A 'Touched by an Angel' story

By: Yvette Jessen

© 2001 not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.

Please Note: This story is the sixteenth in a sequence of stories, which I have written, which are centered on my character, Christina, her family and friends. The first one is entitled ‘The Innocence of a Child’, the second ‘A Little Girl’s Wish’, the third ‘The Senior Prom’, the fourth 'Stealing Second', the fifth 'Another Halloween Night', the sixth 'An Overdue Appointment', the seventh 'Homecoming', the eighth 'Solitary Without Hope', the ninth 'Making the Grade', the tenth 'Till Death Do Us Part', the eleventh 'Olivia's Battle', the twelfth 'In the Father's Arms', the thirteenth 'The Healing Spirit', the fourteenth 'Fulfilled Promises' and the fifteenth 'Pennies From Heaven'.

*****

Jeremy Lowery sat in the waiting room nervously anticipating the news from the specialist he and his wife, Christina, had visited after they had tried for over five years to have any children. He was nervous, not just because his wife was now 39, and almost too old to have children, but also wondering how, if the news that they were about to hear was what he thought it was, he wondered constantly how this was going to impact her.

To anyone who would look at the 42 year old man, they would see the evident anxiety on his handsome face. For the first time in years, he was nervous, so much so that he was wearing out the carpeting in the waiting room from all the pacing he was doing since his wife had disappeared through the doors and had gone into the back of the office.

After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse finally came out into the waiting room a folder in her hands as she looked around the office and her friendly gaze came to land on Jeremy. "Mr. Lowery, the doctor is about to begin his consultation with your wife, and she asked me to come out here and get you. I think she would like you to be present."

"Thank you," Jeremy said softly and walked past the nurse and back through the door into the interior of the office. The nurse followed and when they reached the door to the office where his wife was now seated and waiting, he took a deep breath before entering the office.

As he entered, he could see the mahogany colored bookshelf filled with books as well as the back of Christina's head. He took a deep breath before entering the office and taking a seat next to his wife. As he did, he wrung his hands nervously together. Eventually, he managed to sit down next to his wife and immediately; he took her hand in his and turned to face the doctor.

"Mr. and Mrs. Lowery, I have gone over Mrs. Lowery's records for the past few days, as well as consulting with the test results I have right here before me," the doctor began.

"What is it, Doctor? What's wrong with me?" Christina asked weakly.

"Mrs. Lowery, I don't know how to tell you this, but according the results of the tests we ran last week, you cannot have children," the doctor said softly. "Aside from that, you're perfectly healthy."

"I'm healthy, but what you're saying is that no matter what we try, I can't get pregnant?" Christina asked weakly.

"In laymen's terms, no, you can't," he looked at her. "I'm sorry, but try to look on the bright side..."

"What bright side?" Jeremy asked as he noticed the devastation that crossed Christina's face.

"There are other options available to you though, adoption is one of them, either that, or you could become foster parents," the doctor said softly.

"Anything else?" Jeremy asked.

"If you are looking to the extreme, there is artificial insemination, but at your age Mrs. Lowery, there are some serious health risks involved."

"Yeah, it's either that or adoption, then what happens after we adopt a baby? I know that story, Doctor. In my line of work, I've seen it, we adopt a child and then the system comes along and takes that child away because the birth mother changes her mind," Jeremy said angrily and shook his head. "We already have a beautiful daughter, Laura, but she came to live with us as a young child, not as a baby."

"Is it really so important to have a baby?" The doctor asked.

Christina remained silent; all the while she had been trying desperately to work through what the doctor had just told her. Part of her wanted to lash out, but part of her just had to sit there and accept the truth as to what was happening.

"Do you know how long Christina and I have been trying to have a child, Dr. Wilkins?" Jeremy asked, but before the doctor could even offer an answer, he looked at him and continued. "Over seven and a half years."

Christina nodded. "Would you please excuse me, I think need some time to myself." Once she left the office, Jeremy got up to go as well.

"Is there any other doctors in this town who she can go to? Can you give us any references?" He finally managed to ask.

"Mr. Lowery, I have not only read through your wife's file, but I have also consulted with her Gynecologist, as well as your General Practitioner, a couple of Specialists, and even had her tested for any and all diseases that women get these days." The doctor rested both hands on his desk and looked at Jeremy all the while shaking his head. "I have done all of it, because I know that this is devastating news for you and Mrs. Lowery. I'm sorry, I can do nothing further to help you."

Jeremy nodded numbly and got up and left the office. Once he was gone, the doctor sighed deeply and rested his head in his hands. It was days like this that I wish I had gone into something easy, like training lions in the circus, he thought sadly to himself as he cast the file aside.

*****

Christina walked slowly outside of the medical health building in the center of town and she sighed deeply. It's got to be a bad dream, she thought sadly to herself as she walked, I'm 39-years-old now and even if I did try, I'm almost certain that it's now too late for me to have a baby. She continued to walk towards the Community Center and watched as the children came in and out of the large building.

What was it that made her want to come here; she continued to ask herself. She had not been inside this place since Laura's dance recital, and even now, her daughter volunteered there after school. She, like Christina, loved children, and oddly enough, Laura told her that Andrew had inspired her to start doing this. "I want to help others like Andrew, Tess and Monica do," Laura had said, and when Christina thought about the goodness that dwelled in the heart of her daughter, she could never say no.

"Christina, is that you?" A voice emerged when she came into the large open lobby of the center. She looked up and into the warm brown eyes of Erin Hudson.

"Yes, it's me, hello Erin," she smiled weakly at the woman.

"What are you doing here?"

Christina shook her head. "I just left the hospital and thought I'd stop by before going home. I don't know why, though."

"Are you OK? You look really unhappy about something. Do you want to talk about it?" Erin said softly.

Christina shook her head. "No, I'll be OK." As she spoke she looked up and could see a little girl approaching them, she walked slowly, but her head was down and Christina could see that she had the fullest head of strawberry blonde hair she had ever seen. "What a beautiful little girl."

Erin turned around and when she saw the little girl going and sitting down at a table with three other girls, she smiled weakly. "That's Denise Wallace, I think, her family moved here about two years ago, but she just started hanging out here."

"She's really cute," Christina said.

"She's got a rough road ahead of her, though," Erin said softly.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Her mother's dying and there's no one who wants to take care of her," Erin said softly and could feel the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Christina said. "But she's so sweet, shouldn't they be able to find foster parents without any problems?"

"Not hardly, their mother doesn't want them to be separated," Erin said softly. "She has made that point blatantly clear. I know because my sister works at Social Services, and she's at a loss about what to do."

"Them, is there more than one child?"

"Denise has a twin sister, Dawn, and an older brother, his name is Patrick and sadly he's HIV positive," Erin said softly.

"What about the two girls, do they have the virus as well?"

Erin shook her head. "No, they're both fine, the problem was three years ago, the entire family was in a terrible car accident, the girls were uninjured, but the father died, and Teresa and Patrick were seriously injured. To make a long story short, they both had to have blood transfusions and the blood they used was contaminated. Anyway, now both the mother and the boy are infected with the virus. Nobody wants to adopt a sick little boy, because they know he's going to die." She looked at Christina the tears now streaming down her cheeks. "But, do you know what?"

Christina shook her head.

"If it didn't tear me apart to look at Patrick and not remember Chuck, I would do it. I had him for nine years and every day was worth it, even if he was sick and died," Erin said softly as she looked up and could see that one of the volunteers had come over to the little girl and taken her hand.

Christina glanced over and could see that the volunteer was Monica.

"One never gets over the loss of a child," Christina said softly as she remembered how her father had reacted when Olivia had died, but then she remembered when Laura had been in a coma after the car accident she had been in with Jeremy. Shaking her head, she finally looked at Erin and sighed deeply. "I just found out today that I'll never be able to fully understand that feeling, because I can't have children."

"Oh, Christina, I'm so sorry," Erin said gently.

"It's OK, life goes on, right?" Christina said softly trying all the while to keep an optimistic smile on her face. Internally, she felt as though her world was crumbling around her, but when she looked back over and could see the little girl join three other kids at a large drawing table, she shrugged her shoulders sadly.

"It does, it has to," Erin said softly, but took Christina's hand and squeezed it gently.

*****

Patrick Wallace sat in the waiting room at the hospital at this moment, he had been there for the last few hours waiting some test results to come out, but he was also waiting for his foster mother to return with his two little sisters."

"Hello Patrick," a voice suddenly could be heard and he turned his head and was looking into the green eyes of the compassionate Angel of Death named Andrew.

"It's you again, huh?" Patrick said softly trying to keep his voice lowered so that the people seated around the room wouldn't hear his conversation with the angel, specifically an angel whom only the eleven-year-old boy could see.

"How is everything going?"

