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.

"He's dying, isn't he?"

Andrew nodded numbly, and he found himself unable to speak further.

"Is there a heaven?" Dawn asked weakly.

"Yes, there is," Andrew said gently.

"Pastor Stevens always said that…" her voice trailed.

"Dawn, don't do this to yourself, please," Andrew said softly, his voice pleading with the small girl as the tears streamed down his cheeks and he tried to rub them out of his eyes.

"You should put more emphasis on the words of an angel than on the words of a man who is set on making you feel at fault for what has happened to your family," Laura spoke from the doorway, but she eventually came into the room and sat down on the corner of the bed. "Dawn, when I was 12-years-old, I died for a couple of minutes, and I saw heaven and God held me in His love and I never wanted to come back here. I mean; where I was, it was so beautiful that you couldn't even begin to imagine how wonderful it truly is." She took a deep breath before she was able to continue. "The hardest words I had to hear emerge from Him were 'Laura, it's not your time yet to come Home, you must first experience your life on Earth'. I thought my heart was breaking, but I was soon brought back here and for a long time afterwards, I was very depressed, and I could only tell Andrew about it because I thought it had been a dream. I thought for so long that people would think I was crazy."

"You died?"

Laura nodded. "What Pastor Stevens says about God is so wrong and it makes me want to cry when I see how his words have hurt you and your brother and sister. I hate what he's doing, and sometimes I wish I could say I hate him, but I don't know him, but I guess deep down inside, I don't want to know him."

"He's misguided, Laura nothing more," Andrew said softly.

"Maybe he is, but how can he go and tell three young kids that their dad died because he was a bad person? A preacher should be at least compassionate towards someone who is grieving such a profound loss, and he should give courage and strength through his leadership not hurt them. He should tell those who are sad that their loved one is in the arms of God." She reached over and touched the girl's shoulder. "Dawn, what he said was just wrong, your daddy wasn't punished, today, he is closest to the source of love and that love is God."

Andrew nodded and smiled proudly at his friend. "You're wise beyond your years."

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just saying the words that you seem to be too choked up to say," Laura said softly noticing that the angel had tears streaming down his cheeks. "Dawn, could you hand me a tissue?"

Dawn nodded and reached over towards the bedside table on the other side of the bed. Once she had taken one from the box, she handed it to Laura. With the tissue in her hand, Laura stood up, went over to Andrew, and with it, she wiped the tears from beneath his eyes. As she did, he reached up and took her hand in his and squeezed it.

Laura looked down at Dawn before leaving the room. "You know, for kids like us, God is really hard to understand, and the idea that He loves us may be strange at first, but after time has passed, you will know that He loves you. Just don't give up, and I'll tell you a secret. By the time the smoke clears, something tells me that you're going to be more than my friend, Dawn, you're going to be my sister."

*****

It was late in the evening when Felicia Stevens opened the front door and saw three policemen and two social workers standing outside.

"Mrs. Stevens?" One of the officers said.

"Yes, can I help you?" She asked.

"We're here about the three foster children living in your home," the second of the policemen said. "This is Cynthia and Raphael, they are from Social Services, and they are here to speak with the three children in your care."

"They're not here," Felicia said.

"Yes, we know that Patrick is staying the night at the hospital and is having tests run, but we want to see the two girls, Dawn and Denise," the policeman said.

"Dawn ran off," Felicia said, the anger in her voice evident.

Raphael turned to one of the policemen and nodded. "She's at the Lowery home, Jeremy works at the station as a sketch artist. We can speak with her after we talk to Denise." He turned back to face the woman standing in the doorway.

"You can't, not without a warrant," Felicia said.

"What are you trying to hide, Mrs. Stevens?" Raphael asked. "Aside from the reports we have gotten at the Social Service office, that little girl's mother is dying, and she has the right to say good-bye."

"No, I will not allow that woman to see these children," she said.

"She's their mother, you cannot stop this, nor can you deny them the right to do so," Cynthia said as she pulled a file from her briefcase and looked down at it. As she spoke, Pastor Stevens came up the walk.

"What is going on?" He demanded.

"We have reports of child neglect and emotional abuse in this household, Mr. Stevens," one of the policemen stated flatly. "We would to see the children, and find out from them what has been happening."

"I think you should know that the Wallace kids are emotionally disturbed," Marvin Stevens said assuredly. "As a minister, I don't think that it would be a very good idea to mess with the minds of children who are completely incapable of seeing God's truth before their own eyes."

Raphael shook his head, not only because what the pastor was saying deeply troubled him, but also because he could not see any truth at all in the words of the man standing before him. "I'm sorry, but only a psychologist or a psychiatrist can determine whether these children are healthy emotionally. We want to come inside, and we can either do this peacefully, or we can interview some of the people at the hospital, and those who have seen your treatment of these girls at the Community Center, Mrs. Stevens, and believe me, it can get ugly if you choose not to cooperate."

"Very well," Felicia opened the door and the five people stepped inside the foyer of the house. She took a deep breath and walked towards the stairs leading up to the children's bedroom, but right as she did, someone started banging on the door going down into the basement, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Who's in the basement, Mrs. Stevens?" One of the policemen asked.

The woman sighed deeply, and went down the hall to retrieve the key as the banging continued.

*****

"Keep at it Denise, there are people here and they want to help you," Monica said softly as the little girl stopped banging against the door.

"I'm scared," she whispered. "What if it's just the Stevens, they'll kill me."

"No sweetheart, they won't," Monica said gently. "Trust me, and trust God, He knows that you're afraid, and He knows that this is hard for you, but once they free you, you will be free not just physically, but also spiritually, and that will give you chance to truly understand the Father before it's too late."

Denise nodded and she began to bang on the door, her fists were quickly becoming raw from the merciless pounding she subjected them to. As she did the tears streamed down her face, the fear evident in her pale green eyes. Within seconds the door opened and she was looking up into the compassionate brown eyes of Raphael.

The angel standing at the top of the stairs could do nothing, all he could do was feel the body of the little girl collapse in his arms and the pungent odor of urine encompass him from downstairs. "Denise?"

