Neil grunted and straightened, but one hand remained on the heavy unit. “How’s it now? Is that better?”
Knowing how picky Neil was about the television, Phillip stepped back. “I think so. No, turn it a little to the right.” Phillip waited while Neil wiggled the television over half an inch. “I think that’s just about right,” he said as he continued to step backward to get the right perspective. “Maybe you should push it a little farther back. I think—”
His words were cut off when the edge of the coffee table caught him sharply at the backs of his knees. Phillip flailed his arms as he stumbled backward. This time, instead of just bumping the table, he knocked it sharply with the backs of his legs, hard enough to knock the table askew from its perfect placement in its new place in the room.
“Youch,” he grumbled as he leaned over to rub the back of his left knee. “That stings. Maybe we aren’t going to have as much space as. . .” His voice trailed off as he glanced around the room, his attention stopping at the coffee table.
The empty coffee table. . .
“The angel!” he gasped as he looked down to the floor.
The angel lay on the ground beside him.
Flattened.
Neil ran to his side. “No!” he exclaimed. “Is it bad?”
Phillip picked the angel up. Together they stared at the clear imprint of Phillip’s shoe, accompanied by a black smudge across the middle of the gown.
With a shaking hand, Phillip managed to brush off a few grains of dirt until the black mark had been reduced to a gray smudge. He tried to be both gentle and firm as he poked and prodded at the imprint, trying to raise the decorative bumps and patterns of the squashed section so the shape of his shoe couldn’t be seen. But, no matter how hard he tried, the visible mark of his shoe, especially the heel, still remained, nor could he press out the sharp folds on each side of the gown.
The complicated procedure for washing and restarching the angel ran through his mind.
Phillip cringed and squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them, he saw Neil staring at him.
Neil grinned weakly. “At least you already got rid of the coffee cup from the table, so it’s not as bad as before. What are you going to do?”
Phillip made one last attempt to brush off the gray mark. Failing that, he poked again at the distinct folds on either side of the angel’s gown. When that didn’t make a difference either, he sighed and turned his head to stare at the phone. “I think I need to call Grace.”
five
Grace had barely walked in the door after a hard day of work at the bank when the phone rang.
“Hey, Grace, it’s me, Phil.”
Grace felt herself break out into a wide smile, despite the fact that she was alone, except for her cat, who still hadn’t moved to greet her even though she’d been gone all day.
“Hi, Phil. How are you?”
Instead of a reply, a silence hung over the phone for a few seconds.
He cleared his throat. “Not all that great, actually. I don’t know how to say this, but I had a little accident with the angel last night. I kind of squished it. I’m sorry, but I need your help again.”
Her smile dropped, and her heart sank, as the picture of all the work involved in washing, starching, and reshaping the angel flashed through her mind. “Oh,” she mumbled.
Phil’s voice dropped about an octave. “Can I come over?”
“I guess we don’t have much choice.”
“I haven’t had dinner yet; have you?”
Grace glanced up at the clock on the stove. “No. I just got home from work. I had to stay late.”
“Tell you what. I’ll pick something up on the way there. It’s the least I can do. Burger and fries okay?”
“Uh, sure,” she mumbled. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
They mumbled quick good-byes, and Grace hung up.
The fifteen minutes gave her just enough time to quickly straighten the kitchen, bring out the starch and spool of wire, and put on a pot of coffee pending Phil and Neil’s arrival.
When the buzzer sounded to open the main door, she was ready if not psyched up for the job ahead. From habit, she stepped into the hall to wait for the elevator door to open and her guests to arrive. However, when the door slid open, only one guest stepped out.
“Phil? Where’s Neil?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe he had to work overtime, too. He wasn’t home yet by the time I called you. I didn’t want to wait because now I know from experience how long the whole thing takes, so I came alone. I hope that’s okay. Besides, this time it is entirely my fault that the angel got hurt, so I figure I should be the one to fix it.”
Grace felt a grin tugging the corners of her mouth. “ ‘Hurt’?”
Phil’s blush was most endearing. “It’s not wrecked. Unlike last time, I know it’s fixable. It’s not exactly broken, so that wasn’t the right word either. I stepped on it, and I figured that’s gotta hurt, so. . .”
Grace giggled and led Phil inside her apartment. “To think you were teasing me the other day about personifying her. You’re just as bad.”
“I’m not personifying it,” he said, emphasizing the gender-neutral word. “But if I did, I would say he when talking about it.”
Grace shook her head as Phil followed her into the kitchen and to the table in the center of the room. “He. She. It. You’re addling my brain. Why don’t we just call her Angelica and get rid of the pronouns. Besides, I feel like I should know her by now. She should have a real name.”
Phil laid the angel a safe distance away on the edge of the kitchen table and began emptying the hamburgers and fries from the second bag. “I said before that angels were always seen as men. How about calling him Michael?”
“Michael. Well, that certainly shows imagination.” Grace let her sentence hang, but Phil apparently missed her sarcasm.
She sighed. “Can’t you think of something a little more original?”
