A 'Touched By an Angel' Story

By: Yvette Jessen

© 2001, not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights. This is an amateur story.

The lone figure stood on the bridge. The sun had already begun to descend behind the tall trees, which surrounded the small park. Peter Harding stood alone, a bag of breadcrumbs in his hands, and the ducks swimming in the pond below. As the people walked through the area, they could hear the teenage boy speaking as he tossed handfuls of bread into the water.

"Hello, my friends," Peter spoke, and when the ducks began quacking, he continued to speak, "I know, I wasn't here yesterday." He held up his bag of breadcrumbs proudly, "but I have the bread from yesterday too. I wanted to come, but my father needed my help at the store." His voice carried a note of pride in it; it wasn't very often that Joe Harding asked his son to do anything.

As he spoke, the people walking by shook their heads, but said nothing. They knew of Peter, and the word around the town was that he was the only 16-year-old still in the 8th grade. Most of the people in this town also knew of Peter's parents. His father was known to be the proprietor of 'Harding's Hardware', one of the most profitable businesses in town. His mother was known for her volunteer work and her activities in the local church. Maggie Harding was one of the best altos in the church choir and she was always asked to sing solos during the holidays.

But, Peter was different. Although he could boast a picture perfect family, and had a lot of talent when it came to playing the violin, he had no friends his age, and most of the kids and teenagers picked on him and treated him as an outcast. Even his teachers seemed indifferent towards him and he had always been placed in special classes at school.

He threw the last pieces of bread over the bridge, and once it was gone, the ducks swam away. Peter watched sadly as they left. He knew that the ducks couldn't replace the feeling of having a real friend, but pretending that they were his friends seemed a better option than feeling sorry for himself.

As he turned to go, he could see the sun had disappeared behind the trees near the small pond. He wandered over to where the swings were and sat down in one. He dug around in his backpack and found two granola bars and a bag of birdseed. He pulled out one of the granola bars and laid the backpack on the ground by his feet. As he opened the small package, pulled the granola bar out, and took a bite, he sighed contentedly. His favorite time of the day was during dusk when he could go to the park alone and wait for the first star to peek out. He knew that if he saw this particular star, then he could make a wish and it might come true.

His wishes were always the same. "God, it's me, Peter. Please, if you can hear me, send me a friend." He repeated those words when the first star appeared overhead.

More stars began to appear and he looked up and saw three figures approaching him. It must be a miracle, he thought when he saw two women and a man walking in the direction of the where he stood on the small bridge. He couldn't see their faces very well, because the light was poor, but he could see them as they passed under a nearby lamp.

Peter closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them again, they were gone, and he was alone again. He figured they had simply walked through the park to reach the nearby hotel. He wiped his hands over his eyes and stood up. When he looked back down at his hand, he could see that it was wet from his disappointed tears. He dried them on his jeans, and once again wiped the palm of his hand over his eyes. He knew that he couldn't go home crying, his father simply wouldn't understand. Being a sensitive boy, he knew that he couldn't tell his mother about his problems because she had been troubled by something for the past three weeks. Peter had a feeling that something was wrong with his mother, but he didn't dare mention it.

His mind drifted to his mother. She was the only person who truly understood him and his problems. His father was completely unapproachable and to even mention his problems to him might actually have been a mistake. Now it appeared as though his parents had suddenly switched roles. His unusually strong mother now appeared weak and powerless over the smallest of things and his father, who was normally soft spoken, had suddenly become a take-charge kind of guy.

Peter managed to eat the rest of his granola bar, and stuffed the empty package inside his backpack. After a few minutes, he managed to regain control over his emotions, dried his eyes with a tissue, blew his nose, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and started to walk slowly out of the park. His worries for his parents concealed beneath a look of determination.

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The lights were shining brightly over the town of Garrett, Colorado that evening as Tess, Monica, and Andrew stood watching the young boy.

As they obtained a room at the hotel, the three angels sat down on the bed and began to speak about what they had witnessed in the park. "So, who is the young boy from the park?" Monica asked.

"His name is Peter Harding," Tess said. "He's 16-years-old, and considered to be stupid, but he's not. God has given him an unbelievable gift, and it's going to be your job, to help him discover it."

"What about you, Andrew?" Monica asked.

The Angel of Death sighed sadly. "Peter's mother is sick, and although she has some time left, she will have to tell her son what is happening and I'm here to help her do that. I don't know how we will do this, but I think in time, we will become aware of the method in which we must try."

"I suppose I should now go see the boy?" Monica asked.

"I think you should," Tess said and Monica left the room

As the pretty auburn headed angel walked through the parking lot and could see through the park, she smiled as she looked around the area in hopes of seeing the young boy she had seen when they had come through the park. He was no longer standing on the bridge, but when she did see him, he was now on a swing. Before she could approach where he was seated, the boy stood up and walked slowly away.

She made her way between a clump of trees and towards the swings, where the boy had been sitting. When she reached it, she noticed a small silver object on the ground. Reaching down, she picked it up and when she looked down at it, she noticed a key attached to a silver key-chain, which was shaped like a star.

Seconds later, she turned around and looked towards a small group of bushes. Someone was hiding there, and Monica had a feeling that whoever it was that had lost their key-chain had come back to retrieve it. She held the object out and spoke softly in the direction of the bushes. "Is this yours?" She asked extending the object in the direction she had heard the noises.

The same boy she, Tess, and Andrew had seen standing on the bridge earlier crawled out from the bushes and looked at the angel questionably. As he did, he reached one hand out towards the key-chain; the other gripped the strap of his backpack tightly.

Monica took a step towards the boy, but the boy backed up. "Are you afraid of me?" She finally asked; her hand still extended towards the boy with the key-chain dangling from her fingertips.

The boy nodded.

Monica remained stationary but she whispered to the frightened boy, "Don't be afraid, I won't hurt you." The object dangled before the boy's eyes, and as Monica spoke, Peter hesitantly reached his hand out towards the angel's outstretched hand.

When their fingers touched, Monica could feel the sadness, which seemed to envelope the boy. Her heart went out to him, and somehow she could understand the pain that the boy seemed to carry in his heart. "Are you OK?" She asked once the boy took the key-chain and stuffed the object in his pocket.

The boy backed quickly away from her, but when he heard the gentle voice, he glanced up at the woman standing before him, a surprised look hiding his initial fear. No adult ever spoke to him unless they had to, and this gentle woman seemed different. But, Peter was afraid to even hope that Monica could possibly be any different than the other people in this town. Instead of speaking to her, he turned away quickly.

Monica attempted to imitate the boy's gesture, but she did not completely understand the fear she interpreted to have been emanating from the boy. As he backed away, she turned to walk away from the swings and back in the direction of the hotel, but she stopped when she heard the teenager's quavering voice addressing her, "thank you."

The angel turned around and smiled, "you're welcome."

The boy ran away and once he disappeared through the trees, Monica made her way back in the direction she had come. She stopped for a moment as soon as boy was gone, but she shook her head sadly and walked back towards the hotel.

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The following morning, Tess woke Andrew and Monica up and explained to them that their assignment would be back in town that day and that they would probably need to make contact with him. It was a nice day, the sun was shining high in the sky, the blueness of the late summertime sky inviting to them. Monica and Andrew both knew that they would be needed in town, and that their assignments would want to have a few angels around on this particular day. They left the hotel and made their way back towards town.

Andrew was beginning to feel sick, and the realization suddenly hit him that he was trapped in human form. "Monica, what's wrong with me?"

"That's easy, Angel Boy," Tess said matter-of-factly appearing next to them, but was only seen by the other two angels. "In order for you to leave an impact on your assignment, you're going to have to show some vulnerability here. Now I'll be checking in with you periodically, but for the most part, I think you two can handle this."

"Great," the Angel of Death muttered as he reached up and felt the fever starting. "What should I do, Tess?"

