“I didn’t see her leave.”
Gabriel had a sneaking suspicion he already knew where the prayer ambassador had disappeared to. “Wait here,” he instructed impatiently. He raised his massive arms and with one wide, sweeping motion parted the clouds of heaven and descended from paradise to the mundane world.
He found Shirley right where he suspected: in an inner-city classroom, keeping a close watch on a young, inexperienced schoolteacher.
Brynn finished her lunch and poured herself a cup of coffee. Standing at the window, she looked out over the concrete jungle that made up the city.
St. Philip’s, the cathedral located across the street, had once been the pride of the diocese. The stained-glass windows, depicting the Stations of the Cross, had aged badly over the years. A flight of concrete steps led to the eight-foot-tall double doors. The church was a magnificent piece of Gothic architecture, but like Manhattan High, it had fallen upon harsh economic times.
When Brynn had first been approached about this assignment, she’d visited New York City and loved it. There was a rhythm to the city, a musical beat that had set her heart to racing.
In her mind’s eye came a picture of prosperity and abundance. Not of wealth or riches in the monetary sense, but of purpose. The feeling had stayed with her in the days that followed, and when she’d penned her name to the contract, Brynn had felt instinctively that she was doing the right thing.
Following the break, Brynn headed down the crowded hallway. Several students leaned against their lockers in passionate embraces. This was a foreign element to Brynn, since she’d attended a parochial girls’ high school as well as taught in one. It was a bit of a shock to discover how friendly students were allowed to get in the school hallway.
A ruckus broke out at the end of the corridor, and several heated words in Spanish flew at her like fiery darts. Brynn’s knowledge of the language was limited, but she was well aware the two boys weren’t exchanging pleasantries.
After making her way to the problem, she found Emilio Alcantara and an African American she didn’t know staring each other down. A crowd had circled around the two.
“Is there a problem here?” Brynn asked, maneuvering into the tight circle.
“If you know what’s good for you, Teach, you’d better leave,” Emilio advised.
“I can’t do that, and now I suggest you two boys give it up and go about your business. Fighting isn’t going to solve anything.”
The black boy looked at her with such unadulterated hatred that for a wild second Brynn was caught speechless. She’d never had a student, or anyone else, look at her in quite that way.
A shiver ran up her spine when she noticed both boys had knives. She grabbed Suzie Chang, the shy girl from her class, by the shoulder. “Get help immediately,” she ordered, her heart in her throat.
Suzie took off running.
By then the Hispanic youths had lined one side of the hallway and the blacks dominated the second half. The two ethnic groups glared at one another, waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to fight. The atmosphere was explosive, the tension as tightly strung as a fiddle.
Without thinking, Brynn positioned herself between the two boys. Her head was spinning and she felt lightheaded with fear. “Stop,” she ordered in her most authoritative voice, but the request sounded hollow even to her own ears.
The sound of footsteps running toward her was so welcome, Brynn nearly collapsed with relief. A male teacher and a janitor exploded onto the scene, and the knives disappeared as if by magic. Emilio and the other youth looked as if they were the best of friends. Emilio wrapped his arm around the black youth.
“What’s happening, bro?”
“What’s going on here?” Doug Keast, the teacher, demanded, looking to Brynn.
“Emilio and this young man were involved in an exchange of words. Everything’s under control now. Thanks for your help.”
“Knives?”
Brynn hesitated, not wanting to rat on Emilio but at the same time unwilling to lie. “They both drew out knives, but—”
“I don’t need to know anything more than that,” Doug barked, escorting both youths to the principal’s office. “I’ll need you to make a statement.”
“What’s going to happen?” Brynn asked, scurrying behind Doug and Emilio. A second male teacher appeared to escort the other boy.
“I’m gonna be suspended,” Emilio said, glaring at her as if she’d turned traitor on him. “I thought you were different,” he spat out. “You ain’t no different than any of the other teachers.” His dark eyes, leveled at her, were filled with animosity.
