A 'Touched By An Angel' story

And sequel to 'The Role Reversal'

By: Yvette Jessen

Brenda Martinson woke with a start; the sweat streaming down her face as she tried to wipe her hands over her eyes and rub the fear and drowsiness away. I hate this, she thought bitterly to herself as she tried desperately to block the images of the nightmare out of her consciousness. She had been having these dreams off and on for the last three weeks and although she knew perfectly well why it was that she was having them, this did not help her when it came time to try and get some rest. The experience was now encompassing her thoughts and feelings whenever she did sleep. She would often wake with a start after seeing the events reoccurring over and over in her subconscious mind and now, she could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks as she considered how hard it had been for her to even begin to sort everything out.

More than anything she wished that her friend, Andrew, was there. He would be able to help her make heads or tails of this, of that she was certain. However, no matter how hard she wished for him to be there, this was simply not possible. It had been almost six years since she had said good-bye to him. Six years had passed since she had met the compassionate Angel of Death, and he helped her to realize that her life was worth living, and that her will to live was stronger than she ever imagined it to be. She was now finished with her undergraduate degree, was now 25-years-old and working for a large theater company two towns over from the one where she had grown up.

Although, she still had the bracelet and dress she had received from him and his friends, she had long since given up hope of ever seeing Andrew again. As she contemplated this, she smiled weakly as she realized that she'd see him at least one more time, but she figured that it would probably not be until God was ready for her to come home.

As she sat up in bed, she looked around her small one-room apartment and sighed deeply as she reached over and turned on the lamp that was on the table by her bed. Doing so allowed the light to swallow up the shadows that seemed to be creeping up and around her. These feelings had been haunting her for weeks now. It had been this way ever since she had witnessed that horrible hit and run accident that had claimed the life of an innocent 13-year-old boy.

Sighing sadly, she punched the pillow and lay back down, her eyes filling with tears as she remembered what had happened.

Flashback

It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and Brenda had just finished a matinee performance in the theatre company's production of 'Death of a Salesman'. The play had closed, and she was feeling pretty good considering the horrible weather they had been having. She was smiling when she came outside. She began to struggle with her umbrella, she could see that the sky in the west of the city was looking a murky shade of gray, the appearance reminding her of pea soup, and she was left to wonder if she would even manage to get home before the bottom fell out.

As she walked, she managed to get the umbrella open and was making her way in the direction of the bus stop. The wind had started to get gustier and she found herself fighting to keep the umbrella not only open, but literally from blowing away.

She watched as a bolt of lightening lit up the sky and she decided that it would probably be wise to close the umbrella. She was already wet from the rain that had started to fall, and the wind was blowing the water on her anyway, so it really did not matter if she was using it or not, it seemed only successful at hindering her as she walked. It wasn't too bad anyway, her jacket had a hood so she could cover her long red hair with it and once she would get on the bus to go home, she would be dry during the ride, and her apartment was not too far from the bus stop where she got off. She was starting to look forward to a hot bath and a mug of coffee.

As she reached the bus stop, she could see a young boy walking towards it as well. He was coming in the opposite direction and it appeared as though he also wanted to go downtown. The boy looked to be alert, his bright eyes filled with joy as he came towards her. She smiled in his direction because he seemed to have a lust for life that was easy for everyone to see. Brenda could not help but take notice of it, simply because not too many people his age had the same sense of optimism that he appeared to possess. He walked with a little skip in his step, and even though the rain was falling down on him, he carried a joyous smile on his face. Brenda noticed how nice it was to see someone of such intense optimism, especially on such a day when the weather was absolutely horrible.

He came closer to where she was now waiting, he glanced up, his eyes meeting hers and he offered her a cordial smile. Somehow, he seemed to enjoy the springtime rain, as though each drop that landed on his skin was a piece of sunshine in liquid form.

Brenda was so caught up in watching him, she failed to see the car at the other end of the street, and the tires squealing breaking the sounds of the falling rain. As the car came closer, she finally noticed that it was swerving dangerously from one side of the street to the other. Before she could call out to the boy, she could hear the breaks squealing as the car recklessly approached the sidewalk, practically jumping up onto it, and striking the young boy.

Brenda screamed as she witnessed the boy impacting the hood of the car, the boy's fist going through one side of the windshield, the loud pop apparently not even deterring the driver. The boy fell off the side of the car and onto the ground as she watched in horror as the man sped away leaving the boy sprawled and bleeding on the grass.

For a split second, all she could do was stand in shock as the person responsible for this tragedy fled the scene. She quickly made note of the license plate number as the man dangerously drove underneath a street lamp, barely missing it as he sped away. The car continued down the street as it had come, swerving in and out of the lines on the street.

Once it disappeared around a corner, Brenda was suddenly catapulted back to reality and within a split second, as if pushed by her adrenaline alone; she pulled off her jacket and ran over to the young boy. As she got down on the ground, she glanced up to see a man coming towards the bus stop and she pleaded with him to call an ambulance.

The man nodded as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and complied.

Although Brenda was not fully aware of things involved in medicine, she knew that she could not move the boy's body, as that might cause even more internal injuries, but she did lay her wet jacket over his body in the hopes that this act alone would help him a little. She reached over and began to gently stroke the boy's face with her hand once she noticed that the boy was still conscious. At that instant, she realized that as much as she wanted to be there and comfort him, her heart really did go out to him. "An ambulance has been called, someone will come soon and help you," she said gently as she continued to offer her comfort to him, but all the while tried to keep her assurances strong.

"It….hurts…" the boy said softly, his voice breaking and she could tell it hurt him to speak.

"I know," Brenda said as she continued to stroke the hair of the young boy, her hand trembling as she subconsciously remembered Andrea, the character she played six years ago that week. The character had been an Angel of Death, and she had learned this from one who knew the role far better than anyone, a real Angel of Death. It seemed so long ago, but at the same time, she could see the motions of that role emerging in her actions and words and they felt as real to her today as they did back then. "What's your name?" She whispered softly.

"Alex," the boy gasped.

"You're not alone, Alex. You're going to be OK. God will take care of you, no matter what happens, you're not alone. You must not forget that," she said softly as a small group of people started to assemble and they could hear an ambulance in the distance. She continued to offer her comfort to him even as the rain got harder. She moved her body closer to his in order to act as a shield from the pouring rain, her arms wrapped very loosely around his trembling shoulders. She kept some distance because she didn't want her embrace to add to his injuries, but she also wanted him to know that she was there for him and that she would remain as long as she could.

"Light," the boy whispered after a few moments, and she could tell he was starting to get delirious. She noticed that he was staring off in the distance as though there was a presence there that only the boy could see.

"You see a light?" Brenda asked weakly as she tried without success to see the person Alex described. "An angel?"

"Yeah, he's…beautiful," the boy moaned, but before he slipped out of consciousness, a final word emerged from between his lips, "Adam." The boy's word faded as the blaring siren of the ambulance could be heard as it penetrated through the rain.

Once it arrived, Brenda was holding the boy's body in her arms. She continued to stroke his face with her hand exactly as she remembered having learned. Her hands were now trembling, but she tried to keep her touch gentle and reassuring.

"You're going to be OK, you're not alone, Alex," she whispered over and over, but her thoughts were filled with hopelessness as she could somehow feel the life force draining out of him. "Please God, send us some help, and take good care of him."

As the paramedics reached the boy, they checked for signs of life and the young Mexican paramedic looked at Brenda and he shook his head sadly. "He's gone, there's nothing we can do for him. Even if he had lived, his body sustained so many injuries that he would never have been able to lead a normal life."

"No," Brenda spoke, her voice weak and strained as she remembered the happy and joyous boy she had seen some moments before. She shook her head, the denial encompassing her as she felt the tears streaming down her face, matching with the rhythm of the falling rain.

Alex was still in her arms, and the young paramedic had to take her gently in his arms and pull her away from the youth's body. Once she was sitting on the sidewalk, she watched as the two paramedics picked up the body and placed it on the gurney.

The young paramedic who had been talking to her earlier came over and put his hand gently on her shoulder causing her to look up. As soon as her eyes met his, he offered her his hand, which she accepted and he literally had to pull her to her feet.

"There was nothing you could have done for him," he said softly, his voice filled with a familiar compassion, but one that she did not feel the need to contemplate.

"There had to have been," she whispered more to herself than to him.