Before the supervisor could say anything to him, they could all see four boys who were standing in front of the steps of an old-fashioned gazebo. Although, he felt horrible, Andrew approached the group, and as he did so, he could hear their loud voices.

"Hey dumb dumb," said one boy with a laugh. He pushed Peter onto the ground and as Andrew stepped closer, the boy continued to speak. "We roasted one of your friends last night." The boy started to laugh, and a second boy attempted to swing one of his fists at Peter, who covered his face and backed up towards the steps. The three boys laughed.

"Why don't you say something, Stupid?" Shouted the third boy, and grabbed the backpack from Peter and began to dig around in it. As he did, he began to throw the contents onto the ground. Finally, he pulled out a small book, "Well, lookie here, Dummy's learning to read." He opened the book and began flipping nonchalantly through the pages.

Peter looked up and when his eyes fell on the book, he reached his hand out to the boy who was holding it.

Upon seeing Peter's frightened eyes, Andrew made his way over to where the boys were standing. As he got closer, he realized that the three boys teasing Peter couldn't have been much older than 14. The Angel of Death had a strange feeling that it would probably do little good to get involved, but he didn't want to see Peter get any more hurt than he already was and upon seeing the tears streaming down the boy's cheeks, he stepped between the three boys and Peter. "Why are you doing this?" he asked the boys who had grabbed the backpack and was digging through it.

"Why?" The boy holding the book sneered, "Because he's a nitwit."

Andrew shook his head and extended his hand out towards the boys who held the backpack, "What do you want with his things?" He asked as he took a step closer to the boys.

By this time, Monica was coming closer to the group as well, and she could see that Andrew was now taking a few shaky steps closer to the bullies. Within moments, one of the boys turned and ran away without looking back.

The angel was left looking at the two boys who remained, and when they didn't say anything, he spoke again, "Why do you harm those who are different than you? Is this how you would define being strong? It's not, it's more or less a weakness."

The boy holding the backpack threw it to the ground and walked away without answering the question. The third boy looked at the man who's eyes refused to look away without getting an answer. Finally, he turned around to see if his friends were nearby. When he saw no one there to defend him, he turned around and was left looking at Andrew once again. Eventually, he threw the book on the ground and started to walk away.

"You don't seem so strong now that both of your friends are gone," Andrew said softly.

"Maybe not, but at least I can defend myself without getting the grown-ups involved," he muttered as he walked away.

Andrew looked up wanting to say something, but then thought better of it. There was no point in saying anything to the boy. He and his friends didn't seem to care. His attention diverted to Peter, who was still on the ground, his face in his hands. The angel could see Peter's shoulders were shaking as the boy cried and he wished he could do more to help him.

Monica was also now standing next to him, and she was looking down at the boy with the utmost compassion and love in her eyes. Andrew got down on the ground and put his hand gently on Peter's trembling shoulders.

"They're gone," he said gently. "You're safe now."

The boy looked up at Andrew and then over towards Monica; his face still wet from his frightened tears. Using the sleeve of his shirt, he wiped his eyes and nose. "What's your name?" Andrew asked softly. Although he knew who Peter was, this was his way of making initial contact and he knew that introductions were a part of this.

"Peter," came a small voice.

Andrew nodded and helped the boy stand up. Once they were on their feet, he reached down and retrieved the backpack. This he handed to Peter, "I'm Andrew, and this is my friend Monica." He smiled gently as he introduced them.

Peter nodded and accepted the backpack.

"Weren't you the boy that was in the park last night?" Monica asked.

Peter nodded, "Yeah, I sometimes go there to see my friends," he stammered looking at the ground.

Monica smiled and scanned the area to make sure the three boys were gone. "Friends are very important, aren't they?" She offered. "They are a gift from God."

Peter nodded. "Yeah. You are staying at the hotel, right?"

"Yes," Andrew said and coughed. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could get some medicine would you? I think I feel a cold coming on."

"There's a pharmacy over there," Peter said softly. "Actually, now that you mention it, you do look kind of pale, Andrew."

The angel nodded affirming Peter's words, "yes, I guess I am. I suppose colds can do that to a person," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll go get you something," Monica offered. "Why don't you sit down, and I'll be back in a few minutes?"

Andrew nodded as he and Peter sat down on the steps that led up to the wooden gazebo. His eyes came to rest on Peter, noting his downtrodden expression. It was the same expression they had seen him carrying the night before, and somehow he could understand the sadness that seemed to follow the boy around. "I get the impression that you were very disappointed when we didn't stop and at least say hello last night." Andrew said gently, and then added, "I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at Andrew once again, "How'd you know?"

"I saw you standing on the bridge last night when we arrived and I guess if you look deeply enough, you can see it in people's eyes," Andrew answered honestly. He looked around the area and saw a woman standing off to the side of the gazebo. When his eyes met hers, she approached them and once Peter turned around, he smiled upon seeing her.

The woman carried a gentle smile on her face. "Are you OK, Peter?" She asked the boy, and once he nodded, she looked back over at Andrew. "My name is Maggie Harding, I'm Peter's mother." She paused, "I saw everything, but was too far away to do anything about it. I want to thank you for looking out for my son."

Andrew shrugged his shoulders not saying anything, but within moments, Monica returned from the pharmacy and she offered Maggie a warm smile when she reached them.

"I've never seen anyone treat Peter so kindly," she offered weakly.

The Angel of Death looked into her eyes, and nodded, "I'm sorry," he offered gently looking from Peter to Maggie. He felt genuinely bad for the boy and his mother, but the cold he was exposed to was quickly making him feel worse. Finally he put his physical ailments into words. "I'd like to stay and talk to you, but I have to get back to the hotel, I'm feeling sick at the moment," he explained.

"What's wrong?" Maggie asked. "Maybe I can help."

Andrew shook his head, "I don't really know exactly, it came on so suddenly."

"The pharmacist said he probably has the flu that's been going around," Monica said as she pulled a small pharmacy bag out of her pocket and opened it and pulled some medicine out and showed the small bottle to Maggie.

"Mr. Bradley is pretty good about detecting these things," Maggie offered referring to the pharmacist. "This medicine is really good for flu symptoms. I give a milder variant of this to Peter when he's sick."

"I hope this will help," Andrew mumbled as he stood up.

"It should," she said simply. When her eyes once more sought communication with the two angels, they had turned around as if to walk back in the direction of the hotel. Monica had draped her arm over Andrew's now slumped shoulders. Maggie began to follow them, "Let me come with you, maybe I can help." She nodded to her son, who also began to follow.

When they got to the hotel the two angels were grateful that the boy and his mother were offering to help them. When they entered the room, Andrew immediately went to sit down on the bed, his coughing getting worse and Monica quickly opened the bag and tried to get the medicine out. Maggie went over to Andrew and brushed his hair aside to feel his forehead.

"Oh my God, you're burning up," she whispered. "Lay down, I'll get some wet washcloths for you."

Monica watched as Andrew stretched out on the bed, but after seconds passed she opened the bottle of medicine and without reading the inserted pamphlet, she removed the lid, poured some into a small plastic measurer, sat the bottle on the sink, and walked over to the bed. "Here Andrew, take this, it should make you feel better."

Maggie took a wet towel and went over to him. "This is going to be cold to the touch only because you're so hot, but it should help." Her voice emerged as though she was whispering, but some of the old assertiveness was returning.

Once Andrew had taken the medicine Monica offered him, Maggie helped him lay back down and covered him with the blanket. As he drifted off to sleep, Monica stood off to one side looking at her friend. She knew that she trusted in God, but she was unsure how Andrew getting sick was going to help the mother and in turn help the son.

Her eyes fell on Peter who had been watching her curiously. Somehow, Monica had the uneasy sensation that Peter possessed some rather extraordinary abilities, and she had the feeling that the boy was able to actually read her thoughts. She could only offer the teenager a small smile, but even though she was worried about Andrew, she realized that she could not completely figure this out.

