Daddy's Angel

by Annette Broadrick

  Ida looked at him in surprise. “My what?”

  “Your niece…N—”

  “You must be mistaken, Bret. I don’t have a niece.”

  He stared at her. “You don’t?”

  “I’ve got two nephews, though. They live over near Killeen. My brother’s boys.”

  “No niece,” he repeated slowly.

  “Nope. Ed was always sorry they didn’t have a girl, of course.” She looked at her watch. “I hate to rush off like this, Bret, but I’ve got some more errands to run, plus company coming in and all.” She started the car. “You be sure to tell Freda hello for me. Hope she’s continuing to improve.”

  Bret stood there and watched as she pulled out of the parking space, his mind whirling.

  Noelle wasn’t Ida Schulz’s niece, because Ida Schulz didn’t have a niece.

  Then who in the world was Noelle St. Nichols?

  A sudden memory shook him, a memory of the night he had banged his head. She had come to him and she had—

  No. There wasn’t any way. She couldn’t be.

  He went back to his truck and started home. He now knew who she wasn’t. He was going to find out who she was before the day was over. He wanted some answers.

  Bret opened the back door and stepped into the empty kitchen, looking around him. Cakes, pies, cookies and homemade candy lined one of the cabinets. There was enough food there to feed the entire county.

  He removed his jacket, hung it beside his hat and continued into the hallway.

  He found Noelle in the living room and for a moment could only stare at the scene before him.

  She sat on the rug in front of the fire with Rex curled up beside her on one side, Mischief on the other. Mischief eyed the dog from time to time but for the most part she ignored him, instead keeping her attention on the kittens who were venturing out of their basket and exploring their immediate world.

  Rex sniffed at one, then blinked when it hissed and turned into a bristling fur ball.

  Bret’s gaze went from the woman with a soft smile watching the kittens to the tree that sparkled nearby. The little angel on top looked almost new. Her dress was starched and stood away from her, her hair fell in soft waves and curls, looking freshly combed and her wings glimmered in the light.

  When he looked back at Noelle she was watching him, waiting.

  He walked into the room and sat in his favorite chair before the fire. Rex pushed himself up and came over to him, shoving his nose beneath Bret’s hand.

  Noelle continued to watch him. She wore the same soft smile on her face she’d had with the animals.

  Absently Bret rubbed Rex’s ears, wondering what to say…how to begin.

  “You aren’t Ida Schulz’s niece,” he finally said in a statement more than a question.

  “No,” she agreed quietly.

  “I want to know who you are.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you?” There was a hint of doubt in her voice.

  “Of course!” he replied with exasperation. “There was no reason to lie to me. You could have just said that you—” He paused, running his hand through his hair, feeling more than a little foolish. “Well, you could have told me the truth—whatever it is. You were passing through town…needed a job…heard about Freda…whatever happened, you could have told me.”

  She shifted so that she was facing him, her knees pulled up to her chin. “I think that you’ve always known who I am, Bret, but you couldn’t admit it, at least not to yourself…especially not to yourself.”

  “Now wait a minute. You aren’t going to start in with that—” he waved his hand toward the tree “—Christmas tree angel stuff, I hope. I’ll admit that you look like her, and I can see where the kids would think that you had come to help us and all, but—”

  “But you don’t believe in angels.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And therefore I can’t be an angel.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then who am I?”

  He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “How should I know? I haven’t been able to figure out how you got into the house in the first place. I told myself that Chris forgot to lock the door, but he never forgets something like that. You said someone brought you but there were no tire tracks outside and with the rain that blew in, the ground was soft enough to leave tracks. The only ones I saw were the ones Roy made when he and Chris came home.”

  “Why haven’t you said something before?”

  He shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know. I guess everything was happening at once and I was having trouble keeping up with all the changes. I remember thinking that you must have walked, but you were dry. Besides, that suitcase would have weighed too much for you to have hauled it any distance at all.”

  “An angel could do all of those things, Bret. Appear without getting wet, manifest a suitcase filled with appropriate clothes…”

  “But angels aren’t real, Noelle, can’t you understand that? They’re just something people make up to help deal with their own fears about life.”

  Noelle gracefully unfolded her legs and came to kneel between his knees. “I’m real, Bret, for the next few hours, I’m very real.”

  This close he could see the love in her eyes, as well as the compassion and understanding. He felt as though everything he knew about himself, his life and reality was being questioned and tested.

  With a groan he pulled her into his arms, cuddling her to him, holding her in such a firm grip that no one would be able to take her from him. “Don’t go,” he whispered, burying his face against her neck, “I don’t care who you are, or why you came. I just know that I need you in my life.” He found her lips and kissed her, putting all of his feelings and yearnings into the kiss.

  She twined her arms around his neck, kissing him back, refusing to think of anything more than this moment.

  They heard Roy’s truck and knew that the children had returned home. “I’m going to stay out of the way for the rest of the afternoon,” she whispered. “This is your time with the children. Once they’re in bed I’ll spend my last hours with you.”