"Great, can't you tell?" Patrick spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Do you know where my sisters are? Denise has probably wandered off again."

"I think she went over at the community center, and Dawn is still in the cafeteria with my friend, Tess," Andrew said softly.

"What is Denise doing over there, she's not an invalid or anything?" Patrick whispered trying to keep his voice down.

"No, but she does carry a burden of pain as well, and from what I understand, she has found some friends over there," the angel said gently.

"I guess she's lucky, I mean; she doesn't have you dogging her steps?" He asked, his voice weak, but filled with fear.

"You're scared of me, aren't you?" Andrew looked at him.

"I guess I am," Patrick said softly. "How can I not be?"

"Patrick, I'm not here to dog your steps, I'm here because I want to be your friend and I want to help you and your sisters," Andrew rested a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, but within seconds the boy shrugged it off.

"Why is God punishing me?" The boy asked, his voice loud and causing the other people in the waiting room to look up at him. When they saw no one seated next to him, they assumed that the boy was just talking to himself and they returned their focus onto the magazines and newspapers they had been reading before his outburst.

"He's not punishing you, Patrick, He loves you," Andrew said softly.

"Yeah, He loves me so much that He's deciding to take both my parents away from me, and give me this disease. Sure, my mom wants us to stay together, but Andrew, I know I'm dying, and you know it, too, otherwise you wouldn't even be here. I know you've said that being HIV positive does not mean that it's full blown AIDS, but look at my mom, look at what's happened to her," Patrick said softly, the fear taking control of him. "When she's gone, who in their right mind would want to take care of a kid who's less than perfect? Who would love me? Who would love my sisters?"

"God loves you, Patrick, He loves your sisters too, and He wants to help you and your sisters get through all of this," Andrew said gently.

The boy looked down at the tiled floor, and then back at the angel. "I'm so scared."

"I know you are, that's why He sent me," Andrew said and rested a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I'm really going to die, aren't I?" His pale green eyes met those of the angel.

"You will, but everyone will die one day, Patrick, some sooner than others, but I promise, no matter when or where it happens, you will not be alone," Andrew said gently.

"Want to bet?" Patrick said softly.

"Don't start making wagers just yet. God has a wonderful plan for your life, and you know He already knows that you're afraid," Andrew said gently and smiled when he glanced around and could see Jeremy Lowery walking aimlessly through the hallway towards the exit, he stood up. "Just a second, I'll be right back."

Patrick was left alone after Andrew had disappeared. He looked around and shrugged his shoulders. Typical, he thought as he stared down at the tiled floor.

*****

"Jeremy," Andrew ran to catch up with his friend before he had walked out of the building. Although the Angel of Death did not know why, the Father had specifically told him that this little boy needed to meet Jeremy.

"Andrew, what are you doing here?" Jeremy stopped and turned around. The first thing he noticed was that Andrew was dressed in a lab coat and there was a photo identification tag that hung from the lapel of his coat. "You pretending to be a doctor today?"

"Well, I guess I am," he said smiling and shrugging his shoulder. "I'm actually here on assignment. Do you see that little boy?" Andrew asked as he pointed down the hall and into the waiting room.

"The freckle-faced redhead?" Jeremy asked.

"That's the one," Andrew said sadly.

"Is he dying, Andrew?" Jeremy asked when he noticed the sad expression on the angel's face.

Andrew nodded. "He's a very sick little boy. He's got AIDS, Jeremy, he thinks he's just HIV positive, but he's already showing the signs of the disease."

"He can't be much older than Bryan's boy," Jeremy said softly. "Eleven or twelve?"

"He's eleven," Andrew said. "Do you want to meet him?"

"Sure, misery loves company, right?" Jeremy said sadly as he followed the angel down the hall.

"Has something happened to you?" Andrew asked once he noticed the look of unhappiness on Jeremy's face. "How is Christina?"

"She's OK, I guess. She went over to the Community Center if you want to go find her," Jeremy said softly and shrugged his shoulders. "You know, we just found out this morning that Christina can't have children," Jeremy said softly. "We've been trying for a long time, Andrew, and what can I say? She just can't."

"How is she taking the news?"

"She's keeping a stiff upper lip about it, as usual, but do you remember when she got upset with you, Tess and Lindsey at the house?" Jeremy asked, his voice emerging somewhere between worry and frustration. "This was back during the Kevin Miller situation."

"Yes, I remember, in all honestly, sometimes I wish I could forget it." Andrew felt the sadness encompass him as he remembered that particular afternoon. He recalled how Christina had gotten angry with him for the first time since meeting her, and although he had long since forgiven her for the hurtful words she had hurled at him; he still pondered why it was that she had gotten so angry. In the back of his mind, he had this strange feeling that it was not just because of having to face Kevin, but that there was something else that was internally troubling her.

"Did you know that she had been to a specialist that same afternoon before coming home?" Jeremy asked.

Andrew shook his head. "No, I didn't know that."

"It's true and they told her exactly the same thing that the doctor told us today," Jeremy shook his head. "I mean; can you understand now why she was so upset? I mean, I got upset with her too, but it wasn't until after you left that I found out why."

"I wish I had known," Andrew whispered.

"Nobody knew, Andrew, not you, and not me, not her parents, nobody," Jeremy said softly, his voice cracking. "Christina loves kids with her whole heart, and I know that if she could, she'd have a houseful of them. This has been the most devastating news for her since Olivia died."

"And she's not willing to talk about it, is she?" Andrew asked softly.

"No, she just got up and left saying she needed some time alone to think about everything," Jeremy said as he shook his head. "I don't know, Andrew, I wish I could help her the way you do sometimes. I feel like such a failure right now."

"You're not, Jeremy, believe me," Andrew said gently. "She needs you to stand by her and help her find the strength during all of this. You married her for better or for worse, remember?"

"Yeah, that is until you come along, right?" Jeremy grinned sheepishly, but when Andrew didn't return the gesture, he sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, that wasn't intended."

Andrew nodded weakly, but instead of comment on the words Jeremy had spoke, he rested a gentle hand on his shoulder. "One day you will realize that I'm your friend, too."

"I never doubted that, Andrew," Jeremy said softly.

"It's nice to hear, now come on, I want you to meet Patrick, and he's kind of waiting for me," Andrew said and they walked down the hallway in the direction of the waiting room.

"Does he know who you are?"

"Mm-hum, I was with him when he had to go to the emergency room some time ago," Andrew said. "I was also with him when he was in the accident and I had to take his father home. He sort of thinks right now that I'm a hallucination."

"Hallucination?" Jeremy looked at Andrew.

"He thinks he's the only one who can see me, and so I think he'd rather see me as an imaginary friend than to see me for what I really am."

"That hard huh?" Jeremy asked as they entered the waiting room and Andrew responded by nodding.

"Patrick," he spoke the boy's name, thus causing him to look up. "This is Jeremy, he's a good friend of mine," Andrew said and sat down beside him while Jeremy sat down on the other side.

"Hi," the boy said, but his attention diverted back down to the ground.

"Hi Patrick," Jeremy said smiling.

"Can you see him?" Patrick asked pointing to Andrew.

"Yes, I can, he's a good friend of our family," Jeremy offered.

"Yeah, but you're still alive, I thought he only hung out with people who were dying," Patrick said softly.

"No, Andrew's known my wife since she was a little girl, and she's 39 now," Jeremy said, his voice somewhat dramatic.

"No kidding. Is she sick, too?" Patrick asked.

Jeremy shook his head. "No, she's not."

"What do you want?" Patrick asked.

"Andrew thought you could use a friend," Jeremy said softly and looked down at the small sketchbook the boy held. "You draw?"

"Sometimes."

"I do too, in fact, I draw professionally, I do sketches for the police, of suspects and stuff like that," Jeremy said.

"You do?" Patrick asked and Andrew could see the small twinge of interest sparking in the boy's eyes.

"Yeah, I've been doodling since I was a kid. I think I was born with a pencil and a pad of paper in my hand," Jeremy said smiling. "Can I see some of your drawings?"

Patrick looked at Andrew and when the angel nodded, he handed Jeremy the notebook. Once he opened it, Jeremy looked down at the drawing on the first page.

"What is this a picture of?" Jeremy asked when he saw what appeared to be a car engulfed in flames on one side and two people standing on the other. It appeared as though Patrick was drawing something more real than imaginary, and Jeremy ran his hand across the page and tried to make out the images depicted there.

"That's the car we were in, and that's the angel who took my daddy to God," Patrick said softly pointing to the drawing Jeremy was staring at.

"Did you see this?" Jeremy asked.

"Uh-huh," Patrick looked at Andrew. "It was him."

"You mean; Andrew took your father Home?" Jeremy asked.

The angel nodded. "Yes, and then I returned to be with Patrick, that was where we met the first time, wasn't it?"

The boy nodded but Jeremy could see the intense fear engulf the young boy.