The little girl nodded as she buried her face against the sweater he wore. "Please don't make me stay here," she wept as she felt her energy giving out. As he continued to hold her, the policemen took Felicia and Marvin into custody and the little girl held tightly to Raphael, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Shhh, it's OK, we're going to take you somewhere safe," Raphael said gently as he winked in the direction where Monica stood in angelic form.

Once they had left the house, Raphael drove Denise over to the Lowery home. "Your sister is staying here and I think she's going to be very glad to see you."

Denise stared down at her lap, but after a few moments, she looked at him and offered a timid nod.

Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of the house and they got out and went up the walk. When they reached the door, Raphael rang the doorbell and Jeremy answered. "Thank God you got her out of there." He got down on his knees and smiled gently at the little girl. "Hi Denise, my name's Jeremy, and your sister has been asking about you. Why don't we go upstairs and tell her 'hello'?"

Denise nodded and Jeremy led her into the house and up the stairs. Raphael followed and once inside he closed the door.

"Hi, Raphael," Christina came out of the kitchen and greeted him.

"Hello Christina, I just brought Denise by, and I have to get going, I have another assignment, otherwise I would stay longer. Your contact at Social Services is Cynthia Thacker and she has all the case files on the Wallace children. George did everything he could to get the paperwork filed for you and Jeremy to take care of these kids."

"Thanks," Christina said smiling for the first time in days. "You know, I guess it's true, huh?"

"What?"

"When God closes a door somehow he opens a window," Christina smiled. "I wanted to be a mother, and raise children, and then some days ago, I found out I couldn't, but that same day, I met these three children, and my life feels blessed again."

Raphael smiled, "that you are."

She smiled as the angel left and she closed the door behind him. As soon as she did, she could see that Denise came running down the stairs, her face streaked with tears and the fear in her green eyes. Within seconds, Christina could see that Andrew came down the stairs behind her.

"Denise, please," Andrew was pleading as the little girl reached for the doorknob, but instead of opening the door, Christina managed to reach out and take the girl's hand and pull her gently but firmly away from the door.

"Shhh, it's OK, Denise, Andrew's my friend," Christina said softly as the little girl collapsed in her arms and buried her face against Christina's shoulder. "You have nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart." She said as she practically carried the frightened child over to the sofa and sat down with her.

Denise shook her head as she tried to pull away from Christina. "H-he…"

Andrew sat down on the sofa next to them without saying anything, and Christina looked at her friend. "Andrew, what happened?"

"She and Jeremy came into the room where Dawn was sleeping and she saw me and remembered the sketch her brother had drawn," Andrew said softly. He reached over and placed a gentle hand on the head of the small child. "Denise, sweetheart, I won't hurt you."

"D-d-death," Denise managed to stammer, but she buried her face against Christina's shoulder, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Andrew sighed sadly and removed his hand from the top of her head. As the child continued to weep softly in Christina's arms, Monica appeared in the room and she came over and sat down on the sofa next to Christina and she smiled gently at the little girl. "You mustn't be afraid of Andrew, Denise," she said gently. "He cares for you, and he wants to help you."

The little girl looked up at Monica and shook her head. "T-the picture."

"I know, I remember what you told me at the Community Center, but Andrew is not here to take you to heaven, he's here because he cares for you, Dawn and Patrick so very much," Monica said gently.

"Y-you w-were with m-my daddy?" Denise asked; her voice filled with sadness.

"Yes, I was," Andrew said softly.

"W-what about my mom?"

"She has an angel with her, too," Andrew said gently. "His name is Adam."

The little girl looked down at her lap, but the tears continued to roll down her cheeks, the feeling of abandonment overwhelming her, instead of looking at Andrew, she looked up at Christina and once she crawled off her lap, she appeared to look around the room for an escape. Christina, understanding this stood up and took her hand. "Come on, let's go upstairs and tomorrow we can work this out. You need some clean clothes and a warm bed."

Denise nodded numbly and allowed Christina to lead her from the room. Once they were gone, Andrew sighed deeply and looked at Monica with utter hopelessness in his eyes. "She doesn't want to trust me," he said softly.

"Andrew, she knows you're here about her brother and she has seen her brother's sketches," Monica said softly.

"I don't really know what I should do, it looks so helpless right now," Andrew said softly as Jeremy came down the stairs and smiled at them.

"Everything OK?" Jeremy asked.

"Sure," Andrew nodded. "Christina took Denise upstairs and tomorrow we're going to talk about all of this."

"Maybe you should try to resolve this as soon as possible," Jeremy said softly. "If Denise is really so afraid of you, she probably won't sleep until this does get resolved. Fear does that to people, especially to children like her."

Monica nodded. "You know, he's right, you're going to have to eventually talk to Denise, maybe if you stay here, you will get that chance."

"You can crash in our study, Andrew," Jeremy offered. "It's the perfect room to stay in when you wake up in the need of munchies. When I have to work late, I just come in and sleep in there so I won't wake Christina up."

Andrew nodded and once Monica left, Jeremy showed him into the room and they turned on the light.

"I wouldn't worry about Denise, Andrew, it takes time for people to sometimes see the truth. You know, people grow up in fear about God and they really see themselves often as being children being punished by an angry parent. To change the minds of these kids is not going to be easy. Getting them out of the Stevens home was just half of the trouble, now showing them the truth is going to be just as hard," Jeremy said softly.

"I know you're right, but it tears me up to see children react to me in fear," Andrew said softly. "Even after doing this job for hundreds of years, I can't fathom children being scared of me."

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Jeremy asked resting a comforting hand on Andrew's shoulder. "You know, you're really selfless. You want to help these children to not to be afraid, but yet inside it hurts you to know that they are so scared."

Andrew smiled weakly and nodded. "Thank you, Jeremy, you're really a good friend."

"If you need anything, just let us know, OK?" Jeremy said smiling weakly. "Maybe tomorrow things will look better."

The angel nodded; maybe they will, were the thoughts resonating in his mind.

