Touched By Angels

by Debbie Macomber

  “Sure thing,” Shirley said, eager to get started on the assignment now that it was officially hers. She eyed the two men watching Brynn, and almost felt sorry for them. It seemed to her they were prime candidates for a bit of intervention. Perhaps they should meet up with an old friend, one they weren’t eager to see. Like their parole officer. Angel Shirley in disguise.

  “I sincerely hope you know a good mechanic.” Gabriel cast his gaze over to the disabled vehicle; then without a sound, without a clue, he disappeared.

  “We do know a good mechanic, don’t we?” Shirley asked, looking to her friends.

  Goodness and Mercy stared back blankly.

  “No,” said Mercy to Shirley. “We thought you did.”

  It was barely after four and already the sky was growing dark. Within a half hour night would settle over the city like a black velvet quilt.

  Brynn Cassidy had long since given up the idea of seeing her dentist. Missing the appointment to have her teeth cleaned was a minor inconvenience compared to the hassles of dealing with car troubles.

  She couldn’t leave her Ford Escort here overnight, that much she knew. In this high-crime area, she’d be fortunate to find the shell of her vehicle left by morning. Nor did she know of a good garage, especially one close by. She cast a look across the street, surprised and grateful that the two men lingering there moments earlier had disappeared.

  “Are you having trouble, Miss Cassidy?” Emilio walked up to her, a basketball tucked under one arm.

  Brynn was so grateful that someone had asked that it was all she could do to keep from blurting out her troubles. “It won’t start, and I haven’t got a clue what could be wrong.”

  Emilio walked around her vehicle as though inspecting it. “I know a little bit about engines.”

  “Do you think you might look at it?”

  “Sure thing.” Emilio slid halfway inside the driver’s seat. One foot remained on the asphalt parking lot while he turned the ignition key. He pumped the gas pedal a couple of times while her car made a sick grinding sound.

  “Do you know what’s wrong?” Brynn asked expectantly.

  “You sure it isn’t your battery?” Emilio asked.

  “Good grief, I wouldn’t know.”

  The teenager seemed to find her answer amusing. “You know all them fancy words, Teach, but you aren’t so smart when it comes to cars, are you?”

  Brynn was more than willing to admit it. “Is it serious?” she asked.

  Emilio shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue.”

  “I thought you said you knew something about cars.”

  “I do, but I ain’t no Mr. Goodwrench.”

  “Thanks anyway, Emilio. I appreciate your help.” He’d done a lot more than her fellow teachers. Most had walked right past her.

  Brynn closed the hood and locked up the car. She didn’t want to leave it, but she didn’t have any choice. Its hood shut with a bang that echoed through the darkening afternoon. She swung the strap of her purse over her shoulder, and with her back stiff, not knowing where to turn, she started out of the parking lot.

  “Where you going?” Emilio asked, bouncing the basketball and weaving it in and out of his legs as he walked alongside her.

  “I’d better get a tow truck.”

  “My brother can do that.”

  Brynn paused. “Your brother?”

  “Roberto. He’s owns a mechanic shop. If you want, I’ll take you there. He’ll know what to do.”

  Frankly, Brynn wished Emilio had said something about his brother sooner. “That would be great.”

  “Yeah, well, remember how much I helped you the next time you’re tempted to have me suspended.”

  The three-block walk took only a matter of minutes. Brynn spied Roberto’s shop when they turned the corner. It looked as if the garage had once been a neighborhood gas station. The corners of the cement building were chipped and the entire structure was badly in need of a fresh coat of paint.

  Emilio opened the glass front door and walked inside. “Roberto!” he shouted.

  His brother’s reply was muffled.

  “He’s in the garage,” Emilio said, gesturing to the narrow doorway that led to a large open area that served as the repair shop. Brynn followed her student inside.

  “I drummed up some business for you,” Emilio announced proudly, and motioned toward Brynn.

