A Treasury of Christmas Miracles by Karen Kingsbury Page B

buttressed the edge of the highway. If
     the vehicle slid off the road, Brian and Ann knew they would probably be killed since the fall would send them several hundred
     feet down the hill along rough terrain.
    “God, please help us!” Ann screamed again. But deep in her heart she knew they were traveling far too fast and she felt certain
     that they were going over the edge.
    Then, just before the drop-off, the Suburban slammed to a sudden stop. Kiley had taken off her seat belt and the harsh jolt
     sent the child flying across the car into the window.
    For a moment there was silence.
    Brian looked at his wife in shock, not believing that they had avoided going over the edge of the highway. He was amazed that
     they were alive.
    “Girls, are you okay?” he asked, turning around.
    “Yes, Daddy,” came a small voice. “I hit my head, but I’m okay.”
    Relieved, Brian stared at his wife once more. “We must have hit a tree stump or a boulder or something,” he said.
    “Maybe a guardrail,” Ann added.
    Still shaky from the closeness of what could have been a deadly car accident, Brian climbed out of the vehicle. He walked
     around it to the front. There was nothing in between the Suburban and the sheer drop.
    “Ann, come here!” Brian said loudly. “Come see this!” Ann opened her door and slid carefully onto the small space between
     the vehicle and the side of the cliff. “What did we hit?” she asked.
    “That’s just it. We didn’t hit anything. There’s not a rock or a piece of wood, no guardrail. Nothing. The truck just stopped
     for no reason at all.”
    Ann examined the edge of the road and saw that Brian was right. The vehicle had been sliding at more than ten miles per hour
     and had suddenly stopped for no explainable reason. Together they looked down the jagged, rocky mountainside and shuddered
     at the thought of what might have happened.
    “Ann, it’s like the hand of God just reached out and stopped us from going over the mountainside.”
    Quietly Ann remembered her desperate plea for God to help them. She reached over and circled her arms around her husband’s
     waist, resting her head on his chest. “With all my heart I believe you’re right. We were stopped by the hand of God. It must
     have been a miracle. A Christmas miracle.”

His Mysterious
Ways
    B ack then there was no way for anyone in the Cannucci family to know how special that summer of 1939 would become. It started
     out like any other and would have been uneventful for the Cannucci children if it weren’t for Maria Fiona. While their mother
     tended to household duties, eleven-year-old Sara Cannucci was put in charge of keeping her little brother, Tony, occupied.
    One morning soon after summer started Sara was playing with Tony outside the house in New Jersey, where their family rented
     the upstairs, when Maria walked past with a bag of groceries. Maria and her husband had no children yet, but that morning
     Sara noticed that Maria was pregnant.
    “Hey,” she called out. “Want some help?”
    Maria stopped and smiled at the young girl. She had married into the Fiona family, and not long after they had decided to
     turn the upstairs floor of their trilevel house into an apartment the Cannucci family had become their tenants. Not until
     after the families had shared the house for several months did they realize that their ancestors had lived in the same Sicilian
     village in Italy many years earlier.
    “I don’t believe in coincidence,” the senior Cannucci would tell his children. “Our families were together back then and we’re
     together now. There must be a reason for that.”
    Now, as Maria looked at the young Cannucci children, she welcomed their help. After all, they were practically family.
    “Sure, Sara, I’d love the help.” Maria set down her bag and watched Sara take her brother’s hand and scramble to pick up the
     bag. The children trailed behind as Maria entered her apartment.
    “Why don’t