  Before he could protest, she slipped off his lap. He heard the door to Freda’s room close just before the children burst into the house.

  The children were filled with enthusiasm. They had stories to tell about Freda and the party her sister had for her. They excitedly showed Bret the gifts they’d gotten to open while they were there and how pleased Freda was with what they had given her.

  For the rest of the afternoon and early evening, Bret kept busy with the children. They all trooped outside to feed the animals their special Christmas Eve meals, and Chris pointed out to Travis the stars that Santa used to navigate on his flight from the North Pole. When they returned inside Bret found the CD of Christmas songs he’d bought in San Antonio. He played it and the children sang along with gusto.

  Chris and Sally coaxed Travis upstairs to take his bath and to get ready for bed while Brenda helped Bret to get the stockings to be hung near the fireplace ready for Santa’s visit.

  “Could I help fill them, Daddy?” she asked.

  He grinned. “And ruin Santa’s fun? No way.”

  “Ah, Daddy. I know it’s you.”

  He sat down on the sofa and hugged her. “Don’t you ever get too old to believe in Santa, honey. He’s as real as you and me.”

  “Really? Then he’s like Noelle? He can really come and visit on Christmas, even though he’s just an angel or spirit or something?”

  Bret grew still as he looked at his oldest daughter. “Is that what Noelle did?”

  She frowned. “Well, sure. That’s what she said.”

  “When was that?”

  “The first day she was here. She explained that she would only be able to stay until Christmas.”

  “So that’s why no one is surprised that she’s leaving.”

  Brenda smiled. “She won’t be gone, Daddy.” She pointed. “She’ll be ri
ght there.” She looked up and smiled at the angel. “She made this year’s Christmas extra special, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, honey. Very special.” He looked around the room, avoiding her gaze. “You’d better get to bed, yourself.”

  Brenda gave Bret a hug. “Good night, Daddy. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, baby,” he replied.

  He followed her upstairs, told Travis a long, involved story that eventually put him sound asleep, peeked in at the girls, then paused in Chris’s doorway.

  His son was in bed with earphones on. When he saw his dad, he pulled off the headset and shut off the radio. “It’s a little early for me to go to sleep,” he explained with a grin.

  “I know. I’m surprised that Brenda and Sally are already asleep.”

  “Well, they had a full day, helping with Freda and all. It was kind of fun, like Freda and her family are a part of our family.”

  “Has Roy mentioned how long Freda intends to stay in Austin?”

  Chris grinned. “If Roy has his way, he’s going to haul her off to get married as soon as Christmas is over.”

  “So he’s told you about his plans, has he?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t have to. I mean, a blind man could have figured out what was going on with him. You should have seen him the day Freda fell. You would have thought he’d caused the accident on purpose.”

  Bret leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m glad they’ve admitted how they feel.”

  “Me, too.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of feelings, Dad. Your feelings for Noelle have been fairly obvious. Did you mention to her how you felt about her?”

  “I tried, but it didn’t do much good. For whatever reasons, she’s made it clear she couldn’t stay around here. Besides, why would she want to?”

  “Maybe because she loves you…and us, too.”

  Bret tilted his head slightly and looked at his son. “Aren’t you going to try to convince me that Noelle isn’t really Ida Schulz’s niece? That she’s an angel?”

  Chris’s gaze remained steady. “Why should I do a thing like that?”

  “Well, I’m glad there’s somebody in this family who isn’t caught up in all this Christmas magic stuff. I was beginning to think I’d lost my mind.”

  “All I’m saying is that I think you should have told her how you felt.”

  “I asked her to stay.”

  “That isn’t the same thing as telling her how you feel.”

  “Sure it is. I want her around.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Because, why?”

  Bret could feel his frustration grow. He used to have these kinds of conversations with Chris when he was Travis’s age. He counted to ten in silence before he said, “This is a pointless conversation. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Why don’t you want to admit that you love her, Dad? There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. Admitting how you feel might make all the difference in the world.”

  “Good night, Chris,” Bret said, straightening.

  “Good night, Dad,” Chris cheerfully replied. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Smart-alec kid,” Bret muttered to himself, returning downstairs. He had enough to keep him busy tonight without listening to Chris’s crackpot advice.

  He pulled a set of keys off one of the hooks in the kitchen and went over to Roy’s cabin. Roy had already told him he wouldn’t be back tonight. As he had done every year, Bret had stored the gifts he set out beneath the tree at Roy’s place, where the children wouldn’t find them. He let himself into the place, gathered up the boxes, and returned to the house, quietly letting himself back in.

  He found Noelle waiting for him. She took some of the presents and helped to arrange them around the tree, then helped him fill the long red felt stockings with fruit, nuts and candy.

  “Thank you for helping me,” he said when they were through.

  “I enjoyed it.”

  He took her hand and led her to the sofa, then sat down beside her. “Would it make a difference to your leaving if I told you how much I love you, Noelle?” he asked. “I want to marry you,” he finally admitted aloud.

