The Trouble With Angels Page 0,79

the elders finding a replacement for him. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't done the church much good the last several months anyway.

Sitting back down at his desk, his favorite fishing hat perched atop his head, Paul typed out a minor list of instructions for Leta. He listed the name of the campground where he was headed and wished everyone a Merry Christmas. For the first time that season, he meant it.

Eager to be on his way, Paul got into the car and was ready to leave when he remembered the dirty dishes soaking in the sink. He sat for a moment, then decided to leave them. He'd wash them when he returned.

The drive to the campground took him nearly two hours. It was a peaceful drive, with only his thoughts to keep him company. But this time they weren't weighted down with regrets about what a poor job he was doing seeing to the spiritual needs of his congregation.

If he had any regrets, they all fell in the area of Madge Bartelli. He loved the old woman. But she was the straw that had broken him.

God had asked too much of him. It had been difficult enough to watch Barbara die, but to ask him to go through the ordeal a second time was unfair.

"Unfair," he said aloud, and felt better for having said it.

He paid his fee at the private campground and located the very campsite he and Joe had stayed at a few years earlier, or one he assumed was the same. Pitching the tent on his own was no problem, although it took him longer without Joe there to lend a hand.

He set up the camp stove and lantern and stored the food he'd bought on his way out of town.

Dusk came with perfect timing. Paul was sitting on a log, his tent pitched, his dinner cooking, humming softly to himself. He hadn't felt this content in years.

When he'd finished his meal, he sat and watched the stars appear one by one against a backdrop of black velvet.

Barbara had never been keen on camping, but she'd been a good sport, especially in the early years of their marriage. Later, after the kids were born, Barbara had stayed home and Paul had taken the kids with him.

Now it was just him, sitting alone in the night. No responsibilities. No obligations. No clock to punch.

How he missed his wife in those bittersweet moments. How he wished she were at his side. How he longed to tuck his arm around her shoulders and to have her head rest against his chest.

His arms were empty. As empty as the night. As empty as his heart.

The freedom he'd experienced earlier was replaced with a crushing pain. For the first time since Barbara's death, he could identify his feeling.

Betrayal. God had betrayed him.

He found he was standing, his face turned to the sky. His back was as straight as a flagpole and his arms as stiff. They dangled at his sides, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. He'd wanted to run away. Escape. But his misery had followed him.

"Damn you!" Paul shouted into the silence. His words echoed back to him, bouncing off the hillside again and again, until gradually they faded.

Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.

Sadly Paul realized he was the one damned.

Chapter Fifteen

"I imagine you're wondering why I've called you all here," Gabriel said to his three charges.

Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy glanced nervously at one another. Gabriel could see that they were anxious about this meeting, especially Goodness, whom he'd talked to briefly only recently. They stood straight and tall, their wings folded neatly behind them. Each one wore a worried, if not mildly curious, look.

"I'll admit we're a bit inquisitive," Shirley was brave enough to acknowledge.

Mercy stepped forward eagerly. "I want you to know, Gabriel, I haven't been up to any of my old tricks. None of that kid stuff for me!"

"You mean other than what happened with Edith?" he asked evenly.

"Oh. That was quite a while ago now."

Gabriel rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And as I recall, there's the small matter of sitting in an elevator shaft recently. Would you care to explain to me how that happened?"

"Ah, no," she answered in a small voice.

"That's what I thought. Now tell me how Catherine Goodwin's prayer request is being handled."

Mercy's head drooped, and her eyes avoided his.

"I believe there've been circumstances out of Mercy's control," Goodness intervened on her friend's behalf.

"Would you care to explain