Mrs. Miracle Page 0,84

the living room.

Reba followed. Now that she was here, now that she'd crossed the bridge and was facing the woman she'd actively resented for four long years, she found all she could do was weep. The years of keeping her anger alive, of feeding her resentment and pain, left her feeling as though she were drowning in emotion. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her face, despite her almost frantic efforts to keep them at bay. Her throat felt raw. She'd wasted so much time feeding her pain, when the person she'd hurt the most had been herself.

For years she'd been telling herself how much she hated Vicki. For years she'd closed herself off from her family and friends. For years she'd tabulated the wrongs committed against her, when all along she'd missed her sister desperately. Her best friend. Her own flesh and blood.

When she found the courage to look toward Vicki, she found her sister sitting across from her, tears running unrestrainedly down her cheeks. She offered Reba a gentle smile and then bit into her lower lip as if she were afraid to speak.

"Ellen is a beautiful little girl," Reba whispered. It was all the voice she had, and it came out choked and breathy.

"I named her after you. Ellen Louise." Vicki rubbed the heel of her hand down her cheeks and sniffled. "Oh, Reba, I'm so sorry, so very sorry." She lowered her face. "You have every reason to hate me.... What I did was despicable. You don't know how I hated myself afterward...how..."

"Don't," Reba said, her voice surprisingly strong.

Vicki looked up to meet her eyes.

"I know you're sorry, it's unnecessary to say it again. The reason I've come is to apologize to you. My unwillingness to forgive you has hurt everyone. You. Mom and Dad, and probably most profoundly, me. I came because...because I need you to forgive me!"

Vicki stood, walked over to where Reba sat, and got down on her knees.

With a soft cry of joy Reba wrapped her arms around her sister, and the two hugged and openly wept.

Chapter 30

Fear not for I bring you tidings of great joy.

- A personal friend of Mrs. Miracle

Seth sat down at the church piano, poised his fingers over the yellowed ivory keyboard, and hesitated. He had studied the music, and the notes rang loud and clear in his head long before his fingers struck the keys. The first song, "Joy to the World," was one of his favorites, one he'd often played during the holidays because Pamela had loved it, too.

The last time he'd played the carol had been the Christmas before the accident, while his wife had sung the solo in front of the church.

He forced the memory from his mind and pressed his fingers upon the keys. Convinced his talent would be rusty following a four-year sabbatical, he'd arrived two hours early to practice. The music flowed. From his heart and from his soul. Joy mingled with sadness, and to his wonder, the joy drowned out the sorrow. It was as though he'd sat and practiced hours every one of those days away from the piano.

He wasn't the only one who noticed. Reba stepped out from behind the painted manger scene, paused, and stared. The joyous notes filled the church, resounding through the building, amplified until the music swelled and echoed like a chorus of angels.

"Oh, Seth," she whispered when he'd finished, awe in her voice. "That was lovely. I don't know when I've heard the carol played more beautifully."

Her praise embarrassed him, and he fumbled with the sheet music. "You'll be able to cue me, won't you?"

"Of course." She walked to the far edge of the stage. "I'll be standing here. Emily and a couple of other volunteers are seeing to everything backstage. They'll get the children where they're supposed to be. The others are seeing to the costumes and everything else backstage. My job is to cue you when to play and usher the actors and actresses on and off the stage."

Seth ran his fingers up and down the scales, marveling in the sense of freedom and joy he experienced. If not for practical reasons, he would have sat at the piano all day. What Reba had said about him letting go of his grief was true. He felt as if the shackles had lifted from his heart, and his spirit soared in jubilation.

"I don't know how to thank you," Reba said when he'd finished.

He grinned. "I'll think of