A Mrs. Miracle Christmas - Debbie Macomber Page 0,46

onto the side streets surrounding the building. Parents and grandparents crowded the large space that served as an auditorium as well as a gym and a cafeteria. Neat, orderly rows of folding chairs had been set in place, facing the stage. Both sides had several small potted live Christmas trees of varying heights, strung with lights and handmade ornaments. Student artwork, all with holiday themes, was clipped on clotheslines along the remaining sides of the large gathering space.

Helen watched as each grade paraded out in single file, to the delight of their families. Mrs. Miracle sat in the chair next to her. The older woman on her other side clasped her hands together in delight as she stretched one way and then another, attempting to find the child she had come to see.

Leaning over to Helen, the woman whispered excitedly, “That’s my granddaughter.”

“Which one?” Helen asked.

“The second-grader in the red dress.”

Several of the girls in line wore the same color dress. But Helen smiled back and whispered, “She’s adorable.”

Such proud parents and grandparents, all around her.

“That’s my granddaughter,” Helen said, leaning back to the other grandmother and pointing to Laurel. She was grateful to see that all traces of Laurel’s emotional breakdown were erased from her face. How Laurel had managed to pull herself together, she could only speculate. “She’s the first-grade teacher,” Helen added.

“Mrs. McCullough? I recognize her. My granddaughter had her last year. She’s a wonderful teacher. My daughter was the homeroom parent for her class, and she said all the children loved her.”

“Yes, she’s a special young woman,” Helen said proudly.

The program was about to start, and the room quieted as the principal, Mr. Adams, stood to welcome the audience with a content look on his face at the high rate of attendance.

“First, I want to say how pleased we are here at Ronald Reagan Elementary to welcome the families of our students,” he began. “The students and staff have worked hard to put together this holiday program. I want to especially thank Mrs. McCullough for overseeing this entire event. Please turn off your cellphones so the children’s hard work can be our primary focus this afternoon. Without further delay,” Mr. Adams declared, “let the show begin!”

Helen silently said a prayer for Laurel and the children. Laurel had worked hard, putting in a copious amount of her own time to bring the talents of each class together so that every student participated in one way or another.

* * *

—

Applause erupted. Helen clapped loudly, stretching her neck to get a better view of Laurel’s first-grade class standing to the side of the stage, antsy and anxious for their turn. The kindergarteners performed first. When they had finished to thunderous appreciation, Laurel’s class marched onto the platform. The children waited for her signal to begin singing. Their sweet, young voices echoed through the room. Several parents crouched in the aisles, waiting their turn to take pictures. The flashes of the cellphones lit up the children’s faces. Others held up their phones from their seats, recording the heavenly sound. Helen imagined that this was what young angels-in-training must sound like. She knew Laurel would be pleased with how well they did.

One of the highlights of the program for Helen was listening to the school band, which was the grand finale. Laurel had told her how hard the children had worked on the instrumental portion. She leaned forward as the band teacher raised the baton and the children started to play. There were a few squeaks from the trumpet players, and one violinist was a few beats behind the others. The boy playing the tuba was smaller than his instrument. How he managed to hold on and play was a marvel, and Helen had to give him credit.

After several bars, the grandmother next to her moved closer and inquired, “Can you tell what song they’re playing?”

“It’s ‘O Christmas Tree,’ I believe,” Helen whispered back. It did take some imagination to make out the familiar Christmas carol.

“Right.” She bobbed her head with the last portion of the song, chasing the melody.

The song finished and the band members proudly stood and bowed to the audience, who came to their feet in a standing ovation. Mrs. Miracle clapped loudly with delight. Helen couldn’t have been prouder of Laurel. Her granddaughter had put her whole heart into this program, from beginning to end.

Because it was the last day of school before the winter break, the children were dismissed to their parents at