CHAPTER 2
Tess and Andrew exchanged troubled glances, and sighed. As Tess gazed down at the little girl’s crestfallen expression, she hugged her. “Don’t worry, Rachel,” she told the child. “God loves you, and He’s going to see that you are taken care of.”
Rachel hung her head. “If God loves me, why did He take my mom?” She stifled a sob. “I begged Him not to!” She stared down at the imitation pearl necklace that hung around her neck and sniffled.
Andrew led her toward one of the pews; sitting down at the end, he held her hand as she leaned against the smooth wooden arm that framed the side. “God didn’t make that man kill her,” he told her. “The darkness in his soul--the rage, the hate--led him to do that. And there have been many such crimes ever since all Christians, and all babies and children, were taken away from this planet, last month. Your mother’s not the only one who’s been murdered lately; thousands of others in this city alone have suffered the same fate. But even in this time of darkness, Rachel, God is still in control. He knew you would be faced with this dilemma, and He’s going to take care of you.”
“What are you going to do?” Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I’m going to call DHS.” Andrew rose to his feet and left the sanctuary.
Rachel gazed down at the carpeted floor for a long moment, tears rolling down her cheeks. Tess put her arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s sit down while we wait for Andrew, OK?”
The two perched side by side on the same pew the minister had sat on, a few minutes before. The cushion lining the seat sagged beneath them as they leaned back to relax. While Tess and Rachel sat waiting for Andrew to return, Tess told the little girl some Bible stories. Despite her grief, Rachel listened, for Tess had a way of telling a story that drew in her listeners. Tess sensed that these stories were new to Rachel, who had never been exposed to Christian teaching by her mother, nor had ever been to church.
When Andrew returned, he smiled down at Rachel. “A social worker is on her way now. She should be here very shortly.” He put his hands in his pockets as he spoke.
At that moment, the front door swung open, and a slender, brown-haired woman walked in. She wore a tailored light-brown dress and pearl earrings, and caring radiated from her eyes. She glanced at Tess and Andrew with raised eyebrows; Tess nodded toward Rachel. The woman’s spiked shoes clicked on the floor as she strode down the aisle toward the waiting group.
“Hello, Rachel.” The woman spoke with an Irish accent. “My name is Monica, and I was sent here by DHS.” She smiled comfortingly at Rachel.
“Hi,” Rachel mumbled. She pushed her bangs out of her eyes and looked up at Tess, who smiled at her comfortingly.
At that moment, the pastor re-entered the sanctuary. He inserted his hands into his pants pockets as he scanned the group. “Are you the social worker?” he asked Monica.
“Yes, I am. I’m Monica.” The woman held out her hand, and Logan shook it. “I’m here to see about getting the child a new home.” She glanced down at Rachel for a long moment, then turned toward the pastor. “Unfortunately, Reverend Logan, the children’s homes are all flooded with young people whose parents either disappeared last month, or have since died. It may take a while to find a suitable foster home for this wee one.” She gave the pastor a pleading look. “Won’t you let her stay with you, pastor, until we find her a good home?”
Pastor Logan looked at Rachel and sighed. “It appears I have no choice.”
Tess nodded approvingly. “Believe it or not, Reverend,” she said, “this is the beginning of your own redemption. You may not see that now, but you will, soon.” She turned to Rachel. “You stay here with Pastor Logan, honey, until Monica, here, comes for you. She’s going to find a good home for you, with people who care.”
Rachel nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good girl.” Tess patted her shoulder, then led the way out of the church.
As the three angels approached their cars, Andrew turned to look at Tess and Monica. “Have you a foster home in mind?” he asked, in a low voice.
“Yes, I do.” Monica looked at Tess as she spoke. The supervisor angel nodded agreement. Tess knew who Monica was referring to.
“The Dalys.” Tess slid into the driver’s side and inserted the key into the ignition. “Monica’s going to ask them to take Rachel in. And we’re going with her.” The Dalys were a couple whom the angels had been sent to, at the time of the Rapture. The wife, Christina Daly, had lost her mother in the World Trade Center attack on 9-11, then she and her husband had lost their baby daughter, Jessica, in the Rapture.
