Angel Unaware (17 page)

Dora glanced at her awestruck friend. “No need to say anything. I know I really messed up this time. I’ll just resign, and they can send someone … someone like you, who can make this right.”

Gracie smiled. “Sit down. We need to talk about this.” Dora dropped back to the mattress. Her reflection collapsed onto the hump of a snowy cloud. “Okay, but there’s really nothing to talk about any more. What’s done is done.”

Seating herself beside Dora on the cloud, Gracie took her hands. “First of all, no one is replacing you, so you’d better get used to staying where you are. Second, you haven’t done anything to warrant coming back here before Christmas Eve.” When Dora would have protested, Gracie silenced her with a wave of her hand. “Third, Penny is a child. Many children have seen us as we are, just as they’ve seen the spirits of loved ones who have passed into the light and pets that are no longer with them. Their uncluttered, nonjudgmental, open minds allow for all that. It’s not until children become adults that they turn skeptical and become nonbelievers in anything they can’t explain with logic.” Gently, she smoothed Dora’s hair away from her tear-streaked face.

“But what if she tells someone? What if she tells Tony?” A tinkling laugh broke from Gracie. “Haven’t I just said that adults don’t believe any more? Penny may tell them, but they’ll pass it off as a child’s vivid imagination.” Dora brightened. “Oh, Gracie, are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to come back, especially if I come back as a failure, but mostly because …”

Gracie tilted her head, her smile lighting up the room. “Because you don’t want to leave Tony and Penny.”

Dora nodded shyly. “Not until I absolutely have to.”

“Then go back and do your job.”

A new wave of sadness washed over Dora. She bit her lip, glanced at Gracie, and decided she might as well make a clean breast of it. “I’m not sure I know how. Nothing I do seems to help. I don’t think Tony and Penny are any closer than they were when I arrived.”

Gracie
tsk-tsked
at that statement. “How can you say that? Penny is coming out of her shell a bit at a time, and Tony is much more aware of his role as her parent and protector.”

“But he still can’t tell her he loves her, and I know he does. I can read it in his eyes. He’s just got all his love locked up so tight inside him I sometimes think he’ll never let it go again.”

“It will come. All in good time. These things don’t happen overnight, you know. Right now, Tony is terrified of losing someone he loves and he thinks if he holds that back, he can’t be hurt again.”

Dora had to concede Gracie had a point. Penny had seemed more open lately, and she certainly smiled more. Tony had bought the cell phone so Penny would know he was always just a call away. Maybe Gracie was right. Maybe she was simply expecting too much too soon.

Again, Gracie placed her hand on the reflected Dora’s shoulder. “No one said this would be easy. When you’re dealing with mortals it never is. You can do this, Dora. I know you can. Sometimes the smallest thing can hold the answers we seek.”

Dropping her gaze to her tightly clenched hands, Dora whispered, “I wish I was as sure as you are, Gracie.” Suddenly, Dora recalled how difficult it had been for the Andersons’ Guardian Angel, Faith, to bring them back together after their separation. Neither of them had been willing to admit they still loved each other. Faith had been at her wits’ end, ready to let another angel take over, but, eventually, she’d managed it and with nothing more than a photo of them on their honeymoon that Dora had noticed lying on their coffee table while gazing into the Earth Pool. That one picture had served to remind them of the love they shared and how happy they’d been. The Andersons had lost their way, gotten so involved with life that they’d forgotten they were living it together and they loved each other very much.

But that didn’t help Dora. She had no photos to remind Tony and Penny that they were a family. They’d had no real life together until after Rosalie died. Tony had lived in another city and had limited contact with his niece on birthdays and holiday visits. Then Rosalie had died, and he’d uprooted himself, come here, and started a new business so he could look after Penny. He’d been faced with the daunting task of mourning his beloved sister while simultaneously trying to be both father and mother to a little girl hiding inside her own grief.

Unfortunately, it would take more than an old photo to change things in the Falcone household.

“Dora, very soon Tony and Penny will need you more than ever. You can’t leave them now.”

“Why?”

When there was no answer, Dora glanced at the mirror. Gracie had vanished. Slipping the sheet over the mirror, Dora decided to go to bed and face all of this in the morning with a clear mind.

