"Miracles and Mistletoe" is the dramatic tale of Marla Anders' fears over her cancer test results as Christmas approaches. Chance Yardley, urges her to keep the faith as he prays for a Christmas miracle regarding her health.
"Miracles and Mistletoe" contains all of the sights and sounds of Christmas in such vivid detail! Kimberly Grant's wonderful imagery of Christmas truly showcases her phenomenal writing talent. Her skill at evoking strong emotions is very apparent as one can feel Marla's deep anguish over the potential test results. What a powerful story!
Marla passed the sewing needle through the last piece of popcorn. The fluffy kernel split into several bits and sifted to the floor. Spearmint green and candy-apple red lights shimmered and blurred beyond her lashes.
She scooped up the latest ruined bit of garland. If her fingers didn't still, she and Chance would never finish decorating the tree this Christmas Eve. But at least the popcorn pieces were more easily picked up than other fragments in her life.
Chance's warm hands gripped her shoulders, and he nuzzled her left ear. "You seem miles away."
Leaning back, she let the string of plump cranberries and white corn drape over her leg. "Just a little preoccupied."
"Don't worry." Gentle, ginger-scented kisses rained upon her cheek and chin. Chance sat down, pulled her body close and rocked her to the seasonal sounds of one-horse open sleighs playing on the radio. "If Doctor Hogan's office said they'd phone with the results, they will."
"Unless they've forgotten. Or there's bad news." Each word tasted worse, and their cumulative bitterness lingered on her tongue.
The mantel clock ticked off more seconds. In the fireplace, flames licked at the logs and spat sparks against the fire screen. One-thirty-six. Sandy, Doctor Hogan's secretary, had mentioned the office closing at three on Christmas Eve.
An hour and twenty-four minutes remained until the long holiday weekend. The churning in her belly intensified as Marla glanced out the window. In light of the weather forecast, they'd likely already gone home for the holidays. Her fingers curled into a fist and then straightened. More tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. Chance's shoulder massage failed to dispel the myriad feelings refusing to settle and allow her soul some respite. The wind-driven snow beyond the picture window was anything but a blessing. Definitely, a curse. A frozen, unrelenting curse cast upon her.