A 'Touched by An Angel' Story

By: Yvette Jessen

It was raining the afternoon the play had their matinee performance, but Mandy Simms wasn't thinking much about it, in fact, this was the last place she really wanted to be. Of course, she was watching the activities on the stage only because she had to, but as she sat there, she kept wondering if she would be able to enjoy it like everyone else seemed to be doing.

The 45-year-old woman worked as a reporter for the 'Entertainment Page' of the 'Sunset Gazette', the local newspaper, but writing play reviews was something she absolutely hated, and she usually wrote these articles with a great deal of reluctance. Rather than being happy about seeing the play and experiencing the joy, which emanates from those on stage, she sat with unmistakable boredom lining her stern looking face; her critical eyes just waiting for someone up there to make a crucial mistake that she could report in the morning edition.

To her, this was the farthest thing from entertainment, in fact, all she could do was to literally sit there waiting and watching for the players on stage to flub a line or trip over a prop. The bigger the mistake the better; after all it was their reputations as actors and actresses at stake here, not hers as a writer. What did it matter to her if what she had written succeeded in destroying them? She, unlike many of her peers, always seemed to look for fault in that which she critiqued.

For anyone who would be watching or observing her would notice that, she would sit almost in apt contemplation, even as the play was going on. It was remarkable that she had actually caught mistakes at all. Somehow, she could always catch them, somehow she would always glance up at just the right moment, and her articles would literally be saved by this almost sixth sense she possessed.

She smiled somewhat relieved as the final curtain call happened and she softly applauded along with the other theatergoers. They seemed to be much more thrilled with the production than she had been. It was almost as though they had watched a play that was far removed from that which she had seen.

Who cares, she thought to herself, after all, she was the one writing the article, not them; so what did it matter if she were to write something negative? She ran her hand through her dark brown hair and sighed deeply as she began to gather her belongings together.

"Hello," a strange voice interrupted her, and she looked up to see a kind pair of compassionate green eyes looking down at her.

"Hi," she said as she reached for her umbrella and started to grab for her purse.

"Are you the reporter who came to critique the play?" The man asked.

"That I am," she said, her voice bordering on rude, although if nothing else, it was abrupt and without emotion. Instead of speaking further, she suddenly stopped herself before saying that the play was a despicable way to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon.

She was, in fact, looking rather intently at the younger man who was now seated beside her, his long legs stretched out, and his arms resting behind his head. He had what looked to be shoulder length blonde hair, a rather attractive young man, if she were to have actually made a point to notice. She could see that, at that moment, he had pulled his hair back and bound it with a rubber band. All the while, he was smiling warmly, despite her cold and distant mannerisms towards him.

After a moment of sitting in the stillness of the small community theater, she looked around and noticed that the room was now practically empty, but Mandy did not seem ready to leave just yet. Something about going back to an empty apartment was simply not appealing to her. She had thought about going to visit a friend of hers after the play, but the night before, Barbara had taken ill with a cold, and had cancelled the meeting at the last minute. Now, she was on her own and the idea of being completely alone was unappealing, but her mannerisms seemed to sort of hide away any kind of willingness that others might carry about wanting to become her friend.

"Well, my name is Andrew, and I was told that you would be here to see the play today and I thought I'd come over, introduce myself, and answer any questions you might have about it," he said softly as he lowered his arms and sat there waiting for her to speak.

"Andrew, I don't want to appear rude," she began, but stopped speaking almost abruptly, because who was she kidding? Being rude was part of Mandy's personality. At any rate, before she would out and say something completely out of line, she tried to swallow the words she had intended on speaking. Yet, somehow, they emerged and she discovered that she had no time for regrets. "You are making things even more difficult than they already are. Why don't you just cool it with the pretense?"

"You didn't like the play, did you?" He asked cutting to the chase.

"I didn't say that," she said calmly, almost defensively.

"No, but you certainly carry yourself as one who did not like the brand of humor in this particular piece," he said openly.

