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       Miracle, p.1

           Pam Tribble

  A Young Adult Novel


  Pam Tribble

  Published by:


  Copyright © 2012 by Pam Tribble

  Book cover design by Judy Bullard

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  I want to thank my amazing husband, Randy, without whose support, this book would not have even been finished, let alone published. He never doubted my talent or ability. Thank you, my Love, for your unwavering faith in me throughout this entire process .


  Have you had a kindness shown? Pass it on;

  'Twas not given for thee alone, Pass it on;

  Let it travel down the years, Let it wipe another's tears,

  ‘Til in Heaven the deed appears - Pass it on.

  - Rev. Henry Burton



  Table of Contents


  Chapter I

  Chapter II

  Chapter III

  Chapter IV

  Chapter V

  Chapter VI

  Chapter VII

  Chapter VIII

  Chapter IX

  Chapter X

  Chapter XI

  Chapter XII

  Chapter XIII

  Chapter XIV

  Chapter XV

  Chapter XVI

  Chapter XVII

  Chapter XVIII

  Chapter XIX

  Chapter XX


  About the Author


  Jonah knew he was dreaming because he’d walked in this beautiful garden before. Flowers of all kinds bloomed in riotous color all around him: petunias, begonias, daisies, irises, lilies, tulips. The cool spongy grass felt good under his bare feet and the lush verdure spread out as far as his eye could see. There were flowering bushes: azaleas, gardenias, camellias, and hibiscus; perfectly groomed topiary in different shapes and sizes; tall oaks that spread their branches wide; and fruit trees of every kind. Above him, the sky was a clear, cerulean blue.

  One moment he was all alone and the next, a familiar gray-haired man walked beside him. The man always appeared in the garden wearing the same loose khaki pants and white button-down shirt.

  Jonah couldn’t remember why, but for some reason, the sight of the man made Jonah angry. But, not knowing who the man was, or where he was for that matter, Jonah walked along silently.

  The man handed Jonah a basket. “You may pick as many flowers as you like,” he told Jonah.

  “Is this your garden then?” Jonah asked.


  “I don’t think I should take your flowers,” Jonah told him, resenting the fact that the man was being nice when Jonah felt this unreasonable antipathy toward him. His fingers had been itching to reach out and pick some of the blooms until this man had offered. The luscious fruit and fragrant flowers were nearly irresistible.

  The stranger put his hand on Jonah’s shoulder companionably. Jonah stiffened beneath his touch. “Please, take what I offer you,” the man urged gently.

  Jonah stopped abruptly and demanded, “Who are you?”

  The man stopped too. They stood beside a bush, covered in white gardenia blossoms. Their fragrance filled the air. Instead of answering, old Gray-Hair picked one of the blooms and held it to his nose. Then he held it out to Jonah. The breeze lifted the flower’s fragrance as Jonah involuntarily reached for it. Jonah had never smelled anything so heady, so intoxicating.

  His escort smiled and guided him onward. “There is much to see. Come.”

  Jonah opened his mouth to protest, but as he did, he was violently torn away from the scene; the garden and stranger abruptly disappeared into blackness and chaos.

  Jonah was cruelly jolted awake by The Stone Temple Pilots blaring from the small speaker of his alarm clock. The dial read four a.m. Jonah slammed his hand over the snooze button and laid his head back down. He struggled to remember his dream and recapture the serene fantasy, but it was like trying to catch a mist. He sucked in a deep breath and instead tried to figure out why in the hell his alarm was set for four o’clock. His brain and his body felt like wet sand. It couldn’t possibly be time to get up.

  Then he remembered. Oh yeah. It’s moving day.

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