Miracle Road

our lives, yes. Other times, not so much. These days, we are in one of those not-so-much cycles.”

“Why is that?”

He went silent, not at all willing to answer her question. “Let’s change the subject. When do you start school?”

When she didn’t respond right away, he thought she might press the issue. He didn’t relax until she said, “I start Wednesday. The first day for students is next Tuesday.”

“And you said you teach something in addition to kindergarten?”

“Last year I taught history, but I’m changing classes this year. With a small school like ours, most teachers wear a lot of different hats. Our phys ed teacher resigned yesterday, so I’ll be taking on that job. I’ll be recruiting coaches for our school teams. Want to help?”

“No,” he said flatly, firmly, hoping she wouldn’t press him, because if she did he’d get up and leave, and he wasn’t ready to leave yet.

Luckily, she let it go. “My principal called this morning and asked me to make the change, so the timing of our conversation last night was perfect. I might have made a push to keep my history classes, but what you said about the influence that sports can have on a student’s life made a real impression on me. I’m looking forward to the challenge.”

Her scent distracted him. Some of his sister-in-law’s soap, he decided. The almond-vanilla scent Savannah called Autumn Rain. “I bet you are good at tackling challenges.”

Now it was her turn to hesitate before responding. “Not always. Some challenges have knocked me on my rear. Others, I’m managing, but just barely.”

“Tell me about one of them.”

“I’m divorced. My ex contacts me every so often out of the blue, and that unfailingly threatens to throw me into a tailspin.”

“How does he contact you? Phone? Email?”

“Both. It varies.”

“Why don’t you block him?”

“I can’t. The why is a long story I’m not prepared to tell tonight. Now it’s my turn to ask that we change the subject. So, what did you do today?”

Lucca was intrigued. He wanted to press her, but since she’d respected his wishes, he could do no less for her. “More paint prep. Found a few boards that needed to be replaced, so I had to make a run to the lumberyard. Since that’s just down the street from the bakery, I stopped in for a cinnamon roll. Those things are sinful. Anyway, I walked into the middle of a sitcom. The owner was in labor and her husband was tearing the place up looking for car keys. Then there was this weird-looking dog running around with some sort of half-chewed hose in his mouth and two college-age kids shouting at each other because somebody’d dropped a cellphone and broken the screen.”

Hope laughed. “The dog’s name is Mortimer, but Cam usually calls him the Terminator. He’s a Boston terrier. And yes, the Murphys are having their baby. Celeste called me a little while ago to tell me they’ve gone to the hospital. Finally. Sarah’s more than a week overdue.”

“Cam Murphy. He’s a friend of Zach’s, isn’t he? Runs the sporting goods store.”

“Yes.” Hope gave him a brief background of the Murphy family, and finished by saying, “They are very nice people. It’s such an exciting time for them.”

He started to ask her if she had any children, but since she’d put the brakes on any discussion about her ex, he figured he was better off staying away from that subject. “I never did get my cinnamon roll.”

“Your arteries thank you. Now, I’d better go inside. I have an early meeting at school tomorrow morning that I need to prepare for. Feel free to stay and watch the sky for as long as you want. Thanks for the lesson and the wine.”

“You’re welcome.” He waited until she’d almost reached her back door, a question hovering on his tongue. Did he really want to do this? He couldn’t forget that she was friends with his mother and sister. Did he really want to get any more involved with her and potentially complicate his life that way? His life was already complicated. Why add the redhead to the mix?

Because she intrigues you?

Hell. His indecision decided it for him. He said simply, “Good night.”

He remained in her backyard, on her lounge chair, staring up at the crystal-clear sky for another twenty minutes. When he spied the streak of a falling star, he thought about today’s date. Mid-August. It was a beautiful night, perfect conditions.

Rising, he picked up the wine bottle and empty glasses and made his way home, where he set his alarm and crawled into bed. Some things in life a man simply shouldn’t miss.

When he awoke to the brrrr of his alarm at three thirty-five a.m., he rolled out of bed and spoke into the darkness. “Or, a woman, either.”

In her bedroom, Hope lay dreaming.

I sit in the wooden rocking chair nursing three-month-old Holly, and I’m overwhelmed by pure, unadulterated love. The baby makes cooing sounds as her little fist beats against my bare breast. Softly, I sing, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.”

I glance up as Mark sweeps into the kitchen still tying his tie. He’s wearing the blue one that his mother gave him for Christmas, and he looks so handsome that my heart, already warm and tender with love as I nourish our child, melts. Remembering the wildness of his lovemaking the night before, I smile almost shyly. “Good morning.”

He offers me a distracted smile. “Have you seen the thumb drive I left on our dresser?”

“You put a silver one in your briefcase last night before you came to bed.”

“Oh. That’s right. Do I smell bacon?”

“Holly’s been awake awhile. I thought you might like a big breakfast for a change. Your plate is keeping warm in the oven.”

“I have a breakfast meeting. You should have asked me before cooking, Hope.”

He approaches me and reaches down for Holly. The baby is clamped down hard on my nipple and when Mark yanks her away, I gasp in physical and emotional pain. Holly cries and I rise from my rocker, reaching for my baby, but Mark places Holly into his briefcase and walks briskly toward the door.

“Mark. No. Don’t. My baby! Bring me back my baby.”

“You lost her. You made breakfast. You made a stupid decision. You gave her away. You lost her. You lost her.” The door slams shut. A woman cackles with laughter. “She’s mine now. All mine.”

“No!” Quicksand sucks at my feet as I fight my way to the kitchen door. It won’t open. I pound on the window. Pound. Pound. Glass rattles. “No! Holly! Bring her back! Holly!”

Pound. Glass rattles. A dog barks.

Her heart racing, breaking, Hope opened her eyes to darkness, blinked twice, and realized she’d been lost in a dream. A nightmare.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Rattle. Roxy barked. What in the world?

Her window. Someone was knocking on her window. Fear washed through her, and for a moment, she sat frozen. What should she do?

Call 911. But as she reached for the telephone beside her bed, she heard the voice. “Wake up. Hey, Hope. Wake up!”

Her thoughts came a mile a minute. Zach? Maybe her house was on fire! She grabbed the robe lying at the foot of her bed even as another possibility occurred to her: Lucca. She glanced toward her alarm clock. Red numerals glowed three forty-eight.

Pound. Pound. Rattle. “Hope!”

Not Zach. Lucca. At three forty-eight. He must be drunk.