An Angel for Christmas

by Heather Graham

  “I don’t know how he even knew that I was out there!” Cindy said, accepting hugs from all around.

  Bobby found himself crushed in a ferocious bear hug by his mother, and then his father. And he wondered if the way that his father looked at him with such pride and love wasn’t one of the best gifts he’d ever received at Christmas.

  Then his mother cried out, “Bobby, you’re hurt!”

  “Just a sore leg. My brother will fix it.”

  Stacy drew back, concern in her eyes again. “They’re not here. Shayne and Morwenna. Where are they?”

  Then he and Cindy tried to explain, each interrupting one another to add a detail.

  “But—but they went to try to help Gabe. Against DeFeo!” his mother said, fear in her voice.

  “They’re on the snowmobile. They’re fine. It’s still working. And, Mom, honestly, I think that Gabe is going to rearrest DeFeo. I don’t think there’s any question,” Bobby said.

  Brian Williamson came over to them. “Bobby, get that wet coat off. Come on, everybody. These two need to be warmed up.”

  Mary jumped to at her husband’s words, smiling as she hurried for her coat to put on Cindy until she could warm up. Bobby felt himself divested of his wet snow gear and bundled into an oversize coat.

  “My God,” Stacy said, hurrying to the window. “Where are they? Where are they?”

  Cindy walked over to Stacy, touching her gently on the shoulder. “Mom…I mean, Stacy, I’m so sorry. Shayne should never have been out. I don’t know how he knew to come looking. I just can’t believe that he did…”

  Stacy turned to look at her. She reached out and drew her into a big hug.

  “It’s not your fault! It’s not your fault at all for wanting to be with your family at Christmas. And you call me Mom forever, no matter what you two do in the future, do you hear me?” Stacy demanded.

  Cindy nodded, tears in her eyes.

  Mike walked up behind her, pulling her from his wife and into his arms.

  “We are always happy to see you, Cindy,” he told her. “Listen to your old dad.”

  Cindy started to cry.

  Bobby felt tears welling in his own eyes.

  “Now is the time for Irish coffee!” Mac boomed out. “Stacy MacDougal, come back here and help me. Those children need something warm in their bodies!”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” Stacy said. “And we’ll need to make two extra, because Shayne and Morwenna will be back any minute.”

  She walked around the bar to busy herself helping Mac.

  The Williamson family stood near the window, watching, offering silent support.

  Genevieve and Connor clung to their mother.

  Bobby sat back in a booth, his leg up. His mother brought him the first steaming Irish coffee. He smiled at her. He sipped it. “They’ll be here,” he said firmly. He pointed at the star at the top of the Christmas tree. “It will lead them home, you’ll see. The electricity miraculously came back on at the right time to see to it that the star leads them back. It brought Cindy and me in.”

  Stacy nodded. “Yes, yes, it did.”

  Bobby perked up suddenly. “Listen! Listen, I can hear the motor,” he said.

  “They’re coming!” Adam Williamson said from the window. “They’re coming!”

  Stacy stood by Bobby, closing her eyes in gratitude. She looked at Bobby. “It’s a beautiful sound right now.”

  Shayne slipped his arm around Morwenna as she crawled off the back of the snowmobile. She hadn’t realized it, but her cheeks frozen on her face—and her “cheeks” were frozen elsewhere, as well. Without Shayne’s arm around her, she might have stumbled.

  The door to the tavern burst open.

  Her mother and father came running out, heedless of the cold, hugging them both and urging them into the warmth.

  Morwenna felt like a star, friends and family everywhere, helping her off with the wet and on with dry, a sweater and a scarf someone had once left behind, and held in the tavern’s back room in hopes the owner would return for it. Her mother held her hands in her own, rubbing them and warming them. Hot, stiff coffee was set before her, and her father listened while Shayne explained where they had searched, and that they hadn’t found anything.

  She tried not to cry.

  She couldn’t believe that Gabe Lange had been in their lives so briefly, and that she felt as bereft as she did. She wanted to pray that he was alive and was so afraid he couldn’t possibly be.

  She was vaguely aware of everyone talking as she sipped her laced coffee.

  “DeFeo could still be out there,” Mike said.

  “You enjoy your family,” Brian Williamson told him. “I’ve got the shotgun, and I’ll be watching the front.”

  “And no one is coming in the back,” Mac assured him. “Windows and doors are bolted.”

  “He’s not coming back,” Morwenna said. “Not unless…not unless Gabe is dead,” she whispered.

  “Gabe isn’t dead!” Genevieve announced fiercely.

  “Of course not,” Morwenna said. She tried to smile at her niece. But Genevieve wasn’t worried.

  She was trying to reassure her aunt.

  “Gabe isn’t dead,” she repeated. “He’s going to find us all again.” She pointed at the star. “He’ll see it, too!”

  “You’re absolutely right,” she told Genevieve.