As she looked at him, she decided that she would not speak of her specific grievances about the play. Instead, she glanced down at her purse, where her stenographer's notebook was sticking out of the side pocket. After some moments, she glanced back over in the direction of where he was sitting and she realized that his eyes were still regarding her with a sense of warmth. She inhaled slowly, all the while realizing that, in all her years of writing play reviews, she had never seen in any of the theater people regard her with even a trace of kindness or gentility. There was definitely something out of the ordinary about this man, but what it was that struck her as familiar; she could not put her finger on.

After a few moments, she found herself only able to offer him a feeble nod. Why she even did even that, she was still uncertain, but at any rate, at least she had offered him the truth. "No, I guess I didn't. But why would you even ask me if you seem to have all the answers?"

"You didn't have to say anything, I could see it in your eyes. Perhaps it is wrong of me to stare, but I could see you from the control room; how you would watch the play as though you were bored in places. Yet, somewhere deep inside, I could see a secret longing in you that wished you were up there on that stage as well. At any rate, somehow I got the distinct impression that you would like to have been able to see yourself as an actress rather than that which you are today," the man said softly.

"And just what am I?" Her voice became defensive, but it was simply because she did not like that he seemed to possess the ability to read her like a book.

"You are a woman who has never had the chance to come out of that cocoon that encompasses you. At least that is what I see, others may see someone who is rude and upfront, but I tend to look deeper. Maybe that's why I directed this play, I could see the potential in it." As he spoke, he continued to smile at her.

This, however, did very little to curtail the discomfort she carried on her face; in fact, it made her look all the more nervous and anxious about being in this mysterious man's company.

"Yeah, well, you win some, you lose some," she muttered somewhat sarcastically.

Andrew looked at her somewhat surprised and after seeing the disdain on her face; but rather than respond, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Listen, I have to get going, I have things that I need to do," she began to speak, but he cut her off, his words, bringing her crashing back down to earth.

"Why Mandy?" He asked weakly.

After a few seconds, she found herself looking up and into his eyes once again when she heard him speak her name and knowing full well that she had not even told him who she was. "How did you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you," Andrew said softly. "I know that it was your father who founded this theater some twenty-five years ago. Harold had actually come back to Sunset and reopened this place, this time as a small scale theater for plays and readings."

"I don't remember," she said softly.

"You had just dropped out of high school during that time. Back then when you were here, it had been a movie house, smelled of popcorn and hot honey roasted peanuts. It was a place where young people would congregate to watch movies like 'Saturday Night Fever' and 'Grease'. You worked behind the counter, selling popcorn and iced down lemonade. You wanted to become an actress back in those days, and you aspired to be the next Olivia Newton John. You once had a great love of music, and singing, but you also carried a secret; your mother's boyfriend abused you, and the shame you carried, has haunted your life from adolescence to today. You were made to believe that you were less than beautiful, but Mandy, you were and are still beautiful."

As he spoke, the blackened walls around them disappeared and Mandy was left looking around a beautiful grassy meadow, the sun shining overhead, and she could feel the warmth of this place enveloping her. All around her, she could see the beautiful flowers and green lush hills of 'God's Country'.

"W-where am I?" She whispered, the fright evident in her frightened brown eyes. When she looked up, she saw that Andrew was still standing next to her, but this time he was wearing beige and was glowing, his sun-streaked blonde hair brushing lightly against his shoulders. Self-consciously, she backed away from him.

"Don't be afraid, Mandy," Andrew said softly. "We're in a special place called God's Country, and well--I'm an angel." As he looked at her, he could see that she was still not convinced and she started to run away from him.

Andrew began to follow; eventually he managed to catch up with her. He reached out, and held her arm gently, thus causing her to stop and turn around, all the while pulling on her arm. The memories from the past nearly swallowed her and she understood now more than ever before why the touch of a man terrified her.

Upon feeling his touch, she tried to cover her face with one hand, but he could see her eyes, and could detect the unmistakable evidence of fear.

"H-How do you know so much about me?" She asked as he lowered his hands and maintained a safe distance from her.