*****

Denise woke up some hours later and crawled out of bed. She could see that Dawn was still asleep and she pushed the covers aside and walked towards the door. Once out in the hallway, she could see the light was still on in Christina and Jeremy's bedroom. Quietly, she crept down the stairs and into the living room. She could see the light was on in the study, but she walked towards the living room and sat down on the sofa and stared outside through the patio doors.

Seconds passed and the door to the study opened. She turned around and could see that Andrew had come out of the room and was walking slowly towards the kitchen. When he reached the living room, he stopped and could see that Denise was seated on the sofa, but that she had turned around and was now peering up at him as he came through the room.

"Hello," Andrew spoke, his voice soft and the little girl ducked back down hoping to hide herself amongst the cushions. Instead of going towards the kitchen, Andrew walked over to a chair and sat down hoping all the while to keep a safe distance from the little girl.

When she didn't say anything, he began to speak. "Denise, I'm so sorry I frightened you."

The little girl nodded numbly, but it appeared as though she did not want to speak to him. Instead she looked back over at the door leading outside. After a few moments passed, she finally found the courage to look at him, but the words would not come and she wiped her hand over her eyes.

"You like the nighttime, don't you?"

"My daddy was an astronomer," Denise said softly, her words emerging barely above a whisper.

"You enjoy being outside at night, then huh?"

Denise nodded. "It's pretty."

"Yes, it is," he nodded and smiled gently at her as he watched her stare out at the blackness of the night sky. "Do you want to go outside?" He asked as he stood up.

"Uh-huh," she spoke weakly, but crawled off the couch and followed him over to the patio door. Once he opened it, they walked outside, and he pulled the door closed behind them. "Is my daddy up there somewhere?" She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Andrew nodded. "Yes, he is."

Denise looked at him and after some moments of silence passed between them, she spoke. "You scare me."

"I know," he said softly. "I wish I didn't."

"You do?"

Andrew said nothing, he simply nodded, but after a few moments, he sat down on one of the chairs and looked out across the yard, the tears brimming from beneath his eyes, but what happened next took him by complete surprise.

Denise pulled a second chair over next to him and sat down next to where he was. Once she was comfortable, she reached over and touched his hair, the golden locks caressing her fingertips. "You have really pretty hair."

Andrew smiled weakly at her. "Thank you, so do you."

Denise withdrew her hand and looked down at her lap. "My friends talked about angels when we were painting pictures, but I didn't know if I was worth having an angel wanting to take care of me, so I said nothing."

"You are worth it, Denise," Andrew said softly. "Why do you not believe that?"

She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at the ground.

"I know what you have been told about God, Denise, Dawn told me how things were with the Stevens when she went to the cemetery to visit your daddy," Andrew began.

"She did?"

"Mm-hum," he nodded.

Denise could feel the tears in her eyes and as they trickled down over her face, she looked at him. "I don't want God to hate me," she whispered. "I wanted Him to be my friend, to not be angry with me because I'm so bad."

"Sweetheart, you're not bad," Andrew said gently. "And God is your friend. Do you think that if He was truly angry with you, that He would send you angels to take care of you; to help you?"

"I don’t know," she whispered.

"I know that you saw my picture in Patrick's sketchbook, and I know that I scare you, but I promise you that you have nothing to be afraid of," Andrew said softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

Denise stood up and walked towards the edge of the patio and she sat down on the grass, the moistness of it penetrating her nightgown but she didn't seem to mind. She reached over and took a small flower in her hand and looked down at it as he stood up, came over, and sat down on the grass next to her.

For some time, they sat in companionable silence, until Denise finally broke that silence. "Is Heaven really wonderful?"

"Yes, it is," Andrew said gently. "It's the most beautiful place you can imagine."

"My mommy's dying," Denise said softly, "but I don't want her to."

"I know, but do you know what?" Andrew asked softly.

The little girl shook her head.

"Your mom will never feel the pain that she felt here," Andrew said softly. "God will hold her in His love and she will be at peace forever."

"Is that what really happens? I always heard that it was horrible, that my family would never be deserving of God's love," Denise said softly.

"I know what you heard, but that's not the truth," Andrew said gently as he reached over and touched the tearstained face of the little girl. "God loves you, Denise, and He loves your sister and your brother very much. The love He has for you is so very special; it is more special and more beautiful than anything you can imagine. God wants to be your friend, Denise, He wants to help you find your true path to Him, and no matter what happens, He will carry you when the road gets too hard and He will love you without conditions, because He made you."

Denise looked back down at her lap but within moments, she could feel the angel drawing her into his arms and holding her. As she felt his arms around her, she could feel the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. "H-He does?"

Andrew took her face in his hands and tipped her chin up so that she would be looking into his eyes. "He does, Denise, God loves you and when you weep, He weeps with you, because you are His child, His beautiful and loving child and you will always be His little girl."

"Why did He take my daddy away?" Denise continued to cry.

"He didn't want your father to suffer, so He sent me to lead your daddy to Him, and I know that this was hard for you, but He didn't have your daddy come home to make you sad," Andrew said gently. "God knows that tragedy has come to your family, but that's why He sent us to be with you and your brother and sister, but it was also Him who made it possible for you to meet Christina, Jeremy, and Laura."

"D-do you mean, w-we don't have to go back to the Stevens?" Denise asked.

"No, you don't," Andrew smiled gently at her. "You're in a safe place here, Denise."

"My brother is dying too, isn't he?" Denise asked after another minute or two had passed.

"Yes, he is, but he has time now, and you and your sister can help him make the best of the time he has," Andrew said gently. "Patrick has to learn to live before I can take him Home. He needs to know the truth about God, not these so-called 'truths' that Pastor Stevens related. To live in fear or to believe that the Father seeks revenge on you is not a part of God. God is the purest form of love that exists, and He wants you, Dawn, and Patrick to know that He loves you and that you have no reason to be afraid of Him, He'd never hurt you, and I'd never hurt you, either."

