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“Beth likes Peter—doesn’t she?” Goodness asked.
Gabriel had to reflect on that question carefully. “She’s comfortable with him. With what she knows of him, anyway,” he finally said.
“That’s a start,” Goodness murmured in an uncertain voice.
“You have a problem with it?” Gabriel asked, genuinely interested in her reply.
“Not a problem …” Goodness hesitated. “I think it’s a sad state of affairs that humans are resorting to relationships through the computer. There’s no real intimacy—but I could be wrong. I’ll admit that’s happened before.”
Gabriel shrugged. “For some, it’s simply an easier way to meet people. In fact, a person’s character can be revealed in these role-playing games.” He nodded sagely, pleased with his up-to-date observation. “The way Beth and Peter are able to work together as partners, for example.”
“I suppose,” Goodness agreed with evident reluctance. “I still think it’s rather sad.”
Gabriel studied her. With her current attitude, he had to wonder if Goodness was the right choice for Beth.
“How’s she doing now?” Goodness asked.
“Shall we take a look?”
“Please.” Goodness sidled closer to the Archangel. “You are going to send me to Earth, aren’t you?”
Those same blue eyes gazed at him expectantly. Goodness wasn’t his first choice and he feared this request was too difficult for her. Another Prayer Ambassador, one with a little more experience in complicated situations, might serve better. One who wouldn’t be as tempted by things of the earth. Unfortunately—like Mercy—Goodness had a somewhat blemished reputation when it came to her prayer assignments. But even knowing that, Gabriel found he couldn’t refuse her. “You can join Mercy.”
“Oh, thank you,” Goodness trilled, clasping her hands together. Her wings fluttered rapidly with excitement, dropping a feather or two. “I won’t disappoint you, Gabriel. You have my word.”
“I’m counting on that.” He meant it, too. This was too important an assignment for her to bungle; it needed a delicate hand. He caught himself before warning Goodness. No, Gabriel decided, he’d let her unravel the revelations about Beth all on her own. This presented a growth opportunity for Goodness—and for Beth Fischer, too.
“What’s she doing now?” Goodness asked, crowding close to Gabriel in her eagerness to see Beth.
“It’s lunchtime,” Gabriel said. “She’s at a small waterfront restaurant with a friend.” With one sweep of his arms, Gabriel parted the veil of clouds that obscured the Earth below. At first, the view was hazy, but a few seconds later, the air cleared. Then, as though they were gazing through glass, Gabriel and Goodness saw Beth. She and her friend were seated at a table in a busy restaurant. A wreath in the nearby window was decorated with sprigs of holly and red Christmas balls.
Beth’s long dark hair was parted in the middle, and she wore a soft pink cashmere sweater with gray wool pants.
“She looks very pretty,” Goodness whispered. Gabriel could only agree.
“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Heidi asked as she picked up half of the tuna-salad sandwich they were sharing.
“I’ll spend it with my parents,” Beth said without any real enthusiasm. Already she was worried. Her mother had suggested—no, insisted—that Beth invite Peter to join them on Christmas Day. It was an unlikely scenario. After six months of impersonal conversation, she had no idea how they were going to make the transition from being WoW partners to friends to … well, dating each other. Sort of. A Christmas Day blind date—with her family, yet. She grimaced.
How could she possibly convince someone she’d never even seen to accompany her to one of the most important holiday functions of the year? She might as well ask for a miracle.
“You’ve drifted off again.”
Beth didn’t need to ask what her friend meant. She often grew quiet when something troubled her. “Can I ask you a question?” Beth asked, setting down her sandwich and leaning toward Heidi.
“Sure, anything. You know that.”
Beth considered the other woman one of her best friends. She’d been a member of Heidi’s wedding party and was godmother to her son, Adam.
“When you first met Sam …” she began. Heidi and Sam had just begun seeing each other when Beth met her; they’d now been married four years.
“When I first met Sam,” Heidi repeated. “Did I know I was going to fall in love with him? Is that what you want to ask?”
Beth blinked. That wasn’t exactly it, but close enough. “Yes.”