Sunday morning dawned with a blanket of brand-new, sparkling white snow covering the ground. Dora took it as a sign things were going to get better, that she would find the way to prove to Tony that love didn’t always hurt and to Penny that her uncle cherished her above all things.

By the time she’d made it downstairs, Tony had coffee made and was reading the paper while enjoying a cup at the kitchen table.

He glanced over the top of the paper. Morning.”

“Good morning. Is Penny up yet?” Dora asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee, then slid into a chair opposite Tony.

“Not yet.” He kept the newspaper up, blocking her view of his face.

She sipped the hot brew and stared absently at an ad for steel-belted snow tires on the back of the paper.

Was he still feeling uncomfortable about what had happened in the kitchen the other night? Well, even though it would be a hard subject to broach, if she was going to make any headway at all with this mission she’d have to try. “Uh, Tony? About the other night—”

He dropped the paper to the table, then leaned his forearms on it and stared her straight in the eye. “Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything, because I won’t believe you. And don’t tell me it won’t happen again, because we both know it will. And don’t tell me you’re going to quit because of it, because I won’t let you. Penny and I will find you and bring you back here.” He picked up the newspaper and began reading again.

Dora sat openmouthed, unable to think of a retort. Behind the paper, Tony waited for Dora to argue. When she didn’t, he breathed a sigh of relief. He’d thought about their kiss, and in his heart, he knew it had not been only he who found it earth-shattering. Dora had been with him for every intense, sizzling moment and if that damned dog hadn’t interrupted …

No. He wasn’t going there. He already had enough to think about with what was happening between them. Hope that Jack’s owner would claim him had vanished day by day. It appeared as though Jack would be a permanent fixture in the Falcone house. If he wanted to live here, however—

He stopped short. He refused to think about that furry intruder and add gasoline to an already-raging fire.

Besides, he was tired of walking on eggshells around Dora. It was time he took Jake’s advice and see where it went.

“Uncle Tony!”

Tony dropped the paper. Penny raced into the kitchen fully dressed, her face glowing.

“It’s snowing outside,” she announced to everyone. He nodded. “I know. We saw it.”

“Can we build a snowman?” Penny looked from him to Dora, her face eager.

He glanced at Dora, who shrugged. “Well, I don’t know—”

“Please. We got all the stuff we need, Uncle Tony,” Penny said. “I’ll show you.”

She hurried off into the laundry room, where they could hear her rummaging around in the cabinets. A few minutes later, she emerged with a soiled, white card-board box and plunked it down in front of Tony. Lifting the lid, she showed them what it held.

“Here’s his eyes and his buttons,” she told them, laying on the table a small, clear sandwich bag containing black plastic objects that resembled coal with pointed sticks protruding from the back side. “And here’s his nose.” She handed Tony an artificial plastic carrot and then dug into the box again. “And his scarf and his hat. All we need are sticks for his arms.”

Tony picked up the flat black hat, and hit it on the table’s edge. The center of the hat popped up, turning it into a very handsome silk top hat. The bright red and green wool scarf was one he’d recalled his sister wearing. He fingered the fringe for a moment. His chest began to tighten, signaling the onset of the pain that usually accompanied thoughts of his sister, but this time he refused to acknowledge it. It wouldn’t be fair to dampen Penny’s happiness with his morose mood.

“Well, then, I guess we’re all set. Have some breakfast, and then we’ll all go out and build a snowman.” He smiled at Penny and glared at Dora.

Dora read his glare loud and clear. Like it or not, she was going to be part of this impromptu adventure. Little did he realize that she wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Inordinately pleased to be included, Dora gave a nod and rose from the table. She took down a bowl and a box of Silly Crunchies Penny had talked her into buying on their last trip to the supermarket, expecting Tony to object to the sugary, marshmallow-littered cereal, but to her surprise, he said nothing.

Setting the bowl of cereal in front of Penny, she poured in the milk and handed Penny her spoon. “Okay, munchkin, eat up. It’s gonna take a lot of energy to build a whole man.” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Penny took a spoonful of cereal and while she chewed, she muttered, “Mommy used to say that if a lady could build a man, they’d be much smarter.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tony smirk. Dora’s heart did a somersault. It was the very first time Dora had ever seen a smile from this man when his sister’s name entered a conversation.

