BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit Read online

  Charlie yawned sleepily as he pulled into the driveway of the small home he had inherited from his parents. He was grateful every day for his little white house with a large front porch and white picket fence; it wasn’t fancy, but it was paid for, and it was home.

  Chapter 3

  Lauren Donahue looked forward to reading her email each morning while she enjoyed a hot cup of tea. After she read the last few lines of an encouraging email from Mavis Farnsworth, her new Internet friend and prayer partner from England, her heart felt warmed, her spirit encouraged. Thank you, Lord. Another church is praying for Michael’s complete cure. Lauren had lost count as to how many prayer chains and churches were praying for Michael. With all her heart, she believed in prayer and found great comfort knowing that other believers around the world were praying for her son. It helped keep her spirits up to do something positive that she truly believed in.

  Each day brought multiple email messages of beautifully expressed prayers of healing for Michael and strength for her. Lauren printed them out daily and slid them between the sheet protectors she kept in a large binder with a photograph of Michael’s smiling face on the cover. When she was feeling down or anxious, she reached for the binder. Reading the prayers, often from total strangers encouraged her.

  Despite the undeniable physical evidence of a malignant growth in Michael’s chest, Lauren’s weapon of choice against the icy fingers of panic was prayer. Whenever negative words and thoughts rallied in an attempt to shake her faith, Lauren got on her knees and let the promise of the Lord’s words give her strength to endure what might lie ahead. From deep within, she felt a peace she knew could only come from God. She couldn’t explain it to those who did not share her faith, or to those who mistook her faith for arrogance when she chose to smile and be strong over caving in to despair and weakness.

  Her husband, Darryl, had died several years earlier from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident. Unlike some people she knew, Lauren did not believe he had become an angel after death. She believed that humans were created as humans, and angels were created as angels, and one did not become the other.

  Lauren liked to picture Darryl as being happy in Heaven. She frequently visualized him sitting at Jesus’ feet, in perfect peace. She imagined his beautiful, dark eyes following every movement the Lord might make. She imagined the sound of Darryl’s sweet, falsetto voice in praise. She wondered, does he sing with the angels? She knew they would all be reunited one day, but until then there was life to get through, bills to pay and a child to bring up. She had taken a family medical leave of absence from her job as a legal assistant in order to be free to care for Michael after whatever procedure the doctors chose to perform and was living off the proceeds of Darryl’s substantial life insurance policy.

  ***

  Charlie Petersen hummed contentedly as he shaved. He concentrated on the familiar contours of his face as he looked into the bathroom mirror. He pretended not to notice the newest wrinkle, or the silvery-gray spikes that seemed to sprout in his hair or beard when he wasn’t looking. It didn’t matter anyway; he was alive and well, and if blessed with a long life, he expected to meet wrinkles and touches of gray along the way.

  “I’ve got joy in my heart, joy in my heart,” Charlie sang a bit off key as he rinsed his face and dried it with a towel. His life was far from perfect; in fact, it was downright lonely much of the time. On the plus side, he had a roof over his head and a business that paid his bills each month. He didn’t lack for anything he truly needed or wanted, and enjoyed the fellowship of friends and acquaintances he found at church.

  As Charlie dressed in his usual winter attire of jeans and a flannel shirt, he heard the rumbling emptiness of hunger growling from his stomach. The coffee maker was programmed to turn on each morning, and right on schedule the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen to his bedroom. He breathed in the smell, put on his belt and followed his nose to the kitchen.

  “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so,” Charlie continued to sing as he entered the small, sunny yellow-and-white kitchen. It had changed little since he had inherited it from his parents. The yellow curtains were replacements, but were of the same Cape Cod style favored by his mother. The ceramic tile on the floor was less than a year old, as were the appliances and the fresh paint on the walls. “For we know we need Him so.” He pulled one of his gray-and-red Ohio State mugs from the cabinet. “Let us raise our voices and sing… la-la-la, hum-hum-hmm….”

  As Charlie turned to grab a couple of packets of sweetener from their usual place on the counter inside a covered heavy crystal jar that had belonged to his mother, he stopped as he noticed the golden-brown teddy bear that had mysteriously shown up yesterday at his store.

  “Yikes! How on earth did you get here, Brownie?” He shook his head in disbelief at what he saw. “This is way too weird! I know I left him back at the shop.” Bewildered and not sure what to make of his discovery, he leaned against the counter and stroked his freshly-shaved chin. “At least I thought I left him there. Good Lord, how could I have forgotten? Oh man! This is bad—could be early Alzheimer’s.”

  The golden teddy bear with a sweet expression remained motionless at the kitchen table, occupying the seat directly across from where Charlie normally sat.

  To Charlie, its green pinwheel eyes seemed to be watching him. He poured a splash of milk into his mug before he filled it with coffee. He continued to shake his head as he stirred the milk into his coffee. “I could understand if I drank or did drugs…how could I not remember bringing it home with me?” He picked up the mug and crossed the short distance to his chair. Frowning, he sat down and stared across the table at his unexpected guest.