Seconds passed and Andrew could see that Denise was processing his words. She inched closer to him and allowed herself to collapse in his arms, the tears falling from her eyes. As her crying became stronger, she meshed her face against his chest and wept, the sounds emerging in hiccup-like sobs.

"Shhh, it's OK, sweetheart, just let it out," Andrew said soothingly as he held her tightly in his arms. As she continued to weep bitterly, he pulled her onto his lap and held her until she cried herself dry and eventually slept cradled in his arms.

After some time had passed, Andrew stood up with the sleeping child in his arms and carried her into the house and up the stairs to the room she shared with Dawn. Once he managed to open the door, he carried her into the room and tucked her under the covers.

Before straightening out, he kissed the child gently on the forehead and crept silently from the room and closed the door before going back downstairs.

*****

The morning sunlight streamed through the window the following morning and Denise crawled out of bed. She could see that Dawn was still asleep and she walked slowly towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Dawn asked.

"I thought you were still asleep," Denise said.

"No, I guess I thought everything that happened was a dream," Dawn said. "I think we found friends."

Denise smiled weakly, nodded, and looked at her sister. "Andrew's real, isn't he?" She finally asked.

"Yeah, but I think he's really nice," Dawn said. "When I went to visit Daddy the other day, he found me at the cemetery and talked to me before he brought me here."

"I feel so bad about not believing or trusting him," Denise said sadly. "Did he tell you about God?"

"Uh-huh," Dawn said softly. "He told me that God is like our best friend, not like what Pastor Stevens said. It's hard to believe that God would actually like us."

"Yeah," Denise said softly. "All the Pastor and Mrs. Stevens did was try to make us feel badly and make us afraid. I mean; it was only so we'll do what they want."

"I know," Dawn shook her head as she sat up in bed. "I wish we never had to live with them. They are so mean."

At that moment someone tapped on the door and Denise opened it to see that Laura was standing on the opposite side. "Hey, how'd you sleep?"

"OK," Dawn said. "My head still hurts a little."

"Then you probably should take some aspirin. We can get some downstairs," Laura said smiling at them. "I wanted to find out if you guys wanted to come with me to the Community Center this morning. I have to work, but Andrew said he could drive us there. He's going back to the hospital and will stay with Patrick until this afternoon when he can bring all of us back home."

"Home," Denise said, her voice cracking.

"Sorry, I mean, here, but you can call this home, I mean, my parents are going to see about letting you guys stay with us for good, does that sound OK with you two?" Laura asked.

Dawn smiled and nodded and Denise did the same.

"Great, then here's some things you guys can put on for today, and my mom promised to get the rest of your things from the other house and she'll bring them here," Laura said. "She said that tomorrow, we can all go shopping together."

Once Laura left, the two girls quickly got dressed before coming out of their room and going downstairs for breakfast.

*****

Andrew was waiting for the twins when they came down and once the two girls had eaten breakfast, the three girls waved good-bye to Christina and Jeremy and followed the angel outside and to Tess' red convertible.

Once the twins climbed into the backseat, Laura climbed in the front. "Andrew, could you do me a favor before you go to the hospital this morning?"

"What?" He looked at her as he started the car.

"Denise, do you remember that little chat we had the other day with your friends?" Laura asked, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

The little girl nodded as Laura began to tell Andrew about the finger painting and how one of the little girls had insisted that an angel could not be a boy. Andrew was laughing heartedly as Laura completed her story.

"Do you want me to tell these girls who I am, Laura?" Andrew asked smiling weakly. "Is that what you're driving at?"

"No, but maybe you can tell them that there are boy angels. They think they are all girls, and that they wear pretty white dresses," Laura said as the two girls in the backseat began to giggle.

"How would they believe what I say without me having to prove it to them?" Andrew asked as he pulled the car into the parking lot some five minutes later.

"Am I supposed to think of everything?" Laura asked pretending to pout. "I mean, come on, you're smart, I'm sure you'll think of something."

"OK, I'll think about it," Andrew said and closed his eyes for a moment as the three girls got out of the car. "I may not be able to convince them of this, but I can at least come inside with you for a few minutes before I meet Tess and Patrick over at the hospital.

Laura smiled weakly and they walked inside the building. As they came in, she could see the same three girls seated at the same table, Monica was with them, and they appeared to be hard at work on their finger painting. Typical Saturday morning, Laura thought to herself as she stood in the lobby and was looking around the now busy center.

At that moment, the twins ran over to the table leaving Andrew and Laura alone. "I hope I don't embarrass you with this, but I thought since you're about truth, maybe you could shed a little bit of it on the lives of those three little girls. I mean, you know they are here for a reason, right? All three of them are disabled, they find their joy in the little things, but they also find the beauty in things that older people sometimes forget about," Laura said once she saw the twins had sat down at the table.

"I know, Laura," Andrew said softly.

"The other day when we were talking about this, I noticed that Denise didn't say anything, she just sat there waiting for the topic to change," Laura looked at him. "I don't know if you can tell these girls anything, but for them to, at least, know that hope does exist, and to simply not be pushed into this idea that there is no hope left."

"You really care about these children, don't you?" Andrew asked.

Laura nodded. "I see too much of myself in them. I see it not only in the twins, but also in Denise's friends. I can't explain why, though."

"You don't have to," Andrew squeezed her shoulder. "Come on, let's go see what they are doing."

Laura smiled gratefully as they approached the table. The girls looked up from their work when Laura and Andrew reached the table.

"Hey guys, this is my friend, Andrew," Laura said as they reached the table and sat down.

"Your boyfriend?" Jo asked and the other two girls began to snicker.

"No, he's just a friend. Don't you girls have any friends who are guys?" Laura asked, but almost started giggling herself when Andrew's face flushed.

"Eeeew, that's really gross," Tiffany said as she opened the container with the blue paint inside. "Everyone knows that boys have cooties."

"Let me see," Monica began. "Boys have cooties, and boys can't be angels. What else can boys not do?"

Tiffany shot a fleeting glance towards Andrew, and instead of speaking, the girl looked down at her painting, her gaze never leaving her work.