Pastor Logan came outside, to get Rachel’s things; Andrew removed Rachel’s possessions from the car and set them on the sidewalk. As the pastor carried the box and suitcase inside, the angel of death slid into the passenger side of Tess’s convertible; Monica climbed into her DHS-issued car. Half an hour after he, Monica, and Tess had left the church, the three angels pulled up into the driveway of a two-story brick house. Tess led the way toward the front porch; her shoes clumped on the porch steps. Pausing at the door, she rang the doorbell. It jangled shrilly.
A few seconds later, the door swung open, revealing a slender woman with dark-brown hair. “Tess!” she cried, as pleasure surged in her eyes. Dimples formed on her face. “Andrew! Monica! It’s so good to see you again.” She stepped sideways. “Won’t you come in?”
The three angels entered the living room, where a tall man with coal-black hair and tanned skin rose to his feet, fingers wrapped around a china coffee cup. A mixture of astonishment and pleasure etched his handsome face. “Well, well! Tess! It’s good to see you again. You, too, Andrew, Monica.” He set down the cup on the coffee table; it landed with a clink on the table’s smooth, polished surface.
Christina nodded agreement. “It certainly is! Tell me, how’s Gloria?“
“She’s fine.“ Andrew smiled. “She’s on assignment elsewhere right now, but she’s doing nicely.”
Christina smiled, evidently remembering. Gloria had stayed in the Daly house during the first few weeks following the Rapture. She had led Christina to the Lord, then had helped her stay strong during the difficult days that followed, when Richard had tried to bully his wife out of her faith.
Richard nodded, then frowned. “Weird, isn’t it, how much has happened since the Rapture several weeks ago? And even more’s going to happen.” He frowned. “But that’s not what you came here to talk about, is it? Something tells me you didn’t just come here to catch up on old times.” He looked from one angel to another, then rubbed his hair, front to back. “Is something wrong?”
Monica nodded. She glanced toward the sunlight pouring through the left window, then turned her gaze back toward Richard. “As a matter of fact, Richard, yes. There is.” Propping her fingers together, she paused. “There’s a little girl named Rachel Nicole Jackson. She’s 12 years old, and she and her mother were left behind in the Rapture, last month. They live in the inner city.” Sadness welled up in her expressive eyes. “Last night, her mother was murdered in her own home. Rachel was spending the night with a friend when it happened, and returned home today, to find her mother dead.”
Richard and Christina winced. “That’s terrible!” Christina said, exchanging a distressed glance with Richard. “Where’s her father?”
“Dead.” Andrew sighed. “And since she has no relatives to take her in, she’s been placed in DHS custody.” He inserted his hands into his pants pockets.
Tess nodded. “All the children’s shelters are full to overflowing, so a pastor has agreed to take her in until Monica, here, finds her a foster home.” She looked from Richard to Christina. “We were wondering if you’d be interested in taking her in. We want Rachel to have a good Christian home, with people who love her.”
Monica nodded agreement. “I’m currently working for DHS, so I’ve been assigned the job of placing Rachel in a foster home.” She smiled. “Would you two like to apply to become foster parents?”
Richard and Christina exchanged a long, troubled glance. As Monica watched them, she hoped, fervently, that the Dalys would agree to give Rachel a home. If they refused, Rachel would be in a real predicament.
At last, Christina spoke, hesitantly. “Uh, you know, Richard--”
“No!” Richard shook his head, pursing his lips. “I don’t want to be responsible for some unknown child. Who knows what kind of kid she is, having grown up in a slum? Or how much work she’d cause us?” He turned to Monica. “Can’t you find her a home somewhere else? Surely, there must be many foster parents who’d be willing to take her in.”
Monica’s pearl earrings dangled as she shook her head. “Most of them are full. And the few that are available, I wouldn’t want to place a child like Rachel in.” She gazed pleadingly at Richard. “She is in real need of a home. With her mother dead, she has no one.”
Richard sighed. “I’m sure of that.” He shook his head. “To tell you the truth, Monica, I still miss our Jessica, and so does Christina. No one can take her place, least of all a 12-year-old girl who got left behind in the Rapture.” Looking down, he dug the toe of his slipper into the soft tufts of carpet at his feet.
As he turned his back toward the angels, facing the kitchen doorway, Christina bit her lip and sighed. Monica raised her eyes to Heaven, clasping her hands. “Please, Father,” she whispered, “give us some help here. Please do something to convince Richard.”
