Reasons for miracles

Another shot from 2023; I think my husband took this one.

If life was perfect, miracles wouldn't be necessary. I've been pondering this since starting a novel about miracles, and of course current events make stark how badly this world needs miraculous occurrences. As a writer, I conjure drama within every story; plots don't turn without it. Yet manufacturing said melodrama is at times wearying. Balancing the lesser parts of life with joy matters as much in fictional realms as in our corporeal stances.

With that said, here's Chapter 9 of my novel. The first scene was written yesterday, the second about ninety minutes ago, with time allowed for me to read it again, clearing the obvious errors. It was slightly unsettling to craft such vitriol, but the grace which follows eased that trauma, partly based on my own experience. Hearts mended by love are indeed capable of furthering deep joy, all I ever wish to do as an author.

 

 

Chapter 9

 

Three women spoke in the house while Sailor loitered in the garage with the cats, which were strangely affectionate toward him. Sailor took that to mean they didn’t hold with what Kim believed, though they were just cats. Nadia jumped on his lap; her head was solid black fur, the rest of her speckled with brown, yet when the light shone on her, which didn’t happen often, black highlights within her fur turned deep teal. Sailor recalled the day she wandered into the garage, she wasn’t more than a big kitten. Her coloring had caught his eye, and she was nearly adopted by a customer, but not a local. Kim had spoken kindly yet forthrightly that all strays were property of Harbaugh Automotive, and that client was never seen again. Camilla had given grudging approval to the newcomer, but Nadia’s personality had blended well with the group; she was an independent sort, and on occasion rather friendly. She purred softly in Sailor’s lap, then nestled against him like he was the perfect spot for her afternoon nap.

Any other day Sailor would have put her on the floor. But she was warm and the garage was chilly and no way in hell did he want to hear any more out of his wife. Not that she had turned into some born-again wailer, but she wasn’t the woman he’d kissed goodbye last Thursday morning. And while that was mostly good, Sailor might need to have an honest to God…. He smirked, then picked up Nadia, setting her on the ground. She growled at him, then marched off, making him sigh. Most of the cats were females, and all were spayed. The few males had been neutered, Kim not wanting any of them to breed. Not that he and Kim could now have a child, Sailor then mused, getting up from his seat, wishing Kim had taken the blankets off her chair; he’d happily sit in her office, closing the door to the garage, cranking the space heater. Then the cats really would bitch, but he wouldn’t let them in. He considered going to his truck and sitting there, running the engine even. Then Lora and Shauna would tell everyone that not only was Kim better, she had lost her mind and Sailor couldn’t cope with her anymore.

He grunted, then walked around the shop, then sat in the truck that even he hadn’t been sure how to repair. Was Jamey’s gift with mechanics superior to his own? Maybe, he sighed, not starting the engine, but he sat on his hands, then gripped the wheel, peering ahead, the message stark in the dust. “Shit,” he muttered aloud, yet he didn’t move, this seat more comfortable than where he’d been sitting, and he studied the dashboard, Tom Rivers’ ancient pick-up having been given one more life.

Thinking of it like that made Sailor shiver, then shake his head. Even an old curmudgeon like Tom wouldn’t ignore what had happened to Kim. Other than those under twenty years old, every single adult in their community knew her issue. It was like knowing how pissy Shauna was or how hooked on smokes was Loralye. Sailor glanced at the door to Kim’s office; the women hadn’t yet been dragged in here, but Sailor expected it would happen. He texted Rickey, asking if he got home okay. It had been three hours, not that Sailor would have inquired on a typical return from Santa Rosa. Typical, he huffed. What was ordinary about his life now?

He bit his tongue for the immediate sense of pettiness. Kim was…. Sailor choked up, wept briefly, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Thirty years,” he mumbled, but that only counted for the decades he’d loved her. The additional six years she’d endured he didn’t consider. How tough had it been for her to attend school, how embarrassing, how…. He trembled as an odd notion filled his mind; by falling in love with her, had a small manner of normalcy entered her life? Had her parents, or truthfully, Shannon filled Kim’s head with the idea that one day the right man would land in town, sweeping Kim off her feet? But even then Kim had the last word, or her own name. She was Kim Harbaugh, he was Sailor Denton, ʼnuff said.

Breathing deeply, Sailor pondered how Kim might change. She could turn into Suzy Homemaker, which made his lips twitch, then form an irrepressible smile. If she wanted to start cooking dinner, he wouldn’t argue. How clean she wanted their house was up to her. She’d mentioned going through the back bedroom, gathering stuff for Repeat Offenders; he was all for donating whatever she wanted to get rid of, not even wishing to see what she’d thought wasn’t worth keeping. All his prized possessions dwelled in this garage; tools and work apparel. Everything outside of their bedroom was at her discretion.

