BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit Read online

  Jeb read between the lines quite easily. The Coles were extremely wealthy, and obviously lived by different rules than the rest of the planet. What annoyed him most was that unlike the majority of working-class people, they could easily hire an army of private duty nurses to care for Angela. Like his wife, he did not understand why they were so adamant that she should remain in the hospital; he also knew that it would do no good to argue.

  “What can I say?” he asked, spreading his hands before him in a sign of finality and mock surrender. He didn’t regret the attempt; it had been worth a shot. “Just remember that it won’t harm Angela to be around other people, to watch a movie, to laugh. I would release her in a heartbeat, except that you have enough clout to keep here without medical necessity.”

  “Why, Doctor Hastings? To make Angela feel she’s normal?”

  “Yes, we do try to make the children as comfortable as possible, treat them as normally as we realistically can,” Jeb replied. “They don’t need to be reminded twenty-four-seven that they have an illness. You’ve made it obvious that you have your own opinion, even if it’s at odds with hospital protocol.”

  “That’s right!” Morgan snapped. “Mine is the one that counts. Angela isn’t normal; we both know that. She’s terminally ill with acute lymphocytic leukemia. Why go through all the trouble of making her feel normal? Is it normal for an eight-year-old girl to be dying?”

  Morgan turned on the high stiletto heels of her black Gucci boots and returned to her daughter’s room.

  ***

  Later, her encounter with Morgan Cole was still on Kenni’s mind and had been the dominant topic of discussion during dinner with Jeb. “I just can’t believe that woman!” Kenni cried in exasperation, as she cleaned up the dinner dishes and filled the sink with hot water. “I don’t know how she can even refer to herself as a mother, she makes me so angry.”

  It was a little past eight, the combination of a busy work day and her encounter with Angela’s mother had taken its toll on Kenni. She was unaccustomed to the fatigue and mood-swings her pregnancy caused her to experience. The day had been a long one, and she yearned to take a shower, slip into a warm, cuddly pair of pajamas and watch TV with her husband.

  Jeb sprayed a citrus-scented cleaning solution on the table and wiped it dry with a paper towel.

  “I like that, it smells nice,” Kenni remarked, as she turned around and smiled at him. She knew he had been making a conscious effort to be more helpful with chores around the house since the onset of her first pregnancy. Because of her “can-do” personality type, her undefeatable spirit, she had been slow to accept his help, but had become determined to learn to enjoy it.

  The glass tabletop sparkled as if it were brand new. She watched as he carefully centered the pot of coral-colored silk flowers beneath the floral-etched globe light fixture. “You do good work, Doctor. Thanks for your help.”

  Jeb smiled and reached for her hand. “I doubt I will ever so much as to begin to repay you for all the things you’ve done for us during our marriage. Kenni, every time I look at you, I fall in love with you all over again.”

  Kenni came closer and reached up to put her arms around his neck. He was more than a head taller than she was and it strained her neck to look up at him. “I’ll be sure to remind you of that when I’m fully pregnant and my big old belly gets in the way! Eventually, you may not be able to get your arms around me.”

  Jeb placed one hand on her swollen abdomen that held the promise of precious cargo. It was treasure from Heaven, and it warmed his heart to know that a child they created, a baby given to them by God Himself would soon be in their arms.

  “I don’t know; I think you’ll look kinda cute!” Jeb murmured in her ear. “Not to mention a little sexy.”

  Kenni found herself thinking once more about Angela as she looked up into the softness of Jeb’s hazel eyes. “Do you think the Coles felt that way when they were expecting Angela?”

  Jeb shrugged, determined that the subject of the Coles would not be the center of attention for the rest of their evening together. With their busy schedules and demanding professions, he placed a high priority on the quality time they spent at home. “How about we watch some TV in bed?”

  “Hmmm, TV in bed sounds great. It’s going to feel good to stretch out and decompress!”

  “A hot shower will help you to relax and forget all about the day,” Jeb encouraged. “I’ll finish up in here and meet you in bed.”

  “Okay, but I claim the remote!”