"I knew you back then, Mandy. I knew you when your heart was filled with big dreams of wonderful success, not encased in bitterness, hate, and unhappiness. I was there the night that Raymond almost killed you. I had been sent to be with you and to help you, do you not remember me? I told you that night after you had nearly been beaten to death, that I was an angel sent by God to help you find your way back to him. Please tell me that you remember?"

"I-I," her voice cracked, but suddenly she looked into his eyes as even more memories flooded back into her. She reached a trembling hand out as though to touch his face, but when she felt his shoulder under her hand, she collapsed onto the ground, the tears flowing down her cheeks as she grabbed clumps of grass and pulled it from the earth. After a few moments had passed, she found the courage to look up, her eyes filled with tears. "I wanted to forget! Oh God, I wanted to forget."

"Yes, I know, but before you can move on, Mandy, you have to remember one last time," he said as he came over to where she sat on the ground. Once he sat down next to her, he tried to reach for her hands. As he gently cupped them in his, he somehow managed to pry her fingers away from the grass that she gripped and had desperately jerked from the ground. Once he had managed this, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly in his embrace.

Mandy buried her face against his chest and as the tears continued to fall, she began to weep, all the while; her body trembled. "I don't want to remember, Andrew, it hurts too much."

"I know, but do you remember that the theater was once your dream and that you had once said that you thought you were born to be a star?"

"I'm too old for dreaming now, today that was just another wayward fantasy of a crazy middle-aged woman," she shook her head, her words muffled, but the angel could understand what she had said.

"Oh Mandy, it can still be your dream," Andrew took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "It doesn't matter how old you are, if you love something as much as you love the theater, then it won't die as you get older."

"It's too late for me," she whispered as she shook her head. "I'm not a nice person anymore, I've hurt people, I wanted them to feel the same way I do."

"You did many things because you've been hurt yourself," Andrew brushed the tears from her eyes. "You know, you really do have friends Mandy, like Steve and Firefly. They really loved you, but, after that last confrontation with Raymond, you somehow pushed them away because of shame, but you had no reason to feel ashamed."

"I was scared."

"I know, and you still are, aren't you?" He asked gently.

She nodded. "All my dreams died that day."

"No, your dreams are still a part of you, and they can still be your dreams," Andrew said soothingly. "God sent me to help you revive that dream that you carry so deeply inside. You must reach out for it and see if you can find it again. If you do not, then you will drown in the bitterness and hurt. If you allow that to happen, then Raymond will have won, simply because he would have defeated that part of you which is a gift, Mandy, and that is, your spirit."

"I'm so scared that I'm going to fail," she whispered.

"I know, but that's why God gave you strength, and endurance. You can reach out to Him and allow Him to be that which will help you find the success you have needed for the last 25 years." Andrew leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"You know, I've been alone most of my life, Andrew. After Raymond nearly killed me, I thought I didn't deserve love, so I pushed them all away. Every time I tried to love someone, I became afraid. Why?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that maybe while you were for signs as to why, maybe you should have been listening to the voice inside that spoke reason to you, and told you who it is that really matters. Who's opinion it is that really matter to you."

Mandy could still feel that he was holding her and brushing her hair out from in front of her face. After a few moments, she nodded as Andrew smiled gently down at her, his green eyes filled with compassion and empathy.

Overhead, she watched as a dove flew through the trees and she looked up to see that she was still sitting on the soft ground, her body cradled in the angel's loving embrace, her mind overcome with memories.

Twenty-Seven Years Ago

"I tell you Mandy, there's nothing like a windy day in Sunset, you feel like you're the star of the latest film and you can eat all the stale popcorn there is for hours on end," Mandy's friend Steve said as he reached inside the large bucket and shoveled a fistful of it into his mouth.

"Steve, if you really think the popcorn's stale, then why are you eating it 90 miles a minute?" Firefly asked. This was another of their friends, and although most people didn't call her by her given name, Frieda, they always called her this name because she had bright red hair but she wore lime green rimmed glasses. "You eat much more then you'll be able to go to Japan and sign up to be a Sumo-wrestler." Her squeaky sounding voice always made Mandy laugh, simply because whenever she would try to raise her voice, it would emerge as though she had been cast as the voice over for one of the mice in Disney's 'Cinderella'.