"Should I go?" Andrew asked softly, seeing the embarrassment evident in the little girl as well as in her actions.

"No," Tiffany said softly.

Jo looked at her friend after some time had passed. "You going to tell us why you don't like boys, Tiff or do we just have to guess?"

"Yeah," Claudia said.

Monica looked at her, "you know, Tiffany, it's perfectly normal for a girl your age to not like boys. In fact, when Laura was your age, she thought boys were gross too, didn't you?"

Laura smiled and nodded. "Yes that's true, then I met Billy, and he became a good friend of mine. But, my best friend in the whole world is Andrew. I mean boys are just as capable of being a good friend, or being an angel, as girls."

"That's where I know you," Jo practically squealed looking at Andrew.

"You know me?" Andrew asked still not sure where this was going.

"Yeah, it was about five years ago, I was six, and was staying with my grandma upstate. That was before my parents and I moved here. See, my grandma was really sick at the time, and we thought she was going to die. I mean, for some reason, she didn't, but we were really scared for a while there and even had to call a priest to come in and perform last rites. But, I remember coming into the room one afternoon after school, I was six, and there was someone seated by my grandma's bed, it was Andrew."

"Are you kidding, Jo?" Claudia asked.

"No, I'm not," Jo said softly. "Do I look like I'm kidding? I mean, as I came into the room, I could hear him, he had leaned over towards my grandma and was whispering to her." She paused taking a deep breath and she looked at Andrew. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Andrew nodded, "yes, Jo, it was."

"What happened next?" Denise asked.

"Well, he looked up at me, and smiled."

"Green eyes and dimples," Laura nodded making the connection to what the little girl had said a few days ago.

"Yeah, and I looked at you and do you remember what I said?" Jo looked at Andrew.

"Yes, you said 'my grandma doesn't need an Angel of Death, she's going to be just fine'," Andrew said softly and smiled at the little girl who nodded adamantly.

"Angel of Death?" Claudia whispered. "You're an Angel of Death?"

"Yes, I am," Andrew said.

Tiffany looked at Laura. "Your best friend is an Angel of Death?"

"Yes," Laura said softly.

"OK, so I want to know why it is that an Angel of Death has to show up here and nobody dies," Claudia said softly.

"Just because an Angel of Death shows up somewhere doesn’t mean someone is going to die," Monica said softly. "The possibility does exist, like with Jo's grandma, but Andrew also helps people deal with life, and that's why he's here now."

"Like with us," Denise said softly and she looked at him. "I guess I really did hurt you when I got scared of you."

"It's OK, Denise, I truly do understand," Andrew said gently.

Jo looked at Andrew and then at her friends. "My grandma is healthy today, they say she'll probably live to be at least 80, she didn't die when Andrew was there, but she and I talk about what happened that day sometimes and she always tells me that she had the most handsome of angels watching over her."

"That's why you're so boy-crazy," Claudia said nodding, but she began to giggle when she saw Andrew blush.

"Did it help?" Tiffany asked, her voice small.

"Help?" Jo looked up.

"Yeah, did it help your grandma to know that he was there?" Tiffany asked.

Jo smiled. "Yeah, and it helped me too, because she said that Andrew told her about Heaven, so she knows what she has to look forward to."

Laura smiled, "ain't that the truth?" She looked at Andrew and nudged him. "You see, the truth is going to come out whether you talk about it or not."

Monica smiled and watched as the girls began to work with their finger painting again. "What should we paint today?" She finally asked as Andrew stood up.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Jo asked, her sadness evident.

"I have to go now, Jo," he said softly, "but one day you'll see me again, but not for a long time." With that, he leaned over and whispered something to Laura before heading towards the door.

"What did he say?" Jo asked once Andrew was gone.

"He said 'thank you'," Laura said and smiled at Monica.

Jo opened a jar of yellow paint. "I'm going to paint a picture of Andrew for my grandma. She always said that when she was sick that having him around was the greatest comfort she could have asked for."

Denise and Dawn exchanged glances and eventually Denise nodded. Now I understand, she thought to herself, I sure hope that Patrick will too.

*****

Patrick woke up that morning to see Tess coming into the room. "Hey baby, how'd you sleep?"

"OK, I had a dream about ATM machines and elevator shafts," he shook his head. "I guess people have strange dreams now and again."

"Sounds like it," Tess smiled. "I do have news for you. This morning, your new foster mom went and signed the paperwork for you and you will be going home this afternoon."

"New foster mom?"

"Yes, you met them downstairs some days ago, Jeremy is the sketch artist from the police and Christina is his wife. They have agreed to take you and your sisters in. I think you will like living with them."

"Yeah, what life I have left," Patrick said sourly.

"Listen to me, baby," Tess began, but stopped when she saw Andrew standing in the doorway.

"See, he's here already," Patrick said softly.

Andrew sighed sadly but came into the room. "Tess, here are the keys to your car, it's in perfect order."

"It better be," Tess said taking the keys from Andrew and left the room.

Once she was gone, Andrew looked at Patrick. "Tess is rather protective of her car."

The boy nodded. "Where have you been?"

"I was helping your sisters," Andrew said softly. "I'm sorry I haven't been back to see you, but Denise and Dawn have had their own feelings about all of this to contend with, and well, I was sent to help them, too."

"Why? They aren't dying," Patrick said as he sat up in bed.

"Tess told you, didn't she?" Andrew said softly.

"Yeah," the boy whispered. "I didn't want to believe it."

Andrew sat down next to the boy. "I know that my being here is hard for you, Patrick, but before I come to take you home, I will be seeing you off and on. You must understand that this doesn't mean you should give up on life. God has a wonderful plan for you, and it is not embodied in this idea that you're a horrible person, or deserving of His wrath, because that is not how God is." He looked at the young boy. "Patrick, I want to be your friend, and yes, I know one day I will return to take you to Heaven, but I want to earn your trust before that day comes. That is why you will see me periodically."

"Is that why I have seen you so much these past few days?" Patrick asked.