"And who's with his mother? Henry?"

"No, Adam has been with Teresa since she has become ill."

Jeremy continued to stare down at the drawing and then when he turned the page, he could see that Patrick had drawn a picture of Andrew and this immediately reminded him of the sketch he had done when he had first met Christina. "Andrew did you see this? He drew a picture of you."

The angel shook his head, but eventually he looked down at the drawing and next to his likeness, in the script of an 11-year-old boy, seven words were written. "One day he will take me Home." The color faded from the angel's handsome face, but instead of speaking of this, Andrew stood up his sadness overwhelming. Although the young boy could not see the tears that brimmed from beneath his eyes, he somehow knew that Jeremy could.

When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he could see that Christina was now coming down the hall in the direction of the waiting room.

Once she had come into the room, she sat down next to her husband. "I hope I didn't make you worry, Jeremy," she said as she sat down, her head was down the entire time. After a few moments had passed, she finally managed to raise her head and greet her longtime friend. "Hi Andrew." She wanted to smile at him, but for some reason, she was unable to do so.

"Christina, this is Patrick," Andrew said softly finally managing to find his voice.

She nodded, "I saw one of your sisters over at the Community Center."

"Little sisters are a pain," Patrick said bitterly. "They are only good at getting in the way."

"Please don't tell my older brother that, he might believe you." Christina said softly, trying to smile, and from looking into the eyes of the inquisitive young boy, it was hard not to smile.

"Yeah, sure whatever," Patrick said. "Are you really friends with Andrew?"

"Mm-hum, aside from Jeremy, Andrew is my best friend in the world," she said softly.

"You know I'm dying, that's why he's here," Patrick said.

Christina looked over at Andrew, who, although was still standing in the room, she could see that his shoulders were slouched, and eventually she stood up, went over to him, and rested a hand on the angel's shoulder. "Andrew?"

He turned around and wrapped his arms around his friend. "I'm OK, Christina." When their embrace ended, he left the waiting room, leaving her and Jeremy alone with the young boy.

"Where'd he go?" Patrick asked as soon as Christina came back over to them and sat down.

"I think he needed a few minutes to himself, Patrick, don't worry, Jeremy and I will stay with you until he comes back," Christina said softly as a stern middle-aged woman entered the room, a little girl was being roughly pulled from behind and the sad green eyes of the girl met Christina's briefly.

"Patrick, it's time to go," she said, her voice stern and icy. "Where's your other sister?"

"She's over at the Community Center, Mrs. Stevens," Patrick said meekly as he slowly got up off the seat. Before he could grab his notebook or join his sister, the woman grabbed hold of his arm and practically jerked him away from Jeremy and Christina.

"Excuse me," Jeremy said looking up, his voice emerging sarcastic. "Can't you be a little more gentle with him, I mean he's a kid, not a piece of furniture?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Jeremy Lowery, I work with the police," he said looking into the eyes of the woman, his gaze never faltering.

"Well, you don't have to work with this ragamuffin and his meandering sisters," the woman spat out. "So, I'd suggest until you do, you just mind your own business. Come on, you two, it's time to go."

Once the woman had pulled Patrick and Dawn out of the room, Christina looked at her husband and shook her head. "Jeremy, we've got to help those kids, something tells me we're running out of time."

"That you are, baby," a voice emerged causing her to look up.

"Tess," Christina said softly. "Why do I have these strange feelings about these three kids? Something's wrong, isn't it?"

"Yes, Christina, something is," Tess said. "Part of the reason Patrick looks towards Andrew the way he does is because Felicia Stevens is just waiting for him to die. She cannot see Andrew the way Patrick can, that's why the boy believes my Angel Boy is a figment of his imagination. He doesn't want to see Andrew as he truly is, because then he would have no choice but to acknowledge and accept the fact that he's dying, and he's very afraid of it."

"Do you know why?" Christina asked.

"No, baby," Tess said softly, but they could both see the tears in her dark brown eyes.

"But Patrick already said that he was dying," Jeremy objected.

"I know," Tess said softly. "If a child hears that he should die so much, somehow he starts to affirm it for himself. The truth is, that baby still has time, not very much mind you, but he does have time left. He needs to experience what life will give him before the Father calls him home. In the home of Felicia Stevens, he won't ever find the answers he needs and truth he should know."

"You mean, she just wants him to die without experiencing childhood or life?" Jeremy looked at the angel in complete disbelief.

"Tell me Jeremy, how can a person who doesn't even know their own life expect these children to do the same?" Tess asked.

"You're saying that Mrs. Stevens never experienced childhood so she thinks that other children don't have the right to do so either?" Christina asked.

Tess nodded. "You see, babies, Felicia hates kids, she wouldn't physically abuse them, but the words she speaks are more devastating than the pain a fist can inflict, and on top of that she often neglects them. Sadly, she and her husband were the only people in town who could take them in when their mother became sicker and was put into the hospital," Tess said softly. "Patrick is dying, and worse still, the effects Felicia is having on him is causing all the hope in that little boy's heart to die as well."

Christina looked at her husband. "That poor kid. What about the girls?"

"In one way or another, the two of them are always trying to run away, Christina," Tess said softly. "Monica's here to help Denise stop running, and I'm here to help Dawn, but right now there's no telling how much pain is in the spirits of those two special girls, but it looks as though Andrew is going to have to help them when their mother goes home. That should be happening within the week."

"Jeremy, can we…?" Her question emerged but she was not able to continue speaking.

"What do you mean?"

Christina looked at the angel. "Tess, I just found out today that I can't have children, and now there are three children who need a home and a lot of love. Maybe that doctor was right, Jeremy, maybe we should consider being foster parents, or adopting children."

"Only to have them taken away from us after a year or two has passed, and never being allowed to see them again," Jeremy said bitterly. "I don't know if I can do that, Christina."

"Well, let's at least consider it. When their mother dies, those three kids won't have anyone left to take care of them, they will become wards of the state and will probably be bopped from one home to another until they turn 18. Even if they do find a home for them, they will probably be separated. Can you honestly see that little boy dying alone?"

"Baby, he won't be alone," Tess said softly.

"I know he won't be alone in the spiritual sense, but you know what I mean, Tess." She looked over at her husband and continued to speak. "Can you imagine dying and not having anyone there to tell you that you are loved and that your presence in their lives will be missed? Don't you remember Olivia?" Christina's voice cracked as she remembered her younger sister. "Remember what my parents did for her? They took Olivia in after her family rejected her, and now they're raising her son as theirs because she's not here to do it herself. What is a family except people who love each other and support one another? If those kids don't ever experience love again, they could die tomorrow and not be missed. But, I think I would miss them." She wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at Tess. "Do you think that maybe that's why I can't have kids, maybe I'm here to take those unwanted souls into my home and give them the love they need?"

"It's quite possible, honey," Tess said gently.

"Why do you think it will be so great to take these kids in?" Jeremy asked. "We don't even know them."

"We didn't know Laura, either, and look, today we have a fifteen-year-old daughter, and she's so beautiful. I mean this is just like what happened and what we did with Laura. Don't you see, Jeremy? No one ever came here to take Laura away from us, she's our daughter, and if we had turned our backs on her when she was little, she would have died, and the last eleven plus years would have left a big gap in our lives."

"I need to think about this, I mean, I know you're right, Christina, but I'm still apprehensive about it," Jeremy said softly. "OK."

Tess reached down and picked up the sketchbook Patrick had left behind when Felicia Stevens had steered him out of the room. "Don't take too much time, baby," she said gently as she handed the notebook to Jeremy and offered him a sincere smile. "Sometimes, God's timing isn't your timing."

*****

The Community Center was full when Laura arrived the following afternoon. "Hey, Mrs. Hudson," she called out when she saw the mother of her boyfriend, Billy in the front of the room. The woman had just finished teaching ballet to a classroom full of kids, and now she was tired and in need of a cold glass of lemonade.

"Hi, Laura, tell me, when are you going to start calling me Erin? Hmmm?" She asked as she zipped up her duffle bag and wiped the perspiration off her face with a towel.

"I don't know, I guess I always forget that you're more laid back than the parents of my other friends," she grinned impishly.

"Well, since you started volunteering here, you can look at me as a colleague, too, and most of the people around here are on a first-name basis, aren't they?" Erin smiled at the teenager, she really liked Laura, and it pleased her that she and her son were dating.

"OK, I'll try to remember that," Laura said smiling, but she looked up and gasped when she saw Monica standing near a table filled with young children and she was helping them with the finger painting. "What's Monica doing here, I haven't seen her in ages?"

Erin sighed deeply. "She started volunteering here about three days ago, I'm guessing she's trying to help the Wallace kids adjust to life after their mom was put into the extended care program over at the hospital. That's either Denise Wallace or her twin sister Dawn. Anyway, that's the little girl with strawberry blonde hair."