  ***

  Marcus Cole was deep in thought as he drove northward from Dayton to Brannan’s Point. The traffic was heavier than usual, making the trip longer. He rubbed at his smarting eyes, blinded by the lights of the SUV behind him. His low-slung, red Corvette put him at a disadvantage at night as headlights from taller vehicles behind him tended to hit his rear-view mirror in exactly the wrong spot. He tried adjusting the rear view mirror to eliminate the glare to no avail. To escape the blinding lights from the vehicle behind him, Marcus clicked on his blinker, pressed down on the gas pedal, and accelerated effortlessly into the far left lane of Interstate 75.

  It had been a long day of endless meetings for Marcus, who had spent most of it in a meeting in Dayton with the CEO of a new upscale boutique interested in carrying the Morgan Cole Cosmetics product line. It sounded promising; he and Morgan would have to discuss the details and submit it to the legal staff before a final decision could be made.

  Marcus sighed as he recalled meeting his wife for the first time at a charity benefit in New York City. A vibrant and upcoming model known in those days as Morgan Lansing Clarke, she had completely bedazzled him the moment he saw her. He would never forget the ethereal vision of Morgan dressed in a full-length glittering, gold skirt and black silk blouse, saw it in his mind as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. She wore her blonde hair long in those days, and on this particular occasion, it cascaded down her back in loose curls that glistened under the lights. She stood at the bottom of a marble staircase and held court while the paparazzi buzzed around her excitedly with their cameras clicking and flashing in a frenzy of noise and light. For Marcus, it was as if time had stopped the moment his eyes met hers, and the proverbial lightning bolt of love struck him where he stood.

  Soon, the society columns published photos and reported sightings of the couple as they began to be seen together everywhere from a New York Knicks home game at Madison Square Garden to charity balls and fund raisers at the Plaza Hotel. The camera lens adored Morgan’s perfectly symmetrical face, and paired with Marcus, who was also blond, made them the poster children for everything that was beautiful, glamorous and revered. The press, the entire world for that matter, had been enthralled by the relationship between Marcus Cole and Morgan Clarke. As some columnists had pointed out, even their initials were a match—MC and MC.

  When Marcus brought his bride-to-be home to Cincinnati to meet his parents, they had been cordial and friendly to Morgan, enchanted by the charming young woman whose face had graced the cover of every major magazine cover many times over. At that time, “Morgan Lansing Clarke” was synonymous with all that represented feminine beauty and desirability. Despite their fascination with the admittedly charming young woman their son was obviously smitten with, the ultra-conservative Coles had reservations about their son and heir’s choice for his bride.

  Marcus’ mother, Cybil Evanswell Cole, was from a wealthy, old-line Philadelphia family and brought a fortune of her own into her union with Desmond Cole. She was well-loved and held in high esteem by practically everybody. Later that evening when she had taken her son aside, she looked him straight in the eye and told him there was something about Morgan that bothered her. Marcus had calmly listened to what his beautiful, philanthropic, forty-something mother had to say, never so much as batting an eyelash as she had expressed her concerns. He knew she had a keen sense of people, and normally, he would have heeded her advice. After she had spoken, however, he had sweet
ly kissed her cheek and told her that the only woman on earth for him was in the living room, talking to his younger brother, Jack, and that the one thing that would make him happy was to marry Morgan.

  The Coles loved their son who had been in his late twenties at the time, and had exercised the good sense not to force the issue. Despite their misgivings, they had taken Marcus’ plans in stride and had warmly welcomed Morgan to their family when the couple became engaged. They footed all the expenses for the Palm Beach wedding, including the airfare and accommodations for all of Morgan’s relatives and invited guests who flew in from Connecticut and New York City.

  The wedding had been a spectacular, Cinderella-like event complete with an amazing wedding gown of white silk and organza, embellished with hand-sewn crystals and seed pearls. The affair captured the attention of the nation, and included a cover shot for Time magazine. Morgan had been so popular that all the evening TV entertainment shows battled to be first to bring all the details to their viewers. For many, it had been a diversion from the monotony of their own, comparatively dull existences.