Peter had, by this time, walked over and began to whisper something to his mother. Maggie's eyes widened slightly, but after a few moments, she nodded and her eyes sought Monica's. "You shouldn't be staying in a hotel, not while you have a sick friend to contend with." she said gently. "Andrew needs to be in a place where he can get some rest."

Monica looked at Peter who simply nodded in concurrence to his mother's words. She opened her mouth to speak, but Maggie's words cut her off. "Why don't you and Andrew come stay with us? I mean I know we're practically strangers, but I think it'd be better if you weren't totally alone here. I mean, I understand if you had other plans."

"No, we don't have any other plans," Monica answered, gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you."

Maggie nodded, "I'll get my car," she said gently. She looked over at her son, "Peter, stay here with them," she instructed as she opened the door, and left the room. Once she closed the door, she ran back in the direction the town square where her car was parked.

Monica turned away from the closed door after Maggie had left. "This was your idea, wasn't it, Peter?" She asked. When she received a nod, she smiled, "Thank you, we're both grateful."

Peter shrugged his shoulders, and looked up at Monica, "I only did it because I hope that you and Andrew would want to be my friends." Peter looked over at Andrew who was now asleep.

Monica smiled, "We both would, Peter."

Peter looked at her, hope evident in his face, but then suddenly the hopeful look disappeared and he finally looked back towards the angel. "Do you think I'm dumb?" He asked.

"No," was Monica's simple answer.

Peter looked down at his hands, "I must be the world's biggest dummy."

"Why do you believe that? Is it because of what a couple of bullies say?" Monica asked. The two of them sat down at the table.

Peter shook his head, "I talk dumb, and I'm still in the 8th grade." His expression carried a look of hopelessness and misery. "I'm 16-years-old, everyone talks about me, and says that I am dumb. The other boys beat me up, call me names, and treat me like I don't have any feelings. You saw what happened in town this morning."

"I saw three boys picking on someone who had no way to defend himself. The way you speak doesn't determine whether or not you're intelligent. In God's eyes, it doesn't matter how you say something, but rather what you say," Monica said gently as she reached over and rested her hands on the boy's shoulders. "I'm of the same mindset, I think people put too much emphasis on how people say something rather than what they say."

"Really?" Peter asked not quite sure if he wanted to believe Monica's words.

The angel nodded and smiled. "It's true, one day the people will open their eyes and see for themselves what a special person you truly are."

"I don't think that will ever happen," Peter said. "At least not here."

"Don't be so sure about that, Peter," Monica said gently. "Sometimes people fear those things they may not understand."

"Is that why you tried to talk to me at the park last night when you found my key-chain?" Peter asked.

Monica laughed gently, "yes," came her simple answer. "I think that everyone has something special to give. I believe that you have done that in offering to have us in your home. But, I have to ask, aside from us becoming your friends, why did you want to help people you don't know?"

"I thought that maybe it would make a difference to you, and to Andrew's recovery," Peter said.

Monica looked at the young man, her assertions about the boy accurate. Peter did possess the ability to telepathically communicate. Only trouble was; the boy obviously had not yet realized it. "Helping Andrew is really important to you, isn't it, Peter?"

"Yes, I want to have real friends," Peter said. His gaze fell to his lap once again. "I hate being alone and not having anyone to talk to."

"But, what about your friends at the park?" Monica asked.

"You mean the ducks?" Peter asked, "Those aren't real friends, Monica, they are only there to eat the breadcrumbs, then they swim away. I've been fooling myself into believing that ducks can be my friends."

Monica rested her hand on Peter's arm and could somehow sense the hopelessness that the boy felt. Peter's thoughts were so well defined that the angel knew these emotions without him even having to speak of them. She really understood Peter's feelings far more than the boy could ever know.

"Is he gonna be OK?" Peter asked after a minute or two of silence had passed between them and he glanced over to see Andrew still asleep. He could also see the mark of concern on Monica's face.

Monica sighed deeply, "I hope so."

"You're worried, aren't you?" Peter asked. When Monica nodded, he continued to speak, "Don't worry, my mom will take care of him. She helped me when I had bronchitis last year. She gave me lots of soup, and there was even this medicine that tasted like grapes which helped my throat." Peter rested his hand on Monica's arm and smiled encouragingly.

Monica found the sentiments of the young boy touching and she found his words to be encouraging. When they heard someone knocking, they both stood up. The angel went and opened the door to see Maggie standing on the opposite side.

"My car is in the parking lot," she offered and grabbed the two duffel bags, which suddenly appeared and were sitting by the door. "You need to check out, and we can get up to the house." Maggie took their belongings outside, and dropped it next to the other bags which were in the trunk of her car.

Back inside, Maggie and Monica tried to help Andrew out of the bed. With Monica on one side, and Maggie on the other, the two of them managed to practically drag him out to the car. The teenager opened the door, they helped Andrew get into the back seat, and Peter climbed in next to him as Andrew slowly opened his eyes.

"We're going to my house, Andrew, and my mom's going to help you get well," Peter said.

Andrew nodded weakly and closed his eyes once again.

Monica went quickly inside to pay the bill for the night and when she came back outside, she climbed into the front seat next to Maggie. The woman started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot.

About ten minutes later, she parked the car in front of a country style house; got out of the car, and rushed to the front door with the key. Once Monica had gotten out of the car, she opened the back door and Peter got out. Together the two of them helped Andrew.

Once everyone was inside, Maggie showed them to the guest room, where Andrew was finally able to lie down. After the two angels were settled in the room, Maggie left them alone.

During this time, Peter had returned to the car to get the bags and bring them inside. He took them to the guest room, knocked on the door, and handed the bags to Monica when the door was opened. Once the bags were delivered, Peter joined his mother in the kitchen.

As soon as he came in and sat down at the table, Maggie had opened a can of soup and poured the contents into a bowl. "Mom, you know what?" When Maggie said nothing, Peter continued to speak, "Monica said that I'm not stupid like they all say."

Maggie put the bowl of soup in the microwave and turned to face her son. "She's right, Peter, you're not stupid." She smiled gently, her face beginning to show strain which resulted from the morning's events. "I've been telling you that for years, why is a stranger's words more convincing than your own mother's?"

"Because she's a stranger, I guess," Peter offered, sheepishly trying to ignore the sudden change in his mother's facial expression.

"I understand," Maggie said gently. "I think you are smart enough to know that a mother is always partial to her children. But, even if I wasn't your mother, I would say that you are very intelligent."

Peter smiled brightly, but finally asked his mother the question, which had been bothering him most of the morning. "Do you think Dad will be upset because we asked them to stay?"

Maggie sighed deeply, "He'll probably be concerned, but let me handle him, OK?"

Peter nodded and looked up as Monica entered the kitchen, "Andrew's asleep." Her pretty face looked strained from worry and she sat down at the table. Maggie stood up as the timer went off on the microwave and pulled the bowl of soup out. She placed the soup on the table in front of Monica and pulled a couple slices of bread from the package, which had been sitting on the counter. These she placed on a small plate and put on the table. She finally grabbed a spoon from inside the drawer and handed it to Monica.

"You need to eat something," she said gently. "You don't need to get sick as well, that would do both of you little good."

"Thank you," Monica accepted the spoon, and after tasting it, she began to nervously stir the soup.

"Where are you heading, Monica? You're passing through town, I assume?" Maggie asked. "I've never seen you around Garrett, and Joe and I are pretty actively involved here."

Monica nodded. "We're just passing through," was all she said.

"I see," Maggie offered. "From the looks of it, it seems as though you've been on the road for quite awhile."

"Our work makes us travel a lot," Monica said softly as she continued to stir the soup.

After a few moments had passed, Maggie nodded. "I don't mean to pry, Monica, but I get the feeling you aren't telling us the whole story."

Upon seeing the angel's eyes widen, Peter spoke, "I think they're like these people that go from one place to another and help people."