Phil grinned as he pushed one hamburger and an envelope of fries across the table toward her. “If we’re going to go through with this, how about something appropriate for either male or female. You know, like. . .uh. . .” He paused for a few seconds, drumming his fingers on the table. “Snicklefritz.”
“Snickle. . .I thought you were serious.”
Phil raised one palm in the air. “Hold on. Let’s not argue. Let’s say thanks for our food and eat. This stuff is bad enough while it’s warm, but it will be really bad when it’s cold. We can decide on a name while we eat.”
“Of course. You’re right,” Grace said as she bowed her head.
Phil paused for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Thank you, Lord, for so many things. First for the food before us and the way you take care of all our needs. Thank you also for friends to share these things with and for friends we can go to when we need help. Please bless our time together, that we will be productive and successful. Amen.”
“Amen,” Grace mumbled as all her present thoughts de-serted her. As soon as Phil had finished speaking, Grace had planned to give him a list of gender-neutral names that currently only were used for females but had been male in the past. However, at his heartfelt prayer, all thoughts of taking him on in a battle of one-upmanship deserted her.
Twice he’d referred to her as a friend. He hadn’t been carefully nondescript the way people prayed during a meal at a banquet or celebration where the group was composed of fellow believers who weren’t necessarily friends. Phil hadn’t even remotely hinted that she was an acquaintance or merely the girlfriend of a friend, but his own friend.
The first time he’d come to her, they hadn’t known each other well. Now, less than a week after spending actual time together, things had somehow changed. She’d already told herself that it was only natural she would like Phil, being Neil’s best friend. Now it struck her that she felt differently about Phil than she did Neil’s other friends. With Phil she felt an
instant kinship, although she couldn’t put her finger on why.
“Okay, I take back Snicklefritz. If we’re going to be serious about picking a name for him-slash-her, then how about Terry or Gerry or something like that?”
Trying to look thoughtful, Grace swirled a fry in her blob of ketchup. “That depends if you spell those names with an i or a y.”
“Grace, we’re not going to be writing the angel a letter or filling out a legal document. We’re only picking a name to get over this gender problem we seem to be having. If you can’t come up with any good ideas, then it’s up to me.”
Grace thought that picking up the angel would have helped her look studious, but unfortunately, she couldn’t take the chance of getting any fry-grease from her fingers on the angel. “Well, since last week we needed to remove that coffee splotch, and today we need to remove some kind of dirt from your shoes, I thought we could name him-slash-her Spot.”
Phil’s eyes widened, and Grace’s breath caught. She couldn’t stop watching his face as his lips quivered, growing into a full smile. As his smile grew, laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes, and he broke out into a hearty laugh. When he finally quieted, he swiped at his eyes with the corner of his napkin. “That was pretty good and unfortunately appropriate. But I don’t think I’d want to explain that one if Granny ever heard us calling him Spot. Got any other suggestions?”
“The angel is not a him. Look at her, Phil. She’s wearing a long flowing gown, and she’s got long blond hair. That angel is a woman.”
“Back in Bible days, the men wore long flowing things. I forget what they were called. They also had long hair. Al-though, I don’t think people living in that area of the world had blond hair.”
“I give up. My Name Your Baby book is in my bedroom. I’ll go get it and pick a nice, gender-neutral name for you.”
Phil smirked. “You’re reading a Name Your Baby book? Why?”
Suddenly, before Grace could reply, his grin faded, and his face paled. He lowered his head and picked up the empty envelope for his fries, staring at it intently as he spoke, never once raising his eyes to her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business. Before you got me all distracted, I believe I was going to ask you if you thought it was possible to get the angel finished tonight, since we’ve done it before and now we know what we’re doing.”
All Grace could do was stare at Phil. She hadn’t thought of the implications of admitting she owned such a book, but she could well imagine what he thought, especially since her admission that it was in her bedroom probably indicated she was currently reading it, which she wasn’t.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Phil. It’s not what you might think. This is a one-bedroom apartment. I don’t know why it was designed this way, but the bedroom is huge. It’s so big I put my bookcase in there instead of in the living room. I have a lot of books; I just can’t seem to give them away. I guess I’m just cheap. My sister gave me her Name Your Baby book after she had her two kids, she told me ‘just in case’ I’ll ever need it.” Grace made a halfhearted laugh. “My sister isn’t very subtle. I’m not reading it now. I have no reason to. But the book is in my bookcase for possible future use. Feel better?”
He raised his head, and Grace was pleased to see the color returning to his face, plus a little extra pink in his cheeks. “Yeah. Sorry. You didn’t have to explain.”
Grace smiled. “I know that. I just wanted to. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Within a minute she had found the book and had returned to her seat at the kitchen table. While she was gone, she noted that Phil had made himself at home and poured them two cups of coffee.
Not wanting to take too much time, Grace flipped through the book, skimming as quickly as she could to find appropriate gender-neutral names. However, every time she mentioned a name, Phil didn’t like it.
After he rejected a dozen allegedly unsuitable names for various reasons, Grace snapped the book shut and smacked it down onto the tabletop. “I thought we were going to pick something quick, then get down to business, which is seeing what we can do about fixing up the angel again. I haven’t even really looked at the damage yet.”