He shook his head, but rather than comment about what she had said, he spoke gently to her. "What's your name?"

"Brenda Martinson," she whispered and looked at him hopelessly. "I…saw him…get….hit. I…saw…"

"I know, I can tell by looking at you that you've been through something rather traumatic," he spoke, his voice filled with compassion. "It's going to be OK, Brenda, my name is Raphael, and I think you need to come with us to the hospital, you've been put through a horrible shock."

"D-do you have a piece of paper?" She asked, her voice breaking as the tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Why?" He asked.

"The license…the car…that hit him…" she whispered.

"You remember the number?" he asked softly and once she nodded, he took out a notepad and continued. "OK, tell me what you remember."

"386 FZR, N-New York," she said her voice breaking with each syllable.

Raphael wrote the numbers down, and as soon as he returned the pad to his pocket, he put his arm around her trembling shoulders and helped lead her to the ambulance. "I'm going to take care of you, Brenda. Everything is going to be fine."

Once she was seated in the front passenger side of the ambulance, he went around to the driver's side and got in. His colleague remained in the back and tried without success to revive the boy.

As he drove them to the large hospital located in the center of town, Brenda sat in her own silence as she remembered what the boy had said about the light, and she was reminded of the time when Andrew had revealed the truth to her after the play had closed six years ago. She shook her head sadly as she glanced over and could see Raphael's profile. Moments later and he had pulled the ambulance in the front drive of the emergency room and he had opened the door to get out.

"Come on, we'll get you some help, and maybe a cup of coffee, some dry clothes, or something," he said gently. "You'll probably need to speak to the police as well."

Brenda nodded and climbed out of the ambulance. She could see that Raphael's colleague was now wheeling the stretcher inside with the body of the young boy and she could once again feel her heart breaking as she watched. "I can't believe this," she began to pray. "God, please help me to understand why this had to happen. Please!" The tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she remembered all the events that had led her to this place.

Andrew, where are you, was the only thought going through her mind, and each time she thought of it, she could feel her heart crumbling from beneath the shock she was under.

End of flashback

Brenda crawled slowly out of bed and made her way into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade, but rather than close the door, she left it ajar. As she poured some of the refreshing liquid into a glass, she decided to sit down at the table for a few minutes, her elbows resting on the flat surface, her face streaked with tears as she contemplated the events that followed the horrible accident she had witnessed. It had been three weeks since it happened, but somehow it now felt as though it had happened that very day.

Once she had given her statement as well as the license plate number to the police, the weeks had passed quickly, the man who had been driving was apprehended and it was determined that he was not only drunk, but that he also had narcotics in his system, as well a revoked license. Essentially, he had no business driving a car at all.

Wasn't this always the case, Brenda asked herself as she shook her head sadly? The people who drive drunk are never injured, but the innocent people who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time pay for it with their lives. It just didn't seem fair, the boy was only 13, and he had a lust for life that no one could have destroyed, well almost no one, the addiction of one man certainly did. This thought filled her heart with the utmost bitterness, and she took a sip of the lemonade.

Swallowing, she looked at the clock on the other side of the room and could see that it read 4 o'clock. Shaking her head sadly, she rested her head in her hands. She must have drifted off to sleep because the next time she opened her eyes, it was almost five hours later and someone was ringing the doorbell. She stood slowly up and once she managed to stretch herself out from the uncomfortable position she had slept in, she went to open the door, her hand running through her unkempt hair.

Much to her surprise, Andrew was standing on the other side of the door, a sad look evident in his eyes, but rather than saying anything, she simply backed up wordlessly and allowed him to come inside. Instead of waiting and closing the door behind him, she simply left the door ajar and went slowly over to the bed and sat down, her body looking the part of a deflated balloon.

"Hello Andrew," she finally managed to speak, her voice barely above a whisper and she was left wondering if he had even heard her greeting at all. She could feel the tears brimming underneath her eyes, but tried to hide the emotions that seemed to reemerge simply in seeing him again.

Part of her was tempted to throw herself in his arms and cry until she had no more tears left to shed, but the logical part of her simply had no energy to even try and explain why it was that she was reacting this way. Instead of allowing her emotions to take over, she remained seated on the unmade bed and glanced up only to offer him a tired smile.

"Hello, Brenda," he said gently and instead of question her lackluster appearance or why she seemed not to care about anything, he turned from the doorway, closed the door, and walked slowly over to sit down next to her. He knew full well what had happened, but could not help but wait for her to say something about it.

When she didn't speak further, he took the incentive and rested his hand on her shoulder, his eyes sad and his words filled with sympathy as he began to speak to her, his voice soft and gentle, and filled with the utmost compassion. "I heard about what happened three weeks ago, and I'm sorry."

"You were there?" she asked weakly, her voice filled with sadness. She raised her head slightly, but it was as though she had no energy left and simply lowered it again.

"I wasn't with you or Alex, Brenda, but my friend Adam was," Andrew said softly. "He told me about what had happened, and what you had done in the face of this tragedy."

"'Adam', that was the last thing I remember hearing Alex say before he died in my arms," Brenda said softly, her voice was filled with hopelessness and misery as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Rather than speak, all she could do was shake her head and eventually she looked away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Andrew said gently as he reached over and put his hand on her head, his touch gentle as he stroked her hair.

The gesture seemed to break down her defenses, and she looked at him, the tears brimming underneath her eyes, but something was holding her back from experiencing the extent of the emotions she carried. "It was so horrible, Andrew," she began. "I saw everything that happened. First, I saw this man hit this boy, and eventuallyhe killed him," she said softly, her voice cracking. "Alex looked like someone who had such a love for life, and everything was lost within a minute." She could feel the tears were now cursing down over her cheeks and she looked at him helplessly. There was something keeping her from speaking even more about this, but she could only shake her head and try to prevent the emotions from completely getting the better of her. "I don't understand why this had to happen…"

Andrew sighed sadly but continued to brush his hand gently through her hair and out of her eyes. "An Angel of Death sees this kind of thing everyday, but for you to see it must have been so horrifying. I'm so sorry that you had to witness something like this, but you have to know that the comfort you offered helped. You must believe that, Brenda, you used what I taught you to help a young boy."

"I" her voice trailed, and he could see that she was still battling with her emotions.

"Shhh, it's OK," he soothed gently his hand all the while in her hair, his touch comforting her, the movements somehow bringing the feelings out that she tried desperately to hold back.

After some moments of silence passed between the two of them, Brenda suddenly could feel that his hands were no longer in her hair, but rather, that he had moved them to brush away the moistness from underneath her eyes.

When he looked at his young friend, the Angel of Death could plainly see the pain, which was evident in her eyes whenever she would look at him. He could tell that she was fighting with her feelings, and he finally cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice apparently breaking into her thoughts, and he watched as she opened her eyes once again.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you?" he asked her gently knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

She shook her head all the while realizing that lying to an angel was not even an option. After a few moments of hesitation, she spoke, her voice soft. "No I haven't, and when I do, I have nightmares. Ever since it happened, I see these events in my head every night and I wake up screaming."

"That's why I'm here. That's why I was sent to you, I was given some time off to help you get through all of this. I know that it's hard Brenda, and I would have come much sooner had I been able to," he said gently.

"You're here now, that helps," she whispered. "You know, I felt so alone that night."

"You weren't alone, Brenda, not that night or ever," Andrew began to speak, his voice filled with the utmost love and compassion, which he felt for his friend. "God was with you, He's always with you, but there's something else I want you to know and that is, there was another angel with you as well, and his name was Raphael. He was sent to help you get through that night."

"The ambulance driver?" Brenda asked, but in the back of her mind, she remembered how kind and compassionate he had been. He had brought her coffee and had talked to her, and he even went with her to file a report with the police the day after the accident had happened. It was clear to her now the reason why Raphael was always around to help her, she had been his assignment.

"Yes," he replied and now his hand was resting gently on her shoulder. "You've been through so much with this, Brenda, and God sent Raphael to help you that night because I couldn't be there, and because Tess and Monica had other assignments."

Brenda tried unsuccessfully to wipe the tears away, but when she looked at him, she realized that he had spoken the truth. Although she hadn't have known, God was there with her during this, but through it all, she had not once found herself able to really cry about what had happened, the shock was far too great.

Andrew, noticing her movements smiled gently at her. "I do have a question for you, though. Have you even had the chance to deal with your emotions about all of this? I know it must have been a horrible shock for you, but there's some grief still lurking inside of you, isn't there?"