“The answer is no. In fact, I thought he was a total nerd. I mean, could you imagine me married to an accountant? I found him so fussy and detail-oriented, I couldn’t picture the two of us together.”
It was remarkable. Heidi, her fun-loving, easygoing friend attracted to a bean counter. Yet as far as Beth could tell, they were completely happy in their relationship. They were so different; Heidi was slapdash and impulsive and, as she’d said, Sam was the opposite. But where it truly mattered—their feelings about marriage and family, for instance—their values were the same. Recently, with Heidi’s encouragement, Sam had joined a couple of his friends in a new business venture. Their firm, specializing in forensic accounting, was doing well.
“It wasn’t like that with John and me,” Beth murmured. “When we first met, I was sure we were the perfect match.” She swallowed hard. She didn’t know why she continued to do this—torturing herself with the details of her failed marriage. All it did was remind her that she simply wasn’t any good at relationships.
“John was a long time ago.”
This was Heidi’s gentle way of urging her to stop dragging the past into the present, and she was right. Sitting up straighter, Beth squared her shoulders. “I think I might have met someone.”
That immediately sparked Heidi’s interest. In the last five years, she’d frequently tried to introduce Beth to available men, mostly colleagues of Sam’s. Beth had declined each and every time. “Who did you meet? Where? When?”
“We met online.”
Her friend instantly brightened. “You signed up with one of those Internet dating services?” Heidi had suggested this approach months earlier—advice Beth had strongly rejected.
“No, we met … I mean, we haven’t really met. We’re partners in an online computer game.”
“That war thing?” Heidi wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Beth nodded. “We teamed up in World of Warcraft last June. But I know next to nothing about him, other than the fact that he lives in Seattle.” Even as she explained this, Beth realized it wasn’t true. Peter was decisive, a characteristic she admired in a man. He was thoughtful, too. The two of them worked well together in the landscape of the game, anticipating and complementing each other’s moves.
“Then find out more,” Heidi urged. “Contact him outside the game. Meet him for coffee or something.”
Beth shook her head. “I couldn’t do that,” she said automatically. And yet she had to, didn’t she? Unless she was prepared to disappoint her mother for the thousandth time.
“Why couldn’t you?” Heidi asked, genuinely perplexed. “You said you’ve been partners for … what? Six months. Make up an excuse. Tell him you want to discuss battle strategy and you’d prefer to do it in the real world.”
“But … he might think I’m hitting on him.”
Heidi smiled. “Well, aren’t you?”
Her friend had a point. “Not really,” Beth mumbled but it was a weak rejoinder.
“You want him to meet your family, don’t you?”
That was a nerve-racking subject. She decided to tell Heidi the whole story, how all of this had started with her mother’s phone call. As she spoke, she concluded hopelessly that inviting him to Christmas dinner was impossible. Actually bringing him would be worse. Then again … it might work if there was an understanding between them. But she couldn’t figure out why Peter would agree to such an arrangement. He had his own family, his own obligations without taking on hers. No, she couldn’t ask him.
On second thought, he might understand. He’d said his family was after him to get a life. Perhaps they could join forces the way they had in World of Warcraft. Combine their efforts.
Still …
“For all I know he could be fifty, living at home and unemployed.” There, it was out—Beth’s biggest fear. Of course, Peter could be wondering the same thing about her. “Or—” an even bigger fear “—he could be married.”
Chewing her sandwich, Heidi didn’t respond for a moment. “The only way to find out is to ask,” she said reasonably.
“He might think I’m—”
“What? Available? Beth, you are available! Okay, so you made a mistake in judgment. It happens, it’s too bad, but it isn’t the end of the world!”
“Should I tell Peter right off?” she asked uncertainly. “About my divorce?” This was her other worry—how much to say and when. She was afraid that once they did talk, she’d compulsively blurt out her entire relationship history. After two minutes, her prospective Christmas date would flee for the border.
“Don’t lie,” Heidi advised.
“Should I be evasive?”
“Don’t overload him with details in the beginning. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Right.” It seemed ridiculous to be discussing this when Peter hadn’t even agreed to meet her yet.
“You do like what you know about him, right?”