  Tears made her eyes shine, reflecting the lights from the tree. “There is nothing I would like more, Bret, but I don’t have that choice. I have to leave at midnight.”

  “How? How can you leave? Do you expect me to take you somewhere? Or do you have someone coming to pick you up?”

  “No. I’ll leave the way I came.” She smiled with a hint of sadness. “In a blink of an eye…now you see me…now you don’t.”

  “Like an angel.”

  “Yes.”

  He sighed. “This isn’t funny, Noelle.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not a child.”

  “You’ve forgotten the wisdom of childhood. You’ve forgotten how to believe.”

  He lifted his brows incredulously. “You mean you would stay if I’d believe you were an angel? Is this some kind of test?”

  “I don’t have any control over getting to stay, Bret. I would stay if I could, believe me. There’s nothing more I could want than to spend a lifetime with you and the children.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “It’s just that I have other commitments that I must honor.”

  “My loving you doesn’t matter, is that it?”

  “Your loving me is the greatest gift I could receive.”

  “Will you ever come back?”

  “I don’t know. If possible, I’d like to come back.”

  He glanced up to the top of the tree. “At Christmas?”

  “Perhaps. We’ll see.”

  He pulled a small package out of his pocket. “Here’s something I want you to have,” he said, offering the gaily wrapped gift to her.

  Her eyes had misted over so much that Noelle was having trouble seeing. When she finally managed to open the gift she felt the lump in her throat grow. A heart locket hung on a thin gold chain. She opened it and found a picture of Bret on one side and a picture of the children on the other.

  “I know it sounds corny to say, but I want you to carry the thought of us in your heart, no matter where you go.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I love you, Bret Bishop. I love you with all my heart. If there was any way I could, I would stay here with you. I would be your wife and love and cherish your children…if I could.”

  Her sincerity and her pain were too obvious to doubt. He could only nod.

  She kissed him with love and longing, with an almost desperate intensity, until the almost silent chiming of the mantel clock called them both back to the present…and reality.

  With a final kiss she broke away from him. “Goodbye, my love. God bless you.”

  One moment he had his arms around her, the next moment he was alone in the room, wondering what had happened. Had he been sleeping? Was he awake even now?

  Bret looked around the room. The tree still sparkled with light, music played in the background, presents were piled high all around it, long, red felt stockings were stuffed for each child and the tiny angel at the top of the tree watched him with compassion.

  He shook his head, got up and went all through the house. Each child was asleep, the cat and her kittens were down for the count, even Rex merely opened one eye before shutting it with a sigh.

  Freda’s bedroom was neat and orderly, and unoccupied.

  The refrigerator and pantry were stocked full of food for the next day. Everything was ready for Christmas.

  Only one change had taken place…Noelle was gone.

  Bret knew he needed to go upstairs to try to get some sleep. The children would be up by dawn, insisting on getting him downstairs to open gifts.

  However, Bret returned to the living room knowing this was one night when he’d be unable to sleep. Instead, he went into the kitchen and made coffee, then found a bottle of brandy and carried them into the living room. He sat down on the sofa, so that he could look at the
tree and the angel at the top.

  He didn’t understand what had happened but he did understand the miracle that had occurred in his own heart. Somehow his appreciation of life had been given back to him. For the first time in over three years, he felt whole again.

  The music played softly in the background. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon and bayberry filled the air. The only light in the room came from the tree. He leaned back, took a deep breath and relaxed. Occasionally he sipped on his coffee, enjoying the blend of flavors, and absorbed the sights, scents and celebration of this time of year.

  In the quiet of the night, on this very special night, Bret acknowledged to himself how much Noelle had given to him. He would always love her.

  He relived the times they had spent together…the mall in San Antonio, dinner along the river. He remembered all that she had told him.

  Once again he looked up at the tree. “If there’s such a thing as Christmas magic, then I ask that Noelle be returned to us, that we be given the opportunity to live together and to love together.”

  His eyes blurred and he closed them, wiping the unexpected moisture away. He was really losing his grip on reality, sitting there talking to himself as though there really was a Santa, a Christmas angel, a magical time of year.

  Bret set his cup down and rested his head against the back of the sofa, knowing he needed to get some sleep. The kids would be up early in the morning, eager to—

  He felt something brush against his hand. No doubt Mischief had decided to look for some attention. Lazily he opened his eyes—and stared in disbelief.

  A brilliant light filled the room, almost blinding him. He blinked a couple of times before he could see anything. The light seemed to be centered immediately in front of him.

  He felt more than heard a voice say, “You may not believe in us, but we believe in you. We have done what we could to protect and guide you. Now you ask that one of us join you in your dimension, giving up her studies with us. This is highly unorthodox, but because she is willing to forgo her training with us at this time, we allow the choice to be hers.”

  The light gradually diminished until the tiny lights of the tree were all that illuminated the living room. Bret stared at his cup of coffee, wondering how much brandy he’d put in there.