She nodded and looked at him, the hopelessness evident in her eyes. "I kept thinking it was like a play, and that it really didn't happen. Then I would pull my jacket out of the closet and would see the blood on it, and I was forced to accept that it really did happen. It wasn't a role-playing game or a play, Andrew; it was real. It actually happened to Alex…and…to me..." She could feel herself becoming dizzy and she collapsed against him, her voice emerging filled with pain. "Oh God, I need help to forget how hopeless I feel!"

"He will help you, Brenda, that much I can promise you," Andrew said softly. "It's OK, you're never alone, my friend. I'm here, and I'll do whatever I can to help you, but you need to try to let all of this out. It will do you no good to try and hold it inside."

Brenda nodded as the tears began to fall from her eyes and this time instead of wiping them away, she allowed them to stream down over her face and all she could do was look at him, the extent of her misery evident in her sad brown eyes. She sniffed trying to prevent her nose from beginning to run, but instead of being conscientious of all of this, she could only feel herself being drawn into the arms of the angel seated next to her, her vision blurred as she could sense the texture the soft fabric of Andrew's cotton shirt as he cradled her in his arms. At that moment, Brenda could feel herself beginning to weep, but her tears blinded her and she felt her head coming to rest against his chest up near his right arm.

She continued to cry as she felt his hand gently caressing her hair, the soft touch reminding her for an instant of those sensations she had felt when they had rehearsed the motions for the role of Andrea, but forgetting about the play when she recalled the reason behind the kind gestures of her friend. The comfort was soft and assuring as Andrew's gentle voice continued to resonate in her ear. "Adam told me that you tried to comfort Alex. He said that you reminded him of me. You still remembered what I showed you when we did that play, didn't you?"

"A lot of good that did," she whispered without moving away, her voice was filled with sadness, but the calmness enveloped her as she suddenly felt the extent of the compassion, which was emanating from his gentle touch.

"It did, Brenda, far more than you realize," Andrew said softly his arms still holding her tightly in his embrace.

"I couldn't do anything," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Andrew loosened the embrace and when he was facing her, he could see that her head was still down. With the flat palm of his hand, he tipped her face upwards so that she could see his compassionate green eyes. "But, you did, Brenda, and God knows it, as well, and He's so proud of you."

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, she shook her head, as she felt his hands now resting on her shoulders.

"What is it, Brenda? Something else is wrong, please tell me," he pressed gently.

"I have to go to testify at his hearing this afternoon and I'm afraid. Andrew, I don't know if I can do it without loosing it. I mean, I don't even know who this guy is that I'm testifying against, but I can't get what happened out of my mind," she said softly. "I feel as though I'm going out of my mind."

"This is going to be hard for you, I know," he said gently. "However, now, I think you need to rest. What time do you have to be there?"

"Three," she whispered.

"Then you should lay down and try to get some sleep," he said gently.

"But…" her voice trailed.

"You're exhausted, Brenda, and rest is exactly what you need," Andrew said gently. "I'll stay here, and wake you before it's time to go, OK?"

Brenda nodded reluctantly and lay down against the pillows. Once Andrew pulled the blankets over her, he watched as she drifted off to sleep. As soon as she was asleep, he sat down on the sofa and watched over her. Moments later, Raphael appeared in the room, regarded her, and looked at Andrew.

"How is she?"

"Tired, she's been having nightmares since Adam took Alex home," Andrew said softly. "Today is going to be hard for her."

"You can say that again. I just heard that the culprit is her cousin, Doug," Raphael said. "Tess told me that her family is torn apart since she went on her own, but now things are about to come unraveled fast."

Andrew nodded weakly. "I know, and when Brenda sees who it is that she will be testifying against, she's going to have an even harder go of it."

Raphael nodded. "I suppose I ought to tell you, that I also heard that Doug is partially getting legal counsel from his Aunt Marjorie."

"Brenda's mother?" Andrew asked as the other angel nodded. He shook his head in sad disbelief as he regarded his sleeping friend. "No wonder the Father sent me back here."

Raphael nodded and smiled as he regarded the young woman. "She's not the only one who needs a bit of celestial intervention. Word is Alex's parents are also getting help, that's where Monica is right now."

"I guessed," Andrew said softly.

"You OK?" Raphael asked. Although the Mexican angel had not worked much with Andrew, he, like most of the other Caseworkers, knew all about the compassionate and tender heart of this particular Angel of Death.

"I'm worried about her," Andrew said.

"She's strong, she'll make it through," Raphael said gently. "Don't underestimate her, I hear she's almost as good at doing your job as you are." He winked before he disappeared.

Andrew was left sitting alone and after a few moments passed, he smiled and nodded.

*****

Brenda woke with a start about an hour later, a scream emerging practically ripping itself from her and she was left sitting in bed crying. Her eyes were still closed, and she pulled her knees to her chest as she felt the weariness overwhelming her as she hugged them tightly, almost wishing to make herself as small as she was able to. All those terrible emotions were back, and she could feel that they were now starting to get the better of her.

Now, as the screaming stopped, she could feel the pain in the back of her throat, and she began to cough as her trembling arms held her knees to her chest. Within moments, she could feel herself drawn into an embrace, and when she opened her eyes she could see that Andrew was now seated by her side and had wrapped her comfortingly in his arms and was holding her. "It's OK, Brenda, it was just a dream," he whispered as he held her trembling body.

"A-Andrew," she was still crying, her voice weak but etched with fear as she tried to look at him, her fears not even allowing her to raise her head. "I'm so scared."

He brushed her hair out from in front of her eyes. "I know."

"Every time I try to sleep, I can hear the sounds of tires squealing in my head. It's so frightening," she whispered. "I can see everything playing back, like a movie that I can't stop."

"Your memories of what happened are vivid," he said gently.

She nodded, "Yeah."

"It's OK," he soothed.

"I'm so grateful that you came back here, Andrew. When everything happened, I kept thinking about you, and how much I needed help. I mean; I-I tried to ask God to help me. I begged with Him to take those feelings away, but they are so strong, that I thought they were eating me alive."

"I know this is hard for you, Brenda," he said gently as their embrace loosened and he offered her his hand. "Why don't we pray together?"

She nodded weakly and accepted his hand.

Once they were on their knees, Andrew began to speak. "Father, we are here now to ask that you help your child, Brenda. Because of what she's seen and experienced, she's afraid and is not sure how to cope with that fear. Please, give her your hope and strength to face whatever will come and help her when it is time to rest. Let her get through the nights without reliving the tragedy she has already endured. We thank you for your love, and comfort in this very difficult time."

As their prayer ended, Brenda began to whisper under her breath. "Thank you for sending Andrew to help me again. I love you."

Once they got back on their feet, Brenda looked at the clock that was in the corner of the room it read half past ten. "I really don't think I could sleep anymore," she said softly and shook her head.

"Are you worried about having another bad dream?" Andrew asked.

"Every time I've tried to sleep I would have them," she said softly.

"Then just lay down and try to rest, and if you would like, then we can talk until we need to go downtown," he suggested.

"You're going to come with me?"

He looked at her somewhat surprised. "Tell me what kind of friend would I be if I made you face this all by yourself?" He smiled gently at her as he continued to speak. "I will not leave you to face this alone, Brenda, I think you know that."

She nodded numbly as he helped her to lie back down against the pillow, her head by this time spinning. Her eyes were opened as she looked up at him. "I don't know why, but I have a feeling something bad is about to happen. I don't know why I remembered the license plate number on that car, the only way I could have would be if I had somehow seen it before."

"Maybe you did," Andrew said gently.

"Maybe, but I guess ever since this happened, I remembered that there was something familiar about that car," she whispered. "I had seen it before, I know I had, but I don't know where."

"What do you remember about the driver?" He asked gently.

"It was a guy, but I must admit, I was paying more attention to Alex than I was to what was going on around me. I had looked up, but my eyes didn't meet those of the driver and after that, it was too late. I saw him sideswipe a light pole and from there, I saw the back of his head, but it was only like a split second, and then I saw him speed off in the direction of the interstate." As she spoke, she closed her eyes.

"When the time is right, you'll remember everything," Andrew said gently.

Within five minutes, she drifted off to sleep and instead of getting up and leaving her side, Andrew remained next to her. He had every intention of being next to her in case she had another nightmare, but he was confident that this time, she would not and his feelings were accurate, she slept undisturbed until early afternoon.

