A Gift to Last (10 page)

The interior was dim and his eyes took a moment to adjust. He saw that the sanctuary was huge, with two rows of pews facing a wide altar. Even the church was decorated for the holidays. Pots of red and white poinsettias were arranged on the altar, and a row of gaily decorated Christmas trees stood behind it. A large cross hung suspended from the ceiling.

An organ sat off to one side, along with a sectioned space for the choir. Greg hadn’t stopped to notice which denomination this church was. Nor did he care.

Although his mother had been an ardent churchgoer, Greg had hated it, found it meaningless. But Phil seemed to eat this religious stuff up, just like their mother had.

“Okay,” Greg said aloud. None of this whispering business for him. “The door was open. I came inside. You want me to tell you I made a mess of my life? Fine, I screwed up. I could’ve done better. Is that what you were waiting to hear? Is that what you wanted me to say? I said it. Are you happy now?”

His words reverberated, causing him to retreat a step.

And as he did, his life suddenly overwhelmed him. His failures, his shortcomings, his mistakes came roaring at him like an avalanche, jerking him off his feet. He seemed to tumble backward through the years. The force of it was too much and he slumped into a pew, the weight of his past impossible to bear. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“Can you forgive me, Mama?” he whispered brokenly. “Is there any way I can make up for what I did—not being there for you? When you needed me…”

He deserved every rotten thing that was happening to him. If he couldn’t get a loan, if he lost the winery, it would be what he deserved. All of it.

Greg wouldn’t have recognized his words as a prayer. But, they wove their way upward, past the church altar, past the suspended crucifix, toward the bell tower and church steeple. Once free of the building, they flew heavenward, through the clouds and beyond the sky, landing with a crash on the cluttered desk of the Archangel Gabriel.

“Well, well,” the archangel said, a little surprised and more than a little pleased. “What do we have here?”

T
he Archangel Gabriel arched his white brows as he reviewed Greg Bennett’s file. A very thick file. “Well, it’s about time,” he muttered, and dutifully recorded the prayer request.

“I certainly agree with you there,” a soft female voice murmured in response.

Gabriel didn’t have to look up to see who’d joined him. That angelic voice was all too familiar. Shirley was visiting, and where Shirley was, Goodness and Mercy were sure to follow. His three favorite troublemakers—heaven help him. Without having to ask, he knew what she wanted. The trio had been pestering him for three years about a return trip to earth.

“Hello, Shirley,” Gabriel said without much enthusiasm. The truth was, he’d always been partial to Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, although he dared not let it show. Their escapades on earth were notorious in the corridors of paradise and had created an uproar on more than one occasion.

“We’ve decided you seem frazzled,” Goodness said, popping up next to her friend. She rested her arms on Gabriel’s desk, studying him avidly.

“Overworked,” Mercy agreed, appearing beside the other two.

“And we’re here to help.” Shirley walked around the front of his desk and gave him a pitying look.

“We feel your pain,” Goodness told him.

If she hadn’t sounded so sincere, Gabriel would have laughed outright. He was still tempted to tell her to cut the psychobabble, but knew that wouldn’t do any good. As it was, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“So—what
can
we do to help?” Mercy inquired with a serenity few would question.

“Help?” he asked. “You can help me most by participating in the heavenly host again this year.”

“We’ve already done that for three years,” Goodness complained with a slight pout, crossing her arms. “It’s just no fun to be one in a cast of thousands.”

“We want to go back to earth,” Shirley explained. Of the three, she was the most plainspoken. Gabriel knew he could count on her to tell him the truth. She did her utmost to keep the other two in line, but could only hold out for so long before she succumbed to temptation herself.

“I love humans,” Goodness said, hands clasped as she gazed longingly toward earth.

“Me, too,” Mercy was quick to add. “Where else in the universe would anyone assume God is dead and Elvis is alive?”

Gabriel successfully hid a smile. “Even with the best of intentions, you three have never been able to keep your wings to yourselves.”

“True.” Shirley nodded in agreement. “But remember we’re angels, not saints.”

“All the more reason to make you stay in heaven where you belong,” Gabriel argued.

The objections came fast and furious.

“But you need us this year!”

“More than ever, Gabriel. You’ve got far more work than you can handle!”

“You’re overburdened!”

True enough. As always, Christmas was his busiest time of year, and Gabriel’s desk was flooded with thousands upon thousands of prayer requests. No denying it, human beings were the most difficult of God’s subjects. Obtuse, demanding and contrary. Many of them flung prayer requests at heaven without once considering that humans played a role in solving their own problems. The hard part was getting them to recognize that they had lessons to learn before their prayer requests could be granted. God-directed solutions often came from within themselves. Gabriel’s task, with the help of his other prayer ambassadors, was to show these proud stubborn creatures the way.