Their bedroom…. Now he chuckled, then felt immense guilt. Then he shrugged. If they actually had intercourse again…. He shook his head, then exited the truck, a monstrous load of shame clinging to every part of him. Heading for her office, he left the garage, then winced; Shauna’s angry shouts could be heard, probably even by Joe across the street. Sailor walked to the back of his truck, then wondered if Kim might want her own car. He’d happily buy whatever she desired, and he shook his head, uncertain of what would happen next.

The next thing was Shauna slamming his front door. “She’s lost her fucking mind!”

Sailor grimaced, then stepped to where Shauna remained on the front porch. “Hey Spaghetti,” he said as though nothing had altered.

She frowned at him, then grinned. “Thank God you’re still a prick.”

Sailor rolled his eyes, briefly wishing Shauna had changed some, or at least a little. Instead she glared at Lora’s car, then gripped her upper body, then stamped loudly from the porch. “I am not stepping foot in that fuckin’ shop,” she hollered.

He shrugged, guilt again settling on his shoulders. “What’d she tell you?”

“Probably the same dumb-ass story she told you. Jesus Christ, huh? Or Je-sus,” she snarled, employing the Hispanic pronunciation.

“She’s healed,” Sailor said forcefully.

“So she claims.” Shauna tapped her left foot, clad in a knee-length boot. Then she approached Sailor, but left a yard between them. “You believe her?”

“I know she’s…healed,” he said, this time with less enthusiasm.

“And how do know that, huh?”

“You see either of the bathrooms?” he smirked.

She clucked, then nodded, now staring at the ground, which was muddy. Then she gazed at the Liscomb’s place. Their yard was dry, what Sailor had noticed when he came outside after Shauna and Loralye had arrived. The freak storm, as Kim described it, had only affected their property. Or what was close enough for Sailor to view from where he stood.

Shauna huffed, then wiped her muddy boot on Sailor’s right front tire. Then she gazed back at the house, but whatever was being discussed wasn’t audible. Shauna then glared toward the garage. “Show me the fuckin’ message.”

“You sure?”

“Yup. Then I can go home and….” She paused, then grunted loudly, now marching toward the office door.

Sailor followed her, feeling torn. He ached for her anger, but didn’t want to be the only skeptic. Rickey’s dormant faith might be stirred, then Sailor sighed inwardly; it had been, no doubting that. Lora probably would accept what Kim believed, mostly in regard to Trevor, hoping whatever had healed Kim could cure Trevor’s drug problem. But Shauna…. She had never struck Sailor as wanting to be anything but the most pissed-off person in the whole damn world. Not even when she and Rickey were together, he mused, tapping the code, then stepping aside as Shauna opened the door, still marching as though off to a new battle. Sailor shut the door behind them, hearing her grousing how cold it was in the garage, didn’t he bother heating the place for the cats? He shook his head, then paused in the doorway to the shop, finding Shauna silently digesting the message.

Cats meowed, but kept away from a woman who never greeted them or offered any kindness. Shauna hated animals as much as she despised people. Was Kim now on that endless list, Sailor wondered, as Shauna remained silent, still staring at the wall. He couldn’t see her face, and had no wish to ascertain her mood. Maybe that she wasn’t railing aloud was significant. Something in what had been left behind shut her up, then Sailor sighed. Was Roland speaking to her from wherever suicide had taken him?

Was Roland Spagnoli in hell, purgatory, or…. Sailor wouldn’t analyze that, Shauna’s continued silence the immediate issue. She gazed at the heart, then shook out her left hand, what Kim and Rickey had placed there. Shauna made a fist, then again shook it out, then shoved that hand into her right armpit. It was chilly, but usually Shauna was pretty warm-blooded, fueled by an immeasurable fire stoked from enormous….

She didn’t sniffle, but Sailor felt no anger from her. She took a small step toward the wall, her eyes still affixed on…. Maybe she’d closed her eyes, he considered. She stopped a foot away, certainly close enough to smear every remaining speck of dust into a morass of conjecture. If she did, Sailor would take full responsibility; he was doing nothing to stop her. Nobody ever told Shauna to get a grip, to shut up, to quit being so damned mad all the damned time. Not even Roland, the little brother she had loved, lost, and now was mourning in the most icy, repressed quiet Sailor had ever encountered.

His name slipped from her lips in breaths of cloud as though even mentioning him was like stabbing herself in the gut. His whole name, Sailor assumed, as she murmured Roland Lee over and over. She placed her right hand in her left armpit like it needed to be restrained, for her whispered tone was as agonized as Sailor had ever heard her speak. The family hadn’t held any kind of service when Roland shot himself twenty-one years ago. The year before Shannon died, Sailor recalled, feeling grateful to witness this in that no one else should have to see how a woman had encased in ice any bit of love she managed to admit existed within her.