Beth considered the question, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“That’s the important thing,” Heidi assured her.
Beth nodded again. All she needed to do now was take that first step.
Goodness sighed as the veil between Heaven and Earth slowly closed, blocking the angel’s view. She turned to Gabriel, and he could see that she was waiting for him to comment.
“Beth’s ready,” he said emphatically.
“And Peter?”
“He’s ready, too.”
“He isn’t fifty, living with his parents and unemployed, is he? Or … married?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No, he’s single and he has a good position at the home office of Starbucks. He’s doing well financially and is popular with his peers.”
“Just like Beth.”
“Beth’s resisted opening herself to love,” Gabriel said. As for this new relationship—well, there were a few facts yet to be uncovered, facts Goodness would have to learn on her own.
“Beth needs to be taught that she’s capable of falling in love again,” Goodness murmured.
“Yes,” Gabriel said, encouraging her as much as he dared.
“Peter might not be the one, though.”
He wasn’t sure what Goodness had against the young man. “That’s not up to us,” he said sternly.
“Right.” Goodness folded her hands. “I’ll do my best to steer them toward each other. After that, they’ll have to work it out for themselves.”
Gabriel squinted at her. She sounded as though she was reciting something she’d memorized. “I’m relying on you,” he reminded her. “You need to be very clear about your own boundaries. You’re there to help them, Goodness, to give them a nudge—not to push them into each other’s arms.”
“I won’t let you down,” she promised.
Gabriel sincerely hoped that was true. Just as he was about to expand on his concerns, another urgent prayer request whisked past him, landing on his desk.
Gabriel sighed as he bent to read this one. It came from nine-year-old Carter Jackson. Ah, yes. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard from the young man. Carter wanted a dog. He decided to assign Shirley to this request, since she had a particular affinity for children.
Shirley, Goodness and Mercy back on Earth. If his hair wasn’t already white, that would’ve done it.
Five
Carter Jackson pressed his ear as hard as he could against his bedroom door. If he shut his eyes and concentrated he could hear his parents’ conversation.
“I’m sorry, honey. I know how much Carter wants a dog, but we can’t afford one right now.”
“But, David, we promised.”
“I didn’t promise him any such thing, Laurie. I said maybe he could have a dog for Christmas.”
Carter’s mother sounded sad. “It’ll break his heart.”
“Believe me, I know that. I don’t like this any better than you do.”
Although he was only nine, Carter understood that his father wanted him to have a dog, just as he had when he was Carter’s age. Carter had already decided to give his dog the same name as his father’s—Rusty. Rusty was a good name for a dog.
“We could get a dog from the shelter,” his mom was saying. “A rescue.”
“It’s not the cost of the dog. It’s the vet bills, the food, everything else.”
His mother didn’t respond.
“You looked at the budget, didn’t you? If there was any way we could make it happen, we would. But you know as well as I do that we can’t afford a dog. We can barely afford a Christmas tree!”
Carter wasn’t sure what a budget was, but he knew it must have something to do with money. Money always seemed to be a problem. His mother used to work at a dress shop in downtown Leavenworth, but the shop closed and she hadn’t been able to find another job.
That was all right with Carter. He liked having her at home, and so did his little sister, Bailey. After school they both liked being able to go home rather than to the day care lady down the street. Their mother usually had a snack or a small surprise waiting for them. She seemed happier, too, not to be working such long hours, but Carter knew there were problems with the budget … whatever that was.
“Our health insurance rates just went up,” his father said.
“I saw that,” his mother murmured. Her voice was quiet, making it difficult for Carter to hear everything she said. “I try to keep the heat as low as I can while the kids are in school, not that it’s helped all that much.”
That explained why his mother was always wearing a sweater when Carter got home from school.
“The oil prices are killing us,” his father said. He sounded angry.
“I know. I’m sorry.” This came from his mother.
“It’s not your fault, Laurie.”
Carter risked opening the door a crack, to see what he could. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but then he saw his parents. They sat on the sofa and his mother’s head rested on his father’s shoulder. His father had one arm around his mother, and they seemed to be leaning against each other.