“Do you have any requests from children?” Shirley asked. As a former guardian angel, she enjoyed working with youngsters the most.

“Anyone in need of a little Mercy?” Mercy prodded.

“Any good faithful souls who could use a bit of angelic guidance?” Goodness asked.

“Here,” Gabriel said abruptly as he shoved Greg Bennett’s prayer request at them.

Gabriel didn’t know what had possessed him. Frustration, perhaps. Then again, it could have been something far more powerful. It could have been the very hand of God. “This request will require all three of you. Read it over, do your homework and get back to me. You might decide that singing with the heavenly host doesn’t sound so bad, after all.”

He grinned sheepishly as they fluttered away, eager to discover everything they could about this sad human and the sorry mess he’d made of his life.

In truth Gabriel half expected they’d choose to return to the heavenly choir; if they did he wouldn’t blame them. Greg Bennett’s case would be a challenge for the most experienced prayer ambassadors—let alone these three. Once Shirley, Goodness and Mercy had the opportunity to read his file, they were bound to see that.

The trio gathered around the file detailing the life of Greg Bennett. Shirley noted that their excited chatter had quickly died down as they read. The oldest and most mature, she could see through Gabriel’s ploy. The archangel expected them to give up before they started. To tell him how right he was and scurry back to choir practice. In light of what she’d learned about Greg Bennett, perhaps that would be for the best.

“Oh, my,” Goodness whispered. “He abandoned his college sweetheart when she was pregnant.”

“Deserted his best friend in his hour of need.”

“Look what he did to his own
mother!
”

“To his mother?”

Shirley nodded. “Greg Bennett is a—”

“Scumbag,” Mercy supplied.

“He’s arrogant.”

“Selfish.”

“And conceited.”

“It’s going to take a whole bunch of miracles to whip this poor boy into shape.”

Shirley had no argument there. “I’m afraid Greg Bennett is more than any of us could handle,” she said sadly.

Goodness and Mercy glanced at each other. “She’s joking, isn’t she?”

“No, I’m not,” Shirley said on a disparaging note. “You read for yourself what kind of man he is. Frankly, I feel someone else, someone who’s got more experience with humans and their frailties, would be better equipped to deal with the likes of Mr. Bennett.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks!” Goodness cried.

“We can do it,” Mercy contended with considerably more confidence than the success of her earlier exploits might have warranted.

“We all know Gabriel did this on purpose,” Goodness said. Apparently she hadn’t been fooled, either. “He assumed that once we see what a mess Greg’s made of his life, we’ll figure it’s hopeless and slink back to the choir. Well, I, for one, have no intention of spending another Christmas singing my lungs out over the fields of Bethlehem. To be so close to earth and yet so far…”

Mercy giggled but appeared to be in full agreement. “Come on, Shirley, this is our one and only chance to return to earth. Okay, so you’re right. Greg Bennett isn’t exactly a believer in God’s love, but God does love him. Heaven knows he needs help.”

Shirley was adamant. “More than we can give him.”

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” Goodness chided. “If nothing else, we can steer him in the right direction.”

“San Francisco,” Mercy said, tapping her cheek. “There are ships in San Francisco, aren’t there?”

Shirley could already see trouble brewing. “You’ve got to promise to stay away from the shipyard,” she said heatedly. It’d taken them years to live down what had happened at the Bremerton Naval Shipyard in Washington state. The news crew that covered the repositioning of two aircraft carriers might as well have been reporting directly to heaven, what with all the attention the incident had received.

“Okay, I promise, no shipyard,” Mercy said. Shirley was appeased until she thought she saw her fellow angel wink at Goodness. Oh, my, if they took the Bennett case, then this was going to be some Christmas. On the other hand…

“Where are you headed?” Goodness called out when Shirley broke away.

“I’m going back to tell Gabriel we’ll take the job. Just don’t make me sorry I agreed to this.”

“Would we do that?” Mercy asked, the picture of angelic innocence.

Shirley had a very good reason for feeling skeptical, but an even better reason for tackling this stint on earth. She wanted out of the choir as much as her two friends did. A human, even one who happened to have more than his share of frailties, wasn’t going to stop her.

“Hi, Dad!” Michael Thorpe bounded enthusiastically into the hospital clinic, his eyes sparkling.

Dr. Edward Thorpe looked up from the chart he was reading and smiled at the sight of his son. His wife, Janice, five months pregnant, hurried to keep up with the energetic boy.