  Charlie saw Brownie blink. “Whoa!” Startled by what he had seen, he nearly spilled hot coffee onto his lap. He was on his feet in an instant. “I think it blinked.”

  “Relax, Charlie.” The voice came from the bear, a soft, but definitely male voice. He looked into the man’s eyes which had grown to the size of lollipops. “Allow me to assure you, my friend, you aren’t hallucinating, nor have you suddenly developed some sort of dementia. I’m as real as you are.”

  Charlie cleared his throat as he ran a nervous hand through his dark hair. “Well, it’s not every day that I have a two-way conversation with a toy. I know! You must have a computer inside you, a pretty good one I’d guess. Okay, Brownie, what’s up with all of this? I wondered why that very fancy dressed saleswoman I’d never seen before had dropped in on me the other day, and flirted with me.”

  “Flirting with you, was she?” Brownie teased.

  “Did one of the toy companies pick my shop to test you? Or, could it be they’re testing me? Was that why she was there?” Charlie had read about artificial intelligence, and about some amazing interactive toys that were being developed that could carry on conversations with people as well as interact with other toys. He had no idea how the bear got into his store, and was even more baffled by its presence in his kitchen. He told himself there had to be a logical explanation for it all, and he’d feel very foolish when he discovered what it was.

  Brownie laughed softly as he shook his head. “Charlie, I’m not a robot, as was suggested last night by a little girl I visited at the hospital. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have a computer inside of me.” He leaned forward a bit. “Would you by chance have some honey? I would just love a cup of tea with honey if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Charlie got up from the chair. He took another mug from the cupboard and filled it with water. “I’m heating water for tea for a talking bear. And to think I was in such a good mood when I got up!” He put the mug into the microwave and set the timer, shaking his head and muttering to himself, “No one will ever believe me. Heck, I don’t even believe me, and I’m the one it's happening to!”

  “Charlie, do calm down,” Brownie encouraged. He couldn’t help but laugh at the bewildered expression on the man’s face.
“It’s so much easier to talk to children.”

  “And now the bear is telling me to calm down,” Charlie continued, waiting for the water to boil. “I guess that makes sense…sort of, somewhere in the universe.” He got a tea bag from the cupboard, retrieved the jar of honey and placed them on the table. The microwave “dinged” and he set the mug of hot water in front of Brownie. “Do you need any help…Mister Bear?”

  “Thank you, Charlie, but I’m quite capable of fixing a cup of tea.” He held up his paws which, upon closer examination were more like hands, and wiggled them. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have fingers and thumbs, which work quite nicely. I wish you would sit down now. We have a lot to talk about.”

  Back in his chair, Charlie stared across the table at his visitor. The scripture that had come to mind during the drive home last night quickened once more: Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.

  “And please don’t call me ‘Mister Bear.’ It sounds…I don’t know, sort of ridiculous.”

  “Is it Brownie?” Charlie asked, realizing he’d named him that upon discovering him in his store. “Or would you rather I call you something else? You just looked like you should be named ‘Brownie’.” Charlie felt rather foolish talking to a teddy bear, but he was fascinated as he watched him wring out his tea bag and then put a generous amount of honey into the cup of hot liquid.

  “Brownie is my God-given name,” he replied before he tasted his tea. Pleased, he smacked his lips. “Delicious! It’s been a long time. Earth is the only place where tea tastes quite like this. Thank you, Charlie.”

  “Uh, you’re welcome.” Charlie took a sip of coffee. “Now that we’ve introduced ourselves, could you please tell me what this is about? Is this part of a test by one of the toy companies?”

  “I’m not a toy, Charlie. I’m here on a Christmas mission from God.”

  “From God, a Christmas mission from God. Okay.” Charlie shook his head. “You are here, today, on a mission from God. He sent a talking teddy bear on a mission. I know God works in mysterious ways, but this is beyond me…way beyond me.”

  “I’m not a teddy bear that talks,” Brownie corrected, and took another sip of tea. He licked his lips. “I know I look like a teddy bear, but I’m not a toy. I’m not even actually a bear.”

  “Then what are you if you don’t, uh, mind my asking?”

  “I’m an angel.” He watched as his host’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Humans like to think we’re cute, chubby cherubs who float around on clouds all day. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s very hard work, watching over humans is not exactly cloud-sitting! Humans are amazingly challenging and keep us quite busy. Why God finds the lot of you so important, I’ll never know. He does, though, so my point is moot.”

  Charlie tilted his head to one side. “Actually, when I think of angels, I think of big ones, like Michael.”

  “Oh my, he’s nothing like the one in that movie!” Brownie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Believe me, it caused quite a stir! Michael was not at all pleased with the portrayal.”

  “Wow.” Charlie was fascinated. “The Archangel Michael, knew about it?”

  “Yes, but I’m not here to talk about Michael or Gabriel, or other angels, or actors portraying angels. I’m here on a mission and we need to be serious.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, then let out a chuckle. “You do make it difficult to stay on track.”

  Charlie was not sure what to make of it. God created an angel in the image of a teddy bear? Part of him didn’t want to believe that he was actually carrying on a conversation with a talking, stuffed-looking bear that claimed to be an angel. Another part of him didn’t doubt that God could create an angel the likes of Brownie.