*****

At just before three Brenda and Andrew entered the courthouse together, passed through security, and went upstairs to the courtroom where the hearing would be held. She was grateful that Andrew was with her, and when they entered the courtroom, she could see that Raphael was seated alone on one side of the room, then she saw the back of Monica and Tess' heads and she looked at Andrew.

"Monica and Tess are here too?" She whispered.

"They're helping Alex's parents, Brenda," he said and led her over to where Raphael was seated and she sat down next to him. Andrew sat down on the other side of her, and as luck would have it, no one seemed to be paying attention to her. As the courtroom filled up, Brenda watched until they led the suspect into the courtroom. When she looked up and saw him and then her mother at his side, her hand covered her mouth in shock, and the color drained from her face. "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What is it?" Raphael asked gently hearing her words and turning to face her.

"I know him," Brenda whispered, but before she could say anything further, the bailiff came out into the room and motioned that the observers quiet down.

"All Rise!" he called out in a no-nonsense voice. "The honorable Judge Jonathan T. Richards presiding."

The judge came in and the first thing Brenda noticed was how young this judge looked, but her eyes went down to her lap as the judge settled himself on his bench, hit the gavel once and looked out at the courtroom. "Please be seated," he said simply and the people in the room all returned to their seats. He looked at the bailiff expecting to hear the name of the case, and the older man obliged.

"This is not a trial, but is a hearing regarding the case against Doug Martinson, Your Honor," the Bailiff said. "It will be determined whether the accused will stand trial for the death of Alexander William Cunningham."

"Are the attorneys present for the prosecution?" The judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor," the prosecuting attorney, a stern looking woman, said.

"And for the defense?" He continued.

"Yes Sir," Brenda's mother answered and Brenda could see that her mother had managed to find one of the best lawyers in town to represent Doug. She looked helplessly at Andrew as the events of the accident quickly filtered through her mind.

Brenda sighed sadly. "He's my cousin, Andrew," she finally managed to speak. "If I testify against him, then my entire family will disown me. What should I do?"

"Shhh," Andrew whispered as he squeezed her hand gently and suddenly the entire courtroom disappeared, and she looked around herself frightened. Raphael was standing next to her on one side, and Andrew was on the other. The three of them were overlooking a grassy meadow.

"What is happening?"

"We've sort of taken you out of the current time, so that we can have a little chat about all of this," Andrew said gently. "Don't be afraid, Brenda, you're safe and everything will be OK."

"I believe you, but where is everyone and why are we here?" She asked and looked at the Mexican angel with a question looming. "Raphael?"

"None of them can see or hear us," the younger of the two angels answered.

"But why are we here?" She asked weakly.

"Brenda, you need to make a decision and this will not only effect your relationship with your family, but it will have a direct impact on Margaret and George Cunningham, Alex's parents," Andrew said gently.

Brenda looked around the meadow where she was now standing. After a few moments, she sat down on the grass, the angels followed suit. As she looked around, she could feel the tears stinging her eyes. "What should I do? No matter what I do, I will lose something."

"You should listen to God, and your conscience," Andrew said gently. "Those things will help you make the decision that you have to make, and I know it will not be easy, but that's why God sent us, we're here to help you."

"I think God wants me to testify, but I'm so scared," Brenda said looking helplessly at them. "I know that that's the right thing to do, and it's the only way I can truly honor Alex's memory. That little boy…" her voice trailed.

"He knows," Andrew said gently. "And God knows you're frightened, but that's when you should trust in Him and ask Him for the strength you lack. There's nothing you cannot do, as long as the Father is with you." He smiled gently at his friend.

Brenda nodded. "I know what I have to do, will you stay with me while I try?"

"You know it girl," Raphael replied in his usual panache. "We don't make it a habit of leaving our friends behind."

"We can't stay in this place much longer, but if you want we can remain for a minute or two. Do you think you're ready?" Andrew asked.

"If I don't do it now, you know I'll chicken out, so I guess I'm ready," she replied as she swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and she took one last look at the meadow where they had been sitting. Within seconds, the courtroom reappeared and she realized that she was back in her seat, little if no time had passed and when she opened her eyes, she could see the judge seated at the front of the room.

"Mr. Martinson, this is not a trial, this is a hearing," the Judge's voice could be heard as she rubbed her eyes. "This hearing will determine whether or not you should stand trial for the death of Alexander William Cunningham. Has your lawyer made you aware of this?" The judge asked in a no-nonsense voice.

"Yes, Your Honor," Doug replied, and he looked nervously at his aunt, and then at the lawyer who would be representing him.

*****

As the afternoon drifted by, Brenda found it difficult to follow all the proceedings. Finally, she watched as the prosecution's attorney stood up and began to call witnesses to the stand. Her name was the first called, and it came as a complete surprise not only to the courtroom observers who Brenda was, but it also shocked the Cunningham family as well as her mother who watched in complete distaste and shock as she stood up and went to take the stand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God," the bailiff asked as he extended the Bible to her and she rested her right hand over the sacred book.

"I-I do," she stammered, but in her mind she was screaming the words to her creator, and somehow she believed that everyone present could hear her subconscious pleas. Please Father; help me get through this, give me some strength. I need it now more than ever. As she sat down in the stand, she must have looked nervous, because the judge glanced bemused over at her.

"Don't worry about this, Miss Martinson," he offered trying to help calm her nerves in this intimidating setting. "All you have to do is just tell the truth," he said noticing her obvious nerves as well as her discomfort.

Brenda nodded and swallowed as the prosecutor approached where she was seated.

"Good afternoon, and thank you for coming. I know this is an awkward situation for you," the stern female attorney began. "For the record, please state your full name."

"Brenda Michelle Martinson," she said weakly.

"Tell me in your own words, Miss Martinson, what happened on the afternoon of April 21 of this year?" The attorney asked.

"I-I was leaving the theater where I worked. We had just closed the play, and since I had a headache, I opted to skip the cast party. I was on my way to the bus stop to catch the 203 back into town. I wasn't really thinking about too much except getting there so that I could wait underneath the partition and not get completely drenched. I remember that it was raining pretty hard, and as I walked, I was struggling with my umbrella. After I saw lightening in the distance, I figured that walking around with an open umbrella during a lightening storm could be considered dangerous, so I closed it and continued walking. As I came closer to the bus stop, I could see a young boy coming up the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I could plainly see his face, and I guess he stood out in my mind because he was smiling. He looked happy, so happy to be alive, and I couldn't help but notice this about him. I guess in retrospect, one does not see too many 13-year-olds with such a lust for life. Anyway, I guess I was paying more attention to him than I was to what was happening around us. That is, until I heard the squealing tires at the other end of the street." She paused and took a staggering breath.

"What happened next?" the prosecuting attorney asked.

"After I heard the squealing tires, I turned and saw a beige colored car coming down the street towards him. It was going very fast, too fast, and aside from that it was swerving dangerously, in and out of the white line. Thankfully there were no cars coming in the opposite direction, but because of the swerving, one didn't have to be a genius to tell that the driver was intoxicated."

Brenda could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks as she continued. "Without any warning whatsoever, I saw the car drive up onto the sidewalk and hit the boy. It was full impact, too, and I watched in horror as Alex flew over the hood, his fist ramming into the windshield and I could hear the sound of shattering glass. There was blood everywhere, but the driver did not even stop or slow down, he continued to drive recklessly away as Alex fell over the hood and onto the ground. He didn't even stop to help." By this time, her voice was cracking as she spoke, the tears streaming down over her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands and tried to wipe them away. Eventually, the bailiff handed her a small packet of tissues. She offered him a thankful smile, and after a few moments, she was able to compose herself and could continue describing the events she had witnessed.

"I stood for maybe five seconds in complete shock. Then for some reason, I looked up and could clearly see the back license tag of the car when it passed under a nearby street lamp. Even though it was late afternoon, the light was on because it was rather dark outside. I couldn't really see the driver's face, but I managed to see the back of his head, and recognized that he had the same color hair as my cousin Doug. I didn't know why I remembered the license number, but when the ambulance arrived, I gave it to one of the paramedics. I guess I had seen that car before because when I had lived with my parents, I had seen it parked in the driveway whenever my cousin would come visit us."

"Objection!" the defense shouted.

"Overruled," the judge said, "please, Miss Martinson, continue."

