An Angel for Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad
liked the way your hair curled,” Matthew offered thoughtfully as he remembered lying on his back after his fall and looking up at Glory. “It just spread all out like a sunflower—except it was brass instead of gold.” He had a sudden piercing thought of what it would be like to kiss a woman with hair like that. Her hair would fall around him with the softness of the sun.
“I meant Susie. Did she have any other identifying facial marks?” Glory repeated.
“Oh,” Matthew said, closing his eyes in concentration. Could Susie have had freckles after all? Even a few? No, she’d made this big production about never going out in the sun because her skin was so fair—like an English maiden, she used to say. What else did Susie always say? Oh, yes. “Peaches and cream. Her skin was a peaches-and-cream complexion.”
“Well, that’s a nice poetic notion,” Glory said as she added the words to her list.
“What do you mean by that?” Matthew opened his eyes indignantly. Glory had gone all bristly on him, and he was trying his best to remember all the details just as she wanted.
“It’s just that peaches have fuzz—and cream eventually clots. The whole phrase is a cliché. It doesn’t describe anything. No one’s skin looks like that. Not really.”
“Well, no,” Matthew admitted. “It’s just hard to remember everything.”
“True enough.” Glory softened. She had gotten descriptions from hundreds of people in her career. She should know not to push someone. Often a victim would have a hard time recalling the features of their assailant. She imagined the same thing might be true when grief rather than fear was the problem. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll do it one step at a time. We’ll be done by Friday.”
“But Friday’s not the pageant. You’ve got to stay until the pageant,” Josh said solemnly. “They’ve never had a real angel before in the pageant.”
“I’m not an—” Glory protested automatically as she turned to the twins. They both looked so wistful. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. Even though I’d love to see my two favorite shepherds in their bathrobes.”
“How’d you know we’re wearing bathrobes?” Josh demanded.
“She’s an angel, that’s how,” Joey said proudly. “She’s just an undercover angel, so she can’t tell anyone. Like a spy.”
“Do you know everyone’s secrets?” Josh asked in awe.
“I don’t know anyone’s secrets,” Glory said, and then smiled teasingly. “Unless, of course, you do something naughty.”
“Wow, just like Santa Claus,” Josh breathed excitedly. “Can you get me a Star Trek laser light gun for Christmas?”
“I thought we talked about that, Josh,” Matthew interjected. “You know Santa is just a story.”
“I know,” Josh said in a rush. His eyes were bright with confidence. “But she’s an angel and she can tell God. That’s even better than Santa Claus. God must have lots of toys.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Matthew said. He’d have to sit down with Josh and explain how the universe worked. Whether he asked God or Santa Claus for a present, it didn’t matter. Neither one of them could buy Josh a gift unless it could be found in Miles City for twenty dollars or less.
“Can you tell God?” Josh ignored his father and whispered to Glory. “I’ve been a good boy, except for—well, you know—the bug thing.”
Glory didn’t think she wanted to know about the bug thing. “I’m sure you have been a good boy,” she said as she knelt to look squarely at the boy. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you draw a picture of this laser gun and color it. That way, if you want to send God a picture, He’ll know what it looks like.”
“Me, too,” Joey asked. “Can I make a picture, too?”
“Why not?” Glory said, and included him in her smile. Even if her credit card wouldn’t live again by Christmas she could send a check to one of her girlfriends. Her friend Sylvia ran a neighborhood youth center and would be visiting that huge toy store in Seattle anyway. Even though most of the kids Sylvia worked with were more likely to own a real pistol than a water pistol, Sylvia insisted on treating them as though they were ordinary children at the holidays. The kids loved her for it.
“But…” Matthew tried to catch Glory’s eye.
“Daddy needs one, too,” Joey said. The twins both looked at her with solemn eyes. It had taken her several hours to figure out how to tell them apart. Joey’s eyes were always quieter. “But Daddy’s old.”
“No one’s too old for Christmas wishes,” Glory said.
“Really?” Joey smiled.
It was dusk by the time Glory finished her sketch of Susie and they all went home for dinner. Glory offered to cook, but Matthew declared she had already done her work for the day. Glory was too tired to resist. Sketching Susie had been difficult. Matthew had never wanted to look at the full face of the sketch, and so she’d pieced it together an eyebrow at a time. Even when she’d finished, he’d pleaded fatigue and asked to look at the sketch on the next day.
Matthew went to the kitchen to cook dinner, leaving Glory on the sofa with a Good Housekeeping magazine.
“I’ve learned to be a good cook,” Matthew said a little bleakly as he sat down a little later and leaned his crutches against the dining-room wall. The smell of burned potatoes still hung in the air even though all the windows were now open. “Dinner doesn’t usually float in milk.”
“Cereal is all right,” Glory assured him. She’d realized when the smoke drifted into the living room that dinner would be delayed.
“I like the pink ones,” Joey said as he poured his bowl full of Froot Loops.
“I always keep cornflakes for me,” Matthew said as he handed the box to Glory. “I’m afraid we don’t have a wide selection.”
“Cornflakes are fine,” Glory said. “I often eat light.”
Matthew chided himself. He should have realized. She lived on the road, likely by her wits. Of course she ate light. He should have made sure she had a decent meal.
“We’ll eat better tomorrow, I promise. Something with meat in it. And if you need anything, just ask.”
“I will,” Glory assured him, and smiled.
Her smile kicked Matthew in the stomach. The sun shone about her when she smiled. No wonder his sons thought she was an angel.
“Daddy?” Joey was looking at Matthew.
Matthew pulled himself together. It was time for grace.
“Hands,” Matthew said and offered his hand to Joey on the one side. He didn’t realize until his hand was already extended that Glory was on his other side.
“I’ll say grace,” Josh offered as he put one hand out to Joey and the other to Glory. He looked shyly at Glory. “I washed. I’m not jammy.”
“I know.” Glory smiled softly as she reached easily for his hand. His small hand snuggled trustingly in her palm. She held her other hand out to Matthew. His hand didn’t snuggle. Instead, it enveloped her. She swore her pulse moved from her wrist to the center of her palm. She wondered if he could feel the quickening beat in her. What was wrong with her? He’d think she’d never held a man’s hand before. Not that she was holding his hand now. It was prayer hand-holding. That’s all. Just because his thumb happened to caress the inside of her finger.
“Okay, Daddy?” Josh asked again, looking at his father. “It’s my turn to say grace.”
Matthew nodded his permission. What was wrong with him? Even Josh was looking at him funny. Matthew was beginning to