BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit

by Linda Stanley Dalton

  Kenni noticed that the older doctor looked a little pale. “Bernie, are you all right?” she asked and put a hand on his arm.

  Bernie nodded. “It’s nothing, I’m just a little tired and feeling my age, that’s all.” He moved closer to the bassinet where Noah continued to coo and reach out for something none of them were able to see. “Simply amazing.” He wagged his head. “If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.”

  Jeb laughed softly. “Those are my sentiments exactly.”

  Bernie turned to Kenni. “Is Kevin still here? I’d like to talk to him.”

  Kenni shook her head. “He just left a few moments ago.” Brownie wasn’t a bona fide employee of the hospital; that Bernie wanted to see Brownie put her on edge. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, he and I had a chat earlier today and I just wanted to speak with him about something he said; that’s all.” He wondered: Did anyone else know Brownie’s identity? Did Kenni know she had an angel pretending to be a nurse on her staff? “I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

  ***

  Charlie sat in his usual pew at church, waiting for midweek services to begin. Before he left the house, he had noticed a golden glow emanating beneath the closed door to the room where Brownie was staying. His house guest had arrived in the form of Kevin Browne, but a moment later was Brownie once again.

  Charlie had thought about inviting him to church, but he hadn’t wanted to appear foolish so he pushed the notion aside. Brownie was quiet and somber, and while it seemed crazy to Charlie, he appeared to be somewhat tired. He wondered if that golden glow he saw recharged him….

  The sound of a soft, feminine voice broke through his thoughts and Charlie looked up to see Lauren Donahue smiling at him. Her fair cheeks were reddened from the cold evening air and he grew aware of a soft, vanilla scent he assumed was her perfume.

  “Is anyone sitting here?” she asked.

  “Why, no, please sit down,” Charlie offered with a huge grin on his face. “I didn’t realize we attend the same church.”

  “It is a rather large congregation.” Lauren removed her scarf, gloves and coat before sitting beside him.

  “Wait a minute! Now I know who you are, I couldn’t place you when you were at the shop, but you’re Michael’s mom.” The church had been praying for Michael Donahue and Pastor Henderson’s infant son, Noah, fervently. “How is he doing?”

  Lauren sighed. Away from Michael she didn’t have to pretend, but she had become so used to hiding her feelings that it was difficult to open the door that held her emotions at bay. “He’s had a rough day. He wasn’t feeling very well and is in some pain. The doctors are trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m going back after the service.”

  Charlie looked at his watch. It was after seven, and he wondered why praise and worship had not begun. At that moment there was a hush in the sanctuary. The Assistant Pastor, referred to by the congregation as ‘Pastor Dave’, stood in front of the lectern holding a wireless microphone. He was a young man in his early thirties with a head of unruly red, curly hair and a generous spattering of freckles across his wide cheeks. He was well-liked, tall and sturdily built with big, fleshy hands that everyone always commented were so warm when they shook his hand.

  “Church, could I have your attention for a moment, please,” Pastor Dave asked. The congregation immediately fell silent as if a switch had been pulled, hushing all sound at once. “I just got off the phone with Pastor Henderson. He won’t be here tonight as he and Jenny are at the hospital with Noah.”

  Murmuring of congregants sounded throughout the sanctuary, Lauren shook her head and closed her eyes. Earlier at the hospital, Jenny Henderson had confided in her that things were not going well with her baby, and admitted that she feared Noah dying. Dear Lord, please save this child, was Lauren’s silent prayer.

  “There have been some developments today over at the pediatric hospital,” Pastor Dave continued, “and the doctors told him moments ago that Noah has made a complete and miraculous recovery, and they will be able to take him home tonight.”

  Lauren’s eyes blinked open and she clutched her hand to her mouth, barely breathing while the awestruck congregation did the same. The room was so quiet one could drop the proverbial pin and hear it land; that’s how still the church had become.

  Pastor Dave cleared his throat. “The Lord has heard our prayers, folks, and Noah received his miracle, he was given a clean bill of health by Doctor Hastings. There is absolutely no sign of the tumor. Praise God, tonight Noah is on his way home!”

  The silence shattered into an explosion of thunderous applause and praise. The congregation was on its feet, jumping up and down and clapping their hands, praising and thanking God for answering their prayers.

  No one in the church appeared happier for the Hendersons than Lauren Donahue, and Charlie couldn’t help but marvel at the woman standing beside him. Despite the fact that her own child faced an uncertain future himself, she was on her feet with her arms stretched toward Heaven, thanking the Lord for the miracle healing of someone else’s child. He admired her grace, her bravery.

  Charlie felt something very strange as he looked at Lauren. She was smiling at him with tears streaming down her face; praise on her lips and at that very moment, Charlie believed Lauren to be the most incredibly beautiful woman he had ever seen.