Monica glanced up from the soup. How much did Peter really know about them, she wondered. The spoon fell from her hand and landed in the bowl with a thud as she began to contemplate just how much this talented teenager had perceived about them after only one meeting.

"I know you're worried, Monica, but if you don't eat, it will only make matters worse," Maggie's voice interrupted her thoughts.

Seconds passed and finally Monica once more brought the spoon to her mouth. Maggie stood up, went to the fridge, and opened the door. Once she found what she was looking for, she brought a large jar of peanut butter over to the table. She placed this in front of Peter, and then grabbed two more slices of bread, a plate and a knife. Peter reached for the jar, and the knife and began to build himself a sandwich.

Moments later, the door opened and slammed. "Maggie, I'm home."

"Excuse me for a minute, Monica, that's my husband." Maggie stood up and made her way into the living room and greeted Joe.

"What's going on here?" Joe's voice could be heard in the kitchen. "The curtains in the guest room are closed. It's the middle of the day, is there someone here?"

"Yes," she said simply. "We have company for a few days, Joe."

"Who is it?"

"Monica and her friend, Andrew," Maggie explained, "Peter and I met them today in town. Andrew's been sick for much of the morning, and we've already got him in the guest room. The curtains are closed because he's asleep."

"You know they could be wanted criminals or something, Hon," Joe said, a deep crease forming above his eyes. Maggie knew this look; Joe was concerned for her and Peter.

"I know you're concerned, but Andrew defended Peter against the Williams boys this morning. You know how awful those kids are to him, and it was Andrew who stepped in and got those bullies to leave." Maggie said defending her actions. "Besides, now this kind man is sick, and I couldn't just leave them at a hotel without anyone to help them."

"I don't like this, Honey. I ran into the sheriff at the shop, and he's been putting out calls all morning." Joe said in a hushed tone, "Sheriff Smith didn't say what specifically was going on, but he advised us to be careful and not to speak to strangers."

Maggie nodded. "You know as well as I do that Sheriff Smith is always on the rampage about something. I truly can understand why you are concerned, but I think Monica and Andrew are OK. If you had seen how Andrew had looked out for Peter like I did, then you wouldn't be the least bit worried about them being here."

"OK, Hon, if you're so certain that everything is fine, I won't argue with you about it. I guess I'd better get in there, introduce myself, and get a cup of coffee. It's been a long morning." He followed Maggie into the kitchen, and greeted Monica, "Hi, I'm Joe Harding." He extended his hand towards the angel and smiled.

"Monica," came the abrupt but soft answer as Monica shook hands with Maggie's husband.

Joe pulled a chair and sat down at the table. "How ya doing, Pete'?" Peter nodded, his mouth full of peanut butter.

Maggie brought Joe a cup of coffee and sat back down at the table.

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The following morning, Monica came into the guest room to see that Andrew was sitting up in bed and reading a book.

She appeared relieved when she saw that her friend was doing better, and when Tess appeared in the room, the two angels looked at her questionably. "How are we supposed to do this?" Monica asked as she tapped the book Andrew was reading.

Andrew laid the book down on his lap, looked up and smiled when he saw the two of them standing in the room.

"How are you doing, Angel Boy?" Tess asked.

"Yes," Monica said. "Are you feeling better?"

Andrew nodded, "Yes, much better, though I must admit that I woke up a little disoriented. Then Maggie brought me some eggs and toast for breakfast and explained what happened yesterday, and then Peter brought the book. They're really nice people."

Tess nodded, "Yes, they are," she paused before speaking again. "Now you two angel babies are going to have to break through Maggie's wall and get her to talk to her son."

"This isn't going to be easy, Tess," Andrew said softly. "I think she feels that she's trying to protect him."

Monica nodded in concurrence when they heard someone tapping on the door. Tess disappeared and Monica went to open the door. Once she had opened it, she saw Peter standing on the other side. "Good morning, Peter," she offered.

"What was that?" Peter asked looking at Monica. "Are the lights in there shorting out or something, because I thought I saw a white light under the door?"

"Light?" Monica asked and glanced back towards Andrew. He could probably detect that Tess had been there in angelic form, and this light he had seen may have been a part of that.

Peter shook his head, "I don't know, I thought I saw some weird light under the door, then it was gone." After a few moments, the teenager shook his head and spoke again, "I guess it was nothing. Anyway, I wanted to see if Andrew wanted another book now that he's feeling better."

"Yes he is, thanks to you and your mother," Monica said softly and moved aside so Peter could come in.

Peter entered the room as Monica made her way down the hall and into the living room. "Good morning, Maggie," she offered, when she saw the woman standing in the room, an iron in her hand.

"Good morning, Monica. Are you hungry, I could make you some breakfast?" Maggie offered setting the iron down and looking up at her guest. Sighing sadly, she smiled weakly and went back in the direction of the kitchen. When she got there, she reached for a small pill bottle. "Sometimes I forget to take my medicine," she said softly as she tried to open the small bottle. Her hand was shaking and finally Monica took the bottle from her and opened it herself. The last pill, she poured into Maggie's hand.

"I guess I have to go back into town again," Maggie said softly as soon as she had finished taking the medicine.

"If you'd like, I'll go with you," the angel said softly.

Maggie nodded and made her way back into the living room to turn the iron off. She offered the angel a grateful smile as she sat the iron down on the ironing board, and removed the apron she was wearing. She bent down and unplugged the iron and slung the apron over the ironing board. "I guess I could use some help picking up the stuff," she began. "Either that, or we eat sawdust for lunch." She laughed self-consciously at her own joke. She walked down the hall and knocked on the guest room door.

Peter opened the door, "Yeah, Mom."

"Monica and I are going downtown to get some groceries, OK? We'll be back in about an hour or so," Maggie said. "If you or Andrew decide to leave, please leave a note for me and your father, OK?"

Peter nodded, and Maggie returned to the living room. He closed the door to the room and went and sat on the bed with Andrew. The teenager looked at his new friend for a second and then back down at his hands.

"What is it, Peter?" Andrew asked seeing the troubled expression in the boy's eyes. The angel could sense something very special about Peter, but he didn't know exactly what it was.

Peter shook his head, "I don't know."

"Come on, you can tell me, it will stay between us," Andrew said.

The boy looked rather nervous, but after a few moments, he looked at Andrew. "Your friend Monica is really different," he began. "I could sense something about her, but I don't know what it is. Maybe I'm just as dumb as the others here say."

"No you're not," Andrew said gently. "You're pretty perceptive about things, I mean; you know your mother is sick, don't you?"

Peter nodded sadly. "How did you know?"

"I work with people who are dying, Peter, and I can see the signs when someone is sick," Andrew said honestly.

"She is," Peter said softly. "My parents don't know that I know about it, Andrew, but I can hear my mother's thoughts and I can perceive what is happening with her and I know she's very sick." The boy could feel the tears in his eyes. He looked at Andrew and shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes I wish I could just turn this stupid ability off."

"Don't ever wish that, Peter, you have an extraordinary gift," Andrew said gently. "You have the ability to sense emotion and thought."

"Great, something else that makes me more of an oddball around here."

Andrew looked at Peter, "You know, it must be really hard to be different in a small town."

Peter nodded, "Yeah. The other boys all call me dumb, because of the way I talk, but I'm not, I'm just not like they are."

Andrew looked at Peter intently, "believe me, I understand what it feels to be different."

"You? But there's nothing out of this world about you," Peter objected.

"Maybe, maybe not. You can never be too sure," Andrew said, all the while wondering how much about him the young boy was able to sense. Peter's phrases somehow reminded him of the innocence of an angel named Taylor, and he smiled as he remembered this.

"Do you ever feel like an outcast?" Peter wanted to know.

Andrew smiled weakly, "I think everybody does now and then."

"I feel that way all the time," was all Peter said.