She swayed, caught her balance, then shivered, then hung her head, her hands still in her armpits. Sailor cleared his throat and she spun to face him, but no tears had fallen, and her lips were pursed in the nastiest scowl Sailor had ever seen. “What?” she barked.

“I didn’t know Roland’s middle name.”

She dropped her hands to her sides, then shoved them in her jeans’ pockets. “Whatdya mean by that,” she grumbled.

Sailor approached where she stood. Ignoring the wall, he studied her eyes; so cold, hard, unforgiving. “Nothing,” he muttered.

Shauna huffed as though having blacked out. “You believe this shit?” she then bellowed, pointing behind her toward the wall.

“All I know is Kimmy’s healed.”

Kimmy had slipped, maybe how Shauna had unconsciously muttered her dead brother’s name. Kimmy hit a nerve, however, as Shauna wiped stray tears that now rolled down her cheeks. “It’s a fucking mind, it’s a, a….”

She wiped her soppy face with her sleeve, then grimaced. “What-the-fuck-ever,” she screamed as if suddenly possessed by multiple devils. Sailor didn’t bat an eye; he’d seen her this furious, then he inwardly smiled. If there was a God, at that moment he was shielding not only Sailor, but this entire space from one woman’s demonic vitriol. Shauna howled epithets, then raised her left fist at the wall.

Yet, immediately she lowered it, then flipped off the message with her right middle finger. Then she marched out of the garage, telling anyone within earshot that Kim Arlene Harbaugh could go to hell.

 

Minutes later Kim and Loralye exited the house, holding hands. Kim had waited until hearing Shauna’s car peel out, but she and Lora had been standing together, praying both aloud and in silence. Kim had never heard Lora sound so peaceful, as though all of Shauna’s anger was being directly deflected by…. Kim sighed as Lora waved at Sailor, who leaned against the hood of his truck, a bemused grin on his face. “Hey,” he called to Lora, who giggled softly, then increased the squeeze on Kim’s hand.

“Hey Sailor,” Lora said.

“How’s it, uh, going?” Sailor asked, digging the front of his boot into the still muddy ground.

Kim heard Lora speak, but the actual words were garbled. More to matter was how calm was Lora’s tone, as if she had eaten creamed tuna with Kim and Jesus. Lora took on faith all that Kim had said, well, after she’d inspected the bathrooms. Something about Kim having cleaned both bathrooms had struck a chord in a woman that previously espoused no spiritual notions. Kim didn’t care how Lora came to believe her, all that mattered was Lora fully accepted, without question, what had happened last Friday.

Sailor and Lora continued speaking, and gently Kim slipped her hand from Lora’s grasp. Lora then left Kim’s side, walking toward Kim’s husband as though nothing had changed in any of their lives. Shauna had merely blown yet another gasket, leaving her best, well, her only friends to resume living in realms Shauna wasn’t yet prepared to experience. Would Shauna eventually believe her, Kim wondered. Glancing at Sailor, Kim briefly trembled. Where he stood was apart from her, and she knew not if or when faith would occur.

Blinking away tears, Kim ached as from old, but not in her belly or lower gut. Her heart, she breathed in, then out, placing her hand on her chest as though she’d had a transplant. Then the pain disappeared as Sailor chuckled and Lora laughed. Kim still couldn’t discern their conversation, but the humor wasn’t black. It was…. She closed her eyes, wondering why this had happened, not merely to her, but all of them.

Was it right to ask such a question, she then considered, opening her eyes and finding Lora leading Sailor to the office door. Sailor glanced back, making eye contact with Kim. She nodded, then followed, the muddy ground one more proof, but it would dry out, and her bathroom would get dirty, the floors too. She’d put away the stack of blankets, they would eat all the food she had cooked, tangible but ethereal signs of a blessing that might only remain visible by the message, and the clothes she showed to Lora, items that could be explained as things Sailor once owned or apparel Rickey left behind, except neither man was the same size as Jesus. Would Jamey attest to that, Kim pondered, reaching her office door that Sailor had left propped open. Entering the office, Kim closed the door behind her, then heard Lora’s mumbles, cats meowing, and her husband’s silence. “I can’t worry about that,” Kim murmured half as a prayer and half in personal reassurance as she walked as far as the doorway to the garage. Gazing left, she found Sailor next to Lora, who gestured to the message like it was a window open to heaven.