  She wished she believed it.

  She leaned back again, taking a long swallow of the coffee brew. It was good. The alcohol warmed her to the core. It seemed impossible, but she was warm again. She closed her eyes, and she listened to those around her.

  She could hear Bobby and her father talking.

  “I’m hoping for Juilliard, Dad,” Bobby said. “I’m really hoping. And I will work my way through it. I wouldn’t drop out, I swear.”

  “Son, not that I don’t have faith in you—I do,” Mike said. “But—here’s the thing. If it isn’t Juilliard, we’ll search. We’ll search until we find the right school. There’s Ball State University of Music. There’s Harvard. And, son, you will get into one of them,” he said firmly.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Bobby said softly.

  She opened one eye, and was glad to see them at the next booth, heads together, close.

  She turned her head around a little, and there was Shayne.

  With his family.

  He was seated next to Cindy. They were close. The kids were on top of both of them; Shayne held his son in his lap while Cindy held her daughter. It was such a perfect picture.

  She didn’t know if they actually would get back together. But whether they did or not, they would always share a very special bond now, she thought. And the fighting would all be over.

  She closed her eyes again. She smiled. It was good. And yet…

  Her heart ached.

  Morwenna looked at the TV to distract herself. The television was still snowy, but a picture was starting to show.

  A newscaster stood on a roadway. Morwenna could see the buildings around her and she recognized the little town just at the base of the mountain. The reporter was standing just outside the police station.

  “Police have recaptured escaped white-collar criminal Luke DeFeo,” she said, her voice cheerful. “DeFeo managed to escape during a prisoner transfer yesterday, midday. It’s Christmas for the cops, too! The con walked right into the police station, half-delirious, and gave himself up. One of the state’s finest, Detective Gabriel Lange, had been in hot pursuit—we have no information as to Lange’s whereabouts, but rescue crews are out now, searching for him. In other news, despite the snowstorm, electricity is being restored to about five thousand homes, and in all, it looks like a white and merry Christmas. Over to you, now, Walter!”

  “How the heck did the man get down the mountain so fast?” Mac asked incredulously.

  “Really, that’s just about impossible,” Mike said.

  “You think they got the right man?” Bobby asked.

  “Yeah, they f
lashed his picture up there in the corner, didn’t you see it?” Mac asked.

  “Maybe he fell down half of it,” Stacy suggested.

  “Well, they have him, and that’s that,” Bobby said. He limped over to Morwenna and slid into the booth next to her. “Gabe is going to be all right, too, then.”

  “Sounds odd, doesn’t it, Bobby?” she asked.

  “What’s that?”

  “DeFeo handed himself in,” Morwenna said.

  “He handed himself in. That really doesn’t sound like the guy who was fighting Gabe on the mountain.”

  “But it was him, Morwenna. And,” he said, offering her a smile, “they will find Gabe. And he’ll be all right.”

  She smiled, squeezed his hand and leaned her head back again. She fingered the little angel on her chain.

  But it was bitterly cold out. He was on a mountain. He could have fallen. He could be somewhere with his leg broken, or worse.

  “Morwenna,” Bobby said gently.

  She opened her eyes.

  “They have helicopters, they have search dogs, they know what they’re doing,” he said.

  She nodded again.

  Something seemed to flash before her eyes. She turned. The star on the top of the tavern tree seemed to be glowing more brightly.

  Electrical surge! she thought.

  “Bobby, let’s see that leg. Mac will have something. You’ve got bruised muscles or torn ligaments, baby bro. I need to get you wrapped up,” Shayne said, coming over to assist Bobby.

  “Yes, sir,” Bobby said.

  He kissed his sister’s forehead, and went to Shayne to have the damage assessed.

  Genevieve came over to her. She looked at Morwenna solemnly. “Gabe is going to be okay. I know it, Auntie Wenna.”

  She put her arm around the little girl, pulling her closer.

  “I’m sure he is. He was telling me a little story about the angels getting feisty at Christmas. And there’s a fallen angel, you know.”

  “Lucifer,” Connor said.

  Morwenna smiled. Her nephew had come over to try to give her comfort, too.

  “Right,” Genevieve said. She was very grave. “Except that God loves everyone, even those who are bad.”

  “Fallen,” Connor said, sighing with great patience.

  Morwenna smiled. “When you get in trouble, you know your folks still love you, right?”

  Genevieve nodded gravely.

  Morwenna reached for one of the big white napkins in the holder at the end of the booth and found a pencil. She started to sketch for the children. “So, here, you see, here’s Lucifer, who is like a bad child, trying to instigate trouble. Now, as you said, God loves everyone, no matter what, just like a parent loves a child, even when that child’s behavior is not so good. But a parent knows when he or she has a kid who can cause trouble…” She paused, sketching an angel. “So he sends out a friend, or maybe even a sibling or a cousin, an angel who does behave, to try to make the mischief-making angel behave, and not hurt other people. Is that the story, Genevieve?”