The jangling of a telephone startled her. Richard jumped, evidently even more startled than Monica, then strode toward the phone on the TV set. As he cradled the receiver between his ear and his shoulder, he looked at Christina and shrugged. “Hello?” A pause. “Ryan! Hello!” He beamed. Ryan Whittaker was Christina’s older brother and Richard’s long-time best friend. He had lived in Rome for the past month, working for the president of the European Union.
Squealing, Christina rushed toward the extension they kept in the hall, her slippers softly thudding on the carpet, and picked up the receiver. Tess took several steps toward Richard, then halted. From where she stood, she could hear Ryan’s voice at the other end.
“Ryan, so good to hear from you! How’s it going?” Tess heard Christina asking her brother, from the hall.
“Just great,” Ryan told her. “Kristen and I have been going out every chance we get. I’ve got great news, Brownie: I asked her to marry me several days ago, and she said yes!”
Richard and Christina whooped and exchanged high fives. This was the greatest news either of them had ever heard! Tess sensed what was running through their minds: to think that Ryan, who had been a confirmed bachelor for so long, was actually getting married! She knew that Richard had sometimes wondered if he ever would, and that Christina had wondered the same thing.
“Ryan, that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time!” Christina cried. “Next to your accepting the Lord, that is.”
“It certainly is!” Richard smiled towards the hallway entrance, as if to exchange smiles with his wife. “Have you set a date yet?” Richard asked his brother-in-law.
“Not yet. We’re biding our time, at the moment.” From her spot by the coffee table, Tess heard Ryan clearing his throat, then continuing. “Right now, we’re stuck, Richard. Without knowing Antonio Puccini’s plans, it’s impossible to make our own.” Antonio Puccini was the president of Italy and of the European Union. He was in the process of setting up a world government under the auspices of the EU. Ryan and his fiancée, Kristen Crossman, worked for him: Ryan as his private pilot, and Kristen as his secretary.
Richard nodded. “That’s hard, I know.” He paused to glance at Tess. “Well, how’s this? Suppose you and Kristen come here to the U.S., to get married, the next time you fly Puccini here? You could get married right here in New York City.”
A pause. “Excellent idea, Richard. I’ll ask Kristen and see what she says.”
“Good. I hope she says yes, and I hope Puccini will let you.“ Richard bit his lip. “Somehow, we’ve got to think of a way to get you here. And soon.” Christina nodded agreement.
“Yeah.” Ryan paused. “Well, Richard--Christina--that’s not the only reason I called. I wanted to bring you up-to-date on what’s happening here.” He cleared his throat again. “Better be forewarned, Richard: a lot’s happening right now. Kristen and I have both overheard Puccini’s plans. He’s going to let the new pope set up the new religion all over the world; he says it’s going to take the place of all other religions. Especially Christianity.”
Clenching his left fist, Richard grimaced, and Christina shook her head. Behind them, Tess, Monica, and Andrew exchanged troubled glances; they knew quite well what that portended. Tess folded her arms across her chest. After a loaded pause, Ryan went on.
“As you guys know, Puccini fully intends to take over the whole earth. With himself as the ruler.” Ryan paused. “And he’s going to do it, too. He’s well on his way towards that goal, now. Many of the nations have agreed to be ruled by the EU, and he’s working on persuading the rest. So once that’s done, he’ll have all the authority he needs to make people follow the new religion, all over the world.”
From around the corner of the hallway, Tess overheard Christina gulp. “That’s frightening, Ryan.” Silently agreeing, Tess shook her head in displeasure, then exchanged glances with the other angels.
“It sure is, sis.” Ryan paused. “And that’s not all. Puccini plans to go back to Israel very soon. It seems the Jews are getting set to break the ground for their new temple. They’ve already got the plans and the materials ready, and the prime minister has hired some architects to supervise the job.”
A pause. “After two years of being banned from the Temple Mount, the Jews must be very happy,” Christina said.
“And the Arabs very un-happy,” Richard said dryly.
“Yeah, tell me about it.” Ryan paused. “So, what’s up with you?”
Christina stepped into the living room’s doorway, receiver in hand, and glanced toward the angels. “Well, you’ll never guess who’s stopped by to visit us.” A mischievous smile spread across her face as she spoke; a hint of mischief entered her voice.
Ryan paused. “Uh--they wouldn’t happen to be angels, would they?”