Phil rested his elbows on the table, cupped his chin in his palms, and grinned. “I dunno. This is kinda fun. Did you know my cousin Trevor and his wife Janice are expecting a baby in the spring? I wonder if this is what it’s like when parents-to-be are picking out a name for their baby.”
Grace sputtered into her coffee. “I don’t know.”
“I know you teach Sunday school. You like kids, don’t you? You said your sister gave you the book as a not-so-subtle kind of hint. That aside, do you think you’d like to have kids of your own someday? Not everybody does.”
Grace nearly choked, even though she thought she’d worked the first coughing fit out of her system. She nearly asked him why he was asking her such things but stopped short. Phil wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring off into space, lost in his own thoughts.
Grace cleared her throat. “I guess so. What about you?”
“Yeah. I would. I didn’t really have much time to talk to Trev on the weekend when we were at Granny’s, but I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I’m older than he is, but Trevor was the first of the guys in the family to get married, and now he and Janice are soon going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet. He seems really happy and excited about it, and he’s making me wonder what it would be like. I’ve been thinking for awhile now that I wouldn’t mind settling down and having a family and all that. When God puts the right woman in my path, of course.”
Grace didn’t reply, and Phil didn’t say any more. He only continued to stare unseeingly at a blank spot on the wall behind her.
Instead of picking up the book, Grace watched Phil.
She hadn’t realized that men thought about getting married and settling down until a relationship struck them in the head. Apparently, she was wrong. As far as she knew, and according to Neil, Phil wasn’t currently seeing anyone, yet he was obviously thinking about marriage fitting into his future.
He didn’t seem to notice or care that no one was talking, so Grace took advantage of the silence to study him.
Even though he wasn’t classically handsome, Phillip McLean was by no means ugly. With his medium brown hair and average height, as well as his usually quiet nature, he tended to blend into a crowd. Perhaps that was why Grace had never taken notice of him before. But more than his appearance, Grace was learning that he had a kind heart and a noble character, as well as a pleasant sense of humor. Again, she re-minded herself that it was only natural she would like him, being Neil’s friend. She had no doubt that he would make some woman a fine husband one day, and one day fairly soon, if he really was as ready to settle down as he said he was.
Phil’s goofy little half-smile straightened, he blinked a few times, and returned his attention to her. “I’m sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t let myself get so distracted. What was that name you suggested? Dale, right? I think that’s fine. Let’s hereby christen Granny’s angel Dale and get on with it.”
“Yes, Dale is a good name. Let’s go wash our hands, and we can get to work on fixing Dale.”
Grace took the first turn to wash her hands. While she waited for Phil to finish in the bathroom, she picked up the angel and examined it. First she brushed at the offending gray smudge with her fingertips, knowing full well that Phil had already done his best to wipe it off.
As expected, it didn’t come off, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t with a little persuasion. After all, if it was from Phil’s shoe, it was dry dirt and therefore had not soaked into the fibers of the angel like the coffee.
Phil appeared behind her to watch over her shoulder.
Grace picked at the dirt with her fingernail. To her satisfaction, some of the offending dirt actually came off.
“This is encouraging,” she mumbled as she continued to pick at it. When only a small speck remained, she handed Da
le to Phil. “I’ll be right back.”
Using the damp corner of a clean tea towel, Grace managed to remove all of the mark.
“Wow! That’s great!” Phil exclaimed over her shoulder. “We didn’t have to wash Dale again. But what about the folds?”
Grace poked at the fold lines. “They’re not that bad. I have an idea.” Again, she handed the angel to Phil while she re-moved her plant mister from beneath the kitchen sink. Using a minimal amount of water, she sprayed only the lines of the fold. Being very gentle so she didn’t stretch the shape out, Grace prodded the lines out, pressing the gown back into the correct shape.
Again, she handed the angel back to Phil.
“This is great, but I remember last time the dampness spread and the whole thing went soggy on me.”
“That’s not going to happen because this time nothing’s really wet except for those two thin lines. Also, this time there’s no soap or detergent involved, only water. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Grace returned with her blow-dryer and set to work. In only a few minutes, the wet spots were perfectly dry, and Dale was back to normal.
For the last time, she handed the angel back to Phil.
“Wow,” he muttered as he ran his fingers over it. “I can’t even tell anything was wrong. I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t worry about it. Since we’re done, how would you like to go into the living room and finish our coffee there?”
“That would be great.”
Grace topped off the mugs, and they carried them into the living room. Grace stifled her smile when she noted that, in addition to the mug, Phil also took the angel with him instead of leaving her on the kitchen table.
Once in the living room, Phil immediately headed for her recliner. He placed the mug on the magazine stand beside the recliner but kept the angel in his lap. Without saying a word, he leaned back fully in the chair. With the angel lying on top of his stomach, Phil raised his arms to rest his hands behind his head, linked his fingers, and sighed. “I can’t help myself. We had to rearrange the living room, and our recliner no longer reclines. I have to enjoy this while I can.”
Truly Yours Contemporary Collection December 2014 Page 21