Diary of an Angel (7 page)

“But you couldn’t ever have known without experiencing it for yourself. We didn’t know what
hard
meant, or
pain
, or
temptation
. We knew nothing about being mortal. And somehow this experience plays a vital role in our reaching our full potential, attaining that fadeless joy.

“I know He wouldn’t let us come here and suffer as we do if it weren’t all worth it. In the end, there’s nothing He won’t set aright. Nothing lost which He won’t restore, dead that He won’t resurrect, dull and blighted that he won’t polish until it glimmers and shines more radiantly than all the stars in the universe.”

“I like the sound of Him fixing everything,” Angela said after a few contemplative seconds. “It would be nice if He did that now, though.”

“I know. He will do some. His hand is in your life more than you probably realize. It’s hard to recognize sometimes, especially when difficulties come. But when those difficult times do come, try not to push Him away. I’m sure that must break His heart. And next time,
call
me!”

Angela let out a little laugh and the two embraced.

“Thank you,” Angela said, a tear starting to form in her eye.

“Thank
you
,” Rachel said, “for talking to me.”

The two of them casually chatted a few minutes more before Rachel had to leave. As she left Violet, Rachel’s guardian, gave us a high-five, before hurrying off after Rachel. Angela waved as Rachel drove away, then closed the front door. For a moment, she stood with her hand on the door knob, a smile on her face
, thinking about her conversation with Rachel. The familiar rumble of Jack’s pickup interrupted her thoughts.

I turned to Clairus. “Time to f
ind out about Jack’s job hunt.”

Storm Clouds

J
ack returned in a somber mood. His search had not gone well. The few job leads he had looked into were a complete waste of time. Several weeks passed without any change in Jack’s employment status. By this time Angela felt a tangible burden, like a dark raincloud, ever hanging over her, waiting to release a torrent of grief. It blackened her outlook, oppressed her hope. So worried she grew that she tried something she had not attempted for several years. She prayed.

It was a rather awkward prayer, like she was trying to remember the rules for prayer (as if there were any) and didn’t know in what order to arrange the magic words. Still, it represented her recognition of her dependence on God, her realization that she needed His divine help. How I loved that prayer! She still needed work, though. She had yet to put that complete and liberating confidence in God to which Rachel had alluded.

Angela began to make prayer a daily activity. Though, it was more out of feelings of desperation than desire to commune with God. Her prayers were all one in purpose: to ask God for Jack to get a job, so that they wouldn’t lose their home.

Despite her repeated petitions, the day she had been dreading finally arrived; their next mortgage payment came due. Jack and Angela were at a loss what course to take. They had canceled their cell phones, their cable and internet services, drove the car only when necessary, and were eating scanty, unsatisfying meals. Jack even put an advertisement in the paper for his 1969 Chevrolet Camaro—a project car he’d had forever. All this helped stretch their remaining funds, but not sufficiently.

Catherine, and even Justin and Kailey, were not oblivious to their family’s plight. Although, Kailey really only noticed that dinner was never good, and complained so often that Angela finally snapped at her and so she stopped. Justin didn’t care for the food either, but mostly he worried about losing his video games. Of the three children, though, Catherine most keenly felt the significance of their family’s situation. Her precious cell phone and internet-access loss, compounded with the prospect of no new clothes left her emotionally distraught. An American girl of her age simply couldn’t be expected to survive socially without these necessities of life. She had, of course, lied to her friends about her situation. Her cruel parents had unjustly and unaccountably grounded her, indefinitely. This little fable had won her the sympathy of her peers and saved her some embarrassment. Still, on the inside, Catherine was ready to burst. And it was only a matter of time before she did.

Dark, rain-laden clouds had moved in during the early afternoon, and by mid-afternoon they released their burden on Angela’s small town with a deluge of heavy rain. Angela drove their mini-van through the dreary autumnal storm. She would have preferred to stay home on that tempestuous afternoon, reading a book, but the children needed to be picked up from school.

She picked up the two youngest first. In the short run from the protective cover of the school’s awning to the inside of the van the rain soaked Justin and Kailey so thoroughly that they looked as if they’d stood in it for an hour. The two water-logged children strapped themselves into wet seats as they buzzed with excitement about the storm. Angela failed to find anything exciting about it, especially now that most of it was now dripping all over the inside of her van. They exited the school’s circular driveway and steered their barge in the direction of the high school.

Catherine’s journey from the school’s shelter to the van was even longer. However, she possessed enough sense to hold her jacket over her head. Still, the rain swept at her from all sides and angles, so that only her hair and makeup escaped the soggy fate to which the rest of her succumbed. Catherine’s reaction to the wet and rain contrasted noticeable with her younger siblings’.

“How was your day?” Angela asked.

“Fine!” Catherine growled, as she stared out the window. Angela made no further attempt to make small talk.

Except for the clamorous rain pelting the windshield, and the windshield wipers vigorously combating the down-pour, all was silent in the van. A white jagged flame traced across the sky, followed by a
crack
and the grumbling of clouds.

It was Loreli who broke the gloomy silence. “I was wondering when she was going to get to this.” Then turning to me and smiling, she added, “this should be interesting.” Before I could ask her what she meant Catherine began to speak.

“Um, Mom?” Catherine began, in a much gentler tone than before.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Angela replied, acting as though Catherine had not just tried to bite off her head.

“So...I was wondering if I could go over to my friend’s house tonight.”

“Who is this friend?” Angela asked, semi-casually.

“Her name’s Josie. She’s on the soccer team with me.”

Angela didn’t know who Josie was, and it made her nervous to send her daughter off to the house of someone she didn’t know. But with a little encouragement she avoided shutting down Catherine’s operation without further inquiry.

“What do you plan to do?”

“Probably just watch a movie and hang out.”