"What's up with them, I mean, she looks perfectly healthy to me?" Laura said, but when Monica's eyes met her own the angel waved her over to the table and she could only shrug her shoulders. "I guess we'll have to talk about it later."

"I need to get something to drink, anyway, and it looks like you're needed over there at the finger painting table," Erin said smiling.

"OK, then I guess I'll talk to you later," Laura smiled weakly and turned to walk over to where the angel and four little girls were hard at work on either making a mess, or trying their hands at abstract art.

Erin smiled. "See you later, Twinkle Toes."

Laura laughed as she rubbed her hands together and walked over to where Monica was working with Denise as well as a three other little girls. "Hi," she smiled when she reached them. "What are you guys doing?"

"I know you," one of the girls in the group said as she looked up. "I saw you when I was in therapy, your mom was my therapist after my daddy was sent to jail."

"Yes that's probably right, my mother, Christina, does work as a psychologist. My name's Laura, by the way," she said smiling. "What's yours?"

"I'm, Tiffany, that's Jo, Claudia, and Denise. Anyway, your mom's so cool," the girl said as she smeared some yellow paint across the paper in front of her. "She said that I could call her by her first name, and she sometimes would bring chocolates to the sessions because she knew that I wouldn’t talk unless I had something sweet to munch on."

"You've definitely got her pegged, then, because I have been asked to pick up that requested chocolate some times when I'm on my way home from school," Laura smiled and looked at Monica. "Hi Monica, how's the finger painting going?"

Monica smiled and held up her hand, it was covered with blue paint. "Not bad, these kids have talent."

"And you, what are you making?" Laura asked looking at the painting in front of the angel. "Besides a mess, I mean?"

The four girls began to giggle, but Monica spoke up, offering her young friend an explanation. "Denise suggested that we try and paint what Heaven looks like, but, I seem to be having a wee bit of a problem with this blue paint."

Laura sat down and handed Monica a paper towel. As she got comfortable she began to start her own painting. "Let's see, blue, red, yellow, white, where's the pink or the orange?"

"For pink, take some red and add some white," Jo said.

"Yeah, and for orange, you mix red and yellow," Claudia said.

"I guess I should have known that, huh?" Laura offered as she dipped her fingers into the blue paint. After a few moments, she looked at the painting Denise was working on. "Who's that?" She asked softly causing the girl to look up.

"That's my mom and that's God, she's dying," Denise said sadly. "I wanted to see what it would look like when she is in Heaven and not hurting anymore."

Laura sighed sadly when she looked into the green eyes of the little girl and could see the utmost sadness in the depths of her eyes. "You know something?"

"What?"

"Just paint the most beautiful, glorious place that you can think of, and I would be willing to bet you that Heaven is about a thousand times more beautiful than what you have painted," Laura smiled at the girl and rested her hand on her shoulder.

"You think so?"

"Mm-hum," Laura smiled as she nodded. Instead of elaborate, she touched the strawberry blonde locks of the girl's hair. "You know something, you've really got beautiful hair, even if you managed to get a little bit of white paint in it."

"I do?"

Laura nodded. "I always wanted to have red hair and green eyes, but I was born with brown hair and eyes. I think you're lucky."

"I don't know, you're pretty," Denise said softly.

"I think you are too, you look like a little angel," Laura said smiling but cast a sideways glance towards Monica. The angel responded by placing a finger over her lips. Laura returned the gesture, and smiled.

"Maybe, we should put the angels in Heaven, too," Tiffany said as she wiped her hands on a paper towel and dipped her fingers into the red colored paint. She began to smear the paint across the paper, her fingers going in circular motions giving the angel curly red hair. Afterwards, she wiped her hand on the paper again and got some yellow paint and gave the angel a more strawberry colored head of hair.

"Don't angels have blonde hair, Tiffany?" A second little girl asked. "I think they should have blonde hair like this guy I saw once. He was so cute, and he had dimples and everything."

"Jo, all you think about are boys," Tiffany said as she curled her lip and stuck her tongue out. "Boys are so gross. Besides, everyone knows that angels are usually always girls, then they can wear flowing white dresses."

"Don't make me laugh," Jo said smirking. "I saw this guy once, and he was really an angel, and he had dark hair and really nice eyes. His name was Jonathan Smith and he and his friend went from place to place and they helped people."

Laura covered her face with her hands and giggled. "I think you saw an old rerun of 'Highway to Heaven', Jo, that was a show about angels that used to be on TV."

"A TV show about angels?" Claudia asked. "Why didn't I ever get see that?"

"Probably because it's a pretty old show," Laura offered. "It was made before any of you were born."

"You mean they had TV back then?" Tiffany asked.

"Yes, and we had indoor plumbing, too," Laura laughed.

"I don't care, I still think all angels are girls," Tiffany said confidently.

"Oh, I don't know, I think there are boy angels too, and as for the hair color, angels have whatever hair color God decides to give them," Monica said smiling at the girl.

"I think they've got dark hair, like the color of dark chocolate," Claudia said licking her lips.

"You would, Claudia, all you think about is chocolate," Denise said finally breaking her silence, and it seemed to Laura and Monica that the little girl was just waiting for them to get off the topic of angels.

"I think an angel should have dark eyes," Claudia said as she tried to mix all the colors together to get a dark colored brown. "Kind of like that lady over there who's coming in with Denise's sister. I mean; she could be an angel." She pointed towards the door and when Laura turned around, she could see that Tess was entering the center with another little girl with curly strawberry blonde hair. Sighing deeply, the teenager bit her lip in order to prevent the truth from emerging before it was supposed to.

"Nah," Tiffany interjected. "She looks more like a grandma, someone who bakes and cookies for the church bazaars and sings old songs from the 1940's."

"Like you'd know about that stuff, Tiffany," Claudia objected her eyes still on Tess' movements.

"That's what my grandma did before she died, and she was a good singer," Tiffany diverted her attention from Tess back towards Monica, who seemed to still be struggling with the blue paint on her fingers. "Do you believe in angels, Monica?"

"Yeah, do you?" Laura asked knowingly, but giving the angel an innocent but mischievous smile.

Monica turned a slight shade of red, but nodded. "Of course I do."

"I wish I did," Denise said softly as she stood up and walked slowly away from the table.

"What's wrong with her?" Claudia asked.

"Yeah," Jo said softly. "She looks really sad. Maybe she needs an angel."

"Maybe she's already got one," Tiffany said softly.

Laura smiled weakly and nodded as the three girls finished their finger paintings, wiped their fingers off on paper towels, and stood up to take them to the desk where they could dry. Once the three girls were gone, Laura looked at Monica. "She's really got a lot resting on her shoulders, doesn't she?"

Monica nodded. "That's why I'm here, Laura."

"Is she OK?"

The angel shook her head sadly. "She's looking for an escape, the only trouble is; she can't find one because she keeps running away from it."

Laura continued to stare after Denise and shook her head sadly. "I did that too once, and it's really strange, because I ran straight into Andrew."

Monica nodded and rested a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder before standing up and walking in the direction that Denise had gone in.

*****

Laura continued to watch the young girls soon after Monica had gone to speak with Denise and she sighed deeply as she rested her elbows on the table and looked out across the large open area of the Community Center.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted her contemplations and she looked up and into the soft green eyes of a young girl.

"Denise? I thought you had gone for a walk," Laura began.

"No, I'm Dawn, Denise is my sister," the girl said smiling weakly.

"I'm sorry, I guess that happens to you guys a lot, huh?" Laura said shrugging her shoulders. "I saw you coming in here earlier with Tess."

"Yeah, she's really nice. She tells me stories and lets me talk to her about how I feel," the girl said, but noticed the paints on the table. "What's all that stuff?"

"It's finger paints. My friend Monica and I just finished helping some of the girls with their artwork. They did paintings of Heaven, today, maybe tomorrow they'll paint pictures of dolls and wood-frame houses," Laura explained smiling.

"I don't believe in Heaven," Dawn said abruptly. "I guess I wouldn't understand any of that stuff, then."

"Do you believe in God?"

"No, what kind of God would take away my parents and leave my brother, sister, and me orphaned?" Dawn asked.

"Is that what happened to you?" Laura asked.

"Didn't you hear? I thought everyone in this dump heard about it," Dawn asked somewhat sarcastically.

"Not all of it, but it sounds like maybe you'd like to talk about it?" Laura asked. "I'm not the greatest listener in the world, but I am pretty OK. If you don't want to talk to me, I mean; that's OK, you can always talk to Tess, she'll always listen to you."

"I don't want to," Dawn said softly.

"It's not so important. Would you like to take a class here?" Laura asked.

"I can't, I don't have any money, and Mrs. Stevens won't let us," Dawn said softly.