"I'm sorry." Andrew offered sincerely.

-----------

Monica was standing near the town center some time later. Maggie had gone into the pharmacy and when she came out, they met and went into the grocery store, but she couldn't stop thinking about this assignment. Andrew was supposed to work with Maggie, but somehow she was starting to care for the woman, and she could see the fear in Maggie's mannerisms. Eventually, Andrew would have to tell her that it was important for her to tell her son the truth.

Peter's telepathic abilities would eventually fail to offer his parents the certainty that they wanted. Monica remembered the day before when Peter mentioned their jobs. She realized that whenever she would look at Maggie, the frightened woman would eventually confront them as to why specifically they were on the road. The young angel sighed deeply, and slowly walked over towards the gazebo where Maggie was standing.

Seconds passed, and Maggie looked up and smiled. She found herself feeling weak and dizzy and had to sit down. Monica approached when she could see Maggie seated on the stair step leading up and into the wooden gazebo. "What's wrong?" Monica asked, once she reached Maggie.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders completely unsure of what it was she was supposed to say. The woman could almost detect that Monica was going to ask her questions about her health, and she was not sure she was ready to offer any answers.

"Maggie, what's going on? Are you OK?" Monica asked as she sat down next to the woman and put her arm around her shoulder. "You look a little pale. Is there anything I can do?"

"Monica, really it's nothing." Maggie said softly.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Monica said gently. "Please, tell me, maybe I can help."

Maggie stood up and began to gather the bags in her arms. After they reached the car, Monica could see that she was now leaning against it and was holding her head in her hands. "Please, Maggie, just tell me something, I want to help you. If you at least tell me something, maybe I can."

"Look, just forget it. I mean, there's nothing you can do anyway, so just drop it," Maggie said somewhat angrily as she started the car and they drove back to the house. As soon as they were there, Maggie turned off the engine, and looked at Monica. "I'm sorry, it's not my intention to get angry with you, but I have to deal with this in my own way, and I can't expect two perfect strangers to resolve all of these problems for me."

Maggie got out of the car and walked towards the front door. As she pulled the key from her pocket, she turned around and spoke. "Listen, maybe you can bring everything inside, I need to sit down for awhile. Is that OK?"

Monica smiled, "I'll do anything to help."

"Thank you," Maggie said softly, and instead of going inside, she walked down the steps and in the direction of the barn, which was situated near the house.

Monica continued to unload the groceries, but after a few moments, she could see that Andrew and Peter were standing on the front porch. "What happened?" Peter asked when Monica came up the stairs. "Did she faint again?"

The young angel looked at Peter and after a few moments, she nodded. "I think she was about to." She looked at the teenager. "Peter, can you help me unpack everything inside?"

The boy nodded and looked at Andrew. "See what I mean?" He asked weakly shaking his head.

Andrew reached out and touched Peter's shoulder, and upon feeling the gentle touch of the angel on his shoulder, the boy's eyes widened slightly. As soon as Monica went inside, the teenager followed leaving Andrew alone on the porch. After some moments of hesitation passed, the Angel of Death followed Maggie to the barn.

As soon as he came inside, he could see her sitting on a lawn chair, her face in her hands. He stood in the doorway watching her, and then after a few moments, he cleared his throat and looked down at her with compassion and love in his eyes. "I think we should have a little talk, Maggie," he said softly, and when her eyes met his, she swallowed hard but managed to nod.

She watched him as he unfolded a chair and she sighed deeply; her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Are you afraid of me, Maggie?" Andrew finally asked gently.

"I sense something different about you, but I don't think so. Should I be?" She asked in a small voice.

Andrew shook his head, "No, you have nothing to be afraid of."

Maggie swallowed hard, but finally found her voice, "You don't have to do this, you know?"

"Do what?"

"You know, stay here, but if you and Monica leave, then Peter will be alone again." Maggie looked at him, misery showing in her face. "You and Monica are the only friends Peter has, and I have a feeling it is within your power to help him. He's my son, and I don't know what I can do for him." She rubbed the tears from her eyes and reached for a tissue.

Andrew looked at Maggie, "You're scared of something you have no control over."

Maggie nodded.

"Why?" Andrew asked. He grabbed hold of her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. After a few moments, he knew what it was, but he waited for her to tell him what it was he could now understand. He knew why it was so important to her that they stay.

Maggie shook her head rapidly as she pulled her hands away, and attempted to brush the tears out of her eyes. "I just think that hearing good things from a friend is more important than a mother trying to reaffirm them. In fact, Peter said so himself."

"How long have you been sick, Maggie?" Andrew finally asked putting what he knew about her into words. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

"How did you know?" Maggie asked feeling a shiver go through her when he touched her. She pulled away and looked at him suspiciously.

"I can sense it." Andrew tried to begin. "I have this ability and Peter does as well."

"What ability?" Maggie asked.

"Peter possesses the ability to sense and detect emotions," Andrew said. "I don't believe he is fully aware of the extent he is able to do this, and unless someone were to tell him, he would probably go on being able to do this without knowing or understanding why."

Maggie nodded not sure she wanted to know something else that made her son different from the rest of the boys in Garrett. "If he has this ability you speak of, shouldn't he know about it?"

"No, I think he would have to learn it on his own," Andrew said gently. "There are many people who have this ability, and God has given them this special gift which is a talent, but this is in Peter rather latent." When he got a confused look from the woman, Andrew smiled and continued. "Maggie, this means that in time, Peter will come to understand and accept what it is about him that sets him apart from the other people here in town."

"Try telling that to my son," Maggie argued. "Peter has been battling feelings of isolation ever since he was a little boy, and it is not getting any easier for him. The boys still treat him like an outcast. You saw what happened yesterday in town." Maggie was beginning to lose her composure once again and she reached for her purse, hoping to find a tissue.

Andrew reached over and grabbed her hands again distracting her from her quest for a tissue. After a second, he spoke again, "You haven't told Peter about your health problems, have you?"

Maggie shook her head, "no, and I ask that you not speak to him about it."

Andrew sighed deeply, "Well, based on what I have told you, Maggie, he may already sense something is wrong. Just as I am aware that something is wrong with you right now."

Maggie looked as though she had been struck and pulled her hands once again away from Andrew, "How is it that you know about Peter's ability and people like Joe and I don't?"

Andrew sighed deeply. "Is the answer really so important to you?"

"I don't know," Maggie said weakly. She paused for a moment, and then spoke again, "I've got Cancer, Andrew. The doctor has said that I have maybe two months left." She looked at him once again, misery evident in her features, "I couldn't bring myself to tell Peter about it just because he's so sensitive about things, and we've always been so close to each other. With me gone, I don't know what will happen between him and Joe."

The angel looked at her again. "Does Joe know?"

Maggie nodded, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. "He and I were together when the diagnosis came out, and we agreed that we weren't going to tell Peter until later. He's had enough trouble fitting in here and he and Joe have always had a rocky relationship. You and Monica are like the miracles that he's been praying for."

"And you think that as long as we are here, Peter will be happy regardless of what happens to you?" Andrew asked softly, trying to make some kind of sense of the emotions he could detect in the woman. "I don't think Peter would want to replace you. You're his mother and new friends can't replace the love and nurturing a mother can give."

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks and she groped in her purse once again for a tissue. When she couldn't find one, she started wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. "Do you think I don't know that?" She asked bitterly.

Andrew sighed deeply, but eventually he nodded. He wanted to answer her question, but was unable to offer her any consoling words. After a few moments of awkward silence, he stood up and kneeled down in front of Maggie. He wrapped his arms around her and held her while she cried. The fear that emanated from her was obvious, but he remained there.

"Maggie, how do you feel about dying?" He asked gently when their hug loosened.

"I've been so scared for Peter that I haven't even thought about it," she said softly. "Why do you ask me these hard questions?"