  During the second year of their marriage, Morgan let her modeling contracts expire to make way for the debut of Morgan Cole Cosmetics. She had been at the peak of her career, everyone’s favorite blonde American darling, and ready to move on to bigger and better things. Morgan Cole Cosmetics had literally been an overnight sensation that took the makeup and skin care markets by storm. The combination of Morgan’s face-and-name recognition and Marcus’ business savvy and marketing skills had allowed this beautiful couple to build it from a promising start-up venture to lucrative business empire in an unexpectedly short time, and it added considerably to the wealth of the already well-stocked Cole coffers.

  For Marcus and Morgan, life had been all two people in love could possibly want. The world had been their oyster, and they had pulled pearls out fistful-by-fistful.

  In addition to their idyllic lifestyle and success, Morgan became pregnant and their fairy-tale seemed complete. A flawless blonde girl came into the world on a snowy February morning, after what attending medical staff remarked had been the easiest delivery on record. They named her Angela Lansing Clarke Cole, and she immediately became the center of their existence.

  Marcus’ abandoned his reminiscence of the past and turned his attention to the anticlimactic present. He glanced at the glowing digital clock embedded in the dashboard, noting that it was well after nine o’clock and sadly, too late to consider visiting Angela. Besides, he was later than anticipated, and even though Morgan had not called his cell phone to check up on him yet, he anticipated he would find her in an agitated state when he got home.

  ***

  It was quiet in Angela’s hospital room and bathed in blue light emanating from the TV suspended from the ceiling. The nurses left it on because she seemed to wake up the instant they turned the set off.

  Angela’s eyes suddenly opened and she sat up as she rubbed at them. “Who called my name?” she asked, as she blinked and her eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room. She noticed a large, golden teddy bear at the foot of her bed. It had not been there earlier and she wondered where it had come from. She supposed it might have been left for her by Daddy while she slept, or Nurse Kenni—anyone but her mother.

  “Hello, Angela.”

  Startled by the sound of an unfamiliar voice, the child looked around the room in search of the source of the soft, male voice that had called her name. No one was there.

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  Angela’s eyes widened as she looked at the teddy bear. She thought she saw the toy move—she wondered if she was dreaming.

  “No, you’re not dreaming, Angela.”

  Angela drew a tense breath. Frightened, she thought, I saw the bear’s mouth move, it’s talking to me. “How do you know my name?” she asked as she clutched her blanket between tightly clenched fingers. “Teddy bear, are you talking to me?”

  The bear smiled. “Yes, I’m talking to you. I know all about you!”

  “How?” Angela’s curiosity had replaced fear. She narrowed her eyes as she pondered what she saw. “You didn’t tell me how come you can talk. Are you a robot?”

  The bear laughed softly; it was a pleasant, soothing sound Angela found comforting. “No, I’m not a robot. And I can talk to you because I was given a very special gift from God. Do you know who God is?”

  “Yes,” Angela answered. “Grandma Sybil used to take me to church, and I know who Jesus is. But I don’t know who you are, and I’m not s’pposed to talk to strangers.”

  “I understand. My name is Brownie,” the bear introduced himself. “And I’m not an ordinary bear. In fact, I’m not really a bear at all.”

  Angela pulled her legs up to her chest and leaned her chin against her knees as she studied her unexpected guest. She reached out and hesitantly touched his fur.

  “I’m soft, aren’t I?”

  “You feel more like a cat than a stuffed animal.” Angela stroked his silky fur the way she used to pet her cat, Lovebug. Then she giggled. “Are you real?”

  Brownie nodded. “I’m as real as you are.”

  “Why are you here? It’s late and you’re little. Don’t you have to go to bed?”

  Brownie chuckled. “No, I get to stay up late tonight. I’m here because God loves you, Angela, and He sent me to visit you. Do you know that He loves you?”

  Angela nodded. “My grandma and I used to sing Jesus Loves Me before I got sick. Jesus is God’s son you know; Grandma told me that.” She sighed. “It hasn’t been much fun since I got sick though. And I really wanna go home.”

