Christmas 2011 Trio A. Кейт Хьюит
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you the rich and successful entrepreneur?”
“You know what I mean,” he said again.
“Unfortunately, I don’t,” she told him, opening her car door. “I thought I knew who you were, but I guess I was wrong.”
“I thought I knew who you were,” he retorted, his eyes blazing, “but you proved me wrong. All you care about is the size of my checking account and what you can get out of me.”
She refused to listen to any more. With a heavy heart, she climbed inside the car.
“You’re—”
She closed the door to drown out his words, then inserted the key into the ignition. When she glanced in her rearview mirror, Roy was gone.
Julie exited the parking lot, and as soon as she was out of sight, she pulled to the curb and wept tears of pain and grief.
Leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, she knew she’d never see Roy Fletcher again.
Twenty-Four
“This is absolutely terrible,” Goodness lamented. All afternoon, they’d watched Julie put on a good front for her father’s sake. She could just picture the scene in Heaven when they returned only seven hours from now. It was Christmas Eve, their deadline. Soon they’d be required to stand with the angelic host singing praises to the newborn King. Except this year, Shirley, Goodness and Mercy would arrive from Earth without having fulfilled their mission. Goodness wouldn’t be able to look a single friend in the face. Well, she wasn’t accepting defeat that easily.
“It can’t get much worse,” Mercy agreed.
“We’ve got to do something.” Shirley was back to her pacing in front of the Wilcoffs’ Christmas tree. The living room was empty, with Julie in her room and Dean overseeing a last-minute security check of the Fletcher building.
“This is your fault,” Goodness said, glaring at Mercy. “If you hadn’t been so busy tossing salmon in Pike Place Market and holding security guards by the knees, we might’ve made some headway.”
“Give it up,” Mercy growled. “Besides, we both know you had a hand on Jason, too. I couldn’t have held him back all by myself. That guy has muscles.”
“Stop.” Shirley planted herself between the other two and shook her head. “We don’t have time to play the blame game.”
“You’re telling me,” Goodness moaned. “It’s already five o’clock.”
“That means we have seven paltry hours,” Shirley said, glancing at the old-fashioned clock on the fireplace mantel.
“Woe is we.” Goodness couldn’t believe that a prayer request could go so wrong. They’d worked harder on this one than on any previous request. In years past, they’d each received separate assignments, but she’d assumed that with their combined efforts this one would’ve been simplicity itself. Not so. And if there was anything Goodness hated, it was having to admit she’d failed. “We’ve just got to do something.” They had a few hours left. Just a few.
“But what?” Mercy cried.
“Think,” Shirley ordered. “There’s a way. There’s always a way.”
Defeated and depressed, Goodness walked into the darkened kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. For a long moment, she studied the contents. It was easy to understand why so many humans turned to food for comfort. A pan of something dipped in chocolate was bound to improve any situation.
“I had hope until Roy threw out her letter,” Mercy said. “Without reading it.”
“How could he?” Shirley asked, although the question was rhetorical. “I thought humans were curious about things.” That was a characteristic they shared with angels.
“I’m sure he was tempted,” Shirley said, sadness weighting her words. “However, his fear was even stronger.”
“He was afraid?” Goodness was unable to decipher human reasoning. “Of what?”
“Of changing his mind,” Shirley explained. “He knew if he read Julie’s letter, he might be swayed. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t hold on to his anger if he allowed himself to feel her love.”
“But love is what he needs!”
Goodness wanted to weep with frustration. Shirley was right. Roy had closed himself off from love, even though he needed it, even though he wanted it. He equated love with pain. Opening his heart made him vulnerable, and he couldn’t risk that after what his father and Aimee had done.
“I’d so hoped for a better outcome,” Shirley murmured forlornly, “especially for Anne’s sake.”
“Anne,” Goodness repeated, remembering Shirley’s previous connection to Roy’s mother. She studied the former Guardian Angel and detected a suspicious smile in her eyes. Quickly Shirley looked away.
“Shirley,” Goodness pressed, certain now that her friend was up to something, “you’re holding out on us.”
“Shirley?” Mercy joined in. “What did you do?”
A giggle escaped, followed by another. “I made a quick trip to New York, and … well, you’ll see soon enough.”
“Tell us!”
“And ruin the surprise?”
“Does it have to do with Roy and Julie?”
The laughter in Shirley’s eyes faded. “Sorry, no.”
“With Anne?”
The humor was back and she nodded. “All in good time, my friends, all in good time.”
“But what are we going to do about Roy and Julie?” Even with the clock ticking away the last hours, Goodness refused to give up. Somehow or other, they had to accomplish their goal.
“That letter could always find its way back into his life,” Goodness suggested. Of course, that might entail a bit of detective work …
“I will serve the Lord with my whole heart,” Mercy said,
“but I am not digging around in someone’s garbage. That just isn’t me.”
“You would if it meant we could answer this prayer request, wouldn’t you?”
Mercy looked uncertain. With her arms crossed, she cocked her head to one side and shrugged. “Well … maybe.”
“Then let’s get to it,” Goodness said with renewed hope. “We’ll find the letter, and we’ll make sure he reads it.”
“How are we going to do that?” Shirley asked.
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes,” Mercy assured her. “You can’t expect us to have all the answers, can you?”
“I don’t expect all the answers,” Goodness said, “but one answer would be nice.”
“Why make things easy?” Mercy asked pertly.
“Right.”
With renewed purpose the three hurried to Roy’s condo. This was their last chance, and they had to make it work.
Roy picked up the remote control and automatically flipped through the channels. He didn’t stay on any one for more than a few seconds. His patience was nonexistent, and his irritation mounted by the minute. Roy didn’t understand why he felt like this. He should be thrilled. His company had just had its best year to date. When any number of dot-com businesses were fast becoming dot-gone businesses, his own was thriving. Money and happiness, however, didn’t seem to be connected.
Roy had dreaded spending Christmas with his mother. Being continually reminded