  ***

  It was snowing as Charlie drove the short distance home after the services were over. Huge, fluffy flakes floated in the illuminated darkness as they fell in front of his headlights looking like miniature white feathers, and melting as they hit the ground. He thought about Lauren and her son, and how alone she probably felt with the burdens she shouldered alone. He had walked her to her car when the church service was over and found that he wanted to go back to the hospital with her so she wouldn’t be alone. Not knowing how to phrase his thoughts, and not wanting to intrude or be rejected for offering, Charlie had simply told her that he would be praying for Michael.

  Charlie was still thinking about Lauren and Michael as he entered his house. It was quiet except for the sounds of burning logs hissing and crackling in the fireplace. The fire cast a heated orange glow in the small living room. He hung his coat on a wooden peg near the door and rubbed his hands together as he approached the fire.

  “How was church tonight?” Brownie asked as he suddenly appeared on the couch. His fur glistened in the firelight.

  “Awesome! It was quite an evening.” Charlie sat down in his favorite high-backed chair near the fireplace, stretched out his long legs, and looked into the sweet face of his companion. “Pastor Henderson’s son has made a complete and miraculous recovery. Somehow, I doubt this comes as a surprise to you, Brownie.”

  “You give me too much credit, Charlie.” The teddy-bear angel smiled and shook his head. “I’m aware of Noah’s healing,” he said as he looked Charlie squarely in the eyes. “Whatever it is you may be thinking about it, I had nothing to do with it. The Father is the healer—not angels, not humans, no one in their own name or under their own power. We can only minister on His behalf, as He directs. Make no mistake about it, my friend; healing comes from God and only God! I did not heal Noah.”

  “Well, it just seemed a little coincidental to me. He was one gravely ill little baby. I couldn’t help but wonder, being human and nosey, if your presence here had something to do with it.”

  Brownie sighed. “You know that I wish I could tell you more, Charlie.”

  “I’m not asking you to divulge anything. I guess for me, it’s weird that you chose me of all people to help you, when in fact you can morph into Kevin the super nurse, and don’t need my help at all.”

  Brownie laughed. “Morphing, is it?”

  “What do you call it?”

  “I call it one of God’s miracles. Oh, Hollywood and its special illusions have had an enormous effect on your kind. Morphing, I believe, is something filmmakers concocted. I’m not one of those—what were they c
alled, Power Rangers?”

  Charlie laughed so hard at Brownie’s reply that it brought tears to his eyes. “How do you know so much about what goes on here?”

  “Who do you think watches over you? We are always at God’s beck and call, and act as He directs us. This isn’t the first time I’ve been on earth, and I’ve been around for a very long time!”

  “Sorry,” Charlie said and then leaned forward just a bit. “Brownie, would it be wrong of me to make a special request?”

  “Yes, Charlie, it would be.” The answer came quickly, succinctly.

  Charlie felt rebuked. “It’s not for me, Brownie. I, uh, know someone who needs help. I just thought that, well, since you’re here, and you’re an angel, that maybe it would help. Michael Donahue needs a miracle! Why is it so wrong to ask someone who might be able to help make it happen?”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Brownie apologized in a calm and reassuring voice. “Humans are always in a hurry for what they want. They pray once or twice, spend a couple minutes here and there as the thought occurs to them, and then get upset when their prayers aren’t answered instantly. You all forget that God is eternal; time means nothing to Him. He moves in His time, and it’s never too late or too early. He does hear your prayers and they do move His heart. Continue to take your prayers to Him, Charlie, and then wait in faith and with patience. You’ll see.”

  “Waiting is the one thing we humans aren’t too good at,” Charlie admitted.

  Brownie chuckled. “No, you’re not, you’re really not.”

  Chapter 10

  Jeb and Kenni had been late leaving the hospital, missed church, and were too tired to cook and clean up afterwards. They decided to have dinner at Santoni’s Italian Restaurant instead of eating at home, something they rarely did.

  “I have no idea what I want,” Kenni sighed as she studied the open menu on the table in front of her. There were so many choices; it was hard to make up her mind. She was hungry, but not in the mood for the heavy fare of the restaurant’s traditional Italian meals. The last time, she’d had the stuffed shells, which were delicious but extremely filling. She looked up and across the table at her husband, over the flickering, yellow flame of a red votive candle in the center. “What looks good to you, Sweetheart?” She noticed Jeb’s attention was focused across the room toward the doorway that led to the lounge. “Jeb?”

  “Morgan Cole is here in the bar with Clay Parmenter.” He shook his head at the alliance. Ordinarily, he did not speak badly about others—he disliked gossipers, and felt guilty because he was doing it himself. Mrs. Cole was not on his list of favorite people, and he frowned at the memory of her plot against his wife. As for Parmenter, the man was head of the hospital and he had no feelings about him one way or another. “I can’t help but wonder if Marcus knows where his wife is this evening.”

  “Jeb, it’s none of our business,” Kenni whispered and placed her much smaller hand over his. While she didn’t understand what drove Morgan to do the things she did, she had already forgiven her and had moved on to the forgetting stage. “Darling, let’s not go thinking the worst. Whatever they are doing here together, it’s their business and I honestly don’t care. It’s been a wonderful evening, with Noah completely cured and home with his parents. Mrs. Cole can choose to have a drink with the devil if she wants, that’s her choice. As long as she doesn’t mistreat Angela, I don’t care what she does.”

