A Season of Angels Page 0,79

to walk away.

"Chet."

He stopped, and his back and his shoulders stiffened, but he didn't turn around.

"Would you hold me, please. One last time."

It looked as if he intended to keep on walking. He took one step, and then another. Monica bit down so hard on her lip to keep from calling for him that she tasted blood. Whatever it was that caused him to change his mind, she would never know.

Before another moment passed she was in his arms. His hold on her was hard and tight. Sobbing, she clung to him.

"You're a fool," she told him, weeping so hard, she doubted he could understand her.

"I've always been one. Why change now?"

"Because I love you."

"Yeah, well, that and two bits will buy you a cup of coffee." He broke away from her so abruptly that she nearly stumbled backward. Gripping her hands with his, he raised her fingers to his mouth. "Dear God, I can't believe . . ."

"What can't you believe?"

"Nothing." He closed his eyes and folded his fingers over hers. "There's so much I owe you."

"But, Chet," she pleaded, "don't you understand? I'm so grateful for you."

"This is my gift to you."

"What?" she sobbed, "breaking my heart?"

"No, letting you go before I screw up your life as much as I have my own." He dropped her hands, and without another word, turned and walked away.

It was highly uncommon to get a summons from Gabriel while on prayer assignment, and Goodness was convinced she was about to be pulled off the case. She had her arguments all lined up. Good ones too. Matters were going much better than they appeared at first glance. She intended to explain everything, if only he'd give her the opportunity.

At last Goodness had something positive to report. Monica had come to her senses. It was no small task dealing with this human either. The preacher's daughter had been a challenge from the first, but Goodness had made progress. With some effort, she'd arranged the phone call from Donna Watkins, although she was disappointed that Monica had chosen to impress Chet instead of Michael with her new outfit.

"Goodness." Gabriel greeted her upon her arrival. He was pacing, his massive hands clenched behind his back. "I'd like a progress report on Monica Fischer's prayer request."

"I was hoping you'd ask," Goodness said, eager to tell her side of the strange happenings. "There's a fine young man in her church by the name of Michael Simpson - "

Gabriel cut her off with a look. "I understand she's currently involved with Chet Costello. And from what I hear, you're responsible for the two of them meeting."

"Was involved," Goodness said quickly, steering the archangel away from the unfortunate incident of Monica literally falling into Chet's arms. "That's all behind her now."

"You're sure about this?"

"You needn't worry about Monica and that shoddy detective any longer," Goodness concluded, folding her hands and proudly flaunting her wings. "Michael Simpson has a good deal going for him. He's talented and dedicated. I'm sure that within a matter of days, Monica will - "

"Days?" Gabriel repeated.

"Perhaps it will take a week, but I'm confident Monica will come to her senses soon."

Gabriel continued his pacing. "From what I can see of matters, Monica Fischer is deeply in love, and it isn't with Michael Simpson."

"I'm sure this private detective was nothing more than a passing fancy."

"You think so, do you?" Gabriel asked calmly. "Look at this and then tell me what you think." With a wave of his arm, the walls of heaven slowly parted, followed by a rush of warm, humid winds. Mists swirled and Goodness squinted, having trouble locating Monica through the thick fog.

Soon the vista cleared. It took her a moment to recognize the stark interior of the old church. It was the very sanctuary where Goodness had met her friends - where Reverend Fischer tended his flock of faithful believers.

Monica was kneeling at the altar, her face buried in her arms as she openly sobbed. It was her tears and her prayers that had created the humid fog. The sounds of her pain rose pitifully toward heaven as if echoing from a sound chamber.

"She's changed," Gabriel said gently. "Her hair is different."

"Chet, he's the private detective - "

"I know him well."

"You do?"

Gabriel nodded. "Is he responsible for the other things as well? I notice she's wearing an attractive dress and gold earrings."

"Ah, I believe so." Now didn't seem the time to mention Monica's lunch with Donna Watkins.

Gabriel's nod was thoughtful. "I suspected as