Andrew nodded. "Yes, that's precisely why. One thing is going to be different for you and your sisters now, and that is that you will be living in a place where you won't ever have to be afraid or hear untruths about God again."

Patrick looked at him. "When Tess was here, she told me that she's an angel too, and I realized that you are more than just a figment of my imagination, and that scared me."

"I know," Andrew said gently. "I also know that it's not easy for you to cope with all of this, but that's why God sends angels, because He knows that you are afraid, but He also wants me to tell you that there is nothing to be afraid of, and that He is not a depiction of what Pastor Stevens has said. He truly cares for you and your sisters, and His love for you is without condition."

"You'll be with me?" Patrick finally asked after a few moments had passed and he was able to digest everything Andrew had told him.

"Yes, Patrick, I will," he said gently. "That's a promise."

*****

It was late in the evening when Andrew, Tess, and Monica brought Dawn, Denise, Patrick, and Laura home to the Lowery house. As the kids got out, Laura looked around. "I guess Mom and Dad invited everyone over to meet you three."

Denise and Dawn shrugged their shoulders, but ran towards the house; the angels followed them. Laura was left standing outside with Patrick, who was looking at her.

"Laura, Dawn told me something weird about you, and I was just wondering if what she told me was the truth," Patrick was saying as they walked towards the front door.

"If you're wondering if I had a near death experience, the answer is yes, I did," Laura said.

"Were you scared?"

"No, I was really comforted because Adam was there with me," Laura said softly.

"Adam?"

"Adam is an angel like Andrew, and he's my friend," Laura said smiling weakly. "I knew Adam from the time I was really little, and he helped me deal with being abused by my birth mother."

"You were abused?"

"Yes, that's how I was able to see what was happening with you, Denise, and Dawn. Sometimes that's what needs to happen, the people who have lived through such experiences are somehow more receptive to what is really happening," she shrugged her shoulders.

"You got us out?" Patrick said softly.

Laura smiled weakly. "I helped, I guess, but what you need to remember is that sometimes God leads people together because He knows they need each other. I'm going to tell you a secret, my mom doesn't know that I know, but I found out some time ago, and that is, my parents cannot have children, they can adopt them, as they did with me, but my mom is devastated that she cannot have a child. Then God led us to you and your sisters, and today, my mom has found a new joy in life, because she has you to share it with."

"But, I'm dying, Laura," Patrick said softly.

"Try to enjoy what time you have," Laura said softly. "Try to see the beauty in the sky and the stars, try to embrace each day as a gift, and then you'll be ready when the time comes. I was your age when I had my experience, and it helped me to grow, but it also helped me overcome my fear of death. Having Andrew as a friend helps, as well."

Patrick looked out across the yard and after a few moments, he looked at Laura. "Would you be scared to give me a hug? I never had a big sister before."

Laura smiled and she hugged the young boy. "Why would I be afraid to hug you?"

"I'm HIV positive," the boy said.

"And?" Laura looked at him, but instead of breaking the embrace she kissed his forehead as Andrew had often done with her. "I'm not scared."

"You're not?"

"No, if I was, then I would lose out on knowing you," she said. "Besides that; after what I've lived through, I think fear is rather pointless."

As she spoke, her boyfriend Billy came up the walk. "Are you flirting again?"

"Billy, this is Patrick, he's my younger brother. Patrick, this is Billy, he's my boyfriend, and he's a pill," Laura giggled as Billy ruffled the hair of the little boy. "Come on, let's go inside. You can come too, from what I can see around here the whole gang's here."

Billy smiled and nodded and the three of them went inside and closed the door behind them.

*****

Inside the house, Laura immediately noticed that Christina and Jeremy had decided to have a small gathering so that their three new family members could meet everyone. She smiled when she saw that her grandparents, Daniel and Donna, were present with their adopted daughter's son, Brendan. Jeremy's sister Paula and her husband, Vincent, and their son Simon were also present. Simon's older brother, Robert and his wife, Loren were out of town promoting a new workshop, but they promised that they would be back and would be able to greet the Christina and Jeremy's new adopted children. Finally, Bryan and A.J. arrived with the explanation that his wife Rachel was home nursing a cold. Laura smiled when she saw that the angels were still there and she ran over to them.

"Hey you're not going to believe this, but I think Patrick is going to be OK," Laura said softly, but as she spoke, Adam appeared and her face paled.

"Adam?" Monica whispered.

"It's almost time for Teresa to go home," Adam said softly. "If those kids are going to say good-bye, they'd better get back to the hospital." With that he disappeared.

"I'll go tell Mom," Laura dashed off, leaving the three angels.

"You go tell the kids, Angel Boy. We'll get the car, come on Miss Wings," Tess instructed and she and Monica went back outside.

Andrew was left standing alone, but when he saw the twins talking with Paula and Patrick was getting acquainted with Simon, he went first over to where the girls were standing. "Hey," he said smiling weakly. "Dawn, Denise, you have to go back to the hospital, it's your mother." He could feel the tears in his eyes and he looked at Paula. "Tess and Monica are outside waiting."

"I'll take them out to the car," Paula said and she patted Andrew's hand in the same motherly fashion she had done when Andrew had tried to cope with the Southside shooting some years ago.

"Thank you," he said softly and walked over to where Simon and Patrick were standing. "Patrick," he took a deep breath unable to get the words out that he wanted to say. After a few moments had passed, he could see that the little boy looked up at him.

"It's my mom, isn't it?"

Andrew nodded. "Yes, it's nearing time for you to say good-bye."

"No," Patrick screamed, and the entire room fell silent. The little boy collapsed onto the floor, his cries agonizing, and Andrew had no choice but to sit down next to him and rest a gentle hand on the boy's trembling shoulder.

Christina and Jeremy came over to them when Patrick screamed and she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Shhh, it's OK. Do you want to go?"

The little boy continued to cry, but he nodded and tried to stand up. With Jeremy's help he managed. "Come on, you can ride with me and Laura, Christina, why don't you go with Andrew."

Donna looked at her daughter. "We'll hold up the fort here until you guys get back."