“Should we tell Carter now or wait until Christmas morning?” she asked.
Carter bit his lip. They’d promised him a dog. His father said he hadn’t, but he had. He just didn’t remember. He’d said it this summer, and ever since then Carter had hung on to that promise—he could have a dog at Christmas.
It wasn’t fair and he struggled not to break into tears. Turning his head, he buried his face in his arms and breathed deeply. He couldn’t let them see him standing there—or hear him cry.
“I don’t think we’ll be able to buy the kids any gifts this year,” his father continued.
“It’s all right, honey,” his mother reassured him. “There’ll be plenty of presents from your parents and mine. The gifts from your family are already here. The kids will have something to open. Besides, we don’t want to spoil Carter and Bailey. It’s more important that they know the true meaning of Christmas.”
His father seemed to agree.
Carter couldn’t listen to any more of their conversation. His sister was sound asleep in the bed across from his own. Bailey was in first grade and he was in fourth. Bailey wanted her own room. But if he couldn’t have a dog, then Bailey wasn’t going to get a bedroom all to herself, either. That was what Bailey had asked Santa for in her letter.
The kids at school told Bailey she was stupid to believe in Santa. Carter didn’t believe anymore, but he didn’t want to say anything, especially to his little sister. She still believed. When he was her age, he’d wanted to believe, too.
Santa was like his grandparents who lived in Wenatchee. His mother’s family didn’t have a budget, or at least he didn’t think so. It never seemed hard for them to buy presents the way it was for his parents. Maybe …
Carter decided he’d mention the possibility to his mother in the morning and see what she said. If his own mom and dad couldn’t afford a dog, then maybe they’d let his grandparents buy him one. Or perhaps Grandma and Grandpa could pay the vet bills his dad was so worried about.
Feeling better now, Carter pulled back his sheets and slipped into bed. He’d just closed his eyes when a backup plan came to mind. Santa might be make-believe but God was real, and Christmas was Jesus’s birthday. Remembering that, he got out of bed and knelt down. He’d already said his bedtime prayers, but this was extra. He hoped God wouldn’t mind hearing from him again.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “Thank You for Your birthday. I think it’s great that because You were born we get presents. I’m really glad You arranged it like that. Um, God, I asked about getting a dog before and my parents said I had to wait. I waited. It was hard, too.
“They said I had to be nine years old before I was responsible enough to take care of a dog. Well, I’m nine and I do all my chores and I do my homework and I don’t cheat on tests or anything.”
He hesitated, thinking he’d better tell the whole truth. God knew anyway. “Sometimes Mom has to remind me about my chores. But I try to be good.”
Carter paused, wondering if God might say something back. He listened intently, his eyes closed, but no matter how hard he concentrated he couldn’t hear anything. That didn’t mean God wasn’t listening, though; Carter understood that.
“If You could find a way to get me a dog for Christmas, God, I’d really like it. I promise to take care of Rusty and train him right. I’ll make sure he’s loved. Thank you.”
Finished now, Carter lowered his head and whispered, “Amen.” He stayed on his knees a few minutes longer, in case God wanted to talk to him, after all. Eventually he climbed back into bed.
God had a dog for him, a special one. Carter was sure of it. He didn’t know how the dog would arrive. Maybe his grandparents would give him one for Christmas, maybe not. He’d just wait and see. He might not believe in Santa anymore, but Carter believed God answered prayers. All he had to do now was be patient.
“You heard?” Gabriel asked Shirley. The Prayer Ambassador had once worked as a guardian angel and her love for children was the reason he usually assigned Shirley the prayer requests from boys and girls.
“A dog,” Shirley repeated.
“There are more important requests, if you prefer,” Gabriel said.
“No,” came her immediate reply. “I want to help Carter get his dog.”
“I thought you would.”
“It’s just that …”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that I could probably take on two or three such requests while I’m on Earth,” the angel said with utter confidence. “But I know why you haven’t given me more than one.”
“You do?” Gabriel asked. “And why would that be?”
“My real assignment is to keep watch over Goodness and Mercy. Heaven knows, and I don’t mean that as a pun—” she paused and gave him a smug smile “—those two need looking after.”