Angela resisted the urge to ask which movie. She knew only too well how much Catherine disliked the interrogation. She asked, instead, a question she was more concerned about.

“Will Josie’s parents be there?”

“Maybe...I don’t know,” Catherine replied, her voice beginning to indicate her annoyance. This Angela took to mean the parents wouldn’t be there. It was time for the ultimate question.

“Are any of Josie’s other friends going to be there?”

“Just a few other girls from the soccer team,” Catherine said, trying to make the gathering sound small.

Angela weighed the evidence in her mind. A high school girl wants to spend Friday night with a mysterious friend. Friend’s parents will likely be absent. Some other friends might stop by. Angela concluded that more than a casual gathering of intimate friends was the design of Josie. She thought it unlikely that boys would somehow be uninvolved in the conspiracy.

She didn’t wish to bluntly accuse Catherine of not telling her everything or flat-out forbid her to go. But she certainly didn’t want to send her daughter to her first unchaperoned party. Her first—she hoped—high school party.

“Well,” Angela began cautiously, “I think I’d like to meet Josie first, or at least talk to her parents.”

Catherine let out an agitated
humph
. “So, basically you’re saying I can’t go, right?”

“I’m not saying that. I’d just like to talk with the parents first.”

“You mean you don’t trust me,” Catherine snapped back.

“That’s not true,” Angela said, stretching the truth a bit, “I just worry about you going off to someone’s house I don’t know.”

“Why won’t you let me grow up!”

“Catherine, sweetheart, you’re only fifteen.”

“
Almost
sixteen,” Catherine correct.

“You’re birthday’s still several months away. And besides, sixteen is still far from grown-up.”

“Well, most sixteen-year-olds have their own car and can go out whenever they want.”

“Not all
kids your age have their own car.”

“Well it doesn’t matter,” snorted Catherine, crossing her arms and glaring forward into the darkness outside, “I’ll never have my own car...now that we’re poor. I don’t even have my own cell.” She finished with a mutter.

“We’re not poor, Catherine,” Angela said, as if exasperated from revisiting this topic. “Many people have a lot less than we have.”

“Well, pretty soon we’re not going to have anything. Dad hasn’t found another job. And I don’t think he’s going to. They’re going to take away our house and cars—everything. We’re going to end up on the street.”

Little Kailey interrupted the conversation. “Why are they going to take away our house?” she asked with a worry in her voice. “They won’t take my bicycle will they?”

“No one is going to take your bicycle, honey,” Angela reassured her. Then in a lower, but threatening tone, “You need to cut out this nonsense right now, Catherine!”

“What nonsense? It’s all true. We’re poor, and I hate it!”

“That’s enough! We can talk about this more at home.”

“Fine!”

No one spoke for th
e remainder of the drive home.

Later that evening, after supper, which Catherine refused to join, Jack and Angela sat together at the kitchen table, discussing their family finances. Necessity demanded it. Their money was quickly dwindling, without hope of magically replenishing itself.

“We’ve got to do something to make money,” said Angela softly. “Even if we do...even if we do lose our house. We still have to eat, at least. Oh, Jack! What’s going to happen to us? Surely someone will take care of us. We can’t live on the street with three children.” These words resonated in her mind. How ironic it seemed that Catherine’s voice of concern reflected her own sentiments and fears. The two were more alike than she cared to believe.

“No one’s going to end up on the street. I’ve made up my mind to apply for some part-time, minimum-wage jobs. I don’t care what it is at this point; if it pays anything I’ll do it. I’ll even get a newspaper route.”

“I was thinking about finding a part-time job as well,” Angela said with a sigh. “Maybe as a substitute teacher. I’ve heard the schools will take just about anyone, so long as she has a high-school diploma. The kids would have to start taking the bus to school. Catherine would hate it, but she’ll survive.”

Jack stared into her disconsolate face, forcing a meager smile. Angela turned away.

“Mrs. Mapleton called again today,” she said, purposely changing the subject.

“Oh? Did she want some more information about our problems to share with the neighbors?”

Angela shrugged. “She just asked if you had found a job. I think next time I’ll tell her you won the lottery and won’t ever have to work again.”

Jack let out a chuckle. “And I’m sure she’d keep
that
a secret.”

“I think I’ll go to the school on Monday,” Angela said after a pause, “and see about getting the kids on free lunches or something.”

He nodded his head slowly. Outside, the patter of the abating rain could be faintly heard. Jack got up from the table and gave Angela a gentle hug from behind. She returned the gesture by patting his arm, though her mind remained absent, lost in her care of the future. After Jack had left, she let out a sigh then left the table to follow Jack to bed.

Angela had just finished another prayer of pleading, and we were about to return, when I noticed a heavenly sound, soft yet satisfying, filling the room. I looked around but saw nothing unusual. Neither Jack nor Angela showed that they heard it.

“What is that?” I asked Clairus.

“Sounds like music,” she said.

“Right. Well, where’s it coming from?”

“Your pocket, I believe.”

“My pocket?”

I looked down. Was there something in my pocket? Then I remembered my Communicator. Reaching into my pocket, I drew out the crystal. It glowed mesmerizingly, as it chimed that heavenly tone.

Not sure exactly why my communicator was randomly putting on a show, I turned it on to see if that would produce an explanation. When I did, the same disembodied voice greeted me as before. “You have received a message. Would you like to hear it?”

“Uh, sure.” I said.

A floating image instantly appeared, suspended above the crystal. It was Lyra, smiling as cheerfully as ever.

“Forenica, when you have a spare moment, stop by the archives. I have something I think you’ll want to see.” Then the image vanished, and the crystal resumed its lifeless state.

“What was that all about?” I wondered aloud.

Clairus just smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“With Lyra, it could be anything.”