Tucking loose hairs behind her ears as though to better hear Lora, Kim concentrated on the surprise joy in the words of a woman not as soured by trauma as Shauna, yet honest happiness was rare from Loralye Ann Feuchs. She hadn’t married Trevor’s father Damon Mahoney, but gave Trevor his dad’s last name, which Kim had counseled against. Kim had been the only one, everyone else proud that Lora had foisted responsibility on a man who hadn’t wanted to be anyone’s parent. Damon left Deadfern when Trevor was two, drifting in and out of Lora’s life for another few years. Then he departed Humboldt County for good, never offering Lora or their son any emotional support or financial assistance. Who knew if he was alive or dead, Kim considered, as Lora wept, now embraced by Sailor. He stared at the message while crooning to Lora that everything would be okay.

Able to comprehend their speech, Kim approached, then Lora was in her grasp, wailing how it was possible? Did she mean the message, that Kim had the physical strength to hold her, or whatever Lora had taken on board from the moment she stepped into Kim and Sailor’s spotless house. Kim giggled as heavenly and earthly elements of her life were now entwined in a manner previously unconsidered. None in her family had ever talked about belief in God, other than the sporadic moments when her dad said living here was special, or if her mom made mention that So-and-So was blessed. Or cursed, Kim smiled, not bothered by Sailor’s silence as tears again painlessly rolled down Kim’s face. Keep Your Eyes Open to Miracles was never uttered, Shannon’s sign slowly hidden by years of clutter until this random weekend in early February, 2026. Kim said a prayer, thanking her mom for the sense of hope Shannon had instilled in her daughter, yet not the optimism Kim had always thought it represented. It was more than Sailor, more than their successful business, more than both of them living sane and sober lives. It was an unspoken, perhaps unrealized faith in the better angels of natures Shannon Harbaugh had no clue would find their ways drawn to this unassuming automotive center in the backwoods of….

Bumfood, Egypt wafted through Kim’s mind, making her giggle. She released Lora, shook out her arms, then grasped Lora’s left hand. “What’re you thinking?” Kim whispered.

“Lots of things,” Lora said, wiping her face with her right arm. “Whose hand print is that?”

Sailor grunted, then stepped away. Kim lifted Lora’s left hand, kissing Lora’s knuckles. “Rickey’s,” Kim said softly.

Lora nodded. “Can I, is it okay if I….”

“Sure honey.” Kim released Lora’s hand.

Lora looked around, then cleared her throat. “I dunno why I, I mean, why it matters, why I think it’s real, but I do.”

“I know that feeling,” Kim giggled. “But sometimes….”

“Sometimes you just have to go on faith, oh my God, I sound like….” Lora laughed, having moved closer to the wall. She gazed at Kim. “You remember Hollie, Christ, what was her last name?”

“Mitchell,” Kim said. “She was the first of us to get her period.”

Lora nodded, then stared at Kim. “Fifth grade, God, like she was doomed.” Then Lora sighed. “You really aren’t bleeding anymore?”

“Nope,” Kim smiled.

Lora gazed at the heart, then at Kim. “If I touch it, what happens?”

“I dunno exactly.” Kim had ideas, maybe they were more like wishes for Lora. “What do you want to happen?”

Lora sighed, then shoved both hands in her pockets. “I want….” She huffed, then giggled. “I want Trevor here, to be completely truthful.”

He might be someday, Kim thought but didn’t say. “I bet. What else?”

“I don’t ever wanna smoke another freakin’ cigarette, that’s what.”

From what sounded like Kim’s office, Sailor snorted, making the women in the garage laugh out loud. Then Kim breathed deeply; the message wasn’t a wishing well. It was a Savior’s offer of peace, love, life forever. Acknowledging that made Kim tremble, and she joined where Lora stood. “Anything else?” Kim said, yet not of her own consideration. She closed her eyes, aware that something holy within her had prompted those words.

She heard Sailor’s footsteps like he was pacing in her little office. She noted cats prowling about; Camilla jumped on the back of the customer’s chair while Owl pranced in the far corner as though she’d found a rodent. Icey purred an old lady’s cadence while Nadia’s confident paws approached the empty chair several yards away where Kim had been seated uncomfortably right before…. Again Kim spoke words placed on her heart: “Honey, he loves you beyond anything we’ve ever known. You’ll change, absolutely, but not only in ways easy to see. It’ll be in waves of hurt and health, growth and groans, cries and congratulations. It’s visible and unseen, private and aloud, but most of all….” Kim wiped tears from both women’s faces. “It’s forever. Forever Lora, forever.”

The essence of all those admonishments seemed like a viable physical force as Lora choked, sobbed, then rushed to the wall, carefully laying her left hand atop Rickey’s print. Kim watched briefly, then turned away, for what occurred next was only between a woman and her Lord, how Kim thought of it. She peered at her office doorway, finding her husband observing Lora’s actions. Sailor met Kim’s gaze, shrugged, then turned around, exiting the garage, Camilla loudly grousing as he closed the door.