Where Angels Go (Angels Everywhere #6)(41)

Everyone in heaven knew that humans were difficult subjects. At times they required a clear and unambiguous sign, or a bit of coaxing. Or both. And some people needed more help than others. In Goodness’s opinion, Beth was one of those.

“Well, you have to admit we all had a shock,” Mercy said, reminding Goodness of the scene in Leavenworth the day before.

“I agree.” Goodness frowned as she contemplated her next move. Letting Peter and Beth stumble into each other on the street would be too convenient—and too subtle. No, whatever Goodness arranged would have to be dramatic. Personally she’d prefer a car crash, involving a massive explosion—no deaths, of course. The possibility of a SWAT team thrilled her and if she could manage it, a helicopter rescue. That would make her day. Those boys in black always did get her adrenaline going.

“Goodness,” Mercy prodded gently. “I recognize that look in your eyes and I don’t like the way your wings are fluttering.”

“I think it might be best if you left now,” she said primly.

“Goodness!”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble, too.”

Mercy’s wings lifted her off the ground. “What are you going to do?”

Goodness pressed her lips together and shook her head. “It’s better for you not to know.”

That was when Shirley arrived. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“I’ve got a few problems,” Goodness said.

“You do?” Shirley muttered. “Well, you aren’t the only one. My assignment’s not working out the way it’s supposed to.”

Mercy frowned, and her gaze swung back to Goodness and then to Shirley again. “Do either of you have the feeling we might’ve been set up?”

Goodness sent her a puzzled glance. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Mercy said. “Shirley gets what would usually be a dream assignment. Just how hard can it be to give a boy a dog?”

“Well, actually, this prayer request is one of the most difficult ones I’ve ever received.” She sighed. “Not only do we have the issue with Carter’s father, there’s this one dog that refuses to go away.”

“I see.”

“But under normal conditions, it wouldn’t be difficult, would it?”

Shirley lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Not really. The thing that troubles me most is this dog. He doesn’t seem…ordinary. And he simply won’t leave. I think that problem’s finally been solved, though. He’s at the animal shelter and he’ll probably be adopted soon.”

“Good.”

Shirley wore a sad frown. “Well, there’s nothing I can do right now, so I’ve put the matter out of my mind. I’m here to help you two.”

Mercy looked crestfallen. “My assignment’s also failing.”

“You don’t happen to need a SWAT team, do you?” Goodness asked excitedly. It seemed a shame not to call out the big guns when they might be able to help her friends, too.

Mercy’s expression was horrified. “Goodness, what are you thinking?”

She held up her hands. “Imagine this: helicopters descending, ropes dropping to the ground and men—young, handsome men—sliding down to the rooftops.”

“To do what?” Mercy cried. “You’ll ruin everything. I’ve got enough troubles with Harry and Rosalie as it is. I don’t need that kind of help. Just the sound of those helicopters would send him into cardiac arrest.”

“So what can we do?” Goodness asked. “We’ve got three unfinished assignments on our hands.”

“At this point,” Mercy suggested, “maybe we should let these situations play out and see what happens.”

It seemed so little. But perhaps Mercy and Shirley were right. She’d done her best to bring Peter and Beth together, and her efforts, such as they were, had resulted in shock and confusion. Perhaps she should step aside and see what these humans could figure out for themselves.

Still, she was disappointed.

17

C arter had been weepy and sad ever since his father had driven him to the animal shelter where they’d left Rusty. All night long, he’d lain awake, thinking about his dog. He knew how bad his parents felt, so Carter tried not to show how miserable he was.

He realized his parents didn’t have any extra money, and even the allowance he’d saved up wasn’t enough.

“Carter,” his mother called from the living room. “Come and see what your father brought home.”

Hoping against hope that it was Rusty, Carter ran into the room. It wasn’t. Instead, his mother stood in front of an artificial Christmas tree. The tree they had was dinky. So small, in fact, that it sat on the coffee table. It was in a flower pot and it was decorated with tiny glass balls. This one was real. Well, not exactly real because he could tell that the branches weren’t like those of a live tree and it didn’t have that nice Christmas smell. But it was real in size. And it came complete with strings of lights.

“A Christmas tree,” his sister squealed with delight as she joined him in the living room. “Where did you get it?”

“Your father found it,” his mother said. “On his way to work this morning, he caught a glimpse of something in an alley. He stopped, and there was the tree. Someone must’ve gotten a new tree because this one was propped up against a Dumpster. So your father brought it home for us.”