“Listen here, Emilio, it wasn’t me who got involved in an altercation.”
“A what? You know, if you’re going to teach English, the least you could do is learn to speak it first.”
“A fight,” she said, losing her patience. She was half trotting in order to keep up with Doug’s long-legged stride. Her fellow teacher was making haste for Mr. Whalen’s office.
“You know the rules about knives on school property,” Doug told Emilio.
“What knife?” the youth demanded. “She was seeing things. I didn’t have any knife, and neither did Grover, ain’t that right, bro?”
“The new teach needs glasses,” Grover claimed, sounding as if they’d been strolling through a bed of wildflowers.
“Tell him, Miss Cassidy,” Emilio said, staring at her. “There wasn’t any sign of knives, now, was there?”
“If you expect me to lie on your behalf, I won’t do it,” Brynn told him in no uncertain terms. “And if you’re both expelled, then—”
“They’ll be suspended for three days,” Doug interrupted.
“Then you have no one to blame but yourselves,” she finished.
“I ain’t coming back,” Grover announced in chilling tones. “School ain’t gonna help me or my homies. I’m outta here, understand?” He jerked his elbow free from the teacher and strolled out the door, letting it slam in his wake.
“Good riddance,” the man murmured.
“I’ll talk to him,” Brynn said, going after Grover.
She hadn’t taken two steps when Doug Keast stopped her. “Let him go.”
“But—”
“He’s right. Grover’s nothing but bad news.” Doug looked to Emilio as if to suggest the Hispanic boy fell into the same category.
“Emilio’s different,” Brynn insisted. “Grover’s choosing to give up, to fail. Emilio’s got a future.”
“Yeah,” Emilio muttered, pulling himself free of Doug’s hold. “Some future. First you tell me what a great leader I am and then you get me kicked out of school.” Having made that little speech, he slumped down on the worn vinyl sofa outside Mr. Whalen’s office.
“Did you see the knives?” Gabriel asked Shirley gently. “They were real, and the risk to Brynn is equally grave. She could have been seriously hurt.”
“The woman’s in profound need of heavenly intervention,” Shirley said forcefully. “In other words, this teacher needs me.”
“Ah . . .” Gabriel hated to be the one to break the news, but Shirley was out of her league. He’d hoped the prayer ambassador would see it for herself, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Shirley said, eager to prove herself. “You think I’m in way over my head.”
“My thoughts were running along those lines,” Gabriel admitted.
“I believe I could help Brynn,” Shirley insisted, and then stiffened her shoulders. “You’re the one in charge of handling the prayer assignments, and I have no option but to accept your decision, but I want to help Brynn Cassidy teach her students to dream. I want to stand at her side when their eyes light up with discovery, and I especially long to be there when she tells them about faith in God.”
“There are other teachers who need you,” Gabriel assured her. “And they aren’t trapped in a poor neighborhood school.”
“I see,” Shirley whispered, hanging her
head in defeat.
“Perhaps another year,” Gabriel suggested.
“Perhaps.” The word was so low, it dragged against the floor.
Gently patting the discouraged angel on her shoulder, Gabriel escorted her back to heaven, where Goodness and Mercy awaited their return.
“I’ll find another assignment for Shirley in a moment,” he promised, “but first, I want to introduce Goodness to Hannah Morganstern.”
Two
“Hannah who?” Goodness asked, looking puzzled.
“Morganstern,” Gabriel supplied. “The prayer request came in from Hannah’s mother and grandmother. They want her to make a good marriage.” He opened the cumbersome book that listed the incoming prayer requests and smoothly folded back the page. Running his index finger down a list of names, he paused when he located Hannah’s.
Gabriel smiled, pleased with himself. This request would be a simple matter and would quickly appease the novice prayer ambassador. The sooner Goodness was back where she belonged, the better for all concerned.
As it happened, Hannah was close to becoming engaged to Carl Rabinsky, the rabbi’s son. Carl was a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future.