Mandy continued to laugh, as she watched her two friends. The three of them had known each other since they had been in grade school. They knew everything about the others, except for one thing, and that was something that Mandy refused to discuss with anyone.

The late autumn sunshine filtered into the theater lobby as she watched her boss approaching. "Quick, Steve, I need that one dollar five for the popcorn, or I'm going to catch some grief from the boss."

Steve fished inside his pocket and pulled three quarters, two dimes, a nickel and five pennies. Those he gave to her, and he and Firefly left the counter and went towards the door leading inside where they would watch 'Grease' for about the 30th time.

"Mandy," her boss spoke as she dumped the money Steve had given her into the cash register and turned around to see a young auburn headed woman standing next to Jeff, her 30-something-year-old boss. "This is Monica, she's here to help you run the concession stand."

"OK, Jeff," she said with a smile as Monica stepped behind the counter and extended a hand to the young woman. Once they shook hands, Mandy sighed deeply and offered Monica a somewhat tired smile.

"See you two later, I have to get back and train that new boy to sell tickets," Jeff said and walked slowly away.

Once he was gone, Monica looked at Mandy and began to speak. "You need a break, you look tired?" Monica spoke, her voice a lovely Irish baroque and Mandy smiled weakly.

"No, I don't think so," Mandy replied her voice emerging with a phony, but rather believable Irish accent.

"Do you always speak like this, or are you just making fun of me?" Monica asked.

"No," Mandy's voice returned to its usual intonation and she offered her new colleague an embarrassed smile. "I like to try new accents once in awhile. Its kind of fun."

"Are you into acting?"

"No, not really, I would like to be an actress one day, but I don't get much support in that, so I gave it up after I got out of junior high school." Mandy shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose I ought to show you how the popcorn machine works. Then I'll show you the cola dispenser and how the cash register works. The rest is pretty easy."

Monica smiled warmly and nodded.

*****

"So Andrew, any questions?" Jeff said softly.

"No, I think you explained everything rather well," Andrew said smiling.

"Well it's a pretty decent operation here," Jeff smiled. "But try to encourage them to buy something at the concession stand when they buy their tickets, because I'd hate to say it, but this theater's in a lot of financial trouble right now."

"You own it?"

"I manage it, but it's rather difficult to explain. Mandy's dad inherited it from his dad some years ago, so he owns it, but I was put in charge after Mr. Simms took off a few years ago. Sadly enough, Mandy lost touch with him after her mother dumped him for this other joker she dates. I'm not one to spread gossip, but I worry about that girl. Her mother's boyfriend ain't such a nice Joe; in fact, when Mandy's father left, her mother kept hoping that she would sell it and give the money to her and Raymond. But, because Mandy's not yet 18, she doesn't know much about all of this and nobody's willing to tell her about it."

"I don't understand; if you're the boss, but she's owns the place, how come you haven't told her?"

"I don't know, partly because of her mother, but Mandy's, well, she's Mandy, and I think she might not want to cope with the pressure of having to sell this place out from under us, but it's also because if she wants to keep it, then it should be her choice and her mom should accept her regardless. Anyway, the long and the short of it is, I've seen this kind of thing before, young people sacrificing that part of themselves in order to attain love, but love should be more than just words, shouldn't it?" Jeff asked.

"Yes, it should," Andrew said softly.

"Well, anyway, just do your best with this and we'll have to wait and see what happens in this joint," Jeff said and Andrew nodded. "I'm going to see if I can get some information about Mr. Simms, and maybe if he comes back, this theater won't die an agonizing death. I think you can handle things up here, I'll see you later."

Once he was alone, Tess appeared behind him and spoke. "Angel Boy."

Andrew, not expecting this nearly jumped out of his skin. "Tess, don't scare me like that," he said. "If I have a heart attack, I'll not be able to finish this assignment."