"Thanks, Mom," Christina said softly and she walked with Andrew outside and they got into Tess' car. "Patrick is riding over with Jeremy," she offered sadly.

"OK, then let's get going," Tess said and once they were all in the car, and she drove them in the direction of the main road into town.

*****

The room was still and quiet as Teresa laid in bed and although she was unconscious, her awareness of the presence with her could not be denied. As she managed to look around the room where her body lay unconscious, her pale green eyes came to rest on Adam.

The Angel of Death had returned to the room and he could tell by looking at his watch that Teresa's pain would only last a few more minutes and then she would be free.

"I'm afraid," her spirit managed to implore the stillness all the while knowing that Adam was there, but not immediately seeing him. "Pastor Stevens always said so many things to me and the children that made God frightening..."

"Teresa," Adam spoke. "God isn't what Pastor Stevens says."

"What is He then? I know I am sick, and dying, and I'm afraid of God…" her voice trailed off.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, Teresa, God loves you, He will never forsake you," Adam said softly. "He sent me to help you make this transition, He wants you to come Home soon, and He will embrace you in His everlasting love."

"My children…" Teresa whispered. "Where are they?"

As she murmured the words to him, he glanced over and could see that the door had opened and Dawn and Denise were standing in the doorway. The two girls looked frightened about seeing their mother, but somehow they both knew that time was of the essence. "Mommy?"

"It's OK, you can go to her, she's still with us, Dawn, all you have to do is tell her what is in your heart, and she will be able to hear you," Andrew said gently and Dawn walked slowly towards the bed.

"Mommy, I'm going to miss you," Dawn said softly. "Andrew said that Heaven is nice, and I believe him. Please tell Daddy that we love him when you see him." The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, but she crawled up onto the bed and cuddled up next to her mother.

Adam looked at Andrew and could see that the younger Angel of Death seemed to have his hands full with the two small girls. Neither of the girls could understand what had happened, but yet the pain that existed in them was evident. He glanced down and could see that Denise remained standing next to the door. "You can go to her too, Denise," Andrew finally said, his voice was soft, but filled with all the compassion that was in him.

The little girl looked down at the ground, her face filled with agony, but before Andrew could say anything further, the little girl sank to the ground, her cries resonating through the room.

Dawn remained on the bed, her head resting against her mother's chest, and Andrew could see that she was now grieving silently, all the while hoping that her unconscious mother would take her in her arms and hold her like she had often done when Dawn had come home with scraped knees and ripped dresses.

Andrew watched Dawn for a moment, but when Denise's cries could be heard, he got down on the floor next to her and rested a gentle hand in her tousled hair as she wept. "Mommy," she cried, her tears falling freely and although Andrew knew that these two children could somehow understand Heaven, they obviously could not even begin to comprehend the finality of this situation and this made tears brim underneath his compassionate green eyes. He gently stroked Denise's hair as she continued to sob uncontrollably.

"Shhh, it's OK, sweetheart, your mommy's not alone, and you aren't either," Andrew continued to stroke her hair as her loud cries faded until and she collapsed in his waiting arms, her weeping leaving her completely helpless and Andrew could only hold tightly to her and stroke her hair gently.

Moments passed and Adam looked at Andrew and shook his head. "It's time," he said sadly.

"What about Patrick, he should be able to say good-bye to his mother as well," Andrew said softly.

"I'm sorry, Andrew, but Teresa's time is now. I must listen to the Father, I'm sorry," Adam said gently and he leaned over the bed and began to whisper to the woman. As her spirit stood up to accompany Adam, Andrew nodded numbly and watched as the machine flat-lined and a doctor and two nurses ran into the room in a last ditch effort to resuscitate the woman.

"These children have to leave," the doctor said crossly, and Andrew stood up.

"I'll get someone to help them," Andrew said as he picked Denise up in his arms and walked towards the door, the small girl weeping softly in his arms.

"I don't want to go, Andrew," Denise cried her fists pounding against his chest.

"I know sweetheart, I know," he said gently all the while trying to brush the child's hair out from in front of her eyes.

Once out in the hallway, he could see that Jeremy and Patrick were coming towards the room. "Jeremy, you're too late, I'm so sorry," Andrew managed to speak, but before he could say anything further, Patrick broke away from and instead of running into the room, he took off down the hall towards the elevators.

"Adam has already taken her home, and the doctor wants Dawn out of the room," Andrew explained weakly.

"I'll get her, Angel Boy," Tess said gently and she went into the room.

Andrew sighed deeply as he watched Patrick go into the elevator and disappear. Once the doors closed, Jeremy closed his eyes. "I guess I should go after him," he said softly, "but I don't know what to say to him."

"I'll go then," Christina said softly and looked at Andrew, who nodded. "Jeremy, would you stay with the girls when Tess brings Denise out?"

"Yeah, honey, I'll do what I can, but I don't know how to help them," he said softly.

"Just be there, and talk to them," Christina said and walked slowly towards the elevator.

As she walked, she could hear a child's agonized cries erupting through the silence of the hospital wing, and she was left to sadly conclude that Dawn was now aware that her mother had died. As she heard the sobs coming out into the hallway, she turned around and could see that Tess was holding the little girl in her arms and all the while trying to calm her from the hysteria that overcame her with the knowledge that her mother was no longer with them.

From her place in front of the elevator, Christina could see that Tess carried a miserable look on her otherwise loving face and she could see that the little girl was holding tightly to the angel.

As soon as the doors of the elevator opened, she held the doors opened until Tess arrived with Dawn in her arms and they rode, wordlessly, down to the first floor together. Once they reached it, they stepped out into the hallway and Christina could see that Patrick was listlessly walking down the hallway in the direction of the waiting room, and she began to follow him.

Tess and Dawn watched her actions for a moment and then they too followed going in the direction of the waiting room. Once inside, they found two vacant chairs and sat down. As they sat and waited, Andrew, Jeremy, and Denise eventually joined them. All of them watched as Patrick went inside the chapel.