  Roberto Alcantara slowly unfolded from a quarter panel of the blue Metro and reached for the pink rag tucked inside his coveralls pocket.

  “Hello, Mr. Alcantara.”

  “Call him Roberto,” Emilio insisted. “This is Miss Cassidy,” he continued, looking well pleased with himself. “She’s the teacher I was telling you about.”

  “Hello.”

  Roberto nodded and wiped his hands. His face remained emotionless.

  “Ms. Cassidy’s having car troubles.”

  “My car won’t start,” she elaborated. “I doubt that it’s the battery. It ran perfectly fine this morning . . . at least I thought it did.”

  “She doesn’t know anything about cars,” Emilio inserted. “Her specialty is dangling particles.”

  “Participles,” Brynn corrected.

  Emilio chuckled. “See what I mean?”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Cassidy,” Roberto said coolly, and tossed the rag onto his tool bench.

  “I left my car in the school parking lot.” She twisted her arm around and pointed in the direction of the school, which was completely unnecessary. Roberto Alcantara knew very well where the high school was.

  Roberto said something to Emilio in Spanish. Emilio nodded quickly, then turned abruptly and hurried out of the garage. Within a matter of a minute she heard the youth talking on the phone, again in Spanish. Before he left, he collected her car keys.

  “I’ve had Emilio call for a tow truck,” Roberto informed her. “He’ll meet the driver over at the school.”

  “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

  Roberto said nothing.

  Without being obvious, Brynn studied Emilio’s brother. Roberto was tall and lean. His skin was the color of warm honey, his eyes and hair as dark a shade of brown as she’d ever seen. She guessed him to be around her own age, perhaps a year or two older. He wasn’t openly hostile, but he did nothing to put her at ease. Every attempt at conversation was dead-ended.

  As the minutes passed, the silence became more and more strained. Brynn wondered what she could have done to earn his disapproval, then realized it must be the incident with Emilio in the hall the first day she was at the school.

  “I imagine you’re upset with me because I was the one responsible for Emilio’s suspension,” she tried again. She wouldn’t apologize, but she was prepared to state her side of the case. If he was willing to listen, that was.

  “I’m not the least bit upset,” he surprised her by answering. “Emilio knows the rules. He deserved what he got.” He returned to working on the Metro and ignored her.

  The next time he straightened, Brynn asked, “You don’t like me, do you?” Normally she wouldn’t be so confrontational, but it had been one of those days. If she’d done something to offend him, she wanted to know about it.

  “That’s right,” he concurred.

  “Do you mind telling me why?”

  Apparently this was just the doorway he’d been waiting to walk through. Roberto met her look brazenly and continued. “Because you’re filling my brother’s head with nonsense.”

  “How do you mean?” Brynn struggled not to sound defensive and doubted that she’d succeeded.

  He flung his arm in the air. “All your talk about the importance of an education. A high school diploma isn’t going to help Emilio any more than it did me. Tell me, Miss Cassidy, exactly how is the history of World War Two going to feed a family? Will reading about Anne Frank get him a decent job?”

  “Yes . . . well, not directly,” she faltered. “Education is the answer for Emilio.�
�� She couldn’t believe Roberto would say such a thing.

  “Emilio would be better off if he dropped out of school now and learned a trade.” He turned his back on her and appeared to be looking for something on his tool bench. He carelessly tossed aside a wrench and reached for another.

  “I soundly disagree,” Brynn said.

  “That’s your right.”

  In all her years, Brynn had never heard anyone discourage someone from an education. “Don’t tell me you actually want your brother to quit school. Surely your parents object to that.”

  “I’m the only family Emilio’s got,” Roberto announced.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, especially if you think he shouldn’t complete his education.”

  “I nearly had him convinced to come work with me here in the garage, but then you arrived and all of a sudden he’s talking about goals and dreams and other such nonsense.”

  “It isn’t nonsense,” she argued.

