The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

lonely. Not cold. Not hurting at all. Simply suspended in nothingness. Her grandfather, even as angry as he'd been, had never questioned the notion that her daughter was in heaven, even as she'd all but threatened God that if her daughter was there, he'd certainly better be taking good care of her.
    When her grandfather had passed away soon after that, Rachel had been by his side in the end. He'd whispered with his last breath that he saw her baby. That she was beautiful, and that he planned to spend his days rocking her in heaven, and that was an image she found comforting, if fleeting. She wasn't at all sure what she believed. She'd come to a sort of armed truce with God after that, even if he did have her baby and her grandfather and her mother in all that nothingness. And as hard as Rachel had tried to get there herself—to a feeling of nothingness herself—she hadn't been able to. She'd been tugged back to life.
    Maybe for a purpose? For this purpose? She had Zach, who was so terribly funny and so happy, and Emma and Grace. She wondered if someone up there was trying to fill up her empty arms, finally, wondered again if this was somehow meant to be.
    It was a dangerous thought. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do this, and yet here she was. The little boy smiling brightly at her most certainly was a rare and precious gift, one that just might save her.
    "I love you, Zach," she whispered as it welled up inside of her, warming her through and through.
    He just grinned, as if people told him that every day and he was quite used to being loved. Which is exactly what she wanted for him.
    "Come on," she said, rising to fight another day. "Let's see if Grace is awake yet. And tomorrow, we'll get our tree."
    * * *
    It snowed again on the fifth day of Christmas. Rachel didn't remember the last winter they had this much snow. And it was altogether lovely snow. The kind that floated gently from the sky in big, fluffy balls.
    They arrived at her aunt's farm as it was getting dark, a sliver of a moon hanging low in the sky. Zach danced in the snow beneath it.
    Aunt Jo, Rachel's mother's youngest sister and the kindest, the most fun one, was waiting for them. She fussed over the children, especially the baby, and then took Rachel aside and slipped an arm around her.
    "They're wonderful," Aunt Jo said.
    "Yes, they are."
    "It's going to work. I know it is. This time, it's going to work."
    "Oh, Jo," Rachel insisted.
    "I know it in my heart, Rachel. This was meant to be. And I'm so happy for you. I know it's been a long road, filled with a lot of pain, but you have to believe in something again someday. Until then, I'll just believe for you."
    "I'm trying," Rachel said. "Miriam told me not to even think this way, but—"
    "Miriam has seen too many bad things happen to people and too few miracles," Jo insisted, then pointed toward Zach, practically beaming up at the sleigh and the horse pulling it. "It's almost Christmas. It's a beautiful night and you're going off into the snow in a sleigh to find a Christmas tree. Anything can happen tonight, Rachel."
    And Rachel supposed it could.
    She thanked her aunt and approached the sleigh.
    The horse was pitch black and regal looking. His mane and tail had been braided with red ribbons and bells, which he seemed to bear with great dignity, and there were ribbons and bells on the reins, as well. The sleigh was at least seventy-five years old and painted red. It might have come straight out of a 1940s movie.
    Even Emma seemed enchanted with it. She ran a hand tentatively along the side and looked almost blissful.
    "Do you still believe in magic, Emma?"
    The girl frowned at first, then sighed. "I don't know."
    "Zach showed me his Christmas book yesterday."
    "He did?"
    "Actually, he went to show it to Sam, but found me there. When I took him back inside, he showed it to me. It's really something that he had a book with a picture of this house on it, and now the three of you are living here."
    "I guess," she admitted. "I've read him that book lots of times. It's one of his favorites."
    "So you knew?" And Emma hadn't said anything about it?
    "Yes. It's silly, but I used to think that nothing bad could happen in that house. I used to think nothing bad could happen to me, if I could find a way to live there," she confided. "It looked... magical. It's silly, I know, but—"
    Rachel pulled the girl close. She wasn't one to lecture anyone about hope, but she thought it was what Emma needed to