"Because running and hiding will not help you in facing the inevitable," he said softly and rested his hand on her shoulder as he began to glow, the radiance of God's love filling the barn. She remained seated, her eyes covered with her hands, and he squeezed her shoulder once again. "Maggie, just look at me."

She glanced up and just about fell out of the chair when she saw him glowing. "Andrew? What's going on?"

"I'm an angel, Maggie," he said gently. "Monica is as well, and we were sent here to help you."

"Because I'm dying?" she whispered softly.

"Not because you're dying, Maggie, but I do know, and you still have time, and that is precious," he said as he took her hands gently in his. "You have to tell your son, Maggie, he is strong and God will give him the strength to get through this."

"How much time do I have?" she whispered.

"I don't know, but I promise you, no matter when, no matter where, I'll be with you when it happens, Maggie, and I'll help you through everything, I promise. You're not alone, God loves you and He knows you're afraid, that's why He sent Monica and me to you," Andrew said gently.

"Y-you're the Angel of Death?" She asked; her question filled with fear and sadness.

"Yes I am," he said gently.

She backed away from him, her eyes filling with tears.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," he said gently and after a few moments of silence passed, he spoke, "Monica and I will stay for a couple of days, if it would help."

She shook her head trying to digest everything that had happened. "I'm not ready to die yet. Andrew please don't take me yet."

"I'm not here to take you," he smiled gently at her. "You do have some time left, Maggie and God sent us here to help you discover what you need to do before He calls you home." He looked at her, his eyes filled with compassion as he wrapped her in his arms and held her tightly once again. "So many people don't get that chance, and He wants you so much to use it."

She shook her head breaking the embrace, "No, I can't die. Please God, for Peter's sake, I have to live. If I die now, Peter would be all alone. Don't you understand; he would be alone?"

"Peter wouldn’t be alone, Maggie," Andrew began. "God would always be with him, and God loves your son just as He loves you and Joe."

Maggie stood up, folded the chair, and leaned it against the wall. She turned away from him, opened the barn door, and walked slowly away from him and towards the house.

"You should tell him what you told me. He needs to hear it from you," Andrew said gently from the doorway of the barn.

Maggie nodded, but turned back around, and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "I'm afraid to, Andrew," was all she was able to say.

The angel nodded, "I know." When he caught up with her, he looked at her with compassion in his eyes, but then instead of saying anything further, he followed her into the house.

-----------

Inside, Peter was playing some music for Monica on the violin. They had gone into the bedroom and sat down on the bed as soon as they had finished unpacking the groceries. "You're really good at that," Monica offered as he finished the song he was playing. "I've never really been any good with music. How long have you played?"

"Almost six years," Peter said. "Most people don't like the violin, but I always liked it. I think my dad was kinda upset that I didn't want to play sports, but I'm not very athletic."

"I don't know, maybe if you tried," Monica said shrugging her shoulders.

"Not in a million years. My mother and I are both really into music," Peter said. "She's in the choir at the church. I get to hear her sing every year for Christmas, and it's really great. Hopefully, she'll be able to sing again this year too. I don't know anymore, though."

"Why Peter?" Monica asked.

"I don't know, it's just that Christmas is five months away," Peter began. "A lot can happen in five months."

"It would be nice if we could all hear her sing, though," Monica said softly when she saw a strange and sad look cross the teenager's face.

"She sings like an angel," Peter said sadly, "Everyone in town says so, too."

"You have a very musical family, Peter. That is really great, all I can play is the radio, but I do know that music is like a gift," Monica offered him a small smile as she spoke.

Peter smiled weakly as a knock interrupted their conversation; he sat down his violin, and went to open the door. Andrew stood on the opposite side. "Hi Peter," he whispered.

Peter nodded, "Is my mom in the kitchen?" He asked as he moved away from the doorway so Andrew could enter.

"Yes, she's preparing to make lunch," Andrew said.

"I'd better go help her," Peter turned to Monica. "Lately she's been kind of sick, and I don't think she should be working too hard." Peter grabbed his violin and walked out of the room. After he was gone, Andrew closed the door.

"Did you talk to Maggie?" Monica asked Andrew.

"Yes, I did," Andrew said softly and sighed deeply. "I think we're going to need Tess' help on this one."

"Tess said we're on our own here," Monica said softly. "She has more faith in us than we have in ourselves."

Andrew nodded. "Maggie is very sick, Monica, she's dying."

"How much time?" Monica asked weakly.

"I don't know, and perhaps the reason we're here is not to take Maggie home, but rather to help her make amends with her family before it is time for her to go home," Andrew said softly.

"Did Maggie tell you this?" Monica asked.

"In part, but I think she wanted to hold it inside, and protect her son. I could sense it and Peter had told me some things about it earlier as well," Andrew said sadly. "Peter knows she's dying."

Monica looked at Andrew still taking everything in, "Maggie knows, but how does Peter know?"

Andrew looked at Monica. "He has a special gift, Monica, and can sense a great deal about people. Peter can tell by her emotions and behavior that she's sick, but she won't tell him that, and that's why we're here."

"Does Maggie know that Peter knows about this?" Monica asked.

"I eluded to it, but I don't think she knows that Peter is aware of it," Andrew said softly.

Monica shook her head, "It seems to me that she has enough on her mind and she's afraid."

Andrew took a deep breath, "There was something else that I didn't tell Maggie. Her condition although terminal, is something that many people have lived for years with. She needs to realize that regardless of what a human doctor says, that only God knows how much time she really has."

"Why didn't you tell them this?" Monica asked.

"If I had told Maggie, then she may reach the conclusion that she doesn't have to tell her son. Peter needs to know the truth, Monica, and God wants her to tell him. If she doesn't, then when her time does come, she will never have made the step and her son will suffer as a result."

Monica nodded, "I understand now."

At that moment, there came a knock at the door and once Monica had opened it, they could see Maggie standing on the other side. "I just wanted to see if you needed anymore of that medicine, Andrew," Her voice was soft indicating that she was still a little nervous about what he might say.

Andrew smiled weakly and shook his head, "I think I'm OK now."

Maggie nodded and rubbed her hands together, "Listen, Peter's in the kitchen helping with lunch, and I thought maybe you two could help us a little. I thought that it'd be nice if we got some things together for tomorrow. I was thinking maybe we could go to the park and have a picnic or something."

Andrew smiled and answered affirmatively. "Sure, Maggie, that sounds nice."

Maggie left and Monica looked at Andrew skeptically. "I don't understand, she knows who you are, right?"

"She does, but I think she believes somehow that denial is the best option available to her," Andrew said softly.

Monica remained silent and shook her head sadly, but rather than offer any sort of comment to Andrew, the two of them left the room, went down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

-----------

The next afternoon, after they had packed up their lunch, Monica and Andrew followed Maggie and Peter down the long driveway leading towards the road, which would head back into town. Maggie had decided that they should walk because the distance between their house and the park was not all that far, and there was no place to park the car except for the small parking lot adjacent to the hotel.

As they followed the street towards town, Andrew made his way over to where Peter was walking alone. He was hoping that he would have a chance to speak to the teenager alone and concluded that he would have a better chance to do so before they reached the park.

The first thing the angel realized about Peter was that the boy seemed to be deep in thought about something. When he tugged on Peter's sleeve, the boy didn't say anything, but rather only seemed to acknowledge Andrew's presence with a nod of his head. He continued to walk as though he was ignoring him, but when he suddenly felt a sensation as though the angel had asked him a question, he turned his head. "Did you just say something?" He finally asked Andrew.

Andrew shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I thought I heard you ask me a question," Peter offered. When Andrew didn't offer any answer, he smiled somewhat embarrassed. "I could have sworn that I heard you say something. Maybe, I'm just imagining things again."

Andrew remained quiet, but after a few moments passed, he decided to try again and sent another message to the boy; this time his thoughts were centered on how grateful he was that Monica and he had met Peter and his mother.

