Touched by Angels (Angels Everywhere #3)(39)

“No,” Jenny protested. It was bad enough that her best chance of ever appearing on Broadway was being taken away, but she wouldn’t allow her own misfortune to ruin Michelle’s chances, too. “You stay here.”

“But—”

“I insist. Don’t argue with me. This is your chance.”

“But, Jenny—”

“Michelle Jordan!” the voice shouted.

Michelle wavered and looked over her shoulder.

“Are you staying or going?” the voice asked.

“Staying,” Jenny answered for her. She’d meant to shout. She’d put all her effort into making herself heard, but what remained of her voice was shockingly weak.

“Oh, Jenny, are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“Of course. All I need is a little rest.” She managed to put on a bright smile, which depleted what little energy remained. “I’ll get a taxi,” she promised a second time. A real luxury, considering her finances.

“You promise?”

“Yes. Now break a leg, kid,” she said in her best Humphrey Bogart imitation. “You’ll have to make it for both of us.” She felt like weeping but managed to keep the tears at bay until she was outside the theater.

It was snowing. Wouldn’t you know it? Every man, woman, and child in New York would be looking for a cab. Jenny stepped halfway out into the street and raised her arm in an effort to hail a taxi. The cold snow was a welcome coolant as it drifted onto her upturned face.

“You’re going to help her, aren’t you?” Goodness asked Mercy. “That poor girl’s sick and miserable.”

“Of course I’m going to help her.” Mercy was indignant that her friend would believe otherwise. “It’s just that this is the worst time imaginable for her to find an empty taxi.”

“Well, do something.”

“What would you suggest?” Mercy snapped, impatient herself.

“Stop traffic.”

Mercy grinned. Why hadn’t she thought of that herself? It wouldn’t be so difficult to create a distraction. Not with Goodness there to help her. Naturally it would work; she just hoped Gabriel didn’t find out about this.

“Come on,” she said, sharing a gleeful smile with her friend.

“Where are we going?”

“Times Square,” Mercy answered.

“Yes, but . . .”

Even Goodness looked surprised, and Mercy grinned sheepishly. “Don’t worry, Gabriel will never hear of it.” Well, at least she hoped that was the case.

“Look.” Someone near Jenny stretched out an arm and pointed toward the huge electronic billboard above Times Square. “What in heaven’s name is going on?”

Jenny looked up and did a double take. The sign that had flashed a huge Santa drinking a bottle of Coca-Cola only minutes earlier had disappeared. In its stead stood a picture of her own face, with the words flashing “Jenny needs a cab. Help Jenny.”

She blinked, certain she was seeing things. Her fever must be higher than she realized for her to hallucinate this way. Obviously she’d stepped over the edge of reality.

Cars slowed to a crawl. Any number of people paused and pointed to the sign.

“Are you Jenny?” a bag lady who was nearly bent in half asked her. She wore a ragged wool coat. A worn shopping bag was draped over her forearm.

“Yes,” Jenny whispered.

“I’m here to help you,” the old woman proclaimed. “I’ll get you that cab, now don’t you worry none.”

“I’m sick,” Jenny whispered.

“Yes, I know, dear, now don’t you fret. You’ll be home soon enough.” Holding Jenny by the arm, the old woman marched her out into the middle of midtown traffic and stood in front of the first yellow cab she spied.

The cabdriver stuck his head out the window and shouted angrily. Apparently he hadn’t been in the country long, because his accent was so thick that it was nearly impossible to understand him.

“This is Jenny.” The bag lady opened the cab door and stuck her head inside. “She’s sick and needs to get home.”

“I don’t care if she’s the president,” the man inside the cab muttered, clenching his briefcase as if he expected the woman to snatch it from him. “I’m not giving up this cab. Driver,” he instructed, “do something.”

The driver twisted around and placed his hands over his ears. “Only been in America one day.”

The passenger said something under his breath.

Undeterred, the bag lady tried a second time. “That sign up there says this woman needs help. Now get out.”

The dignified-looking businessman bristled. “What sign?”

“Look at the billboard!” she shouted. “Now do as I say.”

Jenny remained in a daze, barely able to decipher what was happening around her. Horns blared. People stopped and stared. Traffic snarled even worse than it normally did. No one moved.

“You’re Jenny?” the businessman leaned halfway out of the cab to ask her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Oh, all right,” he muttered, and with that he hopped out of the cab.

Jenny turned to thank the bag lady who’d helped her, but she’d disappeared into the crowd. Safe and warm, Jenny climbed inside the cab, laid back her head, and closed her eyes. The next thing she knew the driver pulled up in front of her apartment complex. She couldn’t remember giving him her address.