Touched by Angels Page 0,7

. . Mercy," Gabriel stuttered, wanting to stop them before they vanished. Unfortunately he was too late. He clenched his jaw and turned to Goodness.

"You don't have a thing to worry about," Goodness assured him. "They can take care of themselves."

That was what Gabriel was afraid of.

He was about to go after Mercy and Shirley himself when Goodness tugged at his sleeve. "Tell me what you know about Hannah Morganstern. You said her mother and grandmother are looking for Hannah to make a good marriage."

"Yes," he muttered. He would need his wits to make this assignment sound more difficult than it was.

"Well, if that's the case," Goodness muttered, her shoulders heaving with a deliberate sigh, "I certainly hope she isn't interested in the young man she's with. It's perfectly obvious they aren't the least bit suited."

Gabriel's attention went back to the street corner where he'd last seen Hannah.

"What's wrong with Carl Rabinsky?" he demanded.

"Just look."

"Carl, couldn't we please stay a bit longer?" Hannah asked. She pleaded with him with her eyes, hoping she could find a way to change his mind. Carl had agreed to attend the Thanksgiving Day parade with her, but they'd barely arrived and already he was anxious to leave. She knew he was having trouble with the headmaster at the Hebrew academy where he taught and had been preoccupied most of the day.

"Ten minutes more, then," Carl conceded indulgently. His gloved hand squeezed hers. "I'm sorry, but I told you earlier that this just isn't my thing."

"I know." Hannah was grateful he'd consented to come. She only wished he could enjoy the festivities as much as she did. Hannah found the merrymaking contagious - the children, the excitement, the wonderful silliness that surrounded this time of year.

"Oh, Carl, look," she said, pointing toward the huge float making its way down the wide street. "It's a scene from the Nutcracker Suite."

Carl smiled tolerantly and pointedly glanced at his watch. "Five more minutes," he announced under his breath. "If you want to see more of the parade, you can watch it on television."

Television. Never. Hannah refused to allow his stick-in-the-mud attitude to spoil her fun. Standing on the tips of her toes, she peered down the bustling street, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was coming next. The distinct tones of an approaching band floated toward her.

Unable to see, she edged her way into the crowd until she was wedged against the waist-high barrier to the street. She stayed there until the marching musicians passed, applauding their efforts. The tall, distinguished-looking man standing next to her whistled boisterously. Hannah looked up at him and smiled warmly. Their eyes met, and he returned the friendly gesture.

The man looked vaguely familiar, but then it wasn't uncommon for Hannah to see someone she thought she knew. Working in the family-owned, kosher-style deli, she met literally hundreds of people on a daily basis.

His eyes were a deep, rich shade of coffee brown. They sparkled with delight as he looked down at her. He had a kind face, appealing but not particularly handsome. His hair needed to be trimmed, but that gave him a rumble-tumble look that she found endearing. It was apparent he was some kind of businessman; she could tell that much from the way he dressed and the way he stood. Besides, if he frequented her parents' deli, then chances were he worked in one of the office buildings close by.

"Do I know you?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"I'm Hannah Morganstern," she said. "Most people recognize me from my parents' deli."

"Of course. Your father serves the best pastrami in town." He held out his hand to her. "I'm Joshua Shadduck."

"Hello, Joshua." The noise level made it difficult to carry on a conversation.

They shook hands, and Hannah glanced over her shoulder, looking for Carl. He wasn't there. She scanned the crowd once more, certain he wouldn't have left her intentionally. Carl would never do that, yet he was nowhere in sight. Anxious now, she stood on her tiptoes and looked around.

"Oh, dear," she whispered, and bit into her lower lip.

"Is something wrong?" Joshua lowered his head close to her so she could hear him.

"My friend. I'm afraid we've gotten separated."

"That happens in crowds like these."

"I know, but . . ." She continued to study the huge throng. The crowd was moving, milling about. "I didn't mean to leave him behind." Carl would be worried and flustered. If she ever hoped to talk him into attending another parade, he'd be sure to