"Andrew, leave the sarcastic humor to Adam and listen up," Tess said smiling weakly. "You know why you're here?"

"Not really," Andrew said honestly.

"You know that Mandy needs an angel, don't you?" Tess asked.

"I thought that was why Monica is here," Andrew said softly. "She's working with Mandy at the concession stand." As he spoke, his face suddenly paled as the knowledge entered his consciousness and he looked at Tess. "She's in danger, Tess."

"Yes, baby, she is," Tess said as she looked out across the parking lot and could see a tall, burly man standing next to a run down Oldsmobile, his long graying hair pulled back in a ponytail, his beard tangled, and a sneer on his lips. "That's Raymond Cunning, and well, what can I say, honey? His name suits him to a 'T'."

Andrew continued to watch as Mandy went on break, and walked outside in the direction of the rack where she had locked up her bicycle. Upon seeing her, Raymond closed the door, stubbed out his cigarette and began to walk towards where Mandy was standing.

"Hey, kid," Raymond sneered, his lips curled up as he addressed the teenager.

"What are you doing here?"

Without speaking, Raymond raised his hand as though he was going to strike her, but then stumbled and ended up leaning against the wall of the nearby building. After a second, he looked at her. "You got a smoke?" He asked.

"No, you know I don't smoke," Mandy answered. "What are you doing here?" She repeated her question.

"I, uh, I got a new job," he said as though he was trying to come up with the answer to her question and the brain cells were connecting on a good line he could possibly feed to her. After a few moments, he reached out and gripped her arm, his uneven nails digging into her flesh, and she tried without success to keep from cringing.

"Excuse me!" a stranger's voice emerged and she looked up to see that Andrew had come out of the booth and approached them. "Mandy, is everything OK?"

"Everything's fine, buddy, now get lost," Raymond said evenly.

"I'll be back inside in a minute, Andrew," she tried to speak, but she could feel the intoxicated man's fingernails still digging into her skin. "Raymond, you're hurting me, please let me go."

"I'll let you go when I feel like it and not one second sooner," the man sneered, his voice raspy. "Now, it's time to get home," he said and started to pull her away.

"I can't, I'm working," she began, but when she felt his fist striking the side of her face, leaving a bruise in its wake. She covered her face, and slid to the ground.

Before the angry man could continue his assault on the young woman, the angel intervened. "Leave her alone, and I mean it," Andrew's voice emerged and it was obvious that his voice was demonstrating the extent of anger he carried and was capable of expressing.

Mandy looked up at him for a second, but after a few moments, she closed her eyes and slid out of consciousness.

Present

"That was you?" She asked. "I mean; you were there and you tried to help me."

"Yes, that was me," Andrew said and nodded. "God had sent Monica and me to help you get through all the abuse and humiliation that Raymond had subjected you to. You have had angels with you for a long time, you just didn't know it."

"Y-you just showed up like a knight in shining armor and you helped me. But, I don't understand why you're here now. Why am I in this place, and what is the significance of all of this now?"

"You are here because this theater would never have been opened without the help your father offered to it. You are also here, because you have a dream, which has yet to be fulfilled." Andrew rubbed his hands together. "How much do you remember about your dad?"

"Not very much, after the divorce, my mother forbade me from even talking about him, he had no choice but to leave. She talked about how angry and hurt she was that the marriage did not work out, she blamed my father, but she had immediately run to Raymond." Mandy shook her head sadly as she continued to remember. "After that, I couldn't wait to get out of there. I remember the night that he abused me. I had been out with Steve and Firefly, and we had such a great time. It was the week before the prom, Firefly had helped me sew a dress for it, and I was riding on top of the world."

"And then you came home that night," Andrew said softly.

"It was awful, I just want to forget it ever happened, I still remember the cigarette burns, and Raymond was so drunk. But, then I looked up, in the middle of all of this, and I could see light, it was a wonderful light, it filled me up with love and compassion, two things that I thought had died in me. In that light I saw…"

"What did you see, Mandy?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to remember, it hurts too much. I was so scared."

