Noel remained in the ethereal realm, watching over Dan O’Neil; a young eighteen year old boy who wanted to be a Chef more than anything else in the world. He sat in the brisk morning air on Fisherman’s Wharf, in a state of shock and in a state of despair. Christopher Pyke was his hero; he was the type of brilliant Chef he knew he could be.
Since a child, he had developed a good pallet. He had experimented in his mother’s kitchen constantly, in the back streets of Dublin, since he was just eight years of age; he was supposed to be a Chef, he felt it in his heart. His adoptive parents had encouraged him all the way; they were his rock and his strength and his love for them was eternal.
Without any training, he had moved to San Francisco to live with his sister Coleen, who had married a local only to discover just last year that he was cheating on her with two other women. His poor sister had three children, and after the breakdown of the marriage she had relied on Dan’s small income to help with the bills. When not in the kitchens, Dan was a talented guitarist and singer so he obtained gigs in local bars, which enabled him to help with his sister’s situation and send a little back to Dublin for his parents.
He put his head in his hands,
“Dear God, what are we going to do?” he whispered, as he began to weep with despair at the events of this early Christmas Eve morning.
Noel blew a crisp winter breeze past the young saddened boy. He sensed a good soul and he needed to buy him a little time, if he was to help alter the course of history that would impact upon several people on this Christmas Eve day.
Dan raised his tear stained face from his hands, his eyes blurred with the waters of woe that engulfed him with sadness. He quickly rubbed his big blue eyes, and checked that nobody was near to witness his crying outburst. He looked on the floor, at a small ticket printed with the images of Christmas bells, bows and angels and bent over to pick the object up.
He quickly rubbed his dripping nose with his sleeve, and gazed in puzzlement at the lottery scratch card that was now in his hand, unrevealed and a little crumpled from its journey in the morning breeze.
“Surely not!” he said, looking towards the sky and then proceeded to take a dime out of his trouser pocket to see what the promise of the ticket brought.
He read the instructions on the card; ‘Scratch to reveal three identical symbols and win the prize offered’. He turned the card over to read the small print. Winnings of $501 dollars or more could not be claimed at a local retailer, and the ticket offered a telephone number where larger claims could be obtained.
He began to scratch, slowly and deliberately, willing the ticket to reveal a win.
Two bells and one bow, no win.
Two bows and one bell, no win
One bell, and two angels, no win
There was one more chance; Dan closed his eyes for a second and prayed for a Christmas miracle. He slowly began rubbing away at the wax like covering.
One angel, another angel “Oh God, please help me” he whispered as his hand slowly revealed the final image of an angel.
He leapt up from the bench in disbelief,
“Oh my God! Three angels! Three angels!” He brought the card closer to his face to double check that the ticket really did show three tiny angels sitting in a row. His eyes moved towards the prize, he had won. The sum of $500 was printed beside the three most beautiful angels Dan had ever seen in his life.
Notwithstanding, he ran from the Wharf to find the nearest retailer to gain his prize.
“Thank you God!” he yelled, as his young feet sped across the Wharf in the knowledge that he could provide his family with the Christmas they deserved.
Noel’s sense of compassion for this boy was overwhelming, and now that he was fully briefed on the task at hand, he could begin influencing the decisions of Christopher Pyke, in the hope that this great man would see the real meaning of Christmas, and gain an emotionally complete life.