Mrs. Miracle Page 0,66

of her parents' only grandchild. Always so perfect, always so good.

The traitor.

"Perhaps you should head toward the checkout stand," Reba suggested, looking blindly into the distance.

Seth hesitated. "I'm not siding with your sister against you," he said after a moment. "You're the one I care about; you're the one I don't want to see hurt."

"Again," she added, "hurt again." He hadn't a clue. If he had, he wouldn't have asked her to work matters through with Vicki. All her hopes for the future, all her dreams, came crashing to her feet and shattered like crystal.

Unlike any man she'd met since the broken engagement, Seth had led her to believe he understood. He didn't. He couldn't possibly comprehend what he was asking of her.

Reba joined him just as he was finishing up at the checkout stand and helped him carry the bulky purchases back to the car. She smiled, hoping that they could put this matter behind them.

Soon they were on the road again, heading back to Seth's house. The silence that stretched between them was like the rubber strand of a slingshot. The pressure so strong, it all but vibrated.

"Reba, I know it's none of my affair, but you've got to let go of this bitterness or you'll pickle in it."

If he meant to be amusing, he failed miserably. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You can't live in the past."

Furious that he of all people would say that to her, she refused to respond. He was the man hung up on a dead wife, the man who'd buried himself in his grief. Vicki was about to do it to her again: she was going to lose Seth, and all because of her sister.

"You've let what Vicki did jade your entire outlook on life. Don't you think this whole thing has hurt Vicki, too? It probably has and in ways you've never imagined. Have you ever really talked it over with her?"

"As I said before, I don't have anything to say to my sister, and furthermore I'm not willing to listen to anything she has to tell me." If he thought he was helping, he was wrong. Every time he opened his mouth he made matters worse. Much worse. All he did was repeat what other well-meaning friends and family had said to her. His attitude was one of the sorriest disappointments of her life. She'd expected much more of him.

"But - "

"Seth, don't," she pleaded, and closed her eyes. "Please don't say another word."

The rest of the drive was completed in dark silence. He parked his car in his driveway. Despite her unhappiness, she had to smile when two small faces appeared in the window. Judd and Jason battled for the best vantage point to check out the Christmas goodies, hoping for the opportunity to catch a glimpse of what presents they'd find under the tree on Christmas morning.

"It looks like we have a welcoming committee," Seth said.

"So I see."

"If I know Mrs. Merkle, she's cooked up a feast to tempt the saints. I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

"I can't stay," she said, eager to get away. She opened the car door, anxious to make her escape. Anxious to sort through what had happened.

Chapter 24

There's a reason a dog has so many friends. He wags his tail instead of his tongue.

- Mrs. Miracle

Harriett Foster decided she couldn't delay her talk with Pastor Lovelace any longer. This matter with Ruth Darling wasn't the only problem, either. God had graced her with a knack for details, and she'd noticed a number of other good Christians flirting with sin.

Since she hadn't been able to accidentally-on-purpose bump into the minister, she scheduled an appointment through the church secretary.

"It's vitally important I speak with Pastor Lovelace at his earliest convenience," she'd told Joanne Lawton.

When the church secretary had quizzed her about the purpose of the meeting, Harriett had been vague. She'd said something along the lines of the matter being a delicate one that in her humble opinion required the attention of the church's spiritual leader. She must have been convincing because Joanne scheduled her for an appointment first thing Monday morning, three days before Christmas.

Harriett dressed carefully, choosing her best outfit, the one she generally reserved for formal occasions: playing the pipe organ at baptisms and weddings, that sort of thing. Her new black pumps were a tad snug and uncomfortable but would loosen with a bit of wear, she decided.

Generally she avoided studying her reflection in the mirror.