Richard roared with laughter. “Good guess, Ryan! Yep, it’s Tess, Monica, and Andrew. Gloria’s not here, though.” He sobered. “And, to be honest with you, Ryan, we could use some advice. They’ve presented us with a real dilemma, and we need to make a decision.” Christina stepped out of sight, around the corner, as her husband spoke. Tess looked at the ceiling, silently praying for God’s intervention.
As the angels listened, Richard and Christina told Ryan about the little girl who’d been orphaned, and about the angels’ request that the Dalys become her foster parents. When they stopped, there was silence on the other end for a long moment. Monica exchanged a worried glance with Tess. Silently, Tess prayed that God would soften Richard’s heart--through Ryan, if necessary. Outside, a car engine roared down the street, then faded into silence.
“Well,” Ryan finally said, “ever since the Rapture, I’ve often thought that another child in the home might do you some good. No one’ll ever replace Jessica, I know, but if Christina had another child in the house to love and to mother, she might not feel so lonely when you’re away, flying. And it would be good for you, too.” He paused, again. “Why don’t you go for it?”
Richard and Christina gazed at each other for a long moment, then Richard nodded. “All right. You’ve convinced me. We’ll do it.” He sighed. “As you say, maybe it’ll fill the void in our hearts. And it’ll be good for Christina, as you say. With Gloria gone, she’s pretty lonely when I’m away, flying.” Christina smiled broadly in response.
Richard glanced at the wall clock. “Well, if we’re going to put in our application, we’ve got to go now, Ryan. Call us tonight, will you?”
“I will. Bye.” Ryan hung up. Tess heard a click, followed by a dial tone.
Replacing the receiver, Richard turned toward Monica. “All right, we’ll do it.” He smiled at Christina, who had just returned to the living room, beaming her pleasure. He then turned to Monica. “What do you want us to do?” He rubbed his right hand on his shirt.
Monica smiled. “I have the paperwork right here. If you’ll fill it out, I’ll take it to my supervisor at DHS.”
The Dalys led the way into the dining room, where they spread out the papers on the smooth, polished dining table. For the next half-hour, as the three angels watched, Richard and Christina read the foster-parent application and filled it out. When they finished, Monica and the other angels left.
Outside, Tess paused on the curb. “I’ll be in touch, Angel Girl.” Tess patted Monica’s shoulder, then climbed into her convertible. Monica stepped into the DHS car and sped away. Minutes later, she pulled up into the DHS parking lot. Inside, her shoes thudded on the linoleum floor as she hurried toward the elevator.
On the second floor, Monica handed the paperwork to Ed Lowell, the director of DHS, in his office. He reclined on a straight-backed mahogany chair facing his desk; behind him, beams of sunlight poured into the room. He bent over his polished mahogany desk to read the application form. As Monica watched, her fingers propped together in front of her waist, he scanned the application, then shook his head, frowning.
“Sorry, Monica, I can’t approve this. I want you to take the little girl to a children’s shelter,” he ordered. “There she will stay until a judge can decide what to do with her.”
Monica winced. Dropping her hands to her sides, she turned around, took a deep breath, and glanced toward the ceiling. She then pivoted to face Ed.
“Mr. Lowell, the city’s children’s homes are overcrowded.” She clasped her hands in front of her waist. “If Rachel goes to one, they’ll have a difficult time just finding her a bed to sleep in.” She took a step forward as Lowell leaned back in his chair, his frown deepening. “Besides, she needs a real family, someone who will love her and make her feel safe. She doesn’t need to be in an institution.”
Lowell’s face turned beet-red, and the vein in his neck pulsated. He leaped to his feet and banged his fist so hard against the desk that his ashtray clattered. “Monica, how dare you tell me what to do!” He glared at her, clenching his hands into tight balls. “I make the decisions here, not you! I said the little girl will go to a children’s shelter, and she shall! And if you won’t take her there, then I will.” He grabbed his jacket from its coat rack, flung it over his back, and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
As Monica watched him go, a blind, helpless rage consumed her. Sometimes, she felt great anger at the humans whom God sent her to help, and this man was one such human. How could any person be so lacking in compassion?!
Monica gazed up at the ceiling. “Please, Father,” she begged, “do something to help Rachel and to change Ed Lowell’s mind!” She hurried out the door, shoes clicking on the polished pine floor, and rushed toward the nearest elevator. Whatever the Father told her to do, she would have to be ready to do it. First, though, she was going to have a cup of coffee.
END OF CHAPTER 2