Ten
The Lexus rolled through the small town, turned off Main street, and followed the backstreet down one block and then another—finally steering into the gravel parking lot of the little diner.
Micah shut off the engine and sat unmoving behind the wheel.
“Why did we stop here?” Mark asked. “Isn’t Nick’s house close by?”
“Yeah.” Micah sagged against the seat and stared at the large window along the side of the diner—and the booth where he had sat with the old man and laid his heart to paper.
“Micah?”
Sighing, Micah blinked and rested his hands on the lower curve of the steering wheel. “Something happened here last Christmas Eve,” he whispered.
Mark glanced at the diner. “What?”
Micah rubbed his eyes and told Mark about the walk he took that cold winter’s night last year—and his prayer to God for a miracle. After a slight hesitation, he recounted the moment with Ben…and how he’d felt the fool for believing in a movie-magic moment.
“I think I walked into the diner that night, actuallyexpectinga miracle.” He looked at Mark. “On the surface, I didn’t believe in it, but underneath…” he shook his head. “…I did. And I realized it the moment I saw Ben. I thought it was finally my time for true love and…I was ready.” Micah leaned his head against the seat and stared at the roof of the car. “I felt like such a fool.”
“It isn’t foolish to believe in love or hope for it to happen.” Something crept into Mark’s eyes that wasn’t there before. “Even if it ends up hurting…you shouldn’t feel like a fool because you reached for it.”
“I know,” Micah whispered. “I guess part of it was that I felt like God had played a mean joke on me. Before I entered the diner, I was at least half convinced that I would never findthe one.And then, for that split second, he made me believe I could have it all. And the belief was so strong, so overwhelming…and it hurt like hell when he suddenly snatched away.”
And it happened again today—only so much worse.
“So, why come back to the diner?”
Micah dragged his tongue across his lower lip and swallowed through a constricted throat. “Because that wasn’t the important thing that happened at the diner that night.”
“What do you mean?”
Micah sniffed and cleared his throat and went on to tell Mark about meeting Salvador O'Brien, the old man’s grief and remorse over his lost family, and the bond they forged at that booth by the window when Micah had taken the pen in hand and helped him write a letter to his kids.
Tears filled Mark’s eyes as he stared at Micah. “That’s amazing,” he whispered thickly. “What you did for him…” Deep affection and admiration shimmered in the fountain of his tears. “Thatwas the true miracle.”
Micah wiped dampness from his eyes. “He spent Christmas day with me and Nick and the family,” he murmured. “In that short time that we had together, he was more of a father to me than my own dad had been my whole life. He felt like a natural part of our family.” He smiled through his tears. “Eli took to him right away.”
“Did you stay in touch with him?”
Wiping his eyes again, Micah released a slow breath. “I heard from him right after he went to see his kids. His daughter had been the one to receive his letter, and she immediately reached out to him. She’d been so young when he left them, I don’t think she really remembered much about him from before. But she was willing to get to know him now.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mark whispered. “And his other kids?”
Micah shook his head slowly, his heart breaking for the old man. “He was making progress with his youngest son, but his oldest…” he swallowed thickly. “Sal feared he was lost to him forever. But he said he wouldn’t give up—he wouldnevergive up—because of what I’d told him about my own dad and my willingness to forgive him if…if he’d just shown remorse for hurting us.”
“Did Sal ever get through to his son?”
His throat working, Micah blinked as the diner blurred and distorted before him. “I don’t know. I never heard from him again.”
Mark shifted in his seat. “You don’t think he…passed away?”
The possibility had been weighing heavily on Micah’s heart the last few months. “I don’t know.”
“Did you try contacting him?” Mark asked. “Or his daughter?”
Micah shook his head. “I think I’m afraid of what she would tell me.”
“Maybe it isn’t that,” Mark offered and grasped Micah’s hand. “Sometimes, people just lose touch.”