Hannah’s family was delighted that their daughter had chosen such an outstanding marriage candidate. A professional matchmaker couldn’t have come up with a better choice. Goodness would soon recognize how advantageous such a marriage would be for Hannah. Naturally the prayer ambassador would accept full credit for the match, which was fine with Gabriel as long as she left well enough alone.
By his best estimate, Gabriel would have Goodness out of harm’s way within a day or two. Heaven knew he wouldn’t rest until all three were back where they belonged. There was no telling the trouble they could rouse in the Big Apple. Gabriel cringed involuntarily at the thought of Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy loose on the unsuspecting souls of New York City.
They did try. He’d give them that much. The three angels were dear hearts, but frankly they were trouble with a capital T. There was no end to the mischief they managed to muster each Christmas. The season was hectic enough without having to deal with those three.
“When can I see Hannah?” Goodness asked eagerly.
“When are you going to tell me more about Jenny Lancaster?” Mercy asked, crowding her way between him and Goodness. The smallest of the three juggled her elbows until she’d jockeyed herself into position. “I’m looking forward to meeting Jenny.”
“It’s my turn,” Goodness reminded her friend sternly.
“Be patient,” Gabriel advised the two. At times he felt like a referee at a hockey match. “Goodness, let me take you down to meet Hannah.”
“I want to come,” Mercy insisted.
“Me, too.” Shirley was determined not to be left behind.
Gabriel hadn’t planned on making an expedition out of this. He’d thought it would be a simple matter to point out Hannah to Goodness, then introduce her to Carl. They’d be back before either of Goodness’s friends had time to miss her. He was about to reassure Mercy and Shirley of this when he noticed that the three had looped their arms together. They stood before him with a determination that would have shook Moses before that unfortunate incident on Mt. Sinai.
“All right, all right,” he grumbled under his breath. These particular prayer ambassadors had a way about them that foiled him at every turn. Only this year, he was simplifying matters. Their assignments were all straightforward requests that would bring them back to heaven in record time. Nothing complicated. Nothing involved. Assignments each one should be able to arrange in record time. This Christmas, Gabriel promised himself, wouldn’t be like the past two.
Stepping away from the others, the archangel raised his massive arms and with one sure movement parted the massive clouds of heaven. A thin layer of mist remained, and gradually he was able to make out the earth below. Soon the four of them narrowed in on the big city. Skyscrapers punctured the sky. The top floors of the twin towers of the World Trade Center came clearly into focus. Then he viewed the landmark Brooklyn Bridge, followed by Times Square.
“This is New York City?” Goodness breathed in awe.
“My heavens, what’s that?” Mercy asked, pointing to the street below.
Gabriel grinned. His timing couldn’t have been better. They’d arrived in time to witness Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. A giant balloon replica of a popular comic-strip dog floated far above the street, steered by several silly-looking adults dressed in elf costumes.
“It looks like some kind of parade,” Shirley answered before he had a chance to explain.
A marching band, the trombone players with their instruments aiming skyward, blared a lively rendition of an easily recognizable Christmas ditty. A fierce pounding of drums added to the excitement of the music.
“This is wonderful,” Goodness said, and spread-eagled herself across the top of a blossom-laden float. Six men dressed as toy soldiers stood guard over an open treasure chest filled with a variety of brightly wrapped gifts in gold and silver paper.
“You wanted to meet Hannah,” Gabriel reminded her, hiding a smile. Goodness’s eyes were as round as a two-year-old child’s.
“In a minute,” Goodness told him. It was apparent she was more interested in watching the parade than in meeting her young charge.
With a stiff-kneed walk, one of the toy soldiers marched to the end of the float. A fairy princess appeared, with dainty wings strapped to her back, and scooped up handfuls of candy. Smiling, she tossed them into the cheering crowd.
“You call those wings?” Mercy asked on a disdainful note.
“We’re here to meet Hannah Morganstern,” Gabriel felt obligated to remind the three.
“I’m ready,” Goodness announced, reluctantly tearing herself away from the dazzling scene.