The nippy outside air turned their cheeks cherry red in moments. The sun was hidden by overhanging clouds that spit out a few more snowflakes, as though Lucas, the Angel of Storms, couldn’t make up his mind whether to quit or not.

“Come on, Dora,” Penny called. She made a snowball, then began rolling it through the wet snow.

Tony watched Penny for a little while, and Dora noticed his face was cloaked in memories. She walked over to him. “You need to make new memories, Tony.”

He glanced at her, then Penny. Then he nodded. “I know, but it’s hard to let go of the old ones.”

She touched his arm. “It’ll get easier with time.”

He covered her hand and squeezed her fingers. “I hope so.” He paused for a moment, then squeezed her hand again. “Thanks.”

With her pulse tripping out double-time, all Dora could manage was a weak smile. Then she bent and picked up a handful of snow, which she fashioned into a ball and handed to him. He took it, tossed it in the air, and caught it, and then began rolling it through the snow.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he called to Penny. “If this snowman has to be smart as well a handsome one, it’s gonna take a lot of work.” Penny’s giggles filled the cold, turning it a bit warmer.

The look of undiluted happiness the child gave him brought sheer gladness to Dora’s heart. Hope rose up to fill her throat. Maybe Gracie had been right. Maybe she could do this after all. Suddenly, as though the gloomy overcast had disappeared, it seemed as bright as any summer day.

One very handsome and, as Penny declared, smart snowman later, Tony and Dora stood back and admired their masterpiece while Penny fussed to get the folds of his scarf exactly right.

“There,” she finally said and stepped back beside her uncle. “He’s wonderful, but he needs a name. Mommy always named our snowmen.”

Dora glanced sideways in time to see Tony’s muscles tighten. She touched his arm lightly, and he relaxed.

“Well, then, what do you suggest, Miss Penny?” he said, his voice a bit raspy with emotion.

“Hmm. How about Jim?” Dora offered.

Penny shook her head. “Uh-uh. Gym is what I do at school.”

Tony laughed. “I don’t think Dora meant that kind of gym,” Tony said. “How about Tom?”

Again Penny shook her head. “Nope. Tom was our garbage man, and he always spilled stuff on the lawn and made Daddy mad.” She thought for moment. “Fred,” Penny finally said. “Like that Fred man who danced in the old movies with the lady in the pretty dresses.”

Dora looked blankly at Tony and shrugged. Movies had never whetted her curiosity and therefore she knew little or nothing of them.

He grinned. “Fred Astaire?”

“Yeah, him.” Penny tilted her head. “Don’t you think he looks just like him?”

“Oh, definitely,” Tony said and then surprised them all by picking Penny up under the arms and swinging her around in a very bad imitation of a dance. She giggled and screamed in delight. Dora’s heart swelled.

When Tony set her on her feet, she grabbed his hand. “Come on, Uncle Tony. Make snow angels with me.”

Dora froze at the mention of angels. Was Penny going to divulge her secret?

“Come on, Dora. You should be really good at snow angels,” the little girl called. Again Dora waited for the words she dreaded hearing from Penny within Tony’s earshot.

Tony turned to look at her. The flames of mischievousness burned brightly in his eyes. “Really? And why is that?”

Penny yanked on Tony’s jacket hem. “Because—”

“Because I’ve been doing them for so long,” Dora interjected, cutting Penny off before she could say too much. Thank goodness she’d seen children doing this from her vantage point at the Earth Pool.

Then Tony grinned. The mischievousness mixed with a blatant dare. “Well, then, Miss Expert-Snow-Angel-Maker, let’s see what you can do.”

He took her hand and drew her onto the open part of the lawn. Dora couldn’t believe it. She’d never seen this playful side of Tony, and she liked it, very much. His smile was genuinely happy and infectious, and, as a result, her heart felt light and carefree.

“Come on, Dora. Show Uncle Tony how to do it.” Penny jumped up and down, clapping her gloved hands in anticipation.

Dora lay down in the snow. Tony and Penny stood to the side watching. Dora extended her arms straight out to either side of her body and spread her legs in a V. Pulling from her memory what she’d seen the mortal children do, Dora began to move her legs back and forth and her arms up and down. Snow seeped under her collar and up her sleeves. The upward motion of her arms sprinkled snow on her face and hair. But the contentment and joy generated by Penny’s happiness warmed her through and through.