  “I know, dear one. I also know you’ve been very, very brave about everything. God knows that too!”

  Angela tilted her head as she continued to study him with inquisitive wonder. “If you’re not a bear, or a robot, or a toy, what are you?”

  Brownie leaned closer and whispered, “Can you keep a secret?”

  “I’m the best at keeping secrets.” She looked up at the ceiling, and added, “You know that, too, don’t You?”

  Brownie chuckled. “He knows, little one. But this is a very special secret, of major importance. Do you think you’re up for it? It’s a very big deal. Can we trust you?”

  “Oh yes,” Angela squealed. No one had ever asked for her help before and it made her feel important. “I promise!”

  “Very well, then.” Brownie touched Angela’s hand with his paw and explained, “I know I look like a stuffed teddy bear, and I’m soft like Lovebug, but I’m actually a special angel God created. He sent me here on a secret Christmas mission, and I want to do a good job. It’s very, very important to a lot of people, so you can see just how careful I have to be about who I trust while I’m here.”

  “I think I understand,” Angela assured him, stifling a yawn. “I wouldn’t wanna mess up something for God, either.”

  Brownie laughed softly. “Splendid. I know now that I can trust you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Angela interjected, her thoughts racing as she tried in her childish way to reason with Brownie’s presence and his being an angel. “Don’t you have to have wings to be an angel? Where are your wings? Did you leave them in Heaven?” She shook her head, her eyes wide, and gasped. “Uh oh! Would God let you leave Heaven without them?”

  “Some of us do have wings, but not all,” Brownie explained, standing up on the bed. “Wings aren’t what made us angels; it’s what God put inside of us and the love in our hearts for Him that allows us to be angels.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Angela yawned again, unable to resist. She was suddenly warm and sleepy, her eyelids heavy as if they were weighed down by something.

  “You must go back to sleep now,” Brownie told her encouragingly, and straightened the covers around her as he lovingly tucked her in. “Little bodies need lots of rest to be healthy.”

  Angela’s eyes grew even heavier as she lay back against her pillow and relaxed. She could not fight the urge to close the
m, to give in to the warm feelings that made her want to sleep. “Goodnight, Brownie. I hope I see you again.”

  “You will,” Brownie assured her in a soft voice as he watched her drift off to sleep. “I promise.”

  ***

  Charlie Petersen was on his way home from a weekly Bible-study he attended with a group of about a dozen men who got together to share their experiences, and to study scripture. Charlie enjoyed the fellowship, as he was alone much of the time, and looked forward to being with other guys who believed in the same things he did.

  As he drove along in his new navy blue, Chevy S10 pickup, a verse of scripture, Hebrews 13:2 quickened in his spirit: Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.

  Charlie knitted his brows in response to the verse reciting over and over in his mind like an endless audio loop. Why this particular verse came to mind baffled him as it wasn’t a particular favorite. It was one of those verses that most people—Charlie included—thought was nice but could not relate to.

  During Bible study, the men had discussed the difficulties of dealing with loneliness. A few were newly divorced and not handling their single status as well as they thought they should be. Charlie was familiar with loneliness, and knew it intimately. The only child of parents who perished in a car accident just after his twenty-first birthday, and with no other family, Charlie accepted being alone as his lot in life. He had dated a lot of women in his younger days, but had never married—never found that one woman who made his heart sing. Many young ladies considered Charlie quite a handsome catch with his striking green eyes and thick dark hair, and like many young men, he had sown his wild oats until he felt God’s hand upon him, calling him to go to church and straighten up his life.

  Charlie suspected he had a son out there, somewhere, from a brief affair in his past. The woman had told him she was pregnant before she had quietly left town, before he had a chance to make the situation right by asking her to marry him. Months later, Charlie had received a photograph of a newborn baby in the woman’s arms. There had been no return address on the envelope, although it had clearly shown a Phoenix postmark. He never tried to track them down, as he had felt that if she wanted him to be a part of their lives she would have contacted him again—but she never did.