“Indeed they do,” Gabriel agreed. “But it seems to me that you’ve taken part in their schemes a number of times.”
“Under protest,” Shirley rushed to explain. “I knew they were headed for trouble and I tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen to me. So what choice did I have?” She shook her head ruefully. “You can’t imagine the trouble I’ve saved you on other assignments. But I’m only one angel and there’s only so much I can do on my own.”
Gabriel didn’t need a reminder of the problems these three had caused. Yes, he did expect Shirley to be a supervisor of sorts for the other two, but as often as not they’d led her into temptation. Still …
“As the most responsible of the trio—”
“That would be me,” Shirley said, cutting him off. She folded her wings close to her back without revealing any degree of eagerness as Goodness and Mercy had done. Shirley was the picture of calm serenity, of unquestionable confidence.
“Let me point out the time limitations involved,” Gabriel said. “All three of you need to return to Heaven on Christmas Eve.” This shouldn’t come as any surprise, since it was one of the terms always set upon them during visits to Earth at this time of year.
A look of panic flashed into Shirley’s eyes. “That means we have barely a week by the earthly calendar.”
“Don’t forget, we need you back for the festivities,” Gabriel told her.
“Yes, of course.” She did seem unusually concerned with the temporal constraints, which he found odd, considering that they’d answered prayer requests in less time than that.
“If there are problems, I can come directly to you?” Shirley asked.
It went without saying that with Goodness and Mercy, there were bound to be problems. “Of course.”
On second thought, Gabriel wasn’t so sure of that. He’d seen compassion and a new depth in Mercy; she understood the seriousness of her assignment. Harry Alderwood’s days on Earth were few, and Mercy would have to convince Rosalie to move and at the same time prepare Harry for the crossing. Heaven awaited his arrival.
As far as Goodness went … That was an entirely different story. Beth Fischer had lessons to learn, obstacles to negotiate—obstacles of her own making. It might not be as easy as Goodness assumed to steer her toward the future. Gabriel would keep a close eye on this assignment.
And young Carter Jackson—this wasn’t an easy prayer request, either, despite what Shirley seemed to think. She might be a relatively senior angel, but she had a few lessons to learn herself.
“Can I see Carter?” Shirley asked.
“Of course.” As he’d done with the others, Gabriel parted the veil between the two realms and offered Shirley a chance to assess the situation.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Carter watched his parents closely.
“You remember this summer you said I could have a dog when I’m nine, Dad?” he asked, braving the subject dearest to his heart.
His dad exchanged a look with his mother. “I remember.”
“I’m nine now.”
His father put down his fork, and the careful way he laid it on the table told Carter this was going to be an important discussion. “Son, it hurts me to tell you this, but we can’t afford a dog.”
“Dad …”
“I’m sorry. I know you’ve been hoping to get a dog, but we can’t manage it financially, Carter.”
Despite his efforts, Carter’s eyes filled with tears and everything in the room went blurry. His mother came to stand behind him. Embarrassed to be caught crying, Carter wiped his face with his sleeve and gulped several times.
“As soon as we can afford one, we’ll get you a dog,” she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders. “We promise.”
“But you promised before,” Carter challenged. “You said I could have a dog when I turned nine. And then you said I had to wait until Christmas. And now …”
His father looked as sad as Carter had ever seen him. “I’m sorry, Carter. I’m doing the best I can, and so is your mother.”
Bailey had started to cry, too. Carter tried to stop, but all he could do was sniffle back the tears. He felt like running away from the table. He couldn’t eat.
“What about Grandma and Grandpa Parker?” he asked, clinging to the dream that his grandparents would give him the dog he so badly wanted.
“I’ve spoken to them,” his father said.
Carter felt hope spring to life as he held his breath, waiting to hear the verdict.
“If your grandparents buy you a dog, that’s just the beginning of what it’ll cost. There’s a whole lot more that goes along with owning a dog.”
“He could eat my food,” Carter insisted. He’d already considered this. “I don’t mind sharing.”
“Then there are shots.”
“I’ll take them,” Carter said. It didn’t matter how much they hurt, either.