Touched By Angels

by Debbie Macomber

  The piano player looked at her when she didn’t come in on cue and played the introduction a second time. She opened her mouth and nothing came out. She tried again, and what sound did escape wasn’t anywhere close to being considered musical.

  Miserable, Jenny raised her hand and stopped the piano player. There was no use continuing. Not now. She couldn’t do it.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, wavered, and reached out blindly, afraid she was about to collapse.

  Michelle gripped her hand. “Jenny’s sick . . . she shouldn’t even be here.”

  Her roommate placed her arm around Jenny’s shoulders, and she slumped against Michelle, needing her friend’s support to remain upright.

  “She has a fever of a hundred and two,” Michelle informed the casting director.

  “And you are?” the loud voice boomed.

  Michelle stiffened. “Her roommate. I realize this is none of my business, but I’m afraid Jenny’s sick. If you want to hear her sing, our agent can supply you with any number of tapes. Come on, Jenny,” Michelle said, steering her off the stage. “I’m taking you home.”

  “No,” Jenny protested. It was bad enough that her best chance of ever appearing on Broadway was being taken away, but she wouldn’t allow her own misfortune to ruin Michelle’s chances, too. “You stay here.”

  “But—”

  “I insist. Don’t argue with me. This is your chance.”

  “But, Jenny—”

  “Michelle Jordan!” the voice shouted.

  Michelle wavered and looked over her shoulder.

  “Are you staying or going?” the voice asked.

  “Staying,” Jenny answered for her. She’d meant to shout. She’d put all her effort into making herself heard, but what remained of her voice was shockingly weak.

  “Oh, Jenny, are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “Of course. All I need is a little rest.” She managed to put on a bright smile, which depleted what little energy remained. “I’ll get a taxi,” she promised a second time. A real luxury, considering her finances.

  “You promise?”

  “Yes. Now break a leg, kid,” she said in her best Humphrey Bogart imitation. “You’ll have to make it for both of us.” She felt like weeping but managed to keep the tears at bay until she was outside the theater.

  It was snowing. Wouldn’t you know it? Every man, woman, and child in New York would be looking for a cab. Jenny stepped halfway out into the street and raised her arm in an effort to hail a taxi. The cold snow was a welcome coolant as it drifted onto her upturned face.

  “You’re going to help her, aren’t you?” Goodness asked Mercy. “That poor girl’s sick and miserable.”

  “Of course I’m going to help her.” Mercy was indignant that her friend would believe otherwise. “It’s just that this is the worst time imaginable for her to find an empty taxi.”

  “Well, do something.”

  “What would you suggest?” Mercy snapped, impatient herself.

  “Stop traffic.”

  Mercy grinned. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? It wouldn’t be so difficult to create a distraction. Not with Goodness there to help her. Naturally it would work; she just hoped Gabriel didn’t find out about this.

  “Come on,” she said, sharing a gleeful smile with her friend.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Times Square,” Mercy answered.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  Even Goodness looked surprised, and Mercy grinned sheepishly. “Don’t worry, Gabriel will never hear of it.” Well, at least she hoped that was the case.

  “Look.” Someone near Jenny stretched out an arm and pointed toward the huge electronic billboard above Times Square. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

  Jenny looked up and did a double take. The sign that had flashed a huge Santa drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola only minutes earlier had disappeared. In its stead stood a picture of her own face, with the words flashing “Jenny needs a cab. Help Jenny.”

  She blinked, certain she was seeing things. Her fever must be higher than she realized for her to hallucinate this way. Obviously she’d stepped over the edge of reality.

  Cars slowed to a crawl. Any number of people paused and pointed to the sign.

  “Are you Jenny?” a bag lady who was nearly bent in half asked her. She wore a ragged wool coat. A worn shopping bag was draped over her forearm.

  “Yes,” Jenny whispered.

  “I’m here to help you,” the old woman proclaimed. “I’ll get you that cab, now don’t you worry none.”