  “Yes!” Genevieve said. “Gabe was saying that God sometimes has to send out one of his good angels to make sure that trouble doesn’t happen.” She looked at her aunt in wonder.

  “That’s a nice thought, Genevieve,” Morwenna said.

  “It’s a nice story! I really like that story!” Genevieve said. She touched the paper Morwenna had been drawing on. “You can draw in people,” she said. “You and my dad and Uncle Bobby, Gram and Gramps, Connor and me. And maybe even my mom.”

  “Definitely, your mom, too,” Morwenna agreed, and sketched.

  When she finished, Genevieve reached up and touched the little gold angel that hung around Morwenna’s neck. “We have angels,” she said. “Good angels. Like Gram’s little angel on her tree. I held it, and I dropped it, but I never broke it,” she said.

  “No,” Morwenna assured her, hugging her again as she smiled at Connor. “You didn’t break it—none of us broke what was really important today,” she said. Looking over Genevieve’s head, she noted the star on the tree again. It was odd how it seemed to be burning more and more brightly.

  “As if it is leading someone home,” she murmured.

  “What?” Genevieve asked.

  “Sweetie, let me get up,” Morwenna said. Genevieve obliged, and Morwenna hurried toward the door, heedless of a coat or the cold.

  The moon was out, and the glow from the tavern seemed to be lighting up the mountaintop as she burst out into the night. She saw nothing at first, and she felt the cold, and wondered if she was an idiot.

  Then she heard a groan. She might have imagined it. But she hadn’t.

  She raced out into the snow, listening. “Gabe!” She cried his name, and ran along the edge of the trees. “Gabe!”

  She heard something…a rustling. And then she saw the heap of a man in the snow.

  She raced over to him, falling to her knees.

  It was Gabe!

  He lay as if he had been walking to the door, and then collapsed.

  “Gabe! Gabe! Oh, my God, you’re hurt, you’re…”

  She touched his face, searched for a pulse.

  His eyes opened, and he stared at her. He stared at her without a single sign of recognition.

  “Gabe, it’s Morwenna. You’re hurt. We’re going to get you in. Oh, thank God, you’re alive!” She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in and kissed his lips, quickly. She moved away, just an inch, looking into his eyes.

  She saw confusion…and yet, a strange sense of recognition. And she wasn’t sure if she moved, or if he moved, but she found that she was kissing him again.

  Or he was kissing her. And the kiss was good, and sweet, and natural. And if it weren’t for the circumstances, she would want it to be much deeper, and far more…

  Passionate.

  But he had been hurt, and they were out in the snow, and others would be there. She broke away, touching his cheek tenderly. “I…” he began, but fell silent.

  “It’s all right. Don’t try to talk. We’re going to get you in, get you warm. Oh, Gabe!” she said. Tears stung her eyes. They were instantly like ice. She didn’t care.

  “I can’t remember,” he said. He winced. “My head…”

  “May be a concussion,” Morwenna said. “But it’s all right. Shayne will know what to do. You’re going to be all right. And I don’t know how you did it, Gabe, but Luke DeFeo is in custody and—”

  “DeFeo,” he said. “Yes, I was chasing him and then…I don’t remember.”

  “You were wonderful,” she assured him, worried.

  He almost smiled. He touched her cheek. “I know that I have been saved by an angel!” he told her.

  She shook her head, clutching his hand. “No, we have!” she told him. She thought that she’d never really understand what had happened that Christmas on the mountain, and she couldn’t help but wonder just what had been at play. Had she and her family been caught in a strange battle? A battle in which they had actually been given a choice between a fallen angel and a strange force for good that gave them back something special they had been missing as a family, and in life.

  And now…

  She smiled.

  Was it possible? Had the angels taken on the flesh and blood of the men they had known in the last hours? And was the man she now faced in essence the same—but not the same at all?

  She heard Shayne shouting to his father and Mac; her mother was out on the steps. They were all calling out with concern and joy that he’d been found. The church bells began to peal, and she remembered that it was still Christmas night, and the one service for the few people in the little mountaintop area would begin at eight.

  It was still Christmas.

  She stared down at Gabe, into the green of his eyes, and she realized that something about him was just a little bit different, and yet…

  He was Gabe. And so much about him was going to be exactly like the man she had come to know.

&n
bsp; Her family rushed around her. She was aware that her mother was scolding her for being out without a coat. Genevieve was hopping up and down, saying she had known that Gabe would come back to them.

  Her father and Shayne got him to his feet. They started moving toward the tavern.

  Morwenna followed, and paused, looking at the star on top of the Christmas tree through the tavern windows.

  She smiled. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” she said, her voice a whisper in the night air. “And as Genevieve would say, happy birthday.”

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-1381-4

  AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS

  Copyright © 2011 by Heather Graham Pozzessere

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