  Roberto threw down a rag and shook his head. “No matter what happens, my brother and I will live and die in this neighborhood. All your talk isn’t going to change one damn thing.”

  Hannah knew it was coming. The minute Carl arrived with his parents, following synagogue, she knew. He’d come to ask her to be his wife. Come to stake his claim. She didn’t know why he’d chosen now; then again, perhaps she did. Hannah knew that Carl had experienced pressure from his own family. They had dated several months now, and it was time to make a decision. He taught at the local Hebrew academy, and his position there was secure, despite his differences with the headmaster.

  Together with her mother and father, Hannah led Carl’s family into the compact living room. An expectant silence settled over the group as the two sets of parents exchanged happy glances.

  Carl looked to Hannah, and she read the apology in his eyes. He hadn’t wanted it to be like this, either. He would have preferred for them to speak privately first, but like her, he was caught in the trap of obligation and family tradition.

  “Carl.” The rabbi looked to his son.

  Carl cleared his throat. “Hannah and I have been seeing each other exclusively now for several months,” he began. His hands were clasped in his lap, and he seemed to be as uncomfortable with this as Hannah was. “It should come as no surprise that I have deep feelings for your daughter.”

  David and Ruth smiled and nodded.

  Hannah read the delight in their eyes. This was their dream for her, what they’d been anxiously waiting to happen for weeks. If anything, they seemed surprised it had taken this long.

  “Our Hannah has deep feelings for Carl as well,” her father assured the rabbi and his wife. He looked to his daughter for confirmation.

  Hannah had no option but to agree, and really, it wasn’t a stretch of the truth. She did care for Carl. He had been both generous and considerate.

  “I have a good job and make a respectable income,” Carl said.

  Her father nodded.

  “I can afford to care for Hannah.”

  Again her father confirmed his approval with a quick nod.

  The room went silent as everyone waited with breathless anticipation for what was to come next.

  “With your permission, David and Ruth,” Carl continued, his voice low and firm, “I would like to ask Hannah to be my wife.”

  Hannah watched as her sensible mother dissolved into tears of happiness and, perhaps, relief. Her father’s face beamed with love and pride.

  David cleared his throat as if to say his words were those of importance. “We couldn’t ask for a better man for our only child. You have our permission and our heartfelt approval. May God deeply bless you both.”

  “Hannah?” Carl turned his attention to her.

  Five people looked to her. She held their dreams in the palm of her hand. With everything in her she wanted to ask Carl to give her time before she decided. But to do so now would embarrass him and deeply disappoint their families.

  “Hannah?” her mother asked softly.

  Hannah glanced toward her parents. All her life she’d done as they wanted. She’d been a good daughter, an obedient child.

  “Oh, Carl,” she whispered.

  Her mother dabbed at her eyes. Carl’s mother sniffled.

  “I couldn’t be more honored than to be your wife.”

  The tension in the room evaporated as Carl’s and her parents leapt to their feet and hugged each other. The only two not embracing were Carl and Hannah.

  Carl moved to her side and knelt on the floor next to her chair. His eyes held hers captive. “I’ll make you a good husband, Hannah.”

  She lowered her gaze. “And I’ll be a good wife.”

  Joshua glanced at his watch and was surprised at the time. He’d been held up in court earlier that morning and been playing catch-up the rest of the day. Earlier he’d decided to stop off at the deli and be sure Hannah had received his gift. Frankly he’d been surprised not to hear from her before now.

  It came as something of a surprise the way Hannah had filled his mind and his heart. For too many years he’d been whizzing down the fast lane of life, building his career and making a name for himself.

  Then one morning, out of the blue, he’d woken with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. This feeling, this emptiness, was something his grandmother’s cooking wasn’t going to satisfy.

  It was then Joshua realized that what he was missing was a wife and family. He knew his mother had been wanting him to marry for a good long while. Only he had a certain type of woman in mind, and he didn’t know if such a woman existed in this modern age.