  “I’m sick,” Jenny whispered.

  “Yes, I know, dear, now don’t you fret. You’ll be home soon enough.” Holding Jenny by the arm, the old woman marched her out into the middle of midtown traffic and stood in front of the first yellow cab she spied.

  The cabdriver stuck his head out the window and shouted angrily. Apparently he hadn’t been in the country long, because his accent was so thick that it was nearly impossible to understand him.

  “This is Jenny.” The bag lady opened the cab door and stuck her head inside. “She’s sick and needs to get home.”

  “I don’t care if she’s the president,” the man inside the cab muttered, clenching his briefcase as if he expected the woman to snatch it from him. “I’m not giving up this cab. Driver,” he instructed, “do something.”

  The driver twisted around and placed his hands over his ears. “Only been in America one day.”

  The passenger said something under his breath.

  Undeterred, the bag lady tried a second time. “That sign up there says this woman needs help. Now get out.”

  The dignified-looking businessman bristled. “What sign?”

  “Look at the billboard!” she shouted. “Now do as I say.”

  Jenny remained in a daze, barely able to decipher what was happening around her. Horns blared. People stopped and stared. Traffic snarled even worse than it normally did. No one moved.

  “You’re Jenny?” the businessman leaned halfway out of the cab to ask her.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Oh, all right,” he muttered, and with that he hopped out of the cab.

  Jenny turned to thank the bag lady who’d helped her, but she’d disappeared into the crowd. Safe and warm, Jenny climbed inside the cab, laid back her head, and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew the driver pulled up in front of her apartment complex. She couldn’t remember giving him her address.

  “How’d you know where I lived?” she asked as she pulled out her limited cash reserve to pay him.

  “The old lady told me.”

  “But . . .” Jenny shook her head, hoping to clear her thoughts. She’d never seen that woman before in her life. How could the bag lady have known where she lived?

  “Good job,” Goodness said, standing under the blinking lights of Times Square.

  Mercy was downright proud of herself. She’d pulled off the role of the bag lady with the finesse that had done all angels proud. “Jenny never even guessed she was dealing with an angel,” she bragged to her friend.

  “I see you had a bit of a problem with that businessman, though. He didn’t seem willing to give up his seat.”

  “A nonbeliever,” Mercy explained. “He prefers to take care of matters himself. Poor fellow. He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  “It looks to me like he’s missing his cab.” Goodness chuckled and pointed to the street below. The man stood with his shoulders hunched against the cold, his arm raised in a desperate effort to hail a taxi.

  Joshua was about to give up hope that Hannah would show. He’d waited a half hour and was tempted to admit he’d been wrong. His face stung with cold and his fingers were numb. He might have left if it hadn’t been for the skaters gliding over the ice and all the bright lights on the fifty-foot-tall Christmas tree. Both held his attention and kept him from dwelling on his disappointment.

  This was the first day of Hanukkah, t
he Jewish holiday that observed the freedom of religion. These few days in December celebrated the hope for peace. This night Jewish families around the world lit the first candle of the menorah, commemorating the Jewish recapture of the Temple in Jerusalem from the Hellenic Syrians in 164 b.c. It was the holiday honoring “the miracle of the oil.”

  If Joshua remembered his history correctly, only one small jar of undefiled oil could be found for the Temple’s menorah. It should have been enough for only one day, but the jar lasted eight days, until a fresh supply could be delivered.

  Joshua had never considered himself a particularly religious man. He preferred to think of himself as a man of faith. In the darkness of winter, his people celebrated the return of light.

  That was the way Joshua thought of Hannah. She was a ray of sunshine in a world that had been filled with dark ambition. A ray of hope. He hated placing Hannah in the awkward position of having to choose between him and Carl, but he was confident she didn’t love the other man. He would have staked his career on that.