"What happened after the car hit the boy?" The prosecuting attorney asked.

"As the car disappeared, I realized that Alex was lying alone on the ground, and I went over to him to see if I could help him or to check and see if he was still conscious. There was a passerby and I asked him to call an ambulance, and he pulled out a cell phone and complied. After that, I pulled off my jacket and covered Alex with it, and sat down beside him. I asked him his name, and he told me, and then I told him about God and said that He was with him, and that the ambulance was on its way. After that, I don't remember too much except that Alex somehow started to get what some people might call delirium and he began to mumble something about light and angels. As he passed out the last time, he said one word, 'Adam' and then he died in my arms."

"Did you know who 'Adam' was?" the attorney asked.

"At the time, no, I guess I figured that it might have been an older brother or something. I guess I didn't really think too much about it. Later, I concluded that Adam was just a friend of his." She looked at the Judge earnestly. "It really tore me up, Your Honor, that I could do nothing for him. I saw him get hit, then I tried to talk to him, but that was all I could do. I wanted to comfort and help him, but I failed."

The judge smiled gently at her. "I would say you did what any conscientious person might have done, Miss Martinson. However, it's obvious to me that you've been through a horrible ordeal with this. Are you able to continue?"

"Yes, Sir," she nodded as she tried once again to compose herself. As she did, she could see her Uncle Steve, Doug's father, seated behind the defense table, and an involuntary shudder cursed through her body.

She could see that the man's eyes beheld her with the utmost hate and distaste.

"Please continue," the judge said and nodded towards the prosecuting attorney.

"Miss Martinson, what happened after the ambulance arrived on the scene?"

"I gave the license number I remembered to Raphael, he was one of the paramedics, and then he suggested that I go with them to the hospital to check me out. I went with them and there, I was treated for shock. After they found nothing wrong, they suggested that I get plenty of rest and I asked Raphael if he could take me home. The following morning I went to the police department and filled out a report describing what had happened. Raphael had gone with me and I guess he knew I needed the moral support. Anyway, from there they ran the license plate numbers I had remembered through DMV and then I guess they put out an APB on Doug, he got arrested, and now I'm here testifying against him."

"Thank you, no further questions," the prosecuting attorney went to the table and sat down.

"Defense?" the judge asked and the entire room looked surprised when they saw Brenda's mother abruptly stand up.

"How dare you turn against your family like this?" Marjorie shouted and felt a firm hand of the other attorney on her shoulder and she sank down into her chair. Her face was blatantly angry, but Brenda simply looked at her, her face a depiction of her pain, but her eyes remained focused on the face of her mother.

"Order," shouted the judge as he pounded the gavel.

During this time, Brenda tried without too much success to recompose herself after her mother's verbal assault. She closed her eyes and somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she was being led to answer this difficult question. "Your Honor, may I answer my mother's question?" Brenda asked once the courtroom had quieted and she had turned in her seat to face the judge.

"You may, but you are under no obligation of this court to do so," he said. "Are you certain that you wish to?"

"I am certain," Brenda said softly. "Before I came to this hearing, I had no idea that my cousin was standing accused of this hideous crime, all I could remember was the lost life of a young boy, and grief his poor family must now endure. I don't care who it is that was behind the wheel of that car, but I do care about the boy whose life was worth less than a plugged nickel to whomever it was that was driving. There exists no question in my mind; this person had no business being behind the wheel of a car. I don't care if it's my cousin, my neighbor, or my preacher, all I care about is the life of that child that was lost and how unfair it was."

She took a deep breath and looked over at Andrew and when she got an encouraging smile from her friend, she managed to take a deep breath and continue. "Perhaps this was the reason I remembered the license number, I don't really know for certain, but I did know that Doug has been in and out of rehab for drug problems as well as alcohol abuse. This has been going on in our family for years now. Your Honor, his license had been revoked, and if it was him who was behind the wheel that day, then he had no business driving a car at all. However, I could only see the car, I wish I had seen the driver better, and the only proof that I have that it could be linked to him is that it was his car." She paused for a few moments, all the while trying desperately to collect her thoughts. "There is something else this court may not know about Doug and his father, that I know. Both of them are extremely aggressive people, and have always been this way. So, I guess deep down inside, I do believe that he did kill Alex, and it tears me up inside to even have to walk into this courtroom and realize that I am related to him. That's all I can say about it. I'm sorry, but I'm tired, this ordeal has been so exhausting, you can't even imagine. One thing is clear," she looked directly at her cousin's attorney, her eyes filled with bitterness. "I am not obligated to be the target of a legal feeding frenzy, I was not driving the car, the driver sped away, and left me with a boy who would eventually die in my arms and there is nothing you or anyone else can say that would make me feel guilty about this travesty."

The defense attorney stood up. "I have no questions for this witness, Your Honor."

"You may step down, Miss Martinson," the judge said softly and Brenda came down from off the witness stand and returned to her seat next to Andrew. As she sat down, she could feel Andrew's comforting arm around her shoulders; she leaned against him and allowed the tears to fall, her head resting on his shoulder.

*****

As the hearing drew to a close, and the decision became known that Doug would stand trial, Brenda stood up as Andrew and Raphael started to lead her out of the courtroom. As she reached the door, she saw Monica and Tess standing nearby, their hands comfortingly on the shoulders of a young couple that she guessed were Margaret and George Cunningham, the boy's parents.

She approached them hesitantly, but before she could reach them, her mother intercepted her, and looked at her with anger in her eyes. "How could you do this to us?"

Brenda looked at Andrew and the angel rested his hands on her shoulders. Rather than speak, the young woman remained silent, the silent assurances from Andrew calming her.

The woman turned and when she saw Andrew, her eyes widened slightly but she regarded her daughter's friend with hate and spite. "You did this, you're the one who filled her head with lies and made her do this."

"I did nothing of the kind, and you know it," Andrew said, his voice soft, but filled with assurance.

"How dare you!" She said as she pushed him forcefully away.

Andrew tried to steady himself, but could feel his weight going backwards and it appeared as though he was going to fall on the ground, but Brenda managed to grab his arm before he could fall and she managed to help her friend steady himself.

The Angel of Death said nothing further to Brenda's mother, but Raphael looked at the woman sadly. "You should be proud of her, at least she has the ability to see the truth about what happened."

Marjorie looked at Raphael with daggers in her eyes, but rather than saying anything to him, she could only regard him with anger.

"You did not see Alex after he was hit, I did, and Brenda did as well," Raphael replied softly, his voice filled with sadness. "We're all sorry that your nephew is so much trouble, Mrs. Martinson, but Doug made many bad choices that night, and those choices had a lasting impact on that boy and his family as well as Brenda. Your daughter is being very brave in facing this, and I think you should try and find out from Doug what really happened that evening and not use the fact that you're related to replace justice."

"I no longer have a daughter," Marjorie said assuredly and turned away, but not before Brenda could see the angry glares from both her father and uncle and the color from her face faded and she looked as though she was about to faint.

"Yes, you do," Andrew said softly, his hand now on Brenda's shoulder. "You just can't see that because she's not like you."

Marjorie stormed away leaving them staring after her.

"I'm sorry," Raphael said softly after some moments of awkward silence passed.

"You owe me no apology, Raphael, I appreciate what you did for me, but right now I guess things couldn't be any worse," she looked up and could see the eyes of the boy's parents. The young couple was now staring at her, and she glanced away subconsciously, unable to meet their gaze.

"Do you want to go talk to them?" Andrew asked gently.

"I don't know what I would say," she whispered.

"Well, maybe they have a few things they might want to say to you," Raphael said.

"They probably hate me too, I mean Doug is my cousin," she whispered.

"No, I'm certain that they don't," Andrew said softly and took her hand. "Come on, I know you're afraid, but you have to at least give them a chance to meet and talk to you. If you run away, you'll never know, and that uncertainty will eat you alive."

Brenda nodded and allowed him to lead her over to where the other two angels were standing with Alex's parents. The man regarded her with sad respect, as she began to speak. "Hi, I'm Brenda," she introduced herself, but suddenly she felt like she had a frog the size of a freight train caught in her throat and she could tell that now her voice was failing her when she tried to continue.

"I'm George, and this is my wife, Margaret," the man said softly.

"You were with our son?" Margaret asked weakly.

Brenda tried to speak if only to say yes, but it emerged as a squeak and eventually, she simply offered them a weak nod.