  First and foremost he sought a woman who shared his faith. One who would stand devotedly at his side through the years. A woman who would make his dreams hers and allow him to be part of hers. One who was kind and gentle. Loving and tender. Sensible.

  He’d searched for months for this paragon of virtue, until he was convinced a woman such as this no longer existed.

  Then he’d met Hannah.

  After their first afternoon together, he’d realized she was exactly the type of woman he’d been longing to meet. To think all this time she’d been right under his nose. The local deli owner’s daughter.

  Joshua reached for his coat, and after telling his secretary where he’d be, he headed toward what many in New York considered to be the best deli in town.

  When he was less than a block away from the deli, Joshua spied Hannah. She was walking with an older woman, whom he assumed must be her mother. It was hard not to raise his arm and attract her attention the way he had at their previous meeting. But since she was advancing toward him, there didn’t seem to be much point.

  Joshua frowned when he noticed Hannah wasn’t wearing the gloves he’d had delivered. Then he noticed her eyes. How easy she was to read. Whatever she was doing didn’t please her. Even from this distance he felt her resistance.

  Just then she looked up, and he caught her gaze. Briefly her eyes widened with alarm and she gnawed on her lower lip as though she weren’t sure what to do.

  Without her saying a word, Joshua received her message. She didn’t want him to greet her. Silently she pleaded with him to walk on past. It offended him, but he didn’t question her request.

  Without a word they strolled past each other like total strangers. Three steps on the other side of Hannah, Joshua turned, hoping for some telltale sign that would clue him to what was wrong.

  She glanced over her shoulder, and in that briefest of seconds, Joshua read her eyes. She was grateful. Later, when she could, she promised silently, she would explain everything.

  It probably had something to do with what she’d told him the day of the parade. Her parents had been involved in a frivolous lawsuit. The fact that her family didn’t take kindly to attorneys wouldn’t dissuade him. He was very much interested in knowing Hannah better. Once her family had an opportunity to know him, they’d be willing to overlook the fact that he was an attorney. Joshua smiled to himself.
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br />   He would be patient, because Hannah Morganstern was well worth the effort. After all, he’d been looking for her most of his adult life.

  “This must be old home week,” Michelle said as she walked into the apartment and tossed the mail on the kitchen table. “There’s another letter with a postmark from Custer, Montana.”

  “There is?” Dressed in her slip and standing in front of the ironing board, Jenny set aside the iron and walked over to the table. She reached for the envelope and read the return address. “It’s from my mother.”

  “At least you hear from your mother,” Michelle complained as she shucked off her coat and scarf. “It’s been three months since my mother last wrote me.”

  “But she calls once a week.”

  “True.”

  But Jenny understood what her friend was saying. It was a relief to get something in the mail other than bills.

  She opened the envelope and withdrew the letter. It was exactly what she expected. Her mother had broken her silence and joined Trey to ask her to come home for the holidays.

  It hurt more than words could voice, having to explain that she couldn’t leave New York. Jenny had long since run out of money, out of excuses, and, worse yet, out of ideas.

  “What’d she say?” Michelle asked. Her roommate stood in front of the open refrigerator and stared at its meager contents. Rather than explain, Jenny handed the single sheet of stationery to her friend. Michelle scanned the page, then raised her eyes to Jenny.

  “Your mother wants you to come home for Christmas.”

  Jenny sank onto the sofa and tucked her feet beneath her. “Christmas has always been so special with our family. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who could put on a spread the way Mom does. She makes this incredible sage dressing for the turkey, and the scent of it fills the house.” She closed her eyes, and the memory was so powerful, she could almost smell the pungent herbs right then.

  “Maybe there’s a way you could manage to make it home,” Michelle said sympathetically.

  “There isn’t,” Jenny said, unwilling even to listen to suggestions. No one needed to tell her that she’d done this to herself.