Micah was a mess—inside and out. The two men had practically emptied the napkin dispenser and a pile of tear-soaked napkins littered the table top. Sometime during their heartfelt journey, Faith the waitress had turned theopensign toclosed. She surely had family to get home to yet sat patiently at the counter with a cup of coffee, waiting for them to finish. Micah decided her name was quite fitting—Faith—as her small act of kindness restored some of his own faith in humanity…and, yes, even inGod.
Maybe he hadn’t gotten the miracle he’d asked for, but perhaps he’d been given something even better—a chance to help someone find their way home. He couldn’t know what response the letter would bring but couldn’t bring himself to believe that God would let them go through all this only to have Salvador’s family reject him and cast him out. Good would come of this, Micah was convinced of it.
When he glanced at his watch, it dawned on him how long he’d been gone. He expected a call from Wendy or Nick any time now, checking up on him.
Salvador held the folded letter in his trembling hands, fresh tears in his eyes as he looked Micah. “You are an angel, Micah,” he whispered. “Arealangel. I wish I could repay you for all you’ve done.”
Micah smiled. “I wrote down the words, that’s all. But they were all your own.”
“You did so much more than that,” Sal said thickly. “More than words can ever say.” He looked at the letter, his eyes shimmering. “And no matter what happens with my kids…” He raised eyes glowing with gratitude. “…I’ll always think of you as my Christmas miracle.”
Micah gently squeezed his hand. “And youmine.”
“How do you mean?”
After a brief hesitation, Micah told Sal about his prayer—followed by his foolish notion with Ben. “I thought God was playing some cruel joke on me by drawing me into the diner. But I don’t believe that anymore. Ben wasn’t the reason I was supposed to be here…you were. And as much as I wantedthatmiracle…” he smiled and shook his head, vision blurring. “…I’m not sorry I got this one instead.”
The old man had gone quiet and still, just staring at him.
“Sal?” Micah frowned. “Are you okay?”
Sal mumbled, “You’re…gay?”
Having lived most of his lifeout, Micah sometimes forgot that, to some, being gay remained an ugly, unacceptable thing. His heart grew heavy; would this little fact about himself taint Salvador’s perception of him and their encounter?
Why did you tell him about Ben?Had he ruined this “miracle” for Sal?
“I am,” he murmured. “If…if that makes you uncomfortable…I’ll go.”
Sal swallowed thickly and slowly shook his head. “No,” he whispered, his eyes tearing up anew. “It doesn’t. Not at all.” He lightly gripped the folded paper. “You don’t have anyone in your life? I assume since you were hoping that Ben…”
“There’s no one.” Micah sighed. “There never has been, not really. I’ve dated, even had an occasional boyfriend, but…” he shrugged. “It’s hard for me to connect.”
“Why?”
Micah dragged his lower lip between his teeth and shook his head. He went on to tell Sal about his father and his mother, and how deeply it impacted him…damaged him.
Heartbreak etched the old man’s face. “Your father hurt your family, too,” he whispered. “Yet…yet you still helped me to reach out to my kids.” His eyes filled. “Why, Micah?”
Micah stared at him, his throat knotting. “Because I know how it feels to be a kid who needs their father’s sincere apology.” He blinked back tears. “If my dad had come to my mom’s funeral and shown remorse…told me he was sorry…toldherhe was sorry…” his chin trembled. “I would have forgiven him, Sal. I would have.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “He didn’t show up…but you did—foryourkids. I thought maybe people couldn’t change. But they can.Youproved that to me…and you don’t know what that does for me, how much it helps me…” he touched his heart. “…inhere.”
The old man grasped his hand and held on tight, his tears magnifying his gratitude…and joy.
∞∞∞
Ten minutes later, Micah and Sal bid Faith goodnight, thanked her for her patience, and wished her a Merry Christmas—then left the diner together.
“Do you have a car?” Micah asked.
The old man shook his head. “I walked. It’s just a couple of blocks.” He motioned in the opposite direction that Micah had come from.
“Let me walk you home.”
“You don’t have to,” Sal murmured. “You’ve done more than enough for me tonight.”
“I don’t mind, really.”
Sal nodded and the two of them headed away from the diner.
