Mrs. Miracle Page 0,47

She'd found him. The man who would return to her everything that she'd lost. Her sanity, her pride, her dreams. Utterly content for the first time since her canceled wedding, she closed her eyes.

Beyond a doubt she realized that one day she would sleep with Seth, would share her bed and her life with this man who understood her pain.

Jerry Palmer paced the house like a caged gorilla, walking from one empty room to the next. He wasn't sure what he sought, but whatever it was repeatedly escaped him.

Movement seemed only to agitate him further, but sitting and doing nothing was intolerable.

He'd been married to Sharon for forty years and overnight she had become a stranger to him. Without rhyme or reason his loving wife had turned into a hotheaded feminist. It was enough to drive a man to drink.

At first he'd assumed the brusque personality changes in his wife were due to a hormonal imbalance. A few years back she'd had every window in the house open and was fanning herself like crazy because of one of her hot flashes. He'd been forced to don his coat in the middle of his own house while she sweated until her clothes were damp enough to wring out.

She'd visited her doctor soon afterward, and there hadn't been any more repeats of that. Unfortunately whatever the doctor had given her hadn't done anything to improve her waspish nature. Jerry had gotten into the habit of checking her prescription. She appeared to be taking the tablets regularly, not that it'd done much good.

For years Jerry had looked forward to retirement. He'd worked all his life for a chance to golf every day if he wanted. At first he'd thought that was exactly what he'd do, but to his surprise he'd soon grown tired of traipsing over the greens. Oh, it was good sport, and he enjoyed a couple of rounds a week, but more than that and the sport lost its appeal.

Playing cards was a good pastime, as was working with thirteen-and fourteen-year-olds on the basketball court, but all in all, retirement wasn't what it was touted to be. He found himself restless and antsy and fighting with his wife to the point where she'd walked out on him and left her suitcase behind. She must have been upset to have taken off without it.

He sat and rubbed a hand across his eyes. Maggie claimed he'd been harsh and unreasonable with Sharon about visiting the grandkids over the holidays. His jaw tensed as he recalled the way she'd gone against his wishes and ordered the airline tickets. It used to be that Sharon valued his opinion and readily accepted his decisions. No more. If she didn't like what he had to say, she did as she damn well pleased. Exactly what kind of wife ignored her husband's decisions? But then, a small voice nagged at the back of his mind, how often have you ignored hers?

Damn it all, Sharon could believe what she wanted about him and Maggie, he decided.

Unable to sit with his thoughts, he reached for the television controller and turned on the television, then just as abruptly turned it off again. He was in no mood to be entertained. Before he knew it, he was on his feet again.

Holding the refrigerator door open, he stared inside at the contents. This wouldn't be the first night he'd cooked his own dinner. He reached for the bread and pulled a jar of peanut butter from the shelf. He'd never thought he'd see the day that he'd be married and responsible for cooking his own meals. But then he'd never expected to be married and sleeping alone, either. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right.

He slapped the two pieces of bread together and was about to take the first bite when he noticed Sharon's prescription bottle on the windowsill. In addition to her suitcase, she'd apparently forgotten to take her pills with her to Seattle.

He scratched the side of his head. There was only one thing to do.

He'd deliver them himself.

Chapter 18

The mighty oak tree was once a little nut that held its ground.

- Mrs. Miracle

"I'm not wearing any dress," Judd insisted, crossing his arms and tilting his chin at a stubborn angle. Seth recognized that look all too well and was pleased his mother-in-law was the one dealing with his son's bullheadedness.

"It's not a dress," Sharon returned calmly. "It's your costume for the Christmas pageant." After a good night's sleep,