"I know you were, I was there, you remember, don't you? The light you saw, that was God with you, and He wept for you that night," Andrew reached over and touched her face. "He had sent you an angel to watch over you, and after you were harmed, that same angel remained with you. He told you that God loves you, and that you were not deserving of the pain and humiliation that Raymond subjected you to."

"Y-yes," she could feel her voice cracking. "A-after that night…"

"You wanted to forget this place, conceal the agony you felt, and you ran," Andrew said softly.

"I was so lost," she began. "I was afraid to go home, but I was afraid of what was out there."

"Do you remember what happened to you the day you ran away?"

Mandy nodded. "Yes, you came with me."

Twenty-Seven Years Ago

It had been a hard choice, but Mandy had slowly crawled out of the two-story window with the intention of running away from home. Her body ached with each movement, but she had escaped through the open window so many times before that it seemed like child's play today.

As she climbed down and reached the ground, she picked up the bags she had tossed down only moments before. As soon as she had them in her hand, she ran from the house, the fear encasing her that Raymond would be watching her from the bay window, and she would be beaten once again.

The 17-year-old safely reached the bus station nearly ten minutes later. She was out of breath, the tears now streaming from beneath her sorrow-filled and frightened eyes. In the deep recesses of her mind, she wondered if she would even be able to get onto a bus without paying for the trip. She had no money, but she was determined to escape from this horrible place. Yet, in her haste to get away, she did not take the time to say 'good-bye' to her two best friends and for that, she felt an unending sensation of guilt, but at the same time, she had no desire to say another tragic 'good-bye'.

She looked around the large open space, the lobby of the station was somewhat full, but her eyes quickly scanned the crowd in nervous anticipation.

"Hey Mandy, what are you doing here?" A voice erupted in the station and she turned around to see that Andrew was there; he had spotted her and was now walking through the lobby towards her. As he came closer, he could see the bruises on her face and his gentle heart went out to her.

"I'm leaving," she said.

"You're running away from the abuse, aren't you?" Andrew asked; his voice filled with concern.

"How did you know?" She asked.

"Look in the mirror sweetheart, it would be hard not to notice, what you have been through," Andrew replied, his voice etched with compassion.

"I just can't take any more," she whispered. "One day, I think he's going to kill me."

"Listen, if you want to go, then let me help you. I'm not in the habit of helping people run away from their lives, but I think you do need to get away, at least for a little while, and I have a couple of friends who would be willing to help you as well, OK?"

"OK."

"I know that you're afraid, Mandy, but you have no reason to be, we're going to help you in every way we can," Andrew smiled as he reached for one of her suitcases.

Ten minutes later, Mandy was introduced to Tess and it was then she saw Monica again. They stacked the suitcases into the back of the car, and she crawled into the backseat with Andrew, her eyes filled with fear as they drove out of the parking lot and away from Sunset.

Present

"I remember after leaving how you and Monica helped me get on my feet, and then once I was OK, you just disappeared," Mandy said softly. "But, if I'm supposed to find my father, then why must I do so, now twenty-five years later?"

"Sometimes it takes a little bit longer for you to discover what you need to know. Do you remember the play you reviewed today?" He asked softly.

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?" She asked. "You said my dad helped get this company back on its feet, but what does that have to do with me?"

"It has everything to do with you," Andrew said softly. "You're 45-years-old, but you have never forgotten your father, you never stopped wishing to be his little girl. You prayed every night for that miracle, you prayed that God would somehow intervene and make your family complete. You told me the night before I had to leave, that you knew that your mother would never understand why you left, but you wanted to find something, a feeling of completeness, a feeling that you could express yourself without being afraid that someone was going to be standing around the next corner ready to knock you senseless."

"That's almost word for word," Mandy said as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I don't even know what happened to Raymond after I left. Part of me doesn't care, but part of me wonders what happened to my family."