The six-year-old raced into his arms and Edward lifted him high above his head. Seeing his own healthy happy son was exactly what he needed. Much of his morning had been spent with another youngster, Tanner Westley, who was ten and suffering from a rare form of leukemia. Edward was an oncologist who specialized in childhood cancers; his work had recently garnered the interest of the
San Francisco Herald.
Just today, a reporter had interviewed him for a piece the paper was running on the urgent need for bone-marrow donors. The story would include a photograph of Tanner. Most members of the public didn’t seem to understand that they had the opportunity to save lives by testing to become donors. The only thing required at this stage was a simple blood test. The article would make a strongly worded plea for bone-marrow donors to help children such as Tanner.

The reporter felt the timing was good. People seemed more generous with their time and money over the Christmas period. Edward hoped they’d be equally giving about submitting to a blood test.

“Hello, darling,” his wife said.

“Is it lunchtime already?” With the interview and Tanner Westley’s additional tests, his morning had flown.

Janice glanced at her watch. “Actually, we’re late.”

“Mom and I were shopping.” Michael rolled his eyes as if to say how much that had bored him. Edward hid a smile. An intolerance for shopping was something he had in common with his son.

“Can you still join us for lunch?” Janice asked.

Now it was Edward’s turn to glance at his watch. “If you don’t mind eating in the cafeteria.” He needed to be within a few minutes of Tanner, who was starting a new chemotherapy session today.

“We can eat in the cafeteria, can’t we, Mom?” Michael tugged at his mother’s arm. “Their ice-cream machine is way cool.”

“Okay—I’m convinced,” Janice responded good-naturedly as the three of them headed toward the elevator.

“Why are we here?” Goodness demanded, her voice unnaturally high. “You
know
I don’t like hospitals.”

“I didn’t bring us here. Shirley did.”

“Would you two stop it?” Shirley sighed in exasperation. Goodness and Mercy were enough to try the patience of a saint, let alone another angel. “That’s Greg Bennett’s son.”

“Which one?”

“The cancer specialist,” Shirley said, thinking it should have been obvious.

“You mean he’s Catherine’s child?”

“Right.” It was Gabriel who’d directed her to the hospital, but she hadn’t told the others that. As far as she was concerned, they would receive information strictly on a need-to-know basis. It was safer that way.

“But he’s wonderful!”

“Unlike his birth father,” Goodness said under her breath.

Shirley agreed completely. “Greg Bennett broke Catherine’s heart, you know.” The file had told her that, and ever since, she’d found it a struggle to care in the slightest about Greg and his vineyard.

“She loved him deeply,” Mercy added, shaking her head. “When Greg turned his back on her, she was devastated.”

“Then she gave birth to Edward and raised him on her own, and had trouble trusting men again for a very long time.”

“She didn’t marry until Edward was nearly eight.” Shirley recounted the facts as she remembered them. “But she’s very happy now….”

“Does she have other children?”

“A daughter, who’s a child psychologist,” Shirley supplied. “They meet every Friday for lunch on Fisherman’s Wharf.”

“That’s on the waterfront, isn’t it?” Mercy brightened.

Shirley cast her fellow angel a quelling look. She didn’t want to say it, but Mercy’s obsession with ships was beginning to bother her. Oh, my, she didn’t know how she was going to get through this holiday season with Goodness and Mercy and still have any kind of effect on Greg Bennett. As much fun as it was to enjoy the things of this earth, they were on an important mission and didn’t have time to get sidetracked.

“Meanwhile, Greg has had three wives and each one of them looks exactly like Catherine,” Goodness pointed out.

Shirley hadn’t recognized that, but as soon as Goodness made the observation, she knew it was true. “Only he doesn’t see there’s a pattern here,” she murmured.

“He hasn’t opened his eyes wide enough to see it,” Goodness said.

“Yet.” Mercy crossed her arms in a determined way that seemed to suggest she’d take great delight in telling him.

“Yet?” Shirley raised her eyebrows in warning, but continued her summary of Greg’s failings. “His only child, a son he deserted before he was born, grew up to become a noted cancer specialist, while Greg has squandered his life on wine and women.”

“Yes, and while he was trying to pick up some blond babe in a fancy bar, Edward was treating a ten-year-old leukemia patient,” Mercy said in a scornful voice.

Goodness grew quiet, which was always a dangerous sign.

“What are you thinking?” Shirley asked her.

“I’m thinking about Catherine,” Goodness confessed.

“He hasn’t seen her since college,” Shirley put in.

“But it seems to me that Greg’s been searching for her in every woman he’s met,” Goodness said thoughtfully.

“Certainly every woman he marries,” Mercy added, not concealing her disgust.

“And?” Shirley prodded. “What’s your point, Goodness?”

“Well…perhaps we should do something to help make it happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if he’s looking for Catherine, which he
seems
to be doing, we can make sure he finds her. He should see what she’s done with her life, how happy she is…”