Peter stopped walking, turned, and faced Andrew again; this time he said nothing. Andrew why are you doing this to me, he asked himself. Seconds passed by and Peter sensed a return message coming back to him from the man who was walking next to him. Peter looked at the angel with wonder in his eyes.

The Angel of Death simply nodded, continuing a silent communication with the teenager. Don't be afraid, his thoughts went straight to the boy, you have a talent which I sensed the first time we met.

Peter looked at Andrew, this was real, and this man was communicating with him using projections. He looked around to see if his mother was in the vicinity, but she and Monica were about three or four feet ahead of them carrying the large picnic basket. He looked back over at Andrew, and backed up a couple of steps. "This time I know you said something, but it wasn't like a normal conversation."

Andrew nodded, "Yes, we were conversing, but not verbally. I recognized that you have these capabilities of projecting your thoughts. I've sensed that about you since the first time we met."

Peter nodded trying to take everything in the angel had said. At that moment, however, both of them heard a woman's screams and Peter froze, "Mom," was all he whispered. I knew something was going to happen, he thought frantically and ran away leaving Andrew staring after him. Within a split second, Andrew ran after him in the direction of the park. Andrew understood what was happening, because at the moment he had heard the scream, he knew that Monica was calling to him for help as well.

-----------

Maggie and Monica had reached the park, and while they were unpacking the picnic basket, two shabbily dressed men approached the two of them with their hands out. "Do you have any spare change?" one of them asked and it was clear to both the angel and the woman that there was a detectible stench of alcohol emanating from the two men. Maggie shook her head and Monica could tell that she was afraid.

"I don't believe you," one of the men was saying, and he grabbed for Maggie's purse. She pulled with all her strength until the second man grabbed the upper part of her arm and she winced in pain. The first man pulled her purse away and started digging through it.

Taking the opportunity, Monica reached out and grabbed the purse from the man. In doing so, she situated herself between the two men and her friend. Once she had recovered the purse, she returned it to Maggie.

The first man's attention diverted to Monica, and he began to push the angel. Monica could detect the alcohol on the clothes of the two men, and she could tell they were both drunk. Thinking quickly, she grabbed the picnic basket off the ground and used it to act as a barrier between the two men and Maggie. Using the sides of the basket, she shoved it against the chest of the man pushing them backwards. This proved fatal as the second man pushed her away and reached out towards Maggie, who screamed and backed up.

Monica closed her eyes for a brief moment and prayed for her friend, but she opened them again to hear Maggie scream once again, and to see that the two men had gotten the purse from her and had run away with it. Eventually, she turned around and could see Maggie had fallen into the lake and was thrashing about.

It became evidently clear to Monica that Maggie couldn't swim, and she didn't realize how close she was to the lake's edge until she had fallen into the cold water. Monica stood paralyzed for an instant only able to watch as Maggie floundered around in the water. Without thinking, she forgot her own fear of the water, took off her jacket, tossed it on top of the picnic basket, and dove into the lake. As she swam towards the almost drowned woman, she sent out another desperate call to the Father for help.

About three feet from the lake's edge, Peter joined Monica as they pulled Maggie out of the water. As soon as they had Maggie lying on the ground, Peter frantically looked around for someone to help them. When his eyes met those of another man, he silently pleaded that this person would be able to save the life of his mother.

By this time, Andrew had reached Monica and Maggie, and he was now glowing. Seconds later, he kneeled down beside Maggie, his hand resting on her shoulder. "She's swallowed a lot of water, Andrew," Monica said, her voice trembling.

Peter grabbed the hand of his mother as tears began to stream down his cheeks. "Mom," he began sobbing, as he looked down at his mother's body. "Please, Mister, can't you help her?" The boy looked up at the third man who had briefly joined them. His lips were trembling as he looked into the compassionate brown eyes of the man. "You have the power, I know you do! Please do something."

The man who had been standing there watching, kneeled down beside Maggie's still body and not wasting a moment, he began to administer CPR. Within moments, Maggie began to cough up the water she had swallowed.

Peter eventually opened his eyes as soon as he could hear his mother coughing, but maintained his frightened hold on Maggie's hand. He sighed with relief but backed up slightly when he saw that Andrew was now dressed in a suit, glowing, and seated on the ground next to his mother.

The boy backed away when he saw Andrew, his mind now full of conflicting thoughts, but the events which had taken place would not go away even after Andrew looked up and could see the fright in the young boy's eyes.

-----------

In the park some fifteen minutes later, Maggie was drinking some juice, and Andrew had once again appeared to them as he had been when they had left to go on the picnic. Peter was looking at him with wide eyes, and Monica was catching her breath after the swim in the lake. Once she had finished the juice Andrew had given to her, she spoke weakly, "Thank you."

Andrew nodded shrugging his shoulders.

"I think we should go back to the house," Andrew said calmly, closing the large picnic basket and picking it up. "It's getting colder and pneumonia would do you very little good, Maggie," he handed the jacket that he carried to her, and she gratefully accepted it and put it on.

Together Monica and Peter helped her to her feet and the four of them left the park.

Few words were spoken as they walked back to the Harding home. Peter and Monica walked beside Maggie, the boy's hand still holding his mother's tightly. Andrew walked a few steps behind all of them, still carrying the picnic basket. His mind never far from the events of the lake and he contemplated what exactly he was going to say to Peter when he would have the chance to speak to the boy one on one.

Once they reached the house, Maggie and Monica excused themselves to go and change clothes. Peter and Andrew were left alone in the living room.

The boy looked at the angel with some unsuppressed shock still evident in his eyes. "You're an angel, right?"

Andrew smiled, "Yes, I am."

Finally, Peter closed his eyes and he began to project his thoughts to the man sitting in his living room, what kind of angel are you?

I'm an Angel of Death, Peter, came Andrew's soft answer.

You would have taken her to Heaven if that guy hadn't have been there to help save her life, Peter's thoughts continued. How could anyone ever perceive you to be threatening?

Yes I would have, but thankfully I didn't have to. Andrew answered the first question, but hesitated to send out his projection to the second. Sometimes when people don't understand something they react in fear.

Peter nodded, as though he understood. You didn't come here for my mother, did you?

No, not yet, Andrew smiled; I wanted to tell you that you have this ability, because this is a gift God has given you, Peter. You always wondered if you were special, and whether or not you would be considered smart, and I'm going to tell you that this form of communication is considered to be very advanced and most people do not possess the ability to communicate as we are unless they are unconscious.

Peter's eyes brightened and he continued his half of the silent conversation. Is that why Monica told me that she didn't think I was dumb?

Andrew nodded; you must never believe for a moment that you're not worth the love of God, Peter. He loves you exactly as you are and you are His wonderful child. Those who refuse to see that you are special forget their own special uniqueness, and God wants you to know that He gave you this so that you can use it to help others.

Peter sighed deeply but eventually nodded. He knew that the angel had spoken the truth. Finally, his green eyes sought Andrew's. I knew who you were even before we met the first time. I sensed something special about you and Monica in the park the first time I saw you. But, there was another woman who was with you as well, where is she?

Andrew smiled at the boy. You knew all this time that my friends and I were angels?

Peter nodded, I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was afraid that you would be angry with me for intercepting your thoughts. The other thing, I don't really know how to shut it off. Does that make sense? I mean when you finish playing a game or watching a TV show, you can turn the computer or the television off, but with this I cannot. I've known since I was 12 that I could do this, but I have always been afraid to tell anyone.

So I was wrong when I thought that you were unaware of your ability to communicate in this way, Andrew said.

Peter nodded, yeah and I also just recently realized that I could do something else that I've never told anyone about.

Andrew smiled broadly when he realized exactly what Peter was alluding to. You can somehow perceive the future.

The boy nodded affirming all of the things that Andrew had projected.

"Andrew, is it wrong of me to be able to do this?" Peter spoke aloud this time.