"Your mother was beaten to death, Mandy, she was the one who found your note, and when Raymond came back, he was drunk and he treated your mother in the same manner he had often reacted to you," Andrew said softly. "Your mother was more than just an enabler, Mandy, and your father feared for you, that's why all those years, you thought that he had run away, but the truth is, he never left Sunset at all. He was here the entire time, and today, he's still living there, his job, running the theater, and all the while, he lived with the hope that his little girl would come home at last."

"My dad is still here?" Mandy looked at him. "That's not possible, my mom said that he was a vagrant, or a psycho, that he was institutionalized, but I just thought that he didn't care anymore."

Andrew shook his head. "He never was any of those things. Mandy, the most important thing is your father is alive; he's 67-years-old, and still running this theater company. He knew all about what had been happening at the theater, he talked to Firefly the day after you left, and three days later, the theater was closed by the health department, Jeff was laid off, and your father pumped his life savings back into the theater. He gave Jeff a job and your two friends still work there. Did you even notice the name he gave it when you came in to review the play this afternoon?"

"No, I never did," she said softly.

"He initially called the theater group, "Mandy's Sunset', but a few years ago, he changed it to 'Orchid's Playhouse'."

"He used to call me his 'orchid', it was our secret code, and it came from watching all those old 'Godzilla' movies. I got interested in Oriental cultures and my dad used to bring me material to make dresses, and they all had flowers on them, every last one, ancient and beautiful, but never in a million years did I think that I would be sitting here with an angel and talking about this kind of thing. It is so strange but really beautiful, too."

"Your father never forgot you Mandy, but he has tried for years to find you, He had no idea that you had come back here until today when you walked into the theater. He knew you immediately, but didn't trust himself to come and talk to you, so he asked me to and here we are." He smiled as he looked at her. "Your by-lines have always read Fitzgerald, and he didn't want to begin hoping that it might have been you, for fear that he would be disappointed."

"You've been working for my dad?" Mandy asked.

"Not really, Mandy, your father is very ill, and I was sent to him, to be his Angel of Death," Andrew said softly, but shook his head. "He's still got time now, but your visit here may have changed everything. Now that you know the truth, it will be your choice as to how much time he will actually have."

"You mean; he wants to keep living so he can be my dad again?" Mandy said softly.

"Yes," Andrew smiled and nodded. "He lost his lust for life when he lost his daughter, now you can help give it back to him."

"I don't believe it, when I came here this afternoon, I walked into this place not even knowing I had family left. I'm single, what one would call a career woman, but now…" She looked at him and shook her head. "Why now, so many years later and my dad…" her voice trailed and she looked despondently at him. "Couldn't God have planned it a little bit better?"

Andrew smiled weakly. "God's timing is perfect, Mandy, and now is the right time for you to see your father again." As he spoke the grassy meadow disappeared and they were once more in the auditorium. "You have lived in the past for twenty-seven years, is it not better to live for today, and to see the greatness that God has given you now?"

Mandy looked across the stage and she could see that her father was slowly coming towards them, his eyes filling with tears as he stopped some three feet away from them. The woman looked at Andrew. "What should I say?"

"Well, you can always start with 'hello'," Andrew said as he squeezed her shoulder. "No one expects you to handle this any differently than how you are, and this isn't a play, this is real, and it's about you finding the healing that God wants you to discover." He reached over and touched her chin with the side of his hand and disappeared.

Mandy nodded once he was gone and she looked at her father for the first time in nearly thirty years. "Hi, daddy."

As he father reached her, she could feel the tears in her eyes, but rather than speak, she wrapped her arms around him.

"So what kind of report is the play getting from the star reporter of this city?" He asked, his smile bright and he chuckled.

Mandy smiled and shook her head. "I think I need to see the play again, then I can give it a more objective review."

Her father smiled, nodded, and offered her his arm. Once they left the auditorium, they stepped outside into the cool breeze, but now the air was fresh and clean from the afternoon rain. Above their heads, the sun was shining brightly and Mandy could see that a dove was now flying over the theater. She glanced up to see the name of the theater company. "Orchid Players? You really gave it that name?"

"Yes, baby girl, I hoped that it would one day bring you home, and it worked." He smiled broadly as the dove disappeared in the distance.

The End…

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