The Snow Angel

by Glenn Beck

  “I’m done,” I said quietly.

  Cyrus stared at me for a long moment, and I could see a host of emotions warring behind his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and I knew that there was nothing he wanted so much as to grab me about the throat and squeeze, but there was something else there, too. Regret? Could it be?

  Before I could begin to unravel the mystery that was my husband, Cyrus spun around and smashed his fist into the wall so hard the pictures in the hallway slid crooked on their nails. I gasped at the hole in the drywall, the bloody mess of my husband’s knuckles, but he didn’t even spare me a glance. Clutching his fist, Cyrus threw open the front door and left.

  It wasn’t until he was gone that I realized Lily had collapsed in a heap in the corner. She was sobbing quietly, and when I said her name she looked up and began to wail in earnest. I walked carefully to her on shaky legs and sank to the floor beside my crying angel. I wrapped my arms around her slender frame. Kissed her sweet head, and whispered a prayer for every little girl who had to grow up with broken wings. Myself included.

  CHAPTER 17

  RACHEL

  December 24

  We packed quickly. I grabbed two suitcases from the back of my giant walk-in closet and gave one to Lily with the instruction to take only that which she could not live without. She stood for a moment in the middle of the upstairs hall and stared at me with wide, scared eyes. Although she was eleven years old, for a few seconds in the middle of all the chaos Lily looked like a very small child. I longed to sweep her up into my arms and cradle her like I did when she was a baby. But before I could pull her to me, my daughter blinked and the spell was broken. She forced a brave smile and nodded. “We’re going to be fine,” she said.

  My heart lodged in my throat. “Yes, we are.”

  As I frantically tossed clothes into my own suitcase—struggling with only one good hand and cursing the clumsy bulk of my casted wrist—it struck me that the sum of my life with Cyrus could be reduced to the essentials. I packed as if I were going on a vacation—practical clothes, toiletries, a few pairs of shoes—not as if I was leaving my life behind. There were a couple of photo albums filled with pictures of Lily that I shoved between my wadded-up clothes, and at the last moment I snatched a framed picture of Cyrus and me at our wedding. We looked happy, we really did. I briefly touched the reflection of my own young face, the unsuspecting way I tried to hide a half smile, the adoration in my eyes. Maybe, I thought, adding the gilded frame to the pile of things in my suitcase. Maybe.

  For all intents and purposes, the suitcases were Cyrus’s. As were my clothes, all of Lily’s things, and the almost-new SUV I loaded everything into. But I believed that Cyrus owed us more than we took, and I knew that with the threat of Max and Sarah’s intimate knowledge of our home life hanging over his head he wouldn’t report the vehicle stolen or anything like that. It was too big a risk.

  Though I doubted Cyrus would come after us, I was terrified that he might try to stop us. My pulse pounded a feverish rhythm in my veins as I flew from room to room, grabbing at loose ends—coats and a couple of water bottles and my purse. Lily trailed me absently, until I told her to go get in the car.

  When everything was ready, the suitcases hurriedly tossed in the back and all the lights in the house turned off—I couldn’t stop myself from performing that one last ritual—I slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. It was time to go, but I had no idea where.

  “Wait!” Lily said from the passenger’s seat. “I forgot something.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll be right back!” She slipped out the door before I could stop her.

  It felt surreal to be waiting in the cold SUV, my breath turning to mist in the winter air. The smell of exhaust made everything seem stark and real, and I grasped for the first time what I had done. What I was about to do. I battled a wave of hopelessness, of an almost paralyzing fear. Wasn’t the life I had always known easier than the one I couldn’t begin to imagine? I had no idea what waited for us around the next bend.

  “I’m ready,” Lily said as she hopped back into her seat. The angel costume was bundled in her arms, wings and all. I hadn’t even noticed that she had changed into a pair of jeans and a striped sweater. “But we have to bring this back to Sarah before we go.”

  I glanced at the dashboard clock and realized that it was only five-thirty. Had my life fallen apart in just over half an hour? It seemed impossible. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, fighting tears. I realized I was on the verge of total panic. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re supposed to be an angel tonight …”

  “It’s okay, Mom.” Lily put a steadying hand on my arm, apparently convinced that my desperation had everything to do with her play instead of the fact that we were taking the biggest risk of our lives. “Katie really wanted to be the angel anyway. She’ll be so happy that she doesn’t have to wear a sheep costume anymore.”

  Lily was so earnest, I laughed in spite of myself. “You are so perfect. So sweet and selfless and perfect.”

  “I take after my mom.” Lily grinned.

  “You don’t understand.” I shook my head and wove my fingers through hers. Made her look me in the eye. “Lillian Grace, you saved me tonight. You saved us. Do you know that? Do you know what a hero you are?”

  “Mom,” Lily rolled her eyes and tried to wiggle out of my grip, but I only held on tighter.

  “I mean it, Lil. No one else has ever stood up for me. Ever. You’ve given me the strength to put an end to this.”

  Lily swallowed hard. “I did that?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “You did. You made me feel like I was worth fighting for.”

