Angels Undercover

by Diane Noble

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the kitchen to put on the coffee. But as she reached for the coffee grinder, she changed her mind. More important than the dark brew was her need for prayer. After all, it was Thanksgiving, and she had much to be thankful for. And much to consider even as she laid her requests before the Throne.

  She headed to her favorite chair—the rocker near the fireplace. As usual, Paul had set the logs in place the night before, so she flipped the auto-light switch and sat back while the wood crackled and sizzled into flames.

  She reached for her Bible and, holding it in her lap, bowed her head.

  THE LIVING ROOM WAS FESTIVE, Kate had to admit, as she stood back to survey it two hours later. Paul had set up folding tables and chairs, then together they had draped the tables with linen cloths and set baskets of fall foliage in the center of each. She used her grandmother’s dishes for most of the settings, supplemented with a few plastic dishes for the Easterwood children.

  She also recalled her dismay the day she and Paul first arrived in Copper Mill, and she walked into the enormous parsonage living room. Although it seemed unnecessarily large when she first moved in, now she wouldn’t trade it for an average-sized room, even if it was dropped in by a crane fully furnished by Home and Garden Television.

  Paul came up to stand beside her. “You know, invincible isn’t far from the truth,” he said, circling his arm around her waist.

  She squinted up at him, raising a brow. “Invincible?”

  “The lyrics you quoted the other day—‘I am woman, hear me roar’?”

  She laughed. “What’s that have to do with Thanksgiving Day?”

  “It has to do with you. You’re putting on a dinner for twenty-some people, and I imagine you’d have invited more if they hadn’t already had plans. I suspect in your heart of hearts, you’re trying to bring about a bit of reconciliation among our friends.” He lifted an eyebrow at her.

  She smiled, touched her heart with splayed fingers, and fluttered her lashes. “Moi?”

  “Seriously, you worked late last night, and you were up at dawn to put on the turkey. Yet you’ve been singing around the house like this was the grandest day ever, the easiest task in the world to pull off.”

  “It is a grand day. We have so much to be thankful for. It’s a day to focus on our blessings, not our worries. Those will wait for us till tomorrow.” She stroked the side of his face. “Besides, I didn’t put this together alone. You’ve been working with me since dawn, and all our guests are contributing to the meal.”

  THE EASTERWOODS were the first to arrive. Matthew and Mark tumbled through the front door, one making diesel truck sounds and pretending to blow an air horn, the other snorting like a horse and pawing the floor. Lucy toddled in behind them, her binky dangling from her shirt where it had been pinned with a long ribbon. Lorna carried Baby John and the potty chair, which Kate took from her and placed in the guest bathroom.

  Caleb and his mother arrived soon after. Renee and Caroline and Kisses breezed in just past noon, and by 12:30, Livvy and Danny Jenner had arrived. The Philpotts scurried through the door right behind them. It was obvious Lester and LeRoy still were not speaking to each other, as they took off in opposite directions to visit with the other guests. Enid pretended not to notice, but Kate saw she hadn’t given up her habit of wringing her hands when she thought no one was looking.

  As the guests arrived, Kate and Paul ushered them into the dining area for hors d’oeuvres and hot mulled cider. Matthew stuffed his pockets with olives, Mark did the same with gherkins. Lucy stood in the corner, looking around with wide eyes, sucking on her yellow-and-green binky. Paul picked her up and hoisted her to his shoulder. She finally smiled, and so did Kate at the sight of her husband holding a toddler.

  Everyone had arrived except Clementine. Paul had planned to pick her up at one o’clock, but the phone rang at a quarter to one.

  “Kate, dear. It’s Clementine. I just can’t face going that far from home. It’s just too much for me right now. I’m sorry.”

  “Would it help if I came with Paul to make it easier...I mean, with both of us there?”

  “Oh no, dear. I couldn’t ask you to leave your guests. And I’m not certain it would help. But thank you anyway. I do have that cobbler ready if you want to send someone over.”

