Total pages in book: 19
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16684 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
What follows for the next hour is singing, and prayers, and kneeling, and then candles are passed to everyone in the sanctuary, and we light them one by one.
I look over at Miracle. Her eyes are closed, her head bowed, just like I imagined. She's holding that candle flickering in front of her. The whole church is illuminated. I feel something, and no, not my hardening cock. This time it's something else, and it's more than a beating heart.
I look at her and feel a surge of longing. Not lust. It feels like love, and I know that's crazy. This girl and I, hell, we haven't talked in four years, and before that, we hardly ever spoke, but maybe words aren't necessary.
I know what I've been praying for every night when I go to sleep, and sure, I'm not the religious sort, but maybe that doesn't matter.
If Miracle left the church and is no longer a nun, maybe her religion changed too. Maybe both of us simply believe in love.
6
MIRACLE
It is impossible to concentrate. For the entire service, my mind is on him.
Silas.
I keep stealing a look, and every time I do, I'm reminded just how handsome Silas Ritter is. He's even more handsome now. He must have gotten stronger in bootcamp. His shoulders are broad. I swear there are muscles in his neck and his jaw. His hair is cropped, and I want to run my fingers through it … and now I'm thinking things I shouldn't, things that started me on the path of leaving the church.
I swallow, focusing on the words of Silent Night, looking for some sort of amazing grace. I close my eyes, willing myself to follow along as we kneel and bow our heads, praying to the heavens, looking for all the gratitude in our hearts, feeling a surge of love flow throughout the church, grateful that I'm here with my sisters and my dad, that even though I changed my life path, I haven't been turned away from the place I call home—at least my second home, the church.
It's excruciating, though, standing across the aisle from Silas, wondering what he's thinking. I saw the look in his eyes though when he looked at me. It was reflective of my own heart pounding with anticipation and questions and wonderment, amazement that he is here.
Dad was just talking about him. What are the odds that I am back home and so is he? And isn't he in the Navy? Lovey said he never posts a girlfriend on Instagram. My mind is swirling with thoughts that are ridiculous because I don't even know Silas, and he doesn't even know me, but he's looking at me like he does, like he knows something, like he knows everything.
And in that split second, as my eyes are closed and my head is bowed, I pray. I pray for my own sort of Christmas miracle. I've always been the sort to believe in them.
I was my mom's miracle, after all. All she wanted in the whole world was to be a mom, and I made her one. That's why she named me this. And it's a ridiculous name, sort of silly, but it's also so full of beauty. And right now, I'm reminded of everything I want in life.
Not the fancy vacations and not the big old house. I just want a place to call mine, a home to create with a husband, a family to grow of my own. I understand why my mom wanted to be a mom so badly, because I suddenly have that feeling too, a desire to create a life with someone else.
I look over at Silas, and once again, his eyes are catching mine. The service is ended, and everyone is putting on their coats or buttoning their jackets, and he's stepping out toward me, then he is next to me.
I look up at him, a smile spreading across my face.
"Miracle Lane," he says. "Merry Christmas."
I press my lips together, looking for the word, searching for something to say that's both clever and cute and real.
"You're so much more handsome than I remember," I blurt out, instantly realizing what I've just said, and my cheeks turn crimson red. He breaks out into a grin.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to say that. You always seemed like the shy and quiet type."
I shrug. "I think I'm a lot different than you remember."
He nods. "I understand. I think I'm a lot different than you remember."
I lick my lips, looking up at him. "Do you have plans for Christmas?" I ask, instantly realizing how dumb that sounds. His parents are a few feet behind him talking to some other people, and he's here to see his parents. It's Christmas.
"Actually, I don't," he says.
I frown. "Really? You're not doing Christmas with your parents?"