach said, sharing a concerned glance with Laurel.
“Oh yes. We had quite the gabfest about him.”
“That’s great,” Zach said. “Tell me more.”
Nana excitedly shared the story, more animated than Laurel had seen her in a very long while.
Kicking Zach’s leg under the table, Laurel glared at him. She was starting to think that they shouldn’t be encouraging Nana with this line of thought. Her grandmother was losing sight of reality. While she agreed that they shouldn’t argue with Nana or point out that it was a fantasy, they shouldn’t encourage her.
* * *
—
Laurel didn’t get a chance to speak to him privately until they were getting ready for bed. “You can’t go along with her wild imagination, Zach,” she said, wanting to clear the air. “While I’m pleased that Nana is showing improvement, I’m afraid it’s going too far. I saw her show you the baby booties she’s knitting.” Zach seemed to be playing along with Nana more than Laurel was comfortable with. He, too, seemed to be living in the fantasy world right along with Nana, and it distressed Laurel. At least one person in this house needed to be living in reality.
“What about the booties?” Zach challenged.
The last thing Laurel wanted was for them to argue. The subject of a baby was taboo. He knew that. She offered him a shallow smile. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage her along those lines.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“You know why not.”
She shouldn’t have to spell it out, but she was forced to. Laurel had to put a stop to this nonsense and clear the air—otherwise, it would destroy their marriage.
“I don’t want her thinking there’s a baby in our future,” she continued. “You’re going to build up her hopes, and there’s never going to be a baby.”
Her husband’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing for several awkward seconds. He didn’t need to; his look said everything. He didn’t have the courage to speak out loud what his true feelings were. He wanted to keep believing, to cling to the possibility, even if it was a remote one.
Laurel could see the defiance in his eyes.
“Come on, Zach, we agreed on this. Children are simply not happening for us. They never will. We have to accept it and move forward.”
Zach briefly closed his eyes. “I don’t want to argue, especially when this isn’t about us. It’s about Nana.”
“You’re right,” Laurel reluctantly agreed. “It’s not about us. It’s about Nana.” She couldn’t help worrying about her grandmother’s unusual revelations about Mrs. Miracle, though. This angel-visitation stuff was something one would hear in Sunday school—not today in the here and now.
“Look at the difference Mrs. Miracle has already made,” Zach reminded her. “Your grandmother’s eyes are bright again. Her heart is full of hope. It’s clear that this Mrs. Miracle, whoever and whatever she is, is good for Nana. Let’s focus on that fact and let her believe what she wants. Let’s enjoy seeing Nana so full of life again, and more like her old self.”
Her husband was right. She loved seeing her grandmother so happy and revitalized. Laurel didn’t want to ruin Nana’s newfound enjoyment. But Laurel wasn’t about to let herself get wrapped up in this fantasy world.
“And if, by some miracle, a baby should happen to—”
“Zach, stop,” Laurel pleaded. “Just stop. You know as well as I do this is a closed subject. Dead. Buried. Grieved.”
“Oh baby,” Zach begged. “You know I