  “Okay. Just how do I fit into all of this?” Charlie asked. “I mean, why me?”

  “Why shouldn’t you fit? Why do you find it so difficult to believe that you could participate in something ordained by God?”

  “I’m a simple man who lives a simple life; a regular Joe. I’m sure there are people God can use who are more capable than someone like me.”

  “It is you God chose, or I would not be here as we speak,” Brownie assured him. “You have humbled yourself before God and have served Him well over the years. God knows what He’s doing. He knows who to choose, and for His purposes, He has chosen you.”

  Charlie stared into his coffee cup. How long have I prayed for God to use me in some way? He had never imagined—not even come close to such a thought—that an angelic bear would show up one day, announce he was on a mission for God, and that his help was needed.

  “My friend, God knows all your sorrows and your dreams, every last one of them. He knows that you're lonely. He also knows that you serve Him willingly.”

  Charlie looked into the sweet face of his new friend. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously, and I hope you won’t mind if I bunk here with you during my stay?”

  Charlie smiled. “How could I possibly refuse an angel?”

  ***

  Bernie was distracted by his thoughts as he made his way to his suite of offices, choosing this morning to go in, unnoticed, by his private door in the back hallway. He had slept poorly, still bewildered by the teddy bear’s absence from the container of Isabel’s belongings. Where on earth had it gone? He told himself he was being foolish but seemed unable to help it. Bernie was a man of logic, and this was not logical.

  “Where on earth could that thing have disappeared to?” he asked no one as he turned on the lights in his interior office and placed his briefcase on the floor beside his desk. As he began to remove his heavy wool coat and scarf, the “buzz” from the phone intercom on his desk that linked him with his secretary startled him. He had obviously failed to arrive unnoticed. “Yes, Janice,” he answered, doing his best to stifle an annoyed sigh. Janice had an uncanny sense about whether or not he was in his office, even if she had not seen him come in, and it was not her fault that he wasn’t ready to give up his pondering about the absent teddy bear just yet.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but Mrs. Cole is here,” Janice apologized in an irregular, quieter than normal voice. “She insists on seeing you right away.”

  Bernie knew that Morgan Cole was not a woman to be put off, that a mere closed door would not stop her from bursting through it if she believed she had a right to. “Just give me a moment or two, Janice. I haven’t even hung my coat up yet!” He couldn’t help his annoyance at his personal thoughts being interrupted.

  There was silence on the phone, then, “Shall I have Mrs. Cole take a seat?”

  “I won’t be but a moment.” Bernie hung up the phone and frowned as he finished putting away his coat and other winter paraphernalia. He despised mixing hospital politics with medicine. Marcus Cole was on the Board of Directors, and the family was well-known for its financial support of the hospital. They had made several very large endowments this year, which made them extremely important. The in-house theatre was just one of the projects which had been financed by their faithful generosity and there was no doubt that the hospital needed the Coles—and their money.

  Bernie didn’t have a problem with the soft-spoken Marcus; no, Morgan was the one who stirred things up. Along with other physicians on staff, he had agreed with Jeb Hastings that Angela’s recent hospital stay was unnecessary, that the child should have gone home months ago. He had been certain that when the insurance company stopped paying for Angela’s care, the Coles would take her home.

  Instead, Morgan launched a campaign to get her way and made personal pleas to anyone who would listen, particularly the big wigs in the executive circle, to allow her daughter to remain in the hospital indefinitely. While Bernie didn’t understand why any parents would not want their child at home with them instead of the hospital—regardless of how excellent the care provided was—the Board predictably had sympathized with the Coles. Word came down from Upstairs that
Morgan had gotten her way, Angela would remain in the hospital indefinitely, despite unanimous agreement by staff physicians that she should be released.

  Both Bernie and Jeb had tried their best to convince the Coles that they should enjoy their daughter’s better days, and that it would do the girl a world of good to be at home as often as possible, but their advice was ignored.

  Bernie sighed wearily, picked up the phone and pressed the intercom for Janice’s extension. He conceded silently that it would do no good to put Mrs. Cole off. “Send her in. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Within seconds, Morgan Cole made her entrance into the Chief of Oncology’s office. The fragrance of a subtly-sweet cologne mingled with the leathery scent of her purple suede coat, and announced her presence a split-second before she was actually seen. As always Morgan appeared perfectly coiffed, flawlessly made-up, and every bit as lovely as she had been at the height of her modeling career. She entered the office with her head held high, not quite smiling but not quite frowning.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Cole,” Bernie greeted as he got to his feet. All the makeup in the world could not hide what looked like menacing shards of pale blue ice in her eyes, the stubborn set of her chin. She was on a mission; one Bernie surmised would cause trouble for someone at the hospital.

  Morgan stood before him as she gracefully lowered her petite frame into the leather chair nearest his desk. She removed her purple suede gloves and tucked them into a black leather purse before she looked into the doctor’s somewhat tired, gray-blue eyes.

  Bernie sat down, folding his hands atop his desk. “What’s on your mind this morning, Mrs. Cole?”