  Kate put the phone down, sighed in disappointment, and asked Paul if he would mind picking up the cobbler from Clementine’s.

  Caleb was standing nearby and overheard the conversation. “Do you mind if I go get Clementine’s cobbler?” He glanced around at the spread in the kitchen. “You’ve done so much for everybody, I’d like to help out.”

  “That would be great,” Kate said. “Do you know where Clementine Jones lives?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  Thirty seconds later, he was out the door and heading down the front walk.

  “Hmmph,” Renee said under her breath, sidling closer to Kate. “Probably going out on another heist.”

  Carmella King was standing nearby. She turned, searching Renee’s face. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  Kate’s heart fell. Did Carmella overhear the insinuation? She glanced around for Paul to help her out, but he was nowhere to be seen. If Renee spouted what she suspected of Carmella’s son and the library theft, there might as well be another war declared right there in Kate’s living room.

  But Renee, for once, smiled sweetly. “My name is Renee Lambert. That’s my mother, Caroline, sitting by the fireplace. And you are?”

  “Carmella King.”

  “Ohhh.” Renee lifted a brow.

  “My son is Caleb, Caleb King, who’s been playing with the group at your church.”

  Lester Philpott came up just then with a wide grin. “The word’s been getting around about your son. He’s very talented.”

  Carmella’s smile transformed her face. “He is talented. Amazingly so.” A soft smile brightened her features. “He doesn’t get it from me.”

  Kate took a sip of hot cider. “Has he thought about what he’s going to do after graduation?”

  Carmella shook her head. “Probably go to work. We just don’t have the means...”

  “With the kind of talent he’s got, he might be able to get a scholarship,” Lester said and then nipped off the end of a pepperoncinni.

  “He loves his music, but he’s got it in his mind that he would like to be a doctor. He loves helping others, but I’m afraid it’s an almost impossible dream. The competition is fierce when it comes to getting scholarships. Even though he still has another year to go in high school, he’s already begun the application process.” Her tone was husky when she spoke again. “He seems determined to find a way out of Copper Mill; he’s afraid he’ll be stuck here for life in a meaningless job.”

  “Maybe Lester’s right,” Kate said. “Has Caleb thought about going for a music scholarship rather than an academic one?” Suspicions floated back into her mind unbidden, and she wondered how far Caleb would go to find the money to go to school.

  Lester nodded. “Exactly. And if the group takes off the way I hear it might...”

  Renee, who was dunking a soggy tea bag in a cup of hot water, stepped up. “That would be like winning the lottery,” she said, then made a face when she sipped her tea. She turned to Kate. “Dear, I know we’re good enough friends for me to tell you that this is the worst cup of tea I’ve ever had.”

  Kate resisted rolling her eyes. This was at least the third time Renee had made this claim since she and Paul moved to Copper Mill.

  Kate excused herself to move from group to group around the living room with a pitcher of mulled cider, refilling cups and visiting with the guests, while Livvy and Lorna helped serve hors d’oeuvres on trays.

  The twins had galloped and tumbled out the sliding-glass door to the backyard, for which everyone was thankful, because the diesel and horse sounds grew fainter. Kisses danced, yipped, and barked, racing away from any attemp
t by Matthew or Mark to cuddle or pet him.

  Enid Philpott was deep in conversation with Caroline on the sofa, and Enid’s son LeRoy and Danny Jenner stood near the fireplace talking about the reenactment festival. Livvy and Kate exchanged a glance and a smile. Danny was such a rock at Faith Briar; there was no one better to calm frayed emotions over the divisions caused by the reenactment or the church music.

  Kate breathed a sigh of relief, just now realizing the tension she’d been holding inside. Even if just the tiniest bit of reconciliation could happen this day, her heart would burst with gratitude.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Paul went to answer it.

  As he swung it open, there was an audible gasp behind Kate. She turned to see Lorna Easterwood’s mouth drop open, her face ashen. The whole room had fallen strangely silent.

  Puzzled, Kate turned back to the entry.

