Free The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) by Donna Vanliere Page B

either,” Miriam said. “Remember that.”
    I handed the potatoes to Erin while I pulled a meat loaf from the oven. Miriam frowned when she saw it but brightened when I slid a pan full of hot rolls from the top rack. I poured peas into a bowl and handed them to Erin. “Have you told your mother that you’re here?”
    “Not yet,” she said. Miriam sighed, shaking her head, and Erin pretended not to notice.
    I filled three glasses with ice and opened the fridge for the pitcher of tea. “You can invite her to come visit,” I said. “I could fix dinner and the two of you could talk about what you need to do.” Erin was quiet, taking the drinks to the table. She wasn’t enthused about that idea. “When the time’s right.”
    “But the time better be soon by the looks of your belly,” Miriam said.
    I hissed at Miriam and sat, patting Erin’s hand. “Just ignore her. My grandson taught me this. He’ll throw up his little hand and say, ‘Talk to the hand, Grandma.’ So just throw your hand up when she talks.”
    “I can hear you, Gloria,” Miriam said. “I’m sitting right here.”
    I ate my food with one hand and raised the other, putting it in front of Miriam. “Talk to the hand, Miriam.” I leaned close to Erin. “Whatever happened between you and your mother, I’m sure she’s over it and just wants to see you again. And nothing will be able to keep her from that little one you’re carrying.” Erin nodded, moving the food around on her plate. “If you’re open to it, I think you should give me your mother’s name and phone number…just in case something happens.” I reached behind me and pulled out a pad and pen from the telephone table and slid it in front of Erin. After a while she jotted down a name and number and moved the pad to the side of my plate. I slipped the paper inside my jacket pocket and jumped up from the table. “Oh, my! I almost forgot.” I dug through my purse and handed a set of car keys to Erin. “These are for you.”
    “I can’t take your car, Gloria,” Erin said. “You need it. I’ll take the bus to work.”
    “These aren’t keys to my car,” I said. “They’re keys to your car. The Silver Fox.” I pushed open the drapes at the kitchen window.
    “But you need it for one of your families,” she said.
    “You’re one of my families now,” I said. “When you can get a car of your own you’ll give it back to me and I’ll pass it on.”
    “Does it have seat belts?” Miriam asked, peering out the window.
    “Of course it has seat belts!”
    Erin stammered for something to say. “I can’t…”
    “Jack said she was good as new,” I said. “And she is. I took her for a spin myself.” I pointed to her chair. “Sit down and eat before it gets cold.” We sat and ate together, three women who had been plopped into each other’s lives in the strangest of circumstances, and though there were several gaps and silences, the conversation was civil. Very civil, I thought. Maybe things were finally on an upward swing.
     

    Chaz was in the security office monitoring the video screens when he noticed shoppers scrambling for the front doors. He ran up the stairs and saw the lawyer from next door on the other side of the street crouched down on the ground beside a car that had smashed into a light pole. Ray was also out there; he had run out when he heard a bang that rattled the store windows. Chaz saw the driver of the car standing and talking, so he didn’t think the accident was more than a fender bender. “He hasn’t moved,” a woman said, watching the scene.
    Chaz caught a glimpse of Mike on the ground and felt himself shrinking backward. Two hours before he had avoided Mike. He felt his hand shaking and grabbed on to it with his other hand. Paramedics jumped out of an ambulance and seemed to take forever getting Mike onto a stretcher. “He still isn’t moving,” the woman said again. Chaz walked to the back of the store and ran out the service