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)
5
SILAS
Mom and Dad spend the half an hour before we leave for church packing for their vacation. I love Mom's energy. Instead of getting stressed that she doesn't have time to prepare for her vacation, she just happily begins throwing sundresses, flip-flops, and her swimming suit into the suitcase. Dad pulls things out from the closet for her.
"I already packed," he announces, and Mom and I both laugh. I can imagine him, this burly mechanic, packing for a beach vacation without my mom knowing. It's romantic in a way I genuinely didn't expect. It's not that they haven't been lovey-dovey all my life, but this is next level.
"I feel bad, though," she says. "I'm leaving you here on Christmas, Silas. You came here to surprise us, and now Dad surprised me, and it means you're going to be all by yourself Christmas morning."
"Seriously, it's going to be great," I tell her, meaning it. "Usually I'm on a boat with a whole bunch of dudes. It'll be nice for some peace and quiet in my own bedroom, honestly." Dad claps me on the back.
"Besides he's a grown man. He'll be fine. How long are you home before you go back to sea?" he asks me.
"Five days," I tell him. "So five days to enjoy Briar Valley."
"Hey, Mom and I got a hot tub earlier this fall. You can enjoy that.”
My eyes widen. "You never told me."
He shrugs. "We didn't want to brag."
"Pops, I guess you really have been saving."
"The shop's been doing well," he tells me. "If you weren't planning on re-enlisting, I would try and convince you to become my partner. It's a lot of work running that place on my own."
I smirk. "You want me moving back here to Briar Valley and living with you and Mom?"
He shakes his head. "Hell no. I don't want you moving in here. Your mom and I are going on our honeymoon. We're going to come back like newlyweds. We don't need a kid around."
Mom laughs. "Stop it, Hank."
I grin. "Well, I'll let you guys have at it. I'm going to go change before we head to church."
Mom smiles. "All right, sweetheart. We're going to leave in just about five minutes."
In my bedroom, I unzip my duffle bag and look for a collared shirt. I pull it on, hoping it's not wrinkled, and in the bathroom I comb back my hair, thinking about what Pops was saying at dinner, that Miracle moved back home, that she's no longer a nun.
Is it possible? Truth is, just the thought of it gets me hard. I have to grip the edge of the counter to get ahold of myself. I keep imagining her saying her prayers, her head bowed, her lips parted, her pink tongue…
Okay, I’ve got to stop. I shake my head, telling myself to get a grip. You're going to church not to bed with this woman.
I meet my parents at the front door, and the three of us head out to the church. We walk like we always do, and I know when we pass Miracle's house a few blocks down, because I always notice it, but the lights are off though the Christmas lights are on.
I'm sure they're already at church. They're a much more religious family than we are. I wonder if that would bother Miracle. I shake my head, not that it matters. Miracle and I aren't a thing, so it doesn't matter what she's looking for or not.
We walk into the church. Mom and Pops are holding hands. I take a program from the usher as we look for a pew. Mom finds one in the middle of the church, and we scoot in. I'm on the end of the aisle.
As I take my seat, I look over. On the other side of the aisle are four young women and their dad. The Lanes. Miracle is sitting opposite me. I look at her, and our eyes lock.
Damn it. I shake my head, and she shakes hers, a smile cresting her face, her eyes twinkling brightly. Her sister seems to be watching the silent exchange, but before I can say anything to her like, "Hello, by the way, I've been dreaming about you for years," the music from the organ begins to play, and we all stand ready to sing the Christmas hymn “Silent Night,” but I swear I hear the pounding of my heart beating like Little Drummer Boy.
I look over at her, unable to keep my eyes away. She is in a red wool coat with black boots to her knees, and her hair is long and loose around her shoulders. Her profile is beautiful. Her nose is upturned, her lips pink and pouty. Her cheeks are flushed from the winter cold outside. Candles surround us, everything lit up like magic. The stained glass windows are hauntingly beautiful, the church music echoing around us.