A Mrs. Miracle Christmas - Debbie Macomber Page 0,24

give her granddaughter a reason to believe without outright announcing there would soon be an infant in her arms. She trusted that Mrs. Miracle knew best.

Her eyes returned to the Christmas tree. She was mesmerized by it, caught up in the memories of Christmas past. How quickly the years had flown by. It seemed like only yesterday that the troubled ten-year-old Laurel had come to live with her and Robert. And here she was now, married and teaching at the local school, the very one her daughter, Kelly, had attended. As an adult, her granddaughter’s heart was once again hurting, as she dealt with another significant loss. Only this time, baking cookies wasn’t going to help smooth the road.

“Laurel has reached a place of resignation,” her companion said. “That’s understandable, but Zach isn’t there yet. What I’m hoping is that Laurel will see all that’s good in her life, instead of focusing on what she doesn’t have, and be grateful for what she does.”

Mrs. Miracle was right, Laurel needed to find a way to be genuinely grateful for what she had, not sorry for what she was lacking, and let that gratitude fill the hole in her heart.

Caught up in her musing, she hadn’t noticed that her friend had left the room. It was several moments before Mrs. Miracle returned, carrying a dilapidated box with her.

“What in heaven’s name is that?”

“I believe it’s the nativity set you mentioned,” she said. While on the bus ride home, Helen had reminisced about the set from her childhood that she’d once had and lost.

Helen’s musings quickly came to a halt. “Where did you find it? Was it stored in the garage, like all those other long-lost ornaments you discovered?”

The other woman smiled and left the question unanswered. “Where would you like me to put it up?”

Her mother had set up the ceramic nativity scene every Christmas on a small table next to the fireplace in the family’s farmhouse. It was the first thing visitors saw when entering their home during the Christmas season. It was the item she’d wanted most when her parents had passed. Over the years, several of the pieces had been broken. The original set had seventeen pieces but had dwindled down to three or four. Helen had despaired when the arm of the Baby Jesus had cracked. She glued the Christ Child back together as best she could, and tucked the remaining pieces away in Bubble Wrap, never pulling them out of storage after that.

“It’s a lovely set.”

“It was at one time,” Helen agreed, saddened by the loss. “I made the mistake of placing it under the tree. Kelly loved the animals and would play with them. She was careful, but accidents happen. I should’ve known better than to let her treat them as toys, seeing how precious that set was to me. The donkey and one of the sheep were the first to be broken.”

“Yes, children do love playing with nativity scene pieces.”

Kelly had wept at the loss of that donkey, and she was genuinely sorry. Silent tears had fallen from Helen’s eyes, too.

“What would you think if we put it up on the end table closest to the tree?” Mrs. Miracle asked.

That sounded fine with Helen. The tea had cooled, and she sipped it. The orange-cinnamon flavor was the perfect complement to the season and exactly what she needed after their shopping expedition.

While she relaxed, the caregiver disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a second box. She set it down and carefully unwrapped each piece of Helen’s long-lost nativity set.

All seventeen pieces.

Watching in astonishment, Helen closed her eyes and smiled. Why was she shocked? Mrs. Miracle had made no secret of her heavenly connection. This was simply one more fun surprise. One more miracle.

Mrs. Miracle placed the baby in the manger in the center of the table before she added two more of the figurines: Mary and Joseph. The shepherds appeared next, along with a variety of barnyard animals. The last to be set into place were the host of heavenly angels.

“The angels were always my favorite,” Helen said, caught up in the memories of Christmas as a child.

“Were they?” Mrs. Miracle asked, seemingly delighted. “Several of my closest friends were in the countryside of Bethlehem that very night.”

Helen waited, certain there was a story to be told.

“Shirley couldn’t stay away. She isn’t one of the Caring Angels here on earth like me.”

“She isn’t?” Helen asked, genuinely interested. “And Shirley? Angels