"Thank you," George said softly and he did something that shocked her, he took the surprised young woman in his arms and gave her a hug. "Many people would have walked by and not have helped," he said once the hug loosened. "We're both grateful to you."

"II couldn't have done otherwise," she whispered as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. The young woman shook her head sadly, her thoughts on the events with her mother, but when she heard the words of reassurance emerging from Margaret, she almost started to cry right there in the middle of the lobby.

"We saw what happened with your mother, Brenda," Margaret said gently, her blue eyes filled with sadness as she regarded the somber expression on the younger woman's face. "What you've done, should make any mother proud, and it may be no consolation to you, but we're so grateful to you for being with Alex that night."

Brenda briefly glanced back at Andrew and could feel his gentle touch on her shoulder. As she stood there and received the acknowledgement from the young couple, she could feel the tears in her eyes and found herself still unable to speak. She figured that if she did, than chances are that she would probably have broken down and cried.

They stood in awkward silence for some moments until Tess and Monica had reached the young couple. Once the two angels noticed that Brenda was in good hands with Andrew and Raphael, they led the distraught parents away. After watching them disappear through the doorway, which would lead outside, Brenda turned and looked at Andrew and Raphael. "They're not angry with me?"

"They have no reason to be angry with you, Brenda, you did nothing wrong, you stayed with their son and gave him comfort when he needed it the most," Andrew said gently.

The young woman nodded sadly, but instead of questioning anything that had transpired, she allowed the two angels to lead her from the building.

*****

"You were right, Tess, she really is nothing like the rest of her family. What happened to her?" George asked as they were getting into their car to go home. The hearing was over, and the young couple, though traumatized by what they had heard in the courtroom, was contemplating the situation of the young woman who had tried to comfort their son during his last moments of life.

"Well, it's a long story, but Brenda was thrown out of her home when she refused to go to law school about six years ago. Her parents apparently had her whole life all mapped out for her and in their eyes; it was their way or the highway. It was during her first year of study that she finally had the courage to tell them what she really wanted, but they wouldn't accept it, they threw her out of the house, and now she's on her own. Her friend, Andrew, helped her a lot, but today she's an actress in one of the theater groups here in town, and her life is turned around," Tess explained.

"They just kicked her out?" Margaret asked in complete disbelief. "How could they in good conscious do that? I mean, what happened to unconditional love?"

"In that family, everything is based on conditions and loyalty," Monica said sadly. "You heard what Marjorie said to her daughter in the courtroom, and then you heard her reaffirm this in the lobby before we left. Some families simply aren't as kind and loving as yours is."

"It must be so hard for that girl," George said softly. "I know this sounds crazy, but Tess, we lost our only child, and that young woman has lost any semblance of family that there could be. Do you think maybe there's a reason for this? I mean, in the great scheme of things, perhaps God has a reason and we just don't know it yet?"

"I would guess that he does, honey," Tess said gently.

"What do you suggest we do?" George asked weakly.

"I would suggest that you first try to heal the pain you have inside, and then you can try and find a solution that will help Brenda," Tess said gently. "I don't think that girl wants you to try and do too much for her, especially out of pity. Six years ago, her friend tried to help her and she was rather reluctant about accepting it. She has been through a lot, but she won't accept pity, she wants people to like her for her."

"I like her," Margaret said and looked at Monica who was seated next to her in the back seat. "I found her courage to be inspiring, and what she told about Adam was so nice. You see, we don't know anyone named Adam, and Alex had never mentioned him."

"Who do you think Adam is?" Monica asked.

"You may think I'm crazy, but I think Adam was an angel, and he was there for my son to help him find his way," Margaret said softly. "George, remember when Aunt Lucille died?"

"Yeah, she was hallucinating or something, at least that's what the others said, then we went to the pastor at the church and told him about it, and he said that sometimes these aren't the hallucinations of old people, but that they really see something that none of us can," George said.

"You taught your son that angels are there, did you not?" Tess asked.

Margaret nodded. "I used to tell him stories about angels being at the foot of his bed and that they would watch over him. That's how he got over being afraid of the dark, through these stories. When he got older, you could see the drawings he did of how he imagined an angel to look."

"He was a talented artist," George said softly. "I was convinced that he would have made it doing abstracts or something. He was a gifted child."

Margaret stared out the window as they drove back to their house, her thoughts consumed on the hearing and what Brenda Martinson had actually said. It was hard for her to even comprehend all of this.

*****

Brenda stepped into her apartment and Andrew closed the door behind them. As she did, she collapsed into a chair and looked at the two angels, relief evident in her eyes, but the deeply embedded misery still remaining. "I really appreciate that you were with me through all of this today. I know I couldn't have gotten through it all without you."

Andrew sat down and smiled gently at her. "What you did was so courageous, Brenda. I have to tell you that you really amazed a lot of people when you got up and spoke about what had happened, and even after they had withheld the information from you about who it was. You allowed your conscious to guide you, and I think that is really special."

"My wish didn't come true though, Andrew," Brenda said softly as she looked down at her hands. "I had hoped that I would be able to resolve all the conflicts with my parents, but now I've only succeeded in making things worse. My mother said that she no longer has a daughter, and that just killed me. I mean, it just doesn't seem possible, but now my parents hate me for being honest, maybe I shouldn't have said anything."

"Wait a minute," Raphael said as he came over and sat down next to her. "You can't mean that, Brenda, it wasn't you that verbally assaulted another person. You spoke the truth, and should be proud of that. God is proud of you for putting the truth first, don't ever believe that speaking the truth is wrong."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I was more concerned with making God proud of me than I was with making my parents love me."

"Love should be without conditions, my friend, you should already know that," Andrew said his eyes serene and his words emerged gentle and full of compassion.

She looked away from her friends and glanced around the small apartment somewhat nervously, "I know, but still…"

"No buts," Raphael spoke. "You know perfectly well that Andrew is telling you the truth."

"I know, Raphael, but still this entire thing just has me completely frazzled," she whispered. "Did you know who it was standing trial before we went to the courthouse today?"

"Yes, Brenda, we both knew," Andrew said gently.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why did I even have to go through all of that?" She asked, and though her voice didn't emerge angry or upset, it was clear to see that she was completely wiped out from the entire experience. All the while, she wondered if there could have been a way for her to avoid it.

"We couldn't have told you because this was something God wanted you to find out in the way that you did. I know this was hard for you, but if we had told you, then you probably wouldn't have gone to the courthouse at all. This was something you needed to do, and it was important that you follow what your conscious told you and not what your parents felt or believed," Andrew said.

"You knew that I wouldn't have gone, that it wouldn't have been worth it for me?" She asked weakly. "Then why did I do this? What plan was there for me to be all alone in this world? My family has disowned me and now I have nothing left. All because of some plan?" Standing up she left the room and when she got into the bathroom, she closed herself inside and left the two angels in the living room.

From there, they could hear her crying and Raphael looked at Andrew. "I think we blew it. She's more hurt now than ever before. Maybe we should just go, maybe she's better off without us."

"I'm not going anywhere, the Father wants me to stay right here, and besides that, she's my friend, and I cannot in good conscious leave her," he said softly.

Raphael nodded, "then I'll go get some pizzas or something so that we'll have something to eat tonight. Considering how everything is, I don't think any of us really feels like cooking."

Andrew nodded as Raphael left the apartment. Once he was gone, the Angel of Death went and knocked on the bathroom door, "Brenda?"

"Just, go away," came her muffled sobs from inside.

"No, I won't go away, not until you come out of there. I think there are a few things we need to talk about and then if you still want me to go; I will," he said softly. "Now, please come out."

Seconds later, the door opened. Brenda emerged, her face streaked with tears, and her eyes red from the crying she had done inside the bathroom. Instead of meeting Andrew's concerned gaze, she looked around the one room apartment. "Where's Raphael?"

"He went to get some pizzas, now sit down, we're going to talk about this," he offered his hand and she reluctantly accepted it.

He led her over to the sofa as she began to speak, her voice soft and filled with uncertainty. "I know I shouldn't blame you or Raphael for this, as it wasn't your fault, but everything hurts so much. I never thought that I would actually feel betrayed by you, and I hate those feelings so much because I don't want to have them or believe them." Her words had emerged before she could even stop them, and after a few moments, she was finally able to look him in the eye, her own filled with the utmost sadness and shame.

