What was the matter with him? Had he fallen asleep? He looked around the room. The kittens were asleep in their basket. He didn’t know where Mischief was.
Bret forced himself to get up, turn off the lights, and go upstairs.
Maybe he’d better have Dr. Warner take a look at him the next time he was in town. His eyes and his hearing were definitely acting up on him.
Chapter Nine
He’d just closed his eyes, or so it seemed, when the door to his bedroom opened and the whispers and giggles moved to the side of his bed.
“Dad! C’mon, it’s time to get up. It’s time to open our presents!”
Bret squinted through swollen eyelids at Travis and sighed. Of course it was time. It certainly wasn’t Travis’s fault that his dad seemed to be having some kind of a hallucinatory midlife crisis.
With a groan Bret sat up and looked at Sally and Brenda, hovering nearby. “Did you wake him up?” he growled.
Brenda giggled. “No. He woke us up.”
“Figures,” Bret muttered. “All right. Give me a minute and I’ll be downstairs.”
As soon as they left he threw the covers back and went into the bathroom. After splashing water over his face several times he returned to the bedroom and got dressed. He didn’t take time to shower or shave. He could do that after the kids enjoyed the results of all these weeks of anticipation.
He was the last one downstairs. Out of habit he turned on the tree lights and glanced up at the top.
The angel was gone. Before he could register the shock he felt, Travis said, “What happened to Noelle?”
The other three children looked up and gasped. Instead of an angel, a bright star glowed at the top of the tree, as though lit from inside.
Sally jumped up. “What did you do with her?” she demanded to know of her father.
Brenda said, “Dad, how could you?”
Chris said, “I don’t understand.”
Bret exchanged a glance with his bewildered son. “You don’t understand! Believe me, neither do I!”
A tinkling chuckle caught their attention. They all turned to the hallway and gaped at the young woman standing there. She walked into the room, smiling. “It’s simple, really. The angel is gone.” She smiled at each of them, but her gaze lingered on Bret. “I hope you don’t mind if I’m here to take her place.”
“Noelle?” Chris asked, his adolescent voice cracking halfway through her name.
She nodded. “Yes.”
Travis threw himself at her, his arms clutched around her waist. “You didn’t go away. You stayed here!”
Her gaze stayed steady as she continued to look at Bret. “If you still want me, I can stay here.”
If he was dreaming, Bret didn’t ever want to wake up. The fact that his children also saw her reassured him tremendously. He paused in front of her, unable to stop grinning. Taking her hand in his, he said, “You came back.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They offered me the position permanently if I wanted it.”
“Then you aren’t—”
“Well, it isn’t as though I was fired or anything, but I did lose access to certain powers in order to stay here full-time.”
He kissed her palm. “You were willing to give up so much for me…for all of us?”
Her smile dazzled him with its brilliance. “I kept the most important thing. Love is too important to ever allow any to be wasted. We’ll all share in that love and it will grow and grow. Maybe our love will help others to better understand.”
He hugged her to him, while Travis still clung to her. Chris, Brenda and Sally joined them.
The Bishop children had a mother once again…and daddy had his angel.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-6162-7
DADDY’S ANGEL
Copyright © 1993 by Annette Broadrick.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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