  This evening would be telling. What he’d said to Hannah earlier about her not being able to stay away was true. If she truly cared for him the way he suspected, she’d find a means of meeting him.

  Rockefeller Center was big, but somehow, some way, they’d connect. Joshua checked his watch one last time: 8:40.

  His disappointment was keen. He’d wanted her to come. Willed her there. But it was apparent now that he’d been wrong. He had no option but to release her; she’d made her choice. He’d found her too late.

  He’d turned away from the ice-skating rink when out of the blue he saw her. In that moment, it was as though the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders and his heart sang.

  Hannah saw him, too, but her beautiful blue eyes were devoid of emotion. She hurried toward him, and he held out his hands to greet her.

  By the time she’d gripped his fingers with her own, she was breathless and barely able to talk. Her eyes were bright with questions. With doubts and confusion. Without speaking, she told him everything he needed to know. She hadn’t wanted to come. Had decided to stay away . . . and found she couldn’t.

  “You were right,” she said with a sadness that was nearly his undoing. “I had to come. A hundred times I told myself the best thing for both of us was if I stayed away. What have you done to me, Joshua? What have you done?”

  It was difficult not to pull her into his arms and comfort her. It was what he wanted. His heart was full, spilling over. The fact that his love brought her unhappiness wasn’t lost on him. In time he’d make up for the unpleasantness he’d caused her. If only she would be patient, he’d prove to her she’d made the right decision.

  “I think we should talk this out,” she suggested. She seemed to harbor the hope that they could sit across from each other and reason away their mutual attraction. It wasn’t as simple as that, but she’d need to reach that realization herself.

  “All right.” He sought nothing more than to be with her. It wouldn’t have mattered what they did. In many ways, he felt he was already fully acquainted with Hannah. He knew he loved her. He knew he wanted her to be his wife and the mother of his children.

  How or when he’d come to realize all this, he couldn’t answer. He was a man who dealt with facts, who argued cases. A man who generally was uncomfortable defining feelings. But when it came to Hannah Morganstern, Joshua found he was an expert on identifying his emotions.

  “Come on,” he said, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. “I’ll buy us a cup of hot chocolate.”

  A fragile, tentative smile touched her mouth. Her beautiful, kissable mouth.

  “I’m beginning to think we’re both a little nuts,” she said.

  “I couldn’t agree with you more, but it’s a good kind of crazy. Being with you makes me happy, Hannah. You’re beautiful and generous and loving.”

  She lowered her head, uneasy with compliments.

  Joshua found a table, and after she was seated, he walked over to the refreshment booth and bought two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

  When he returned, she glanced up at him shyly. “The most amazing thing happened this evening.”

  “Oh?” He sipped from the edge of the paper cup, the steam wafting upward.

  “When I told you I couldn’t meet you, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Carl had asked me to attend the candle-lighting ceremony with him. It’s the first day of Hanukkah,” she told him unnecessarily.

  “I know.”

  “I knew there wasn’t any way I could possibly break our date. Then at the last minute Carl phoned. He came down with the flu.”

  That explained why Hannah was late. She’d been at the synagogue with her family and then rushed from there to Rockefeller Center.

  “When I left in such a hurry, I’m sure my parents thought I was going to see Carl . . . instead I’m meeting another man.” Sadness coated her words. It was clear she hated deceiving those she loved.

  “I’m sure that given time, your family will learn to like me as much as they do Carl,” he assured her gently. He regretted bringing the other man into the conversation. It seemed they spent half their precious time together discussing the rabbi’s son.

  Hannah’s gaze drifted to the ice skaters and then back to him. “I hardly know you myself.”

  “Ask me anything you like,” he invited her.

  “You’ve never married?”

  “No. I’ve been waiting for you, Hannah Morganstern.” By the way the color drained from her face, Joshua realized he’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t mean to rush Hannah. Because he was confident didn’t mean he had to get cocky.

  “I’m engaged to Carl,” she whispered. “Doesn’t that matter to you?”

