Charissa shook her head in return. “That’s not a miracle.”

“Yes, it is.” Shad leaded forward. “I’m gonna tell you a story I’ve read about. Do you remember the part in the Bible where Moses leads the Hebrews out of Egypt, and God parts the waters of the Red Sea so they can escape from Pharoah’s army?”

Charissa nodded slightly.

“As the people of Israel are walking between the two walls of water on either side of them, they gaze at those walls in amazement – except for two men. Those two men keep looking down at the mud they’re walking through, and complaining to each other how it reminds them of the mud they used to make into bricks while they were slaves in Egypt. There they are in the middle of perhaps the most famous miracle ever known, and they don’t see it. Miracles are no different today. We’ve just got to see them.” Shad leveled his gaze on her. “People who love you want to take care of you. That in itself is always a miracle.”

Charissa shook her head. “That’s the way things are supposed to be.”

Shad stared at her. “You’re exactly right. But the way things are supposed to be is not always the way things are. We broke the world and now it’s up to us to repair it. We have to put things back the way they’re supposed to be.”

“But only babies are supposed to be adopted.”

“That’s not true. I was eleven years old before I was adopted.”

It was Charissa’s turn to stare at Shad, and when she spoke her tone was almost hushed. “You’re adopted?”

“When I was even older than you. And still I didn’t wind up with three heads and seven eyeballs.”

Charissa almost smiled. But then her lips pursed downward and she lowered her attention to the book in her lap.

“I don’t know when I can believe you.”

Her words hit Shad like a right cross from out of the blue. “I’m sorry about the firing thing. I wasn’t trying to lie. I was just trying to help you feel better.”

“Dad’s lied to me, too.”

His analytical side couldn’t leave that statement untouched. “How?”

“He promised me we would go to a special park where I could go on a pony ride. A real live pony. He said we would go after lunch. Lunch was over, and he wasn’t ready to go. He kept working on his sound system. I asked him when we would go and he kept saying later. Then he got mad and said if I didn’t stop asking, we wouldn’t go at all. I stopped asking.” Charissa’s fingers lightly tapped the pages of the book. “We still never went.”

Shad was thoroughly familiar with that type of episode. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I know it was very disappointing.”

“At bedtime I asked him if we could go the next day. He got mad again. He said ... he said I was acting like Mom. Always wanting stuff. That if I didn’t stop acting like her I was gonna wind up dead, just like her....” Charissa’s voice trailed off.

A few memories tried to clamor to the surface of his thoughts, but Shad pushed them back into the depths. “That’s not gonna happen. You’re a very special person. And your Mom is very nice.” The analytical ego still hadn’t retreated. “Your Dad usually says things like that whenever he gets mad, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t like it when he’s mad.” Charissa’s voice was beginning to squeak. “I try to be good. I really do. But I just can’t be good enough –” Her voice cracked.

Shad felt himself leaning toward her. “It’s not your fault.”

“If I could be good enough – he won’t get mad anymore.”

“You’re good enough, Charissa. You’re very good. He’s the one who’s broken, not you. Nobody can ever be good enough to keep him from getting mad.”

“And if you don’t stop the divorce –” Charissa’s voice cracked again. “– I wasn’t good –”

A sound like a strangled hiccup erupted from her, and Charissa’s hands flew to her face as soft sobs shook her shoulders. Before Shad even realized what he’d done he scrambled across the room, pushed a pile of dolls and stuffed animals out of the way, and sat beside Charissa as he placed his left hand on her back between her shoulder blades.

“It’s alright,” Shad muttered as he gently patted her with outspread fingers. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Charissa shook her head slightly as she continued to weep into her hands.

“You’re a good kid and nothing bad’s gonna happen to you. You’re going through tough times right now, I know, and that’s bad enough. But nothing really bad is gonna happen to you.”

She began to sniffle and wipe at her nose. Shad removed his hand from her back and pulled a folded, plain white handkerchief from his left slacks pocket. He silently thanked Pap for having ingrained the habit in him to always carry a handkerchief and a pocket knife.

“Here.” Shad shook the cloth open and handed it to her.

Charissa took the handkerchief and wiped at her face. When she tried to give it back to him, Shad motioned for her to keep it.

“You might need that for a while.”

“I’m ... I’m supposed to tell you ... I don’t want Mom and Dad to get a divorce. And I don’t.” Charissa blew her nose into the handkerchief. “But Mom’s dying. And Dad –” Her voice cracked. “I want my dad ... when he’s not mad. If I would be good enough –” Charissa took another shuddering breath. “He just gets mad when I’m not good. I want my dad –” Her voice cracked again. “But I want my mom, too!”

Shad blew out a slow exhale as he began to softly pat her on the back again. “You can’t stop your dad from getting mad. That’s why it’s better for Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess to adopt you.”

Charissa wiped at her nose as she hiccupped again. “They’re not just being mean to Dad?”

“No. They love you and they want to do what’s best for you.”

She sniffled into the handkerchief for several seconds before speaking again, and Charissa’s voice was less tremulous. “Did your mom die, too?”

He shook his head. “Remember when we were talking about people who are supposed to love you and take care of you? The woman they adopted me from, she wasn’t like that. She didn’t take care of me.”

“What about your dad?”

Shad drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled as he found the words to explain his situation. “I never knew him. He left us before I was born.”

Charissa frowned slightly. “So when you said your parents told you about miracles, you were talking about the people who adopted you?”

“They’re the only real parents I ever had.” Shad smiled. “And you know what? They didn’t just tell me about miracles. They showed me miracles by teaching me how to see them. And one of the biggest miracles I’ve seen was when they adopted me. Actually, I think all adoptions are miracles.”

Charissa twisted a corner of the handkerchief around the tip of her index finger. “I already have real parents.”

“I know.” Shad sighed. The idea that suddenly hit him renewed his encouragement. “That makes you lucky, you know. What a blessing it must be to have not only natural parents, but also have people who love you and take care of you even when your natural parents can’t. You can give them special names if you want, because they’re special people to you. You know what I call my parents? Mam and Pap.”

“Mam and Pap?” A faint hint of a smile trembled on her lips. “Those are funny names.”

“My mom, Mam, came up with the idea. Since I was so old when they adopted me, they thought I might not feel right calling them Mom and Dad, so they asked if I wanted to call them Mam and Pap.” Shad smiled again. “Maybe one day, at the time it feels right to you, you’ll want to call Uncle Eliot and Aunt Tess by different names.”

Charissa looked down at the handkerchief she grasped. “I want to believe you when you say things like that.”

“I’m really, really sorry I said you could fire me. If it will make you feel better, just burn that hanky when you’re done with it. While you’re at it, burn this tie, too. And my socks. No, maybe you’d better hold off on those. Might release too many toxic fumes.”