“If we must,” Mercy added with a decided lack of enthusiasm.
“Do you think Brynn Cassidy’s here?” Shirley’s gaze scanned the thick crowds that crammed the cement sidewalks. “What about the kids from the school? They’d come, wouldn’t they?”
“We’re supposed to meet Hannah, remember?” Gabriel reminded Shirley. He should have known it would be a mistake to bring the others. “There’s Hannah now,” he said in an effort to divert their attention. He motioned toward a group of parade watchers standing along Central Park West.
“Hannah’s the petite woman with the blue angel scarf tied around her neck.” Gabriel had a soft spot in his heart when it came to the gentle Jewish woman. She reminded him of Rebecca, the young woman God had chosen for Abraham’s only son.
“She’s lovely.”
Gabriel agreed. “Hannah’s the only child, born later in life to a devoted couple. Ruth Morganstern prayed faithfully for many years for a daughter.”
“Leah Lundberg did the same,” Mercy reminded Gabriel. “I don’t understand why God makes some couples wait.”
“It’s not for us to question.”
“I know,” Mercy agreed, “His timing is always perfect.”
“Getting back to Hannah,” Gabriel tried again. “The Morgansterns have raised their daughter well. They couldn’t be more proud of her, and rightly so. Hannah is well loved by many.”
“Do you mind if Shirley and I entertain ourselves for a few moments?” Mercy asked, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. Gabriel noticed the angel was staring at the reader board above Times Square.
“You can go on without us,” Shirley insisted.
“No way. Listen, you two. Shirley . . . Mercy,” Gabriel stuttered, wanting to stop them before they vanished. Unfortunately he was too late. He clenched his jaw and turned to Goodness.
“You don’t have a thing to worry about,” Goodness assured him. “They can take care of themselves.”
That was what Gabriel was afraid of.
He was about to go after Mercy and Shirley himself when Goodness tugged at his sleeve. “Tell me what you know about Hannah Morganstern. You said her mother and gr
andmother are looking for Hannah to make a good marriage.”
“Yes,” he muttered. He would need his wits to make this assignment sound more difficult than it was.
“Well, if that’s the case,” Goodness muttered, her shoulders heaving with a deliberate sigh, “I certainly hope she isn’t interested in the young man she’s with. It’s perfectly obvious they aren’t the least bit suited.”
Gabriel’s attention went back to the street corner where he’d last seen Hannah.
“What’s wrong with Carl Rabinsky?” he demanded.
“Just look.”
“Carl, couldn’t we please stay a bit longer?” Hannah asked. She pleaded with him with her eyes, hoping she could find a way to change his mind. Carl had agreed to attend the Thanksgiving Day parade with her, but they’d barely arrived and already he was anxious to leave. She knew he was having trouble with the headmaster at the Hebrew academy where he taught and had been preoccupied most of the day.
“Ten minutes more, then,” Carl conceded indulgently. His gloved hand squeezed hers. “I’m sorry, but I told you earlier that this just isn’t my thing.”
“I know.” Hannah was grateful he’d consented to come. She only wished he could enjoy the festivities as much as she did. Hannah found the merrymaking contagious—the children, the excitement, the wonderful silliness that surrounded this time of year.
“Oh, Carl, look,” she said, pointing toward the huge float making its way down the wide street. “It’s a scene from the Nutcracker Suite.”
Carl smiled tolerantly and pointedly glanced at his watch. “Five more minutes,” he announced under his breath. “If you want to see more of the parade, you can watch it on television.”
Television. Never. Hannah refused to allow his stick-in-the-mud attitude to spoil her fun. Standing on the tips of her toes, she peered down the bustling street, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was coming next. The distinct tones of an approaching band floated toward her.
Unable to see, she edged her way into the crowd until she was wedged against the waist-high barrier to the street. She stayed there until the marching musicians passed, applauding their efforts. The tall, distinguished-looking man standing next to her whistled boisterously. Hannah looked up at him and smiled warmly. Their eyes met, and he returned the friendly gesture.