"Brenda, I would never betray you," Andrew began softly. "I'm so sorry that my actions left you feeling this way, but the reason I didn't tell you about your cousin is for the exact same reason I told you six years ago about me being unable to physically stop someone's free will." He paused taking a deep breath before continuing. "I think you remember when we talked at the theater the night we left, don't you?"

She nodded numbly unable to speak because when she thought of that particular moment she would always find herself sinking into apt contemplation. Suddenly his words brought her crashing back down to earth, and she glanced up as they filtered through her consciousness. "If I had told you about this, then I would have thrown away the chance God gave you to make a choice."

She looked down at her lap, the tears began to stream down her face, and she tried without success to hide those overwhelming emotions. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just feel so lost."

Andrew crouched down in front of her so that his eyes would be level with hers. "You know you're never lost, Brenda, God always knows where you are, and He will help you get through everything." Taking her hands in his, he looked at her, his green eyes seeking her soft brown ones. "You have to realize that the choice you made today was not only for the sake of someone else, but it showed in the most profound way possible, that you do have the noblest of intentions at heart."

"How do you figure?" She asked weakly.

"You and Adam were there with Alex when he died. The question is; would you have been able to live with the choice of not helping him when he needed you the most? If Doug hadn't have been arrested for this, he may later have killed someone else in another of his fits of rage, and then it would have been even harder for you to live with the knowledge of having known. What would you have done if Doug had gotten off and then another child was killed in the exact same way? How would you have felt if you had kept this knowledge to yourself?"

"It would have killed me," she whispered bowing her head in shame.

Andrew smiled compassionately at her and as he nodded slowly, he reached over and with the palm of his hand; he tipped her chin upwards so that she would be looking him in the eyes. "You know, you may not believe this, but you still have a lot of Andrea in you, Brenda."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do," he smiled gently at her.

She shrugged her shoulders and blushed slightly. "I only did what I thought was right in the eyes of God," she whispered softly, the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Then there's your proof," he said as he reached over and took her hand gently in his and squeezed it. "I want you to know that I'm so proud of what you did today, not just that you had the courage to take the stand, but that you had the guts to answer your mother's accusations in the loving manner which you did. You left an impact on a lot of people, Brenda, and if your mother's pride weren't so bruised, then she would have admitted this as well. What you did, honored Alex's memory far better than anything else you could have done."

"His parents seemed nice, didn't they? I mean they must feel positively dreadful in having to cope with all of this," she said softly.

"That they are, and both of them seemed to be rather taken with you," he said. "You really left an impact, and because it was your cousin that stands accused of this, you show far more love in choosing to speak honestly than to not say anything, or even worse to lie about what happened or what you saw."

She looked at him, and when he understood a looming question, he smiled and nodded. "Brenda, if you hadn't have spoken about what you had seen, then your parents would have continued to live in denial about what Doug was doing with his life. Some people define this as 'tough love'. It means that just because you love and care for someone, doesn't mean that you have to love the things they do and if what they are doing poses a danger to themselves or others, then you have the right to insist that they get help for it."

"So, you think my parents are sort of acting like radical co-dependents?" She asked.

"Well, think about it, by rejecting you because of this, basically means that maybe they are excusing Doug's behavior. By representing him or in this case, finding him legal representation, they are essentially defending the things he has done, and hiding away the fact that he desperately needs help. If they manage to get Doug off, then what is the chance that he will get help for his addictions?"

She shook her head. "I don't think it's very likely, to be totally honest with you."

"Exactly, if Doug isn't forced to get help through the system, then he'll get off and go back to the life he had before; aggression, drinking, doing drugs, driving and whatever else he happens to be involved in. If he has to serve time or even do community service, at least you can rest assured that the courts will probably demand that he go into some kind of rehabilitation therapy for his addictions and aggressions. At the very least, that would prevent him from ever hurting anyone else, and maybe Doug could turn his life around."

"So you're saying that he will if he has to serve time for this?" Brenda asked.

"Well, this is a long shot, Brenda. You see, I can only predict what will happen with the knowledge God gives me, but in this case, I'm not any better off than you, but I can tell you this, if he doesn't stand trial, then chances are, he will return to his old life, and he will never change, and Alex would have lost his life in vain. Do you see now, why I didn't tell you? You're the catalyst in all of this and without your testimony, they would not have had a witness, and Doug would probably have been be freed on a technicality."

"He did do it then, didn't he?" She asked weakly looking at him.

"Yes, he did," Andrew whispered nodding. "I was in the car with him when it happened. God had sent me to him because Doug posed a danger not just to people like you and Alex, but also to himself. I was sent to him in case he had died that night, so I was aware that he was involved in this. Adam had been assigned to come be with Alex."

"Was there someone there for me? I mean would there have been someone to take me if I had been hit by that car?" She asked.

Andrew nodded. "Yes there was someone there for you, his name is Henry."

"But, I didn't even see him," she whispered. "Why?"

"Well, for one, he didn't want to frighten you, but he was with you and you may not believe it, but he did tell you something," Andrew said.

"What?"

"He encouraged you to take note of that license plate," Andrew said gently. "He knew that because of your acting, that you had a good memory, and would probably remember it. You see, you had angels all around you that night; you just didn't know it. You see, Brenda, God would never forsake you. Your parents might, but God would never do that."

"H-Henry would have taken me home?" Brenda asked weakly.

Andrew smiled gently. "He would have, but thankfully he didn't have to."

"It's too bad we can't tell the judge all of this," Brenda mused. "But, who would believe it? I can hardly believe it myself, and yet one of my best friends is an Angel of Death."

"No one would believe it," Andrew said smiling gently at her. "I figure that if you did speak of this, the judge would most likely think you were insane, and that would not help the case pending."

"Why did you tell me this now?" Brenda asked.

"Well, I was given the word that I should tell you, but I also wanted you to know that your assertions about this were accurate. Your cousin was behind the wheel of that car, and seeing as you testified that he had a history of substance abuse will help the prosecution's case immensely."

She could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks, but she managed to nod her head sadly. "I won't tell anyone about what you told me, but please stay, Andrew, I couldn't go through all of this alone."

"I will stay, Brenda, I think you know that," he smiled gently. "Just don't forget, you're not alone, you're never alone."

*****

It was late in the evening when Brenda was finally able to go to sleep. Raphael had returned to the apartment, they had eaten some of the pizza he had brought, and the two angels helped clean the kitchen while Brenda got ready for bed. As she came out of the bathroom, she smiled gratefully at the two of them, but eventually crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around her neck. After some moments passed, she drifted off to sleep.

Andrew came over and turned off the light, and smiled gently down at his young friend. What a courageous girl, he thought as he sat down in another corner of the room. Raphael came over and sat down next to him.

"She's not angry with us?" He asked and looked down at the young woman as she shifted on the bed.

"No," Andrew whispered, "though I did I have to explain a few things to her, she has been blessed by the Father with an unbelievable amount of patience. What worries me is how today will effect her in a lasting way, not to mention that it is affecting her ability to sleep." He pulled his watch from his pocket, opened the golden cover, and looked down at it. The time read 9:45, and as he returned it to his pocket, he could hear the doorbell chiming and watched as Brenda sat up in bed, began to rub her eyes and push the covers aside.

As she stood, she stretched and went calmly to open the door. Unlocking the door, she opened it so that she could see through the crack of it as to who it was that was waiting outside. When she saw who it was, she gasped and tried to push her weight against the door in order to close it.

"What's the big idea?" The angry voice of her uncle snarled as he pushed on the door trying to break into the apartment once she had cracked the door to see who it was that had rang her doorbell. "How dare you testify against my kid? What happened to family loyalty?"

Through the crack in the door, she could see the absolute fury emanating from his steel gray eyes and as she tried without success to push her weight against the door to prevent him from gaining access, all she could do was fall backwards and stumble towards the couch as he barreled into the apartment.

When she felt the cold hands of her uncle gripping her shoulder, she became afraid and looked over at Andrew and Raphael seeking their help. After a few moments, she felt the hand of her uncle slap her across the face, the pain stinging as she tried to block her face with her hands. After a few moments, she slid to the ground, her arms trying to act as a shield for her face.