"No, there's nothing wrong with you being able to use a gift that God has given you, as long as you do not misuse it," Andrew said gently.

Peter nodded as Maggie and Monica returned to the living room. Both were now in dry clothes and Monica smiled when she saw Andrew seated next to Peter and speaking to him.

Maggie looked at Andrew, and after a few moments, she looked at Monica. "You're leaving?"

Andrew nodded and smiled weakly. "Maggie, come over here and sit down next to your son."

As soon as Maggie had sat down, Andrew looked at both of them. "I see two people sitting here who desperately need to see the truth. Maggie, your son has realized it, now it is your turn." With that both he and Monica began to glow as they looked at them.

"But, I don't understand, why?" Maggie's first question seemed to spark more, and while Peter remained seated on the sofa, her questions began to come out in rapid succession and finally Andrew placed his hands on her shoulders to quiet her. Feeling the pressure of his hands on her shoulders, she stopped asking and waited for him or Monica to say something.

"Maggie, God sent us to you to help you understand something that Peter already does," Monica began. "The love that you two share is a gift, and yes that is, in fact, very special, you must also be able to be honest with him."

Andrew nodded and looked at Peter. "Tell your mother what you told me yesterday, Peter."

"Which part?" Peter stammered.

"The part about your mother," Andrew said softly.

"I know you're sick, Mom, I've known for about a month now," Peter said softly as he could see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"But, how? Joe and I never mentioned it to you?" Maggie objected.

"Peter possesses the ability to perceive things about others," Monica tried to explain. "Some people call it a heightened sense of awareness."

"You see, Maggie, right now, the relationship that your son has with you and Joe is the most important thing, and you must never be afraid to be honest with him about anything. If you hide it away from Peter, then when your time does come to go home, then you will never be able to face this with your son beside you, there will always be something that will separate you from him, and that's not the way God wants you to face death," Andrew explained.

Maggie nodded, defeated, "The doctor said I have two months left to live and you're talking about me having a good relationship with my son. How can I?" Her voice began to tremble and tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Take that time, Maggie," Monica began, "hold it, and treasure it with all the strength that is inside of you. Through this, you will enjoy the time you have left with your family, instead of fearing that which will happen in the future."

Andrew nodded and continued speaking. "I know you are in a lot of pain right now, but don't forget, you're still alive, and between now and when the time does come, hold tightly to each day the Father blesses you with. Those days, each and every one, are a gift, and I hope that you will embrace them until you see me again."

Maggie looked up wanting to say something, but her words were stuck in her throat as the two angels smiled gently at them.

Within moments, they disappeared leaving Maggie and Peter alone in the living room.

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On the road leading away from Garrett, Monica and Andrew sat comfortably in Tess' convertible. "I can't believe we did this assignment on our own without even a tiny bit of help."

"Are you sure about that?" Tess asked. "Who do you think sent Raphael with the lifesaving techniques when you two angel babies were at the lake with Maggie and Peter?"

"That was Raphael?" Monica asked.

"Yep, that was me," Raphael appeared next to Andrew in the backseat and smiled impishly at Monica. "I always knew that I had a good reason to learn CPR."

"Andrew, do you know how much time Maggie will have?" Monica asked as they got on the highway.

"From what I understand, I wasn't sent to her for her health issues, I was sent to her because of the accident at the park."

"Did I interfere too much, Tess?" Raphael asked.

"No, baby, besides, I think it was more important for Peter and Maggie to talk to each other than to determine if we interfered with their free will," Tess said.

"Andrew, you still haven't answered my question," Monica said.

"I don't really know how much time she's got, Monica. It could be one year, it could be five, but I think Peter would probably know specifically how much time she might have. It appears to me that he will encourage her to try and get a second opinion, and she will be surprised with what she discovers."

"We didn't do anything miraculous?" Raphael asked.

"No, of course not," Monica said. "If we had, then the Father would have sent Sam."

The four angels laughed and as a dove took to flight over the car, Tess drove out onto the interstate heading north.

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Back in Garrett the following morning, Maggie sat down next to her son in the park. "Peter, I have to ask you something? Andrew and Monica said that you can read thoughts, is that true?"

Peter looked at his mother and answered her question with one word, "yes."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" She wanted to know.

"Because I've always felt like an oddity, and Monica and Andrew were the first people I have ever met who didn't make me feel that way." Peter said. "There are a lot of things that I could sense about you, and Dad, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me. I've been able to sense things since I was 12 and Andrew was right when he told you that I knew what was going on, because I have been able to sense it for a long time now."

"You have?" Maggie asked.

Peter nodded as he looked at his mother and smiled. After a few moments of silence passed between them, he shrugged his shoulders. "Just make an appointment at another doctor's office. I mean, you never got a second opinion, and it might make you feel better to do so."

Maggie looked at her son skeptically, but allowed his words to leave their impact. "You think I should get a second diagnosis?"

Peter nodded, "It wouldn't hurt, and think of the good that could come out of it. Besides, if you get a second opinion, then maybe Andrew's next visit won't be for a long, long time."

Maggie smiled, looking at the innocent face of her son. "I'll get a second opinion on one condition." Peter anticipated her next words, "don't tell your father that Andrew and Monica are angels, he'd have us both committed."

Peter laughed, but after a few seconds passed, he smiled. "Uh, Mom, we've met more angels than just Andrew and Monica. The man who saved your life yesterday afternoon was also an angel. His name was Raphael."

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Two weeks later, Maggie and Joe Harding walked into the waiting room of the local hospital. The doctor had called her earlier in the week and suggested that she make an appointment as soon as possible. She knew what was coming, she and Joe had to go and get the results of the various tests which she had decided to have done two days after the angels had left Garrett.

In the waiting room, Joe looked around nervously and Maggie was sitting on the sofa confidently leafing through a magazine. She noticed that her husband carried a look on his face that could have sliced iron. He didn't understand why she had subjected herself to these tests again especially since the doctor she had used had come highly recommended.

She grabbed his hand and whispered in his ear. "Calm down, Honey, the news can't be any worse than what we've already had." Joe nodded, but this didn't calm his nervousness. Finally, she grabbed his hand and when her name was called the two of them stood up together.

Inside the doctor's office, Maggie sat down and Joe paced by the window. "Mrs. Harding," the doctor pulled a file from a folder, "first of all, I have to tell you before we ran any tests, I conversed with your other doctor. He said that the case looked pretty hopeless, but for some reason, he agreed that a second opinion might be prudent at this stage of the game. After we took your blood and ran the tests, we were amazed." He took a sheet of paper off the pile. "These are your first set of test results. These are the second, and when you see them, I think you will understand why we are amazed."

The doctor laid the two sets of results on the desk side by side and slid them across it. Maggie looked down at the paperwork. "What does all this mean?"

"Mrs. Harding, it means that although the Cancer is still there, your body has been receptive to treatment and medication, and that your life expectancy is being reset to at least five years." The doctor pulled a third sheet of paper from his desk, "One of my other colleagues was also asked to run the same set of tests with the information we got from you, and he has confirmed as well that your Cancer treatment has improved your health considerably. Although you will probably be recommended to go through even more extensive treatment, if you take care of yourself, you will live to see more than your first doctor anticipated."

Maggie looked up at her husband and back at the doctor. She immediately broke down crying. Now I know what you were trying to tell me, Peter, she thought to herself as she attempted to accept the miracle, which she had been praying for.

Her thoughts turned to the words of the two angels who had visited them, and it was their wisdom had made everything happen as she had hoped because they had helped her to face the truth. Andrew and Monica had been right, her son had some indescribable abilities, and for the first time since his birth, Maggie Harding realized that instead of her son being a disabled hindrance, that he had been blessed with special abilities from God. For the first time in her life, she could see the benefit of those gifts. Peter had used them for her, and she realized that she would be singing the solo in church again this Christmas. This solo would be sung in praises to God, the one who had given her this gift of life.

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