  “It matters a great deal.” He wasn’t going to lie. When she’d told him, he’d been both frustrated and angry. Later he’d realized just how fortunate it was that they’d met before the wedding. “I figure I found you just in time.”

  He didn’t ask her if she felt the same way. Didn’t bombard her with questions. That wasn’t necessary. He already knew. She felt everything he did, only for her, it wasn’t so simple. Tied up with her feelings for him was a lifetime of adhering to her parents’ wishes.

  “I’ll go to your family,” Joshua offered, “and explain.”

  “Explain what?” she asked miserably. “There’s nothing to tell them, Joshua. I haven’t changed my mind about anything.”

  Nine

  Hannah had no intention of staying with Joshua. Her only purpose in meeting him was to explain once and for all that a relationship between them was impossible. It was too late for them. She was engaged to Carl now, and they’d soon be planning their wedding.

  That had been the reason she’d decided to meet Joshua: so he’d know. Yet the moment she’d found him, her heart had been filled with a yearning, a wonder, that she couldn’t reason away.

  She couldn’t look at him, she feared, and not reveal what was in her heart, so she focused her attention on the ice skaters. As a child she’d loved it when her mother had taken her to this very rink. Although she’d struggled to remain upright, Hannah had enjoyed the simple pleasure of gliding freely over the ice. When she’d tired, she’d sat and watched others, admiring the skillful athletes as they’d leapt and spun their way across the rink. In her child’s mind, she’d dreamed about someday being as graceful and talented.

  “Come,” Joshua said, and reached for her hand. He’d been silent since she’d announced that she fully intended to marry Carl. Hannah hoped he would accept her decision graciously and let matters drop between them. It was as difficult for him as it was for her, but she couldn’t tell him that. She willed him to leave because she hadn’t the strength to do it herself.

  “Where are we going?”

  His eyes revealed nothing, then he smiled in that gentle way of his. “Ice skating.”

  “But, Joshua, it’s been years. I’m not sure I even remember how.”

&n
bsp; “It’s been years for me, too.”

  “I can’t,” she insisted. “Really. I should get back before Mama asks questions. I can’t lie.”

  Joshua stiffened. Surely he understood that she’d intended never to see him again. Surely he realized that she’d come this evening only because Carl had canceled at the last moment. Even now that surprised her.

  “I’m not asking you to lie,” Joshua explained, his hand clasping hers firmly. “All I want is for you to skate with me.”

  Hannah gazed longingly toward the ice. She was tempted. Oh, heaven, she was tempted. It wasn’t so much to ask, she decided, not when she wanted this so badly herself.

  “All right,” she agreed. “But for only a short time.”

  “Agreed.”

  Joshua left her briefly, after checking her shoe size, and returned a few moments later with two pairs of ice skates. After lacing up his own, he knelt in front of her to be sure her skates were tied properly.

  “You may well regret this,” she said, linking her arm through his. Her legs wobbled when they stepped onto the ice, but Joshua’s grip about her waist was firm.

  Her first few steps were tentative and awkward. If not for Joshua, she was sure she would have fallen. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this,” she said, concentrating on staying on her feet.

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  He was being kind, and she said so. Their first whirl around the rink was marked with her clumsy attempts to remain upright. Even with Joshua holding on to her, Hannah’s arms flailed out in front of her a number of times in an effort to maintain her balance.

  Before long she found a certain rhythm and glided over the smooth surface. Gaining confidence, she relaxed her grip on Joshua’s arm, and he gradually released her. Skating backward in front of her, he smiled and praised her skill.

  “Do you think anyone from the Ice Capades is watching?” she joked.

  Joshua chuckled.

  Thinking herself clever, Hannah decided to speed past Joshua. Unfortunately, in her effort to impress him, she lost her footing. Her feet slipped out from under her so quickly that she didn’t have time to react. Arms flailing, she landed butt first on the hard, cold ice.