"Are you going to talk to him, Tess?" Andrew asked weakly. "I can't."

"No, the Father wants someone else to go in there and talk to that little boy," Tess said gently, but the tears in her eyes were indicative that the wise angel did not understand what had happened or why it had happened.

Moments later, the five of them noticed that Monica had joined them in the waiting room, and they all watched as Christina followed Patrick into the chapel and the door closed softly behind her.

*****

Patrick came into the chapel and rather than sitting down in one of the provided seats, the small boy sat down on the carpeted floor in the front of the room. He looked around and could see the stained glass windows above him, the mosaic type glass in the form of a dove, but at this moment, the boy felt anything but at peace. He refused to even contemplate whether or not he should be sitting on a chair, but he simply did not care if what he was doing was right or wrong.

"I hate you," he shouted to the stillness. "Do you hear me? I hate you, you took everyone away from me, and it's not fair that my mommy and daddy have to die when we need them here. Haven't you hurt and punished me enough already?"

"That's a lot of pain, isn't it?" A gentle voice emerged and he turned around to see that Christina was standing in the back of the room. He started to stand up, but she motioned with her hand that he should remain seated, so he relaxed and watched as she came down the aisle and sat down on the floor next to him. As she did, she bunched her skirt up so that she could sit comfortably. "You know, if I believed in the same God that you learned about, the one that was truly the depiction of anger and hostility, then I think I would hate Him too."

"You would?"

"Yes," Christina said softly. "I would feel as lost as you do right now."

"Why?"

"I don't know specifically why, but you do. Tell me why you feel so lost, Patrick," Christina implored weakly.

"Because," his voice emerged, a mixture of anger, but also of fright and confusion. After some moments of silence passed, he looked at her. "I've lost my daddy, and now my mommy, and…"

"I know, and all that hurt and the anger. It's an awful lot for a little boy to carry around, isn't it?" Christina asked, and when Patrick nodded, she rested her hand on his shoulder and continued to speak, her voice remaining soft and gentle. "I guess, I could be angry too, but it won't do me any good, because it won't change what has happened. The God I believe in knows you're frightened, Patrick, and He knows that you've had enough tragedy for three lifetimes, but He's nothing like what you think. He's not this angry deity that only wants to show you the magnitude of His anger and vengeance. He's a loving friend, a confidant, someone you can confide all your hopes and dreams in. He's someone you can tell your fears and your struggles to. I know He loves us Patrick, and right now, whether you realize it or not, we both truly need Him."

"I'm scared," the little boy spoke, his voice emerging through his tears.

"I know you are, and so am I," Christina said softly.

"Why are you scared?" The boy looked at her the surprise evident in his eyes.

"I'm scared that you're going to grow up believing the horrible words that Mr. Stevens has said to you about God and I'm afraid that you're going to lose your will to live because of the repulsive words that Mrs. Stevens has told her friends about you. I'm scared for you because I care for you." She paused and took a deep breath. "You know, that I can't be your mother nor can I take her place, but I want to be there for you, I want to be your friend. I want to offer you support, give you strength, and comfort when you need it the most. I want you to always know that you're never alone, and that no matter what happens you will have a family with us, and we will love you unconditionally."

"Me, but I'm so bad, I have this disease," the boy objected.

Christina could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks. "That doesn't matter, what matters to us is what's in here." She reached over and rested her hand against his chest and tapped it gently with her index finger. "You are not defined by a disease, sweetheart, you are defined by what's in your heart, and what I see in you is so beautiful. I see a little boy with so much artistic talent, and so much love to give. It doesn't matter to me if you have this disease, it would be nicer if you didn't, but what matters to me is what is in your spirit. One day, when Andrew comes to take you home, the Father will take you in His arms, and He will hold you and love you. Of that I am completely certain, but, until that day comes, try with all your might to hold on to the hope, because nobody knows, except God, specifically how much time they have left here."

Patrick looked at her, but was unable to speak. After a few moments he closed his eyes and allowed the tears to roll down his cheeks. "Christina, do you think He'll forgive me for saying that I hate Him."

"I'd be willing to bet that He already has," Christina said gently. "Sometimes when people are afraid, they say things they just don't mean, and I think God knows and understands that you're hurting."

"B-but, how can I ask Him to help me not be so scared?" Patrick asked.

"Just talk to Him, honey. Tell Him right now what weighs heavily on your heart, He's listening to you, I know He is. I think you know it too that He is always there for you," Christina said softly.

"God?" Patrick began to speak, but his uncertainty kept him from continuing and he looked at Christina helplessly.

"Go on, it's OK, just talk to Him," Christina said gently, her gentle words probing the boy to speak further.

"M-my name is Patrick Wallace, and I'm 11-years-old. My mommy died tonight andand I'm so scared. The pastor at my church kept saying that we were bad people, and that we would burn in hell for it. I-I believed him, and now I'm dying and I…" his voice trailed and he began to cry more openly. Christina wrapped him gently in her arms and held him.

As she did, neither of them noticed that Andrew had come inside the chapel and he stood at the back of the small room and listened as Patrick prayed. After a few moments, the small boy looked at her, and she offered him an encouraging smile.

Patrick continued to pray, his voice filled with the exact same sorrow that seemed to embody his broken spirit. "I-I just want to know that you love me, that you actually care for me, and that you're not mad at me. I'm sorry for being such a bad boy, and I hope you will not be angry at me for not coming and talking to you sooner, but I was scared, I'm still so scared." His prayer spoken, the young boy leaned up against Christina and closed his eyes, the tears continuing to stream down his cheeks, the moistness dampening the front of her dress.

As she rubbed her hand in his disheveled hair, she began to offer a prayer of her own to her creator. "Father," she whispered, her voice soft as she held the frightened child in her arms. "Please take good care of this little boy, give him something special and loving to hold on to."

"He did, Christina," Andrew said gently as he came down the aisle and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He gave him you."

The End

Want to send feedback?  Direct it to fictionfeedback (at) onthisside.net.  Please put the story title in the subject line.  Thanks!

Back