"Well, Denise has started finger painting, why don't we see if we can find something you might like that you can do when you do happen to be in the neighborhood," Laura said and began to sign to the girl.

"What are you doing?"

"It's sign language," Laura said. "Did you ever want to learn it? My Aunt Rachel is hearing impaired, but she teaches the classes here, and I'm sure she'll let you in. Then Mrs. Hudson, I mean Erin; well she teaches ballet. Have you ever thought about dancing? That's a lot of fun."

"I'm telling you, I can't," Dawn said softly. "Mrs. Stevens won't let us. She only brings us to the hospital because my brother is in treatment there, otherwise we have no way of getting here."

"What would you say if I managed to arrange you transportation to the center?" Tess' voice and Dawn turned around and looked into the wise eyes of the angel.

"I don't know, I guess, I always wanted to take a class in creative writing," Dawn said softly. "I never really told anyone this, but ever since I was really little, I wanted to write stories and poetry and submit them to a journal."

"Then maybe you should meet my mom, she's a creative writer, and she's even been published," Laura said. "Maybe instead of you and Denise just coming here tomorrow, maybe my mom can pick us all up and we can go to our house for the afternoon. I'd have to ask her first, but I'm sure she'd say OK, especially if she can work with you on writing. God only knows that I am about as gifted with writing as Fred Flintstone is at being kindhearted. Besides, I think it would make my mom happy to have someone to write with, maybe you can do a collaboration together."

Dawn laughed, but nodded when she looked at Laura. "Thanks, but why do you do this?"

"Don't ask for reasons, Dawn, just accept it. People don't always look for a reason to do something, they just do it because it's nice and it makes them feel better about things," Laura said and when her eyes met Tess', she smiled even wider. "It also wasn't so long ago that I was dealing with being unable to walk and I had a lot of friends around to help me, and I know that if it weren't for them, then I would never have gotten this far."

"I don't really have any friends," Dawn said. "I guess I'm not as nice as my sister."

"Well, you do now, baby," Tess said gently and the girl looked up and after a few minutes, she nodded.

Before any more words were exchanged, Felicia Stevens charged into the center and came over to the table where they were standing. "I have about had my fill with you and Denise running off," she snapped. "What do I have to do to keep you two from running off while Patrick is in for treatment? Tie you to a chair in the waiting room?"

"We weren't doing anything wrong, Mrs. Stevens," Dawn said softly.

"I'll be the judge of that," she looked at Tess. "Don't I know you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Stevens as a matter of fact, you do," Tess said, her voice emanating the typical attitude, and Laura could plainly see that Tess was not particularly pleased with the treatment Felicia inflicted on the two girls. "I work over at the hospital on your foster son's case."

"Yes, yes, of course," she said and reached out and grabbed Dawn's hand.

As soon as she had pulled the young girl away, Laura looked at Tess. "I don't like this one bit, Tess. She reminds me too much of Lolita, and I can't shake it."

The wise angel put her arms around Laura's shoulder, but she nodded. "I know, baby, and in many ways, she has more in common with Lolita than even this state realizes."

"This scares me," Laura said softly, the tears brimming from beneath her eyes as she remembered what she had lived through in the hands of her Schizophrenic birth mother. "What can we do?"

"It's going to be OK, honey, we're all here, and we're going to take care of all three of these kids," Tess said.

"What about Andrew, is he here too?"

"Yes, baby, he's here for Patrick," Tess said softly.

"Here for? You mean…" Laura's voice failed her, but when she looked at Tess all that the angel could do was nod her head sadly and hold tightly to Laura.

*****

Denise ended up walking towards a dark hallway in the center, it looked to be a place where no one ever went, but also seemed to have those kinds of small hideaways that did not seem to be known of. As she found a chair at the end of the hallway, she sat down and looked around where she was seated. "I wish I could believe in angels," she whispered under her breath as she looked down at her hands.

After some moments, she ran her hand through her strawberry blonde hair and sighed deeply. "Hello, is there anyone here?" A voice emerged causing the girl to look up. At the end of the hallway, Monica was standing, and she was walking towards her. "Denise? Is that you?"

"Yes," she whispered under her breath, but her voice emerged more or less as a sigh.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to find a place to think," the nine-year-old girl said softly.

"I understand that, I usually like to go to a mountain top and look out across a deep river valley to think. Gives me a chance to connect with God," the angel said smiling at the little girl.

"I wish that I could believe in a God worth connecting to," Denise said. "I could really use a friend."

"But you have your friends, Claudia, Jo, and Tiffany are your friends, aren't they?" Monica asked gently, but she rested her hand on the forlorn girl's shoulder and before Denise could answer, she continued. "And, you know, regardless of what you believe, God is not only your friend, but He is always with you, even if you cannot feel His presence with you."

"That's not what the pastor of my church says. After my daddy died, he said that our whole family was being punished for our sins, and that's why Daddy died. He said the same thing when my mom got sick," Denise looked at Monica. "Now, Mrs. Stevens says that she can't wait till my brother, Patrick dies, then she will only have two ragamuffins left to take care of."

Monica looked at the girl with horror evident in her eyes. "She actually said that to you?"

Denise shook her head. "No, I sort of overheard her talking to someone on the phone about it. I wasn't supposed to hear the conversation, but I did. This was when my brother was taken to the hospital and that was when I started coming here. I'm not handicapped or anything, but I like the people here, they are nice, and they help me not feel so alone."

"Yes, there are very good people," Monica affirmed.

"Do you really believe in angels, Monica?"

"Yes, I do," she said with a gentle smile.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"You can tell me anything you'd like," Monica replied.

"My brother doesn't know that I know this, but I found his sketchbook some weeks ago and inside he did a drawing of a really handsome man," Denise began. "I used to always look at his work because I liked it, but there was something wonderful about this drawing, something really special about this man. I don't know if he was real, but he looked nice." Denise took a deep breath, her eyes filling with tears. "Then, right next to the drawing, he wrote something that scared me."

"What did he write?" Monica asked.

"He wrote 'one day he will take me Home'." Denise said softly the tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't know what it means, but when I see this drawing, I think of my mom, and then I think of Patrick. Do you think 'Home' could be another word for 'Heaven' and that this man could be an angel?"

"It's possible," Monica said gently.

"I wish I knew for certain," Denise said softly. "I wish I could talk to someone who could tell me that Heaven's a nice place, or that my mom won't feel anymore pain when she goes to live with God, that is if she does, the pastor says my mom will burn in hell for contracting AIDS."

Monica rested her hand on the girl's shoulder, but before she could begin to speak, the girl stood up and started to walk away.

"I guess wishing for that is like wishing for a miracle," Denise said softly, but her next words made the angel almost begin to cry. "I guess God doesn't want to waste His time with terrible people like us."

*****

That evening, Christina stepped outside on the porch and looked towards the sky. Her thoughts were a jumble as she came down the front walk and began to walk down the street in the direction of the small delicatessen, which was about two blocks from her home.

Sighing sadly, she continued to walk along the street, her arms wrapping around herself as the gentle breeze blew. "You cannot have kids," the doctor's words were repeating over and over in her mind and after a few moments, she covered her face in her hands and shook her head.

Her thoughts continued to rage havoc on her emotions and the harder she tried to suppress the pain she felt, the more intense it became. She started walking again, her vision blurred by the tears, but she continued to walk until she reached the end of the sidewalk and was about to step off the curb. As she crossed the street, she could hear the squealing tires at the other end of the street, but she quickened her step and reached the other side of the street as a car reached the stop sign and the person driving slammed down on the brakes.

Christina turned around and could see that the person driving was Felicia Stevens and a tremor cursed through her as the woman looked around and sped off once again, the breaks squealing. "The woman obviously has a death wish," she muttered under her breath.

"You might say that," Andrew spoke, and she looked up and could see him standing on the curb next to her.

"Hi," she smiled weakly. "I thought you were supposed to be with Patrick. Did something happen to him?"

"No, he's asleep right now, and Monica has been looking in on them," Andrew said softly.

"You're really sad about what has been happening, huh?" Christina asked.

Andrew nodded. "Patrick thinks I'm a figment of his imagination, but it doesn't change that he's afraid of me."

"Is there not anything I can do to help?" She asked. "Jeremy and I talked about trying to get them out of this home, but three kids, and one so sick."

"Those kids need you," Andrew said softly. "If for no other reason but to be their friend."

"I want to do more," Christina said softly. "If I can, it might make me feel better about everything that's been happening."

"Christina, we need to talk," he said.

"Did I do something wrong?" She found herself asking.

"No, of course not, but we do need to talk, come on, I'll treat you to a large cocoa with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, that should make anyone feel better," he smiled at her, and suddenly she felt like a child again.

"You're talking to me, Andrew, not to Laura," Christina said, her attempt at joking emerged somewhat weak, but she allowed him to lead her towards the delicatessen.

