I saw it all, hissed Margaret as we eased into our ancient Ford nine. Do you think Im blind? Youve been twirling around that blond in red all evening!
Charlie and I exchanged glances. I hadnt noticed anything, and Charlie later assured me that Father had merely been polite to a guest.
That night stayed with me forever. We were driving back from the birthday of Thomass old university mate when night had taken full command of the sky. Stars, like silver glitter, were strewn across the black velvet above. Thomas, who usually joked behind the wheel, was silent this timehed taken medication that forbade even a drop of alcohol. Yet, as Margaret later claimed, his forced sobriety didnt stop him from flirting with some young lady.
Len, what fantasies are you spinning? Thomas answered wearily, turning the ignition. Thats Sophie, we graduated together. Just old friends.
But Margaret would not be soothed. The dashboard light painted her face with a fierce glow. Twice she demanded we stop, leapt onto the roadside, and walked ahead along a lane flanked by saplings. Thomas followed each time, their silhouettes melting into the night. Once I caught a glimpse of them facetoface, Thomas gesturing wildly, trying to prove something heated.
While the parents tangled over words, Charlie and I launched an Easteregg battle. Grandmother Agnes had dyed the shells with onion skin, turning them a deep amber with odd marbled veins.
Mines tougher! Charlie boasted as his egg survived another strike. Youll see, itll crush them all!
When the adults returned, a heavy hush settled in the car. We drove in silence for about five minutes, the wind whistling through the cracked windows. Margaret curled into a ball, her shoulders trembling.
No, you wont break my head, you sly fox! she suddenly blurted, as if a dam had burst.
And then it spiraled. She rattled Thomas with everything: his latenight business trips, his overtime stays, even the glance hed given a waitress at the café three years ago. Words like hate, ruined my whole life, youre moving back to Mum, and the ominous divorce hung in the air like shards of broken glass.
Thomas stayed mostly quiet, occasionally muttering Calm down or Youre exaggerating. His face froze in that familiar scowlraised eyebrows and pursed lipsthat always set Margaret off.
Suddenly the car lurched, coughed, and stalled. Thomas turned the key; only a hoarse click answered.
Bloody hell! Thomas slammed his palm on the steering wheel. Brilliant! Absolutely marvelous!
Margaret fell silent in an instant. Her anger melted into panic.
Whats happening? she asked, her voice trembling.
I dont know. The engine died and wont start.
Thomas stepped out, popped the bonnet. I pressed my face to the window. We were between the last hamlet and our little town, its lights flickering on a distant hill. On either side of the road a young pine forest darkened the world. I remembered collecting buttercups there last autumn, hidden among the golden needles, slick and scented with forest air.
The carburettors clogged, I think, Thomas said, slipping back into the car. Well need to find help.
I wont stay here alone! Margaret grabbed my hand. Its dark and frightening.
We trudged toward the village that merged into the suburb. Thomas knocked on the first gate with a lighted window. A man in an oilstained jacket answered.
Need a hand? he rasped.
While Thomas explained, Margaret spotted a church illuminated nearby.
Well wait for you there, she told Thomas. A church is brighter, less scary.
We rarely went to church. Margaret called herself a believer, but only turned to God in the direst moments. Thomas was an outright atheist, dismissing religion as a relic of the past.
Inside, the nave glowed with solemn light. A crowd stood shouldertoshoulder, the air thick with incense and fresh bread. Choirboys sang high, thin notes that seemed to lift toward the dome. Margaret bought three thin wax candles at the entrance.
Lets light them and pray, she whispered. Ask for help.
How do you pray? Charlie asked.
Just ask with all your heart, Margaret replied, pulling a white scarf from around her neck.
I watched Margaret approach a large icon of the Virgin Mary, pause, and murmur something. In the candlelight her face seemed serene; all traces of fury faded.
I tried to pray too, but didnt know where to start. Should I beg for the car to be fixed? That felt too petty for a deity. So I simply asked in my soul for the most important thing: that Mother and Father love each other again, that our home become calm and bright.
When I opened my eyes, Charlie was gone.
Mum, wheres Charlie? I asked.
We began pushing through the crowd, searching for him. Twenty minutes passed, panic rising. Margaret was about to sprint after Thomas when, at the doorway, we saw a familiar shape. It was Thomas, and in his arms Charlie squirmed.
Where did you find him? Margaret rushed forward.
He was at the church shop, looking at gingerbread, Thomas smiled. The cars running now.
How? You said
I dont know, Len. Honestly. We went back with the man, he started pulling a rope, I sat, turned the keyand it roared to life! As if it never broke.
We left the church. Our nine truly stood by the entrance, a thin wisp of steam rising from the exhaust.
An Easter miracle, Margaret breathed, crossing herself.
The artists brushstroke of the night faded as we drove home. The cabin smelled of pine needles and oil. Margaret stared out the window at flickering lights, then rested her hand on the gear lever. Thomas looked at her, then slowly, almost hesitant, laid his hand over hers.
Im sorry, he murmured.
And Im sorry too, she replied.
Thomas pressed a kiss to her palm. And they drove the rest of the way, hands clasped, Thomas briefly releasing her to shift gears before finding her again in the dimness of the seats.
Charlie slept in the back, and I watched the road recede, thinking that sometimes miracles do happen, even to the most ordinary people on the most ordinary evenings.
