Mrs. Miracle Page 0,73

off the kitchen.

Jerry and his football games, she thought, amused. She never had understood football or men's fascination with the game. The season seemed to last all year, August to January.

Jerry loved to watch the games. College. Professional. Pee-Wee League. The same with baseball and basketball.

For more years than she could count she'd sat at his side and knitted (her skills had improved over time) while he relaxed in front of the television, cheering on his favorite team. She hadn't understood the complexities of the game but had enjoyed just being with Jerry, sharing these quiet moments with the man she loved.

"I'm back," she called, unexpectedly cheered, knowing Jerry was in the other room. She had some things she wanted to say. Until that moment she hadn't realized it, but the need to speak to him burned within her. It had all started with Emily's comment about memories, and Sharon had soon found herself caught up in the years she'd shared with Jerry.

"Is that you, Mrs. Palmer?" Emily Merkle called back.

Sharon found Seth's housekeeper in the family room, her bare feet propped up against the ottoman. She grinned and wiggled her toes. "These dogs are barking," she said.

"Where's Jerry?"

"You mean to say he didn't meet up with you?"

"No." A small sense of desolation took hold of her.

"Why, that's strange. He left a few minutes after you did. I assumed...I thought he intended to join you."

Winter Fruit and Chutney Cream Spread

1 ½ pounds cream cheese

3 tablespoons dry sherry

3 tablespoons brown sugar

1 tablespoon curry

1 tablespoon ginger

1 teaspoon dry mustard

3-4 green onions, minced

2/3 cup chutney

6 ounces shredded sharp cheddar cheese

6 ounces chopped walnuts

Whip cream cheese with sherry, sugar, and spices. Fold in onion, chutney, cheese, and nuts. Chill overnight. Serve with fresh sliced apples and pears to scoop up the dip.

Chapter 26

It's all right to sit on your pity pot every now and again. Just be sure to flush when you're finished.

- Mrs. Miracle

"What do you mean your aunt Harriett can't play the piano for the Christmas program?" It was all Reba could do not to clench Jayne by the collar and demand an explanation. "This is some kind of joke, right?"

Jayne retreated one small step. Reba didn't blame her. She could feel the hysteria rising. The Christmas Eve program was scheduled in less than forty-eight hours. While she was confident that any number of volunteers were qualified to replace Mrs. Foster, Jayne's aunt was the only one who'd practiced the routine with the children. The only one who knew the program backward and forward.

"She's taken a nasty fall," Jayne repeated. "She has to spend the night in the hospital and have her jaw wired. Her arm's broken, too."

Reba didn't mean to be callous about the older woman's injuries, but she was the one responsible for the performance. All week she'd heard how much this Christmas pageant meant to the church family. How pleased people were that she'd stepped in and taken over for Milly Waters. How grateful they were. Friends and family were planning on attending, people of other faiths. The pressure was on her and the children to give the performance of their lives.

And now she was without a pianist. Without hope.

Reba sank onto her chair and resisted the urge to bury her face in her arms. She didn't know what she was going to do.

"I realize this isn't the best time to ask, but would you mind terribly if I left a few minutes early?" Jayne asked, her words soft and cautious as if she were tiptoeing across a freshly polished floor. "I'd like to stop off at the hospital and visit my aunt. I know I complain about her a lot. She drives me crazy at times, but she is my aunt, and the only living relative on my mother's side of the family."

"Of course." Having Jayne leave an hour early wasn't nearly the catastrophe of not having a piano player for the church program. "Give her my best while you're there. Tell her not to concern herself about a thing." No need to heap more trouble on the woman's shoulders. She had enough on her mind without having to worry about the Christmas program.

Something like this was bound to happen, Reba thought as Jayne silently gathered her things and left the agency. She glanced over her shoulder on her way out the door, and Reba managed a brave smile.

"Don't worry," Jayne said, "everything will turn out the way it's supposed to."

Reba didn't believe that for an