They walked in silence for a few moments, but eventually they came to the end of the street and approached the small one story building. As they reached the glass doors, Andrew opened it and held it for her. Once she was inside, he allowed the door to close behind them, and followed her over to a table. The two of them sat down and after they had gotten comfortable and had ordered something, Andrew looked at her intently. "I need to ask you something that has been on my mind since that afternoon when you got angry with me," he began.

"You know a day doesn't go by that I don't remember that, and regret it," Christina said softly. "I still want to kick myself…"

"Christina, I didn't bring you here to get angry or to lecture you," Andrew said gently interrupting her. "Why didn't you just tell me that you had seen a specialist that day when Lindsey and I had come to the house?"

Christina's eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. "I don't know, I guess I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"You know, if I had known that things were so hard for you then, I wouldn't have pressured you about Kevin, and Lindsey wouldn't have either," he said softly.

"No, it wasn't your fault, nor was it Lindsey's. It was mine, I mean; it was wrong of me to get angry with you. There's really no excuse for what I said to you, I can only beg you again to forgive me," she said softly.

"Christina, that's already been done," Andrew said gently. "Jeremy said something to me that day, he said that that eventually you would have snapped from all the pressure you were under." He reached across the table and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Now, this pressure is building up in you again. Christina, this time you're hiding your pain by the need to help those three special children. I know that you don't want to snap again like you did that day, and the best way is to face your emotions, right here, right now."

She looked up, and smiled weakly at him. "Jeremy told you about us not being able to have children?"

"Yes, but only because he's been worried about how you are taking this news," Andrew said softly. "I know this must be hard for you."

"No, you don't understand, you can't know, but it's OK," she shook her head and tried to smile bravely at him.

In response to her words, he stood up and walked around the table in order to slide into the booth next to her. Once he was seated next to her, he put his arm gently around her shoulders. "Just cry, my friend, let this out, it's OK."

"I can't, I have too many things I have to do, those kids," Christina said softly.

"Put them in God's hands, Christina," Andrew said gently. "He will take very good care of them, each one of those children has an angel."

"I know, but…"

"Shhh, it's OK," Andrew pulled her into his embrace and she began to cry in his arms. As she wept, she could feel his hand stroking her hair, and she could remember how often as a child he had been there for her when she was sad, and tonight her sadness was overwhelming.

*****

Dawn crawled out of bed late that night, she had been lying there tossing and turning all night long, and right now, she was scared. She could see the shadows across the wall, but her tears blurred them as she sat up in bed.

She glanced over and could see that Denise was still asleep, and instead of waking her sister, she crawled out of bed and crept silently from the room. She could hear the sounds of the television downstairs, and she wondered if Mrs. Stevens was back yet. When she peeked around the corner and could see that the room was empty, she walked with padded steps towards the front door and when she saw that no car was parked in the driveway, she opened the door and snuck outside into the darkness.

She made her way down the street and in the direction of the cemetery, and the entire neighborhood took on an eerie feeling simply because she was so dark, and she was unable to even see the usual shadows embodied by the light from the moon. It was the night of the new moon and the overcast sky hid any light away that the stars might have provided.

The little girl continued to run, and when she reached the iron gate for the cemetery, she realized that it was locked. Rather than trying to open the gate, she squeezed herself between the bars and ran towards the middle of the large graveyard.

Once she sat down in front of one of the graves, she closed her eyes, the tears spilling down over her frightened face. "Hello Daddy," she whispered as she crawled right up next to the large marble stone and rested her small hand against it. After some time had passed she leaned up against the stone, and as the time ticked slowly by, she fell asleep.

Not far away, Andrew stood and watched the little girl. He sighed sadly when he saw the sadness that seemed to emanate from her, and although he knew that Tess was watching out for her, he somehow felt that leaving her alone was not something he wanted to do.

"Angel Boy?" Tess' voice interrupted his train of thought.

"I just walked Christina home, and as soon as I left, I was sent here," he explained softly glancing over at the sleeping child. "One of the Wallace children is in trouble."

"They're all in trouble," Tess said softly, as she felt the tears in her eyes and could hear the thunder beginning to rumble in the distance. "This breaks my heart, Andrew."

"I know, it does mine too," the Angel of Death said softly. "This family has had more than its share of tragedy this year, but I won't leave this little girl out here alone, Tess."

"The Father wants you to go to be with her," Tess said simply. "He somehow thinks that right now you would be better able to reach her than I would."

Andrew nodded, embraced his friend, and once she was gone, he walked slowly towards the sleeping child as the first drops of rain started to fall. He pulled the trench coat off that he was wearing and wrapped it gently around the girl as he pulled her onto his lap. There he sat with her until the wetness of the falling rain woke her up.

When she finally managed to open her eyes, she could feel the wetness of the clothing on her skin, but now she was shivering, and she looked around and at last, she realized that she was sitting on someone's lap. "W-who are you?"

"My name is Andrew, Dawn," he said gently.

"You know my name?" She asked softly, her eyes wide with fright as she struggled to get off his lap and to make distance between herself and him.

"Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you," Andrew said softly as she tried to move away from him, but upon hearing his words, she turned slowly around and looked up at him. "I'm a friend of your brother."

"Are you his angel?" Her words emerged; they were weak, but filled with sadness.

"Yes, sweetheart I am," Andrew said softly as he brushed his hand gently through her tangled hair. "But, I'm also here to help you and Denise."

"How can you even want to be with me if I don't want to believe in God?" she whispered.

Andrew looked at the little girl, a mixture of surprise and sadness in his green eyes. "You don't want to believe in God?"

The little girl shook her head, and sneezed. "I'm afraid to."

"Why is that, sweetheart?" He asked gently.

She shook her head. "My mommy and daddy used to take us to church every Sunday. The preacher talked all the time about how awful we are, that we were all terrible sinners, and we should always beg God to forgive us."

Andrew nodded slowly as the little girl continued to speak. "Then after the car accident, he t-told my sister and I that God took vengeance on us…" She looked at Andrew. "What does vengeance mean?"

"It means 'revenge', Dawn," Andrew said softly, the sadness enveloping him as he continued to hear the child's heart wrenching words.

"Yeah, h-he said that God was mad at us, and so He took my daddy away from us as punishment because we were so awful. Then he said that my daddy died because he was a bad man," she looked at him, her eyes filled with the utmost sadness. "I don't want to be awful."

"Oh sweetheart, you're not awful, believe me, the only thing that is awful, are the words that that pastor said to you, but you're not bad or awful, you're one of God's beautiful children," Andrew said gently.

"But, now He's going to take my mommy and brother away from us, too, and we'll be all alone." The little girl began to cry, her hands covering her face and she was unable to even look him in the eyes.

"It's no wonder you are so sad," Andrew said softly as he inched closer to her and enfolded the frightened child in his arms. "You hear all these stories about God being like an angry parent, and you can't help but be afraid, but Dawn, these stories just aren't true."

"But Pastor Stevens said they are," Dawn objected.

"Stevens," Andrew muttered. "Isn't that the name of the woman you were with yesterday in the hospital?"

She nodded. "No one else wanted us, Andrew, so Pastor Stevens and his wife took us. They said they were doing us a favor, but living with them is no fun, they are strict and they won't let us come here and visit Daddy. That's why I sneak out, so I can come here and visit him and tell him that I wish I had died too so I could be with him and not here."

Andrew looked sadly at the little girl, but he gently stroked the frightened girl's hair. "God wasn't ready for you to go to Heaven just yet. Dawn, He wanted you to have a chance to grow up and experience life."

"What life?" Dawn asked sadly. "Mrs. Stevens says only mean things to me, she says that I always run away because I'm a brat. She wants Denise and me to sit in the waiting room at the hospital and wait for her without anything to read, or anything to do. It's boring there, and we have no one to talk to, no one who cares for us."

Andrew sighed deeply, but he continued to hold her in his arms. Now, he understood the necessity of getting these children out of this situation. If they didn't their spirits might be even more misguided and lost than they already were. "Dawn, you know now that God sent you an angel, and I will do whatever I can to help, you just don't give up, OK?"

Dawn nodded weakly in response to Andrew's words and after some moments, he could see that she was trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her nightgown was completely drenched, but in the distance, she could see the first light of the new day beginning to illuminate the sky. She continued to shiver, and he was not sure if it was entirely because she was cold, or because she was afraid.

Smiling gently, Andrew took the little girl's face in his hands and wiped the tears from beneath her eyes, but when he saw her involuntarily shivering, he decided that it was best for him to get her somewhere warm and dry. Standing up, he offered her his hand, and as she took it, he pulled her firmly but gently to her feet.

"A-are you going to take me back there?" She stammered.

"I have to," Andrew said gently.