  It was Stephen Easterwood.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before anyone could utter a word, Lorna snatched Baby John from Renee’s lap and Lucy from Enid’s, then slipped out the back door, calling for the twins. Within seconds she had disappeared around the side of the house.

  And there stood Stephen in the entryway, his shoulders slumped, his beard showing two days’ growth, his clothes and hair rumpled.

  “I guess this isn’t a good time,” he said to Paul, scanning the room. “I know I told you I didn’t want to come to dinner, I didn’t want to see Lorna. But I miss my kids. I couldn’t let the day go by without seeing them.”

  Paul shot a look at Kate, who shot an arrow of prayer heavenward. She knew Paul would never turn anyone away from their door, but she couldn’t imagine a more awkward circumstance. Lorna had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that she refused to see her husband.

  “Come in, come in, my friend,” Paul said, standing aside. “You’re always welcome here.”

  Stephen blinked, obviously surprised to see a couple dozen pairs of eyes staring his direction. But before anyone could come over to greet him, the doorbell rang again. This time Kate trotted to the door.

  There on the doorstep stood Clementine, holding the cobbler and grinning from ear to ear. Behind her stood Caleb, looking proud of his accomplishment. Caleb shrugged as if to say, Aw shucks, this wasn’t any big deal. But the light in his eyes said it was.

  “Clementine!” Kate reached for the cobbler. “You did it. You’re here!” She gave the older woman a hug as Clementine stepped through the doorway.

  “It was this young man who did it,” Clementine said. She glanced up at Caleb, who shrugged again. “Did you know he has a motorcycle?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “It’s an old one,” Caleb said. “Used to belong to my grandfather. I fixed it up to ride once in a while.”

  “He didn’t even have to look at the picture of my dear hubby and me on the mantel. It was like he knew we used to have an old Indian chief just like Caleb’s granddaddy’s.” She grinned at Caleb. “You can imagine my surprise when he came roaring down the street on that hog.” She giggled as she said the word. “And, well, just hearing that sound, how could I resist climbing aboard?”

  She looked at Caleb gratefully, her face aglow. “First the tulips and daffodils. Now a ride on the Chief. It’s like I’ve got a passel of angels looking out for me.”

  A noise from outside made her turn toward the window. Somehow, while the attention was focused on Clementine’s arrival, Stephen Easterwood had slipped out the slider and gone after Lorna and the kids.

  Now he was sitting on the ground beneath the maple tree, trying to hold all four kids at once, hugging them and crying.

  Kate had just shot another prayer heavenward, hoping for another miracle on this day, when she heard the screech of tires on the street outside the house.

  She ran to the front door and looked out. Lorna had swung a U-turn and rocketed down the street. But not before Kate caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked face.

  LATER THAT NIGHT, Kate literally fell into her rocker by the fire while Paul finished in the kitchen. The guests had left amid laughter and chatter and warm gratitude. She was grateful for the outcome of the day. The Philpott brothers had actually spoken to each other. Granted, Lester’s words were few—“Pass the butter”—but Kate thought she spotted a twinkle in LeRoy’s eye when he mimed spiraling the butter dish like a football pass before handing it to Caroline to pass around the table. Caleb’s mother had asked Paul about Faith Briar and said she wanted to visit on Sunday to hear Flame perform.

  Renee, seated between Kate and Caleb, had kept her opinions about the music to herself, though throughout the meal, Kate heard snatches of pointed questions and comments about the library break-in and Renee’s great-granddaddy’s priceless treasures. And every time Renee spotted Caleb walking across the room, she seemed to measure his height and girth, eyes narrowed, as if imagining him in the major general’s dress uniform.

  Kate settled back in her chair, closing her eyes wearily.

  Paul came in to join her, sat down with a sigh, and reached for her hand. “That smile must mean you enjoyed your day.”

  “It was a day of unexpected blessings.”

  “You’re thinking about Clementine?”

  She grinned. “And watching her ride off on that motorcycle with Caleb. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a joyful sight.” She sat forward and blinked back the sting in her eyes. “Did you see how she let go of Caleb, held her hands in the air and smiled, the wind blowing through her hair?”