  “You are worth fighting for.”

  “I am?” I didn’t mean to sound needy, but after so many years of believing that I was worthless, I was still getting used to the notion that maybe I had bought into a terrible lie. A vicious, suffocating, life-quenching lie.

  “You are,” Lily said, squeezing my hand. “I’d take a bullet for you.”

  She was so serious, so gorgeous and wide-eyed and truthful that I couldn’t help but grin at her. “I’d take a bullet for you,” I said. “But I hope it never comes to that.”

  “Me, too!” Lily drummed the dashboard, letting a little steam off all the emotion we kept bottled inside. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  It felt good to have somewhere to go, a definite destination in mind. I drove to the farm where the pageant was being held with a sense of determination. One step at a time. And this step made a lot of sense—I was crawling out of my skin with anticipation at the thought of seeing Sarah.

  Although the inches of accumulating snow were beginning to dim their glow, dozens of strands of white Christmas lights flickered from the farm, which had been transformed into a prairie Bethlehem. As I crept down the gravel road, I marveled at the sheer number of lights that were wrapped around fenceposts and trees alike. This one little corner of creation sparkled bright and inviting in spite of the growing storm.

  The church deacons were dressed in reflective jackets so they could direct the flow of traffic, and people bundled in scarves and hats milled around everywhere. I was grateful for the cloak of night, and for the fact that I did not see Cyrus’s truck. Granted, the church pageant was the last place I expected him to run, but my husband was full of surprises.

  “They’re expecting Lily,” Mr. Townsend chirped when I rolled down my window. His smile faltered a little when he saw the mark on my face. “Is everything…?”

  “We’re fine,” I said, giving the elderly deacon a tired smile. “We’re actually looking for Sarah. Do you know where she is?”

  “Can’t miss her.” His laugh sounded just the tiniest bit manufactured. I followed his pointing finger to the barn where Sarah was standing on a hay bale trying to dole out last-minute instructions to a group of Sunday school kids in full costume. They wore winter coats beneath their shepherd robes and felt cowhides, and they looked like no
thing so much as overgrown Weebles. I suppressed a wry chuckle in spite of the situation.

  “Do you mind if I just double park here for a minute? We’re not staying.”

  Mr. Townsend gave me a sober look that seemed far too knowing for my comfort. “I’ll watch your car,” he said kindly. “Go ahead and leave it running.”

  “Thank you.” I gathered up the bundle of Lily’s angel costume and told her to stay in the car. “I’ll be right back.”

  She just nodded.

  I jogged across the gravel driveway, weaving through people who would have tried to talk to me if I hadn’t worn such a look of resolve. As I approached the hay bale where Sarah stood, she clapped her hands together and grinned, sending the kids scuttling off to hide behind the scenes in the hulking barn turned Bethlehem stable. She smiled after them for a moment, then turned her attention to the crowd. She picked me out almost immediately. Her face changed in an instant.

  “Rachel,” she said under her breath as she jumped down and hurried over to me. “What’s wrong? Where’s Lily?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. “But I’m afraid she can’t be the angel tonight.” Sarah looked confused as I transferred the beautiful costume to her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

  “But—”

  “We’re leaving,” I interrupted her, fighting an emotion that I didn’t have the time to indulge. The thought of leaving my friend nearly tore my heart in two.

  Sarah searched my face before pressing her lips together against the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You finally did it,” she whispered, throwing her arms around me, bulky costume and all.

  “I suppose so. Though I don’t really know what ‘it’ is.”

  “It is life, sweetie. Rich, abundant, thrilling life! You’ve embraced it.” Sarah laughed, a quick happy tumble of notes that were musical and bright. “What Cyrus did to you is evil. But it struck me the other day that if you turn evil around, you’re left with a pretty clear directive: live. And that’s exactly what you’re doing. You’re going to live, Rachel. Really live.”

  “I am?”

  Sarah ignored me. “There’s a passage in John that I love …” she trailed off, wrinkling up her nose as she tried to remember. “‘The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that you may have life, and have it to the full.’”

  Her words were warm and rich as honey. Life to the full. It sounded like a promise: a promise that I longed to believe, but that was almost too good to be true. Could it be? Could that life be for me?

  But before I could ponder her words, Sarah pushed back and held me at arm’s length. “You have to go see Max.”

  “What?”

  “Right now. I’ll call him and tell him to meet you at the shop.”

  “At Eden? But why? I’d love to say good-bye to Max, but surely he’s not at his shop on Christmas Eve.”

  “He’ll meet you there,” Rachel said with conviction. “Listen, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Go to Eden.”

  “Fine,” I said shrugging helplessly. “Whatever you say.”

  A sound like a sob broke loose from deep in Sarah’s throat, and she pulled me into another bone-crushing hug. “I pray for you,” she said against my hair. “Every day. And I won’t stop. You’re strong and amazing … I just know you’re going to come out on the other side of this refined like gold.”

  I tried to whisper my thanks, but I couldn’t speak around the heavy stone in my chest.