"They're going to be really angry at me," She whispered. "They'll probably lock me in the basement again just like they did the last time I went to visit my daddy. I had to stay there for three days and think about what I had done."

Andrew closed his eyes, and when he heard the words of the Father in his soul, he looked down at the little girl. "I'm not going to take you back there, instead we're going to see a friend of mine, and see if she can help you and your brother and sister out of this present situation."

"B-but, I'm afraid," Dawn said softly.

"I know you are honey, but unlike the God you have heard about in the sermons of Pastor Stevens, I will promise you that our Heavenly Father is the most loving and caring friend that you could ever wish for. He will always love you, Dawn, and He weeps when He hears of the pain you have endured," Andrew paused as he took a deep breath. "Believe me when I tell you this, sweetheart, there is nothing horrible or terrible about you. You are so special because you are God's beautiful child and no matter what anyone says, the Father knows you better than anyone, because He created you."

Dawn looked at him. "You mean it?"

Andrew smiled weakly and nodded. "Of that you can be certain."

*****

It was 5:30 in the morning when the doorbell rang at the Lowery house and Christina came down the stairs and as she ran her hand through her hair, she sighed deeply wondering who it could be that was paying them a visit this early. Sighing deeply, she pushed the hair out from in front of her face and went to open the door.

"Andrew?" Christina yawned once she had opened the door and saw her friend and one of the Wallace girls standing on the front porch.

"Can we come in?" He asked gently, his hand on the shoulder of the small girl. "We have something very urgent that we need to talk over with you."

"Sure, come on in. Jeremy and Laura are still in bed," Christina said softly, but she smiled down at the girl. "Hello there."

"Hi," Dawn said softly.

"Christina, do you have something that she can put on, she was out in the rain for most of the night?" Andrew asked.

"Sure, come with me sweetheart, Andrew, just make yourself at home and we'll be back in a few minutes," Christina said softly as she steered the girl out of the room. Once they were in the hallway, she smiled gently at her. "First things first, are you Dawn or Denise?"

"Dawn," the one word answer emerged from the small child.

"I'm Christina," she said.

"Are you an angel?"

"Why would you ask me that, honey?" Christina asked.

"Andrew's an angel, I thought you might be one too," came the meek answer.

"The answer is no," Christina smiled gently at her. "Let's see, would you like to have a shower and maybe wash your hair while I find you something to put on?"

The little girl nodded.

"OK, then let's get you into the bathroom, and I'll see to getting you some things," Christina said as the girl sneezed. "Are you getting sick?"

"I don't know," Dawn mumbled.

In response to her words, Christina went over to the child and rested her hand against the girl's forehead. "Oh my, you're burning up." Once she had given Dawn a towel, the girl went into the bathroom and when Christina could hear the water running, she ran down the hall and back down the stairs.

"Andrew, she's sick," she said when she came out into the living room. "She's in the shower, but I'm worried, she's got a terrible fever."

"Christina, if she is as sick as you say, you'd better get back to the bathroom, something doesn't feel right at the moment," Andrew said softly.

Nodding in understanding, she ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. When she reached the bathroom, she could hear the sound of a crash from the room and she immediately opened the door. When she reached the shower, she could see that Dawn was on the bottom of the tub, passed out, her forehead was bleeding. Christina knew immediately what had happened, the girl had fainted, and she had hit her head against the faucet as she had fallen to the base of the tub, the water from the shower was now spraying down on her.

"Oh, God, I need help," Christina prayed weakly as she turned the water off and began to wrap a large towel around the girl and attempted to dry her off. Once she had done that, she managed to wrap the girl in her large terrycloth robe. As soon as she had gotten the robe on the child, she called out to the angel standing in the hallway. "Andrew, can you please help me, I can't lift her out of the tub?"

The angel entered the bathroom and as she requested, he picked Dawn up in his arms and carried her out of the room. "Where do I take her?" He asked once they had left the bathroom and Christina ran to the cabinet to get some gauze for the girl's forehead.

"Take her to the guest room," Christina said softly as Andrew carried her into the room and laid her on the bed. Once he had done that, Christina approached the bed and wrapped the gauze around the girl's injured forehead. Once she had finished, she looked at him. "Is she in any danger, Andrew? Should I get her to the hospital or take her to a doctor?"

"I think she's going to be just fine," Andrew said gently, "but we need to talk about this situation she faces, Christina, things are not looking at all good for her, or for her sister and brother."

"Patrick is dying, isn't he?" Christina asked.

"Yes, he is," Andrew said softly.

"Mom?" A voice emerged through the room, and Laura came into the room.

"You're up early," Andrew said smiling at the young girl.

"Hi Andrew," Laura came into the room. "Mom, I couldn't sleep."

"What is it?" Christina asked as she covered Dawn with the blanket and looked at her daughter.

"I saw Tess yesterday at the community center, and something happened while I was there, and I can't get it out of my mind," Laura said.

"Can we talk about this in a little bit? Andrew, you said that there was something you needed to talk to me about with this," Christina said softly and Laura nodded.

"Wait, Laura, is what you talked to Tess about have anything to do with the Wallace family?" Andrew asked gently.

Laura nodded as she felt the tears streaming down her cheeks. "It was horrible, I mean, yesterday, Dawn and I were talking about taking a class and she told me that Mrs. Stevens is not nice to her, that she tells her horrible things, and when she came into the center she grabbed Dawn as though she was a rag doll and pulled her out of the center. She said 'what do have to do to make you and your sister stay in the waiting room? Tie you to a chair?' I couldn't say anything; I was shocked and frightened. It reminded me…"

"Of Lolita?" Andrew asked.

Laura nodded. "Yes."

"I think we need to go to see someone in Social Services," Christina said softly. "I've seen too much mistreatment going on with these kids."

"Yeah, but if no one wants to take them in, then Social Services can do very little to help them," Laura objected as Dawn shifted on the bed and slowly opened her eyes.

"We will help them," Jeremy spoke from the doorway. "Laura, you go get dressed, Christina, you do the same and we'll go there first thing. Andrew, can you stay here with her while we take care of this?"

"You mean, you think we have a chance to adopt them?" Laura asked.

Jeremy held up Patrick's sketchbook. "They need us, and now I know what Tess meant about time."

"T-that's Patrick's book," Dawn muttered as she rested her hand against her forehead.

Jeremy nodded and once Christina and Laura had left to go and get changed out of their nightclothes, he looked at Andrew. "I guess I'm not that much of a failure, huh?"

"You never were," Andrew said smiling weakly.

Once Jeremy was gone, Andrew looked down at Dawn. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts," she said softly.

"Yes that's understandable, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell in the tub earlier," Andrew said gently. "But, you're going to be OK. I'll be here with you until Christina and Jeremy get back from Social Services."

"You're my babysitter?" Dawn smiled weakly.

"No, I'm just your friend," Andrew said softly.

"Have you ever been afraid?" Dawn's question emerged.

"I think everyone has at one time or another," Andrew said compassionately.

"I'm so scared, Andrew," she said softly.

"I know you are, but you're not alone, Dawn, you have friends now, and those friends will not leave you face all of this alone," he smiled gently at her.

*****

In a house not far away, Denise was waking up and when she looked over to where her sister was supposed to have been sleeping, she sighed deeply as she looked towards the window.

"You two up in there?" Shouted Felicia Stevens and she appeared in the doorway. When she saw that Dawn's bed was empty, she looked angrily at Denise. "Where is she?"

"I don't know," Denise said softly.

"You'd better know because until you decide to tell me, you're not leaving this house," Felicia grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door. Denise could feel the tears streaming down her face, but sighed deeply, she knew what was going to happen. Another three days in the basement without anything to eat until she chose to cooperate with her foster mother.

Some moments later, Felicia shoved her into the basement and behind her she closed and locked the door. Denise came down the stairs and looked around, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. She looked around the room, and could see the shadows encompassing her. "I wish I could believe in angels," Denise whispered softly, as the tears streamed down her face.

"Now you can, Denise." A voice emerged and Denise looked up and could see that Monica was now standing next to her in this room, her dress a flowing white and the look in her eyes carried love, an emotion that had for so long become completely unfamiliar to her.

Denise nodded numbly, but she was staring wide-eyed at Monica. "W-who?"

"Don't be afraid, Denise," Monica said softly. "I'm an angel, sent from God to help you."

Denise looked at her; her eyes filled with sorrow, and after some moments, the nine-year-old girl looked away, the shame and sadness enveloping her as she discovered that she could not look the angel in the eyes.

Monica walked over to the girl and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you remember when we talked yesterday and you said that you had given up on a miracle happening?" Denise nodded as Monica continued to speak. "God heard your prayer, sweetheart, and that's why He sent me." She reached over and brushed the strands of strawberry blonde hair from Denise's forehead.

"A-am I going to die?"