  Paul chuckled. “That’s an image that will stay with me forever.”

  “A portrait of joy and healing and motorcycle riding all rolled into one.”

  “Brought about by Caleb, the elusive young man we know so little about,” Paul added. “Did you have a chance to talk with Lorna?”

  Kate shook her head. “When I dropped off the children, she met me at the door. I could see that she’d been crying. I figured she didn’t want to talk about Stephen in front of them, so I told her I’d stop by tomorrow.”

  Paul leaned back in his chair. “Two stubborn people who obviously love each other.”

  “And need each other.”

  “Not to mention four little lives who need both their mom and dad.”

  “I don’t know what we can do to get them back together,” Kate lamented. “I’d so hoped they would both be here today, but not full of anger and recrimination toward each other.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything else for us to do but pray. The rest is up to them, Katie, and decisions they need to make.”

  Paul stood to stoke the fire, then helped her to her feet. “All in all, it was a good day,” he said, wrapping his arms around her.

  She leaned her cheek against his chest. “A very good day.”

  ANGELS AS BRIGHT as sunlight whirled and soared into a sky filled with a million stars. The winged creatures were silent as they moved, but Kate could hear a chorus somewhere in the background; perhaps it was the stars themselves singing—a chorus of children’s voices, laughing with contagious joy. Then the angels took on different colors, some in blues and violets, others in whites and yellows, still others in pinks and lavenders, the color of the sky at dawn.

  Then she noticed the children’s voices sounded like those of the Easterwoods, and the colors were like the stained glass in her studio.

  The colors of the votive candleholders!

  Kate awoke, mildly disoriented, from her dream. She blinked, then squinted at the clock. It was barely past midnight. Beside her, Paul snored softly.

  She lay back on her pillow, recounting the dream before it faded. She had completed her work on a half-dozen votives, but there were many left on the long list. She wondered how long she could keep up with the angel of Copper Mill.

  Now wide awake, she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Then pulling on her robe, she headed down the hall to her studio and flipped on the light.

  She pulled out the
strange letter and reread it, going down the list of names and the colors chosen for each recipient.

  Someone cared a lot for these Copper Mill citizens. She stared at the list, trying to find a common denominator, something that would trigger a clue. As far as she knew, the people on the list had no connection with one another. They seemed randomly chosen. The only thing connecting them was their need for comfort, compassion, and perhaps, just someone to care.

  Some were members of Faith Briar, others were members of St. Lucy’s. Some of the First Baptist Church, still others of Copper Mill Presbyterian. Some didn’t attend church at all. A few lived at Green Acres. Others in different parts of town. And Caroline lived with Renee.

  Kate sat down and held the list to the light, focusing on the type itself. Someone was either unused to typing on a manual typewriter or had purposely tried to appear clumsy.

  She wondered at the coincidences: She was the first to receive a typed note; Lorna Easterwood was next, receiving an invitation typed on what appeared to be the same machine. Not long after, Stephen Easterwood had received a manual typewriter as a gift, though Kate didn’t think it was the same one that had been used to type the notes.

  She sat back and steepled her fingers thoughtfully.

  What about the timing of the break-ins? Wasn’t it strange that the library break-in happened the same night as the break-in at the parsonage?

  Because something was stolen at the library and something was left at the Hanlons’, she assumed they weren’t connected.

  But what if they were?

  She caught her breath and sat up straight. Was that what had been bothering her brain all along?

  She sat back in astonishment, her mind playing with the possibilities.

  Could the secret angel break-ins simply be a cover-up for the real heist? A shell game—now you see it, now you don’t.

  The thought stunned her, and she sat back again, almost afraid to breathe.

  Then she considered who might be involved, and, with a new thought surfacing, her heart did a staccato dance. She gave a little cough to get it back in rhythm.

  She picked up one of the newly completed votives and examined it. The light shone through the different colored pieces of glass, casting every color of the rainbow across the studio walls. Then she remembered her dream, the children’s voices, the music...