  Jeb admitted he seemed to have more of a problem releasing his feelings than his wife did. She was also right about how wonderful it was to witness a miracle that healed an infant, the complete disappearance of a large, malignant tumor embedded within a tiny brain.

  “I love you, Kenni.” He smiled, lifted her hand to his lips and brushed them against it. Her hands were soft and warm, yet strong and comforting. “I’m in the mood for pizza with pepperoni and onion.”

  Kenni frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t like pizza—it was one of her favorite foods—but for some inexplicable reason, the idea of pizza had lost its appeal during her pregnancy. “Let’s have salad, too, so I don’t overeat, and we can take the rest of the pizza home with us. Their pizza always reheats well and you can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”

  ***

  On the other side of Santoni’s, inside the bar, a strained conversation was taking place. “What a magnificent surprise to see you,” Clay Parmenter purred sarcastically as he sat on the edge of a heavy wooden bar stool beside the ever-exquisite Morgan Cole. She wore black velvet slacks with a lacy, gold-colored silk blouse. He couldn’t help but wonder if her husband had any idea where she was. “That wasn’t a very nice trick you played on me, Dearest. I did my part and removed Mrs. Hastings exactly as you asked, but received nothing in return for my trouble. I grow annoyed quickly with people who don’t keep their word. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Morgan thanked the bartender as a wine cooler was placed before her. The last person she had wanted to see was Clay, and she knew he would not be easy to get rid of. She supposed she deserved to run into him, she had led him to believe that there would be something intimate between them in order to manipulate him into granting her request.

  Clay leaned closer, his face so brazenly close to hers that he smelled mint toothpaste on her breath. The faint, yet provocative perfume Morgan wore enticed him as he breathed it in. While he could not see it in the dimly lit bar, Clay imagined the rush of color certainly flaming her cheeks with the mixing of their breath with each inhale, each exhale. The amber lights cast a warm glow on the former model’s golden hair. She is indeed a beautiful woman, he thought to himself. Ah, what a sweet scandal we could cause.

  Morgan had yet to look at him. She knew ignoring him would not make him disappear, but she wished it would.

  Instead, Clay continued violating her personal space despite her attempts to ignore him. “We both know that you played me for a fool, Morgan. I am man enough to admit that I gave in to an enchantress and certain—shall we say—feelings she provoked. I was foolish enough to let my libido cloud my professional judgment.” He shook his head. “Blame it on that old south brain. I wonder how many men have become undone by such desires over the course of history. Even old King David was reduced to a common murderer, driven by his lusts for Bathsheba.”

  Morgan had no idea what he was talking about. Continuing to ignore him, Morgan took a sip of her drink. It had been a mistake to leave the house, she never went to bars, hadn’t been inside one since her modeling days, before she met Marcus. She seldom ventured out at night alone and wasn’t sure what had compelled her to do so on this particular night. She only knew that she had to get away from Marcus tonight and the tension between them that permeated their home like thick smoke, thick enough that she felt they might choke to death on it. Angela would be coming home in the morning and the realization that her sick child would be in the house, where she could die, terrified her.

  “C’mon, Morgan,” Clay taunted, his face closer still to hers, his breath on her face, the hint of bourbon permeating her nostrils and causing her stomach to turn. “I’ve never known you to be shy, so why start now? I took quite a chance to do you a favor. You can at least admit now that you had absolutely no intention of following through, that it was all just a ruse to get your way. I had about as much chance of getting up close and personal with you as an icicle would survive a pot of boiling water. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Cole?”

  Morgan cleared her throat, shifted her body slightly to the left as she tried to put some distance between them before she faced him. As far as she was concerned, she owed him nothing. She had acted in the best interest of her daughter, and if it bruised the doctor’s ego because he allowed himself to play the fool, it was of little consequence to her. “That’s right, Clay.”

  He leaned in a bit closer, reclaiming the space between them she had tried to widen. Her voice was husky, throaty and caused a chill to dance on his spine. “At least you admit it.”

>   “I don’t feel too badly about not holding up my end of the deal, which, by the way, was merely implied and never came with a guarantee. Then again, you didn’t complete your end now, did you? Let’s just call it a draw, and both live happily ever after in the safety of our separate worlds.”

  Clay shrugged as he turned toward the bar. He took a swallow of bourbon from a short glass with a heavy bottom, and enjoyed the trail of liquid fire it left behind as it slid across the back of his tongue and down his throat, the warmth that lingered for awhile after the last drop had been drunk. He regarded Morgan with the trademark icy stare he had perfected. “You’re all talk, Baby; one-hundred percent crap! You know how to entice and tantalize to get what you want, but you lack the guts to follow through. You’re nothing more than a tease, Mrs. Cole—a little girl trying to play ball with the big boys. That can be a dangerous game…