"No, not yet, but you must be strong now, Denise, your sister and brother are going to need you," Monica said softly.

"I'm trapped in here, Monica," she whispered. "How can I do anything when I can't get out. Mrs. Stevens won't let me out of here, and I'm scared."

"I know, and I will stay with you until someone comes and lets you out, OK?" Monica smiled gently at her. "It won't be long."

"The last time Mrs. Stevens locked me in here, I went without food for almost three days," Denise said softly. "She's so mean, and Pastor Stevens says that it's OK, that we must learn to go without and we must seek forgiveness when we 'mess up'."

"You must never go without love, sweetheart," Monica said as she wrapped her arms around the young girl. "God wouldn’t wish for you to go without His love, any more than he would wish for Felicia Stevens to do what she has done to you."

"Where is Dawn, do you know where she is?" Denise asked.

"Do you remember Laura from the class yesterday?" Monica asked after a few moments of silence passed between them.

"Uh-huh," Denise said softly.

"Dawn is at her house," Monica said softly.

Denise looked at the angel, her eyes filled with sadness. "Monica, is God mad at me? Is that why He took my daddy away?"

"No, honey, He was never angry with you, He loves you so much," Monica said gently. "What you've heard about the wrath and the vengeance was not from God, they were words coming from an angry man who told you these things in order to make you afraid or to control you." Monica could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and she looked earnestly at the young girl. "Please believe me, there is no condition on God's love, Denise, if there was, it was because a human being put it there, not because God did. It would be like someone taking their words and putting them into your mouth, that is what people have done when they say God is angry and vengeful."

"B-but," Denise spoke, but shook her head.

"No matter what has happened to you, Denise, God is not angry with you, and He is not taking your parents home to hurt you, but because they suffered so much pain and He wants to see them free without pain, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't pain Him to see you and your sister without your mom and dad in your lives, because sweetheart, it truly does."

Denise began to cry even harder and she felt that Monica had drawn her into her loving embrace.

*****

Jeremy, Christina and Laura arrived at the Social Services office at this time and as they got out of the car, Christina ran her hand down the front of her dress, her expression filled with nervousness. "Try not to worry, honey," Jeremy said gently. "I'm sure the people here will be able to help."

Christina nodded and she and Laura followed him into the building. Once they came inside, they could see the office was practically empty, but they glanced up and their eyes met the soft brown eyes of a man seated at the desk.

"I don't believe it," the man spoke. "I thought I'd never see you again." He shook his head, the surprise evident on his face.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," Christina whispered.

"My name is George and I was with Robert Davies that day when he nearly drowned about 14-years-ago. I was one of the boys he had gone surfing with. Anyway, I lost touch with Robert after we graduated from High School," the man said softly. "I remembered you as soon as you walked in."

"It's strange that you would remember so far back," Christina said softly.

"Yeah, well, what can I do for you?"

"Are you familiar with the Wallace Case?" Jeremy asked. "Christina and I are here because we would like to file the paperwork to adopt, Denise, Dawn and Patrick Wallace. From what we understand, the three children are in foster care and the mother has requested that the kids be allowed to stay together."

"I heard they were living with Pastor and Mrs. Stevens," George answered as he consulted the computer. After a few minutes, he nodded and looked up at them. "Yes, they have been living with the Stevens family since their mother was admitted into the extended care program at the County Central Hospital."

"How long would it take to have the paperwork processed?" Christina asked.

"I would say at least four weeks," George replied.

"There's not enough time for that," Laura stood up. "They might be dead by then."

"Who is this?"

"This is our daughter, Laura," Christina said softly. "Something tells me you should listen to her, and perhaps tape what she has to say. She has a better understanding of what these kids may be facing than any one of us can imagine."

"OK," George pulled a tape recorder out of the drawer and set it up. "Shoot."

Laura began to speak, her voice soft, but filled with fear and her urgencies as she explained not only what she had witnessed the previous day at the Community Center, but she also talked about some of the strange things Denise or Dawn had said over the course of the time she had known them. Finally, she spoke of her own situation and how she felt when Mrs. Stevens had taken Dawn out of the center the previous day, and what that reminded her of. Ten minutes later, she stopped speaking and George turned off the recorder.

"You're telling me that Mrs. Stevens actually said that she wanted that little boy to die?" He shook his head in profound disbelief.

"If she can say that she should tie these kids to a chair in a hospital waiting room, then she's capable of expressing that she wishes they were dead," Jeremy said.

"This community thinks that the Stevens are the ideal foster parents for these three kids, perhaps because the husband is a pastor of a church, but that church doesn't preach what these kids need to hear right now, it preaches that God is vengeful, that these children have lost their parents as punishment for being sinful people," Christina said softly. "Even if religion is discredited and what I have to say is not considered important, the fact remains that these children are afraid of the Stevens couple. The two girls are nine-years-old, and my husband, daughter, and I have seen the way Mrs. Stevens treats them. It's obvious that they have no say as to where they live, but they need to have adults who will look out for their interests, and just because of the status of one man, these rights should not be overlooked," Christina said softly. "Can you help us?"

"I will do what I can, but if what you said about them neglecting the children is true, all I can do is have the police go in and check into this situation, and send a social worker over as well," George said.

"Then please do so, because we're afraid for those three kids," Christina said. "Speaking of which, maybe you should let someone know that one of the girls is at our home right now because she's too afraid to go back."

"I'll take care of it," George said softly.

"Thank you," was the last thing Christina said as they got up to leave.

*****

That afternoon, Patrick was back at the hospital, he couldn't understand why, but he knew that his two younger sisters were in trouble, and yet now he felt too sick to do anything about them. Sighing sadly, he sat and waited in the examination room, and within moments one of the nurses came into the room.

"Hello there, baby, how you doing?"

"I guess OK," he looked at the nametag of the woman's uniform. "Weren't you hanging out with my little sister, Dawn, yesterday?" He asked.

"Yes, I was, my name is Tess," she said.

"Have you seen Dawn, Mrs. Stevens locked Denise in the basement again because she wouldn't tell her where Dawn was. I got sick and I guess she thought better of locking me up too," Patrick whispered.

"Wait a minute honey, are you telling me that Felicia Stevens frequently locks Denise and Dawn in the basement?"

The frightened little boy nodded. "The last time, she left them in there for three days."

"And here I thought little sisters were a pain to you," Tess said smiling at him.

"Not really," he said and she could see the deeply hidden fear in his eyes. "Even people who are a pain should not be treated worse than a dog, right?"

Instead of elaborating on his fear, she spoke gently to him. "Patrick, I'm sure Dawn is just fine, in fact, I have it on the highest authority that she's with friends right now and those friends will not allow Mrs. Stevens to hurt her."

He thought about those words, and then looked at her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure you can, honey," Tess said softly.

"Have you ever been with someone when they died?"

"Yes, I have," Tess said gently.

"Did you know that my mom's dying, and I think I'm dying too?" Patrick asked softly and after a second, he managed to look up at her. "Would you do me a favor, Tess?"

"Yes, honey, I will if I can," she said softly.

"Mrs. Stevens won't allow us to go and say good-bye to our mom, and I was wondering if you could go be with her when she dies, so she won't be alone," Patrick said softly. "I don't want my mom to die thinking that we don't care for her and…" His voice cracked and he could feel the tears streaming from beneath his eyelids.

"Your mom won't be alone, baby," Tess said gently as she began to glow, and she looked at the boy, her eyes filled with love. "She'll have an angel with her, and God will be with her too. For this reason, He sent some angels to help you and your sisters cope with all of this."

"He's real?"

"Yes He is baby, and the Father loves you, Patrick," Tess said gently. "His love is without condition, and He will always be there for you."

"No, I know God is real, but A-Andrew is too," Patrick's eyes filled with tears. "He's real and I didn't want to believe it because I'm so scared. I don't want to die."

"I know baby," Tess said as she took the boy in her arms and could feel his body trembling from beneath her touch.

*****

Dawn woke that afternoon to see that Andrew was seated by the bed and was watching over her. "Hi," she whispered.

"How do you feel?" Andrew asked gently.

"Scared," emerged her one word answer.

"Why are you scared? Is it because of me being here?" He brushed a lock of her strawberry blonde hair out from in front of her eyes and he smiled down at her.

"No, I like that you're here, but I shouldn't have run away," she said softly. "I'm scared for my sister."

"Denise will be just fine, Dawn, you know, she has an angel with her as well," Andrew said softly. "God is not just watching out for you, but He's also watching out for your brother and sister, try not to worry, OK?"

Dawn nodded and looked at him, but could see an element of sadness in his eyes. "Andrew, why are you sad?" She asked weakly as she tried to sit up in bed.

"I was thinking about something you said at the cemetery earlier today," Andrew said softly.

"What?"

"It was something about your brother, Dawn," Andrew said softly.