  “I love you, Rachel. I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

  “Me, too.” It was the most I could get out.

  We pulled apart then, knowing that this would not be the last time that we saw each other. Not by a long shot. I started making my way back to the car, but when I was a few paces away from Sarah I remembered something and turned back.

  “Will you do something for me?” I asked.

  “Anything.”

  “Keep an eye on Cyrus.”

  Sarah’s forehead creased at my unusual request. “I don’t understand.”

  “Someone once told me that everyone deserves to be loved.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head a bit as if she couldn’t quite get her mind around my appeal. After a second she caught my eye. Nodded. “Even the unlovable?” she asked.

  “Maybe especially them.”

  The farm was only a five-minute drive from the Ever-ton city limits, so I didn’t expect Max to be there when I pulled up at the back door of Eden Custom Tailoring. But his car was parked sideways in the alley, and the steel door was propped open. Golden light spilled across the deep snow, making the tracks that were left by his boots look like bottomless, shadowy craters.

  “I want to come, too,” Lily said as I put the SUV in park.

  “Of course you can. You should have a chance to say …” But I couldn’t bring myself to utter the word good-bye.

  We both climbed out and waded through the snow to the door. Max was bustling around inside, lifting boxes into a pile that he had begun to stack beside the door.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, stepping inside the warm room and stomping the snow off my boots. It didn’t hit me until after the question was out of my mouth that I should have greeted him with a hello. Maybe, “Merry Christmas.” Anything other than the thoughtless query I blurted out. But he appeared so busy, so intent on whatever it was he was doing.

  Max didn’t seem to mind my rudeness. “Rachel.” A smile creased his face as he settled the box he had been holding and crossed the room to give me a hug. He turned to Lily and held out his arms. She ran into them.

  “Sarah told you?” I asked.

  Max had ignored my first question, but he nodded in response to my second. “She told me enough. It’s time for you to go.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted, casting a furtive glance at Lily. I didn’t want her to know just how uncertain I was about the path we found ourselves on, but I needed Max’s counsel more than I needed to keep up appearances. “I don’t know where to go. I was thinking of heading south …”

  “That’s exactly what I had in mind,” Max said with a secret smile.

  It was then that I realized Max’s eyes were sparkling in spite of the tense situation. I glanced around, wondering what was different in his store. Why he looked so pleased with himself.

  “Where are Elena’s fabrics?” I asked slowly. I took a few steps farther into the room and spun in a circle. Everything was gone. The silks and satins, the long lengths of organza, and even all the wools and tweeds that Max had used for his expensive suits. The shop was entirely bare.

  “They’re ready for you,” he said indicating the stacks of boxes. “The contents are listed on the outside of each, and the Juki 8300 is packed away in its original box. Thread and needles, scissors, et cetera, are all in a separate Rubbermaid.”

  My mouth opened and closed, making little sounds that I had no control over whatsoever. Finally, I got hold of myself. “That sewing machine is worth eight hundred dollars,” I reminded him. “And all that fabric … There must have been thousands of dollars worth of fabric left in your store.”

  “It’s all yours.” Max looked so happy he could hardly contain himself. “I’ve been packing for weeks. Most of it we’ll have to ship, of course, but you can take a few of the boxes now.”

  “But—”

  Max held up his hands to stop me. “I’m not trying to tell you what to do, Rachel. If you don’t want to sew for a living, you don’t have to. You can sell the fabrics and the machine and invest in whatever you want. But if you want to take the name of Eden Custom Tailoring—and keep my clients—I bequeath the shop and all that comes with it to you. Good thing it’s a portable profession. And, by the way, a profitable one.”

  “You’re giving us Eden?” Lily squeaked.

  “Lock, stock, and barrel.” Max caught my eye and winked. “It’s always been yours anyway. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

  “Max …” I faltered, my heart so full of all
that was his gift that there was no room for words, for anything other than gratitude.

  “Oh,” he thrust a finger in the air. “I almost forgot.” Max hurried out of the storeroom and I could hear him rummaging around in the workroom desk. Within a minute he found what he was looking for and rushed back to hand it to me with a flourish.

  The envelope was nondescript and labeled with nothing more than my name, front and center. But it was thick, and as I slid a finger under the flap I had a premonition of what was inside.

  “I can’t accept this,” I exhaled, all the air in my lungs whooshing out of me in one long breath. I tried to hand the envelope back to Max, but he thrust his hands in his pockets and laughed like a little boy.

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said. “It’s yours. All of it.”

  There was a stack of bills inside the envelope, and when I flicked my fingers over the neat, green edges I realized that they were in denominations varying from twenty to one hundred dollars. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for hotels and food, gas to wherever it was we were going.

  “That’s just a portion of it,” Max said, nodding at the envelope. “The rest is deposited in a bank account in your name. The account number and information are all written on the inside flap of the envelope.”

  I looked and sure enough, there was a series of numbers neatly written below the name and address of a bank in Flagstaff, Arizona. But before I could wonder at the location of the bank, I saw the amount that had been deposited: nine thousand dollars.