"Get out of here," Raphael said evenly as Steve reached down and grabbed a chunk of Brenda's red hair and pulled her back onto her feet, her face forced upwards and she was left staring into the eyes of her uncle, a man who was obviously on the edge. The Mexican angel watched as the man began to slap his niece coldly across the face leaving bruises along the contours of her face. Within seconds, her nose started to bleed, the blood smearing down over her mouth and she could taste the saltiness of it before losing consciousness and sliding to the floor.

Steve still held the young woman's hair in his hand, and he regarded Raphael bitterly. "I ain't going anywhere, buddy, this girl needs to learn her place in her family."

At that moment, the one-room apartment was filled with a radiant white light and instead of looking at the two angels standing in the room; Steve began to drag the helpless young woman towards the door. Andrew having little choice followed, the tears streaming down his handsome face, his pleas to the Father evidently showing the extent of his worries.

By this time, Brenda began to regain consciousness and her desperate eyes sought those of her friend. "Andrew, please, help me…" her voice faded as Steve dragged her outside, and Andrew continued to follow them through the courtyard.

The Angel of Death, as if propelled by adrenaline, ran over to them and glanced skyward before reaching out and taking Brenda's hand gently in his and pulling her now injured and bruised body towards where he was now standing.

"It's time for you to go, Steve Martinson," A no-nonsense voice emerged from behind the three of them, and Andrew turned around and could see Raphael standing bathed in radiant light, next to him, stood Sam. The heavyset angel was regarding the cruel actions of the man with distaste, his coal black eyes filled with compassion, but sadness as his drifting gaze came to rest on the young woman now being held in Andrew's arms.

Steve's eyes widened upon seeing the light and he collapsed to the ground in a faint. Sam smiled weakly as he came to the conclusion that he had some of his knack still intact when it came to dealing with difficult humans. A soft chuckle emerged from deep within his throat.

Brenda looked at Andrew, her heavy lidded eyes asking more than her words ever could. She could see Sam behind him; the stern looking angel was bathed in the same glowing light that she had seen surrounding Andrew. As she regarded the elder of the three angels, she realized that there was something about this particular angel that demanded respect and though she could not very well keep her eyes open, she regarded him with a mixture of respect as well as a small trace of intimidation.

"Raphael, go call the police," Sam instructed firmly as he regarded the passed out Steve Martinson. He came over to where Andrew and Brenda were now on the ground and he regarded the two of them.

The youngest of the three angels went immediately to fulfill the request and Andrew looked at Sam. "I know I shouldn't have interfered, Sam," he offered weakly. "But, she's my friend."

"I'm not here to reprimand you for your actions, Andrew, I'm here, because the Father has assigned me to Steve and Marjorie. I was sent only to help with this particular assignment," Sam said offering one of his brief and seldom smiles.

"What should I do?" Andrew asked.

"I would suggest that you get her out of here before he wakes up," Sam said. "The police will be here soon to take care of him. Tomorrow, she will have to go back to the police station and file a report, and chances are, she's going to want you to take her there. I want you stay with her until the trial. The Father wants her to be safe, and since you're her friend, who better to do so?"

"But, I interfered," Andrew objected.

"You're also talking back," Sam snapped. "Now, the Father knows that you would have done nothing else, Andrew, you have a gentle heart, as does our young friend here. Now, there will be nothing done against you for what you did, you were just being a friend. Now, go!"

Andrew nodded and stood up, as he did, Brenda's weary body shifted and she opened her eyes and for a moment, she had to determine where she was and how she had gotten there. She raised her hand to her face and could feel the stinging pain, and tears brimmed in her weary brown eyes. The young angel took her hands and pulled her gently, but firmly to her feet. Once she was standing, she could feel Andrew's arm around her shoulder as Sam offered her a gentle look.

"Your courage has traveled far and wide, young lady," Sam said gently.

Brenda nodded numbly acknowledging his words as Andrew led her away.

"Andrew, there's a key in your pocket," Sam said. "Take her there and await the Father's instructions."

"OK, Sam," Andrew said as he turned back towards his friend and offered her a sad smile. Neither of them spoke as he walked slowly with her towards the hotel. His concern was evident simply because he wondered why it was that God had sent Sam, but the more he thought about this, the more grateful he felt.

As they continued towards the hotel, Brenda remained quiet although it was evident that she had hundreds of questions cursing through her worry filled mind. As they reached the hotel parking lot she glanced over at Andrew, his profile glowing somewhat from the light that came from a nearby street lamp.

"Andrew, who was that guy?" She asked weakly.

The angel smiled gently. "His name is Sam, and he's Tess' supervisor."

The young woman smiled weakly. "He reminded me of a strange cross between a stern teacher, and a loving grandfather."

"He wouldn't hurt anyone, Brenda, but often times, he can be rather intimidating," Andrew said smiling gently. "I must admit, usually he only shows up if an angel has made a mistake or had a lapse in judgment."

"And you thought that maybe you…" her voice trailed off, probably more from shyness than from exhaustion.

"I suppose I did," he said softly, "but now I'm rather relieved that he is here, though. Sam has an unbelievable way of helping to set things right, and in this case, I would say that the further this goes, the more his involvement is appreciated as well as needed."

Brenda smiled weakly, the fear hidden behind her eyes, and though Andrew could see it there, he opted to not say anything. Well, at least not until they were inside. He pulled the key from his pocket and when they found the door to their room, he unlocked it and they went inside.

As they came in, Brenda went and sat down on one of the beds in the room and rested her face in her hands. Her nose was still bleeding and once Andrew had closed the door, he turned around, and when he saw her, he extended a crisp white handkerchief to her. "Here, take this, your nose is still bleeding and you're getting blood everywhere."

Her head was still spinning, but she reached over in the direction of where his voice emerged and when she held the small piece of cloth, she gently placed it over her nose. The pain of her nose caused the tears to start stinging her eyes, and she could now feel the extent of pain she felt in the beating she had endured. After a few moments, she looked up at him, her eyes trying to focus on her friend. "I'm so tired, Andrew, but I don't even know if I will be able to sleep. I'm so frightened."

"I know, but I think you should try," he said gently as he came over and sat down on the other bed. He was looking at her intently, but could see the uncertainty in her expression.

"I can't," she shook her head. "I'm scared to even close my eyes, first this accident, then tonight. Andrew, why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve it?"

"Brenda, you did nothing to deserve this," he said gently. "No one is punishing you for your actions, there are just a lot of misguided people, and they think somehow that beating you means they are knocking some sense into you, but that's not true, you are more conscientious of what you're doing than they are."

"But, I must have done something, my parents hate me, now my uncle has it out for me," she said softly. "I know you spoke about Doug earlier, but now the rest of my family is involved, and I just don't know anymore."

"I know," he smiled gently. "But, this does not mean that you are at fault for any of this."

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything about my uncle in the courtroom this afternoon, but I thought it was important. I mean I still do, but maybe the courts will think I'm just trying to stir up trouble in my family and nothing more."

"Tell me about your uncle, Brenda," Andrew said softly. "Maybe in talking about this, we can make heads or tails out of this, and maybe it will explain why it was he reacted so aggressively towards you."

"What's there to tell? He's a complete jerk and probably one of the most violent people I have ever known. I remember when I was a little girl, I couldn't have been older than seven or eight when Steve would bring Doug over to the house and I would have to play with him while the grown-ups would talk. I remember how he took my favorite doll, and ripped her head off because I was playing with a basketball in the front drive. He thought that if I was messing with boy's toys, he could mess with mine. I was devastated, I mean that was my favorite toy, and he destroyed it, only out of spite, but for no other reason."

Brenda sighed sadly, but continued to speak, her voice filled with anger and bitterness. "Anyway, I started to wonder why it was that my aunt Loretta was not there, and why she was never really around. Steve would say stuff like she was taking a nap, or that she had chores at home to attend to, but for some reason, these excuses were weak, and I couldn't help but remember that one day after school when I walked by their house and could see the shades were drawn, except in the kitchen, and when I looked through the window, I could see that my aunt was standing at the sink, her hands covering her face, and between her fingers, I saw black blotches on her face. When she moved her hands away, she looked as though she had been in a war; she had bruises on her face. It was horrid, and my uncle said that she had fallen down the stairs, but for some reason, I just didn't believe it. Then about five years after that, I learned that Loretta had filed for divorce, and left town. I haven't heard or seen anything of her since."

"You don't know what happened to her?" He asked.

"No, I never found out. I mean yeah, there were rumors going around, but I didn't really know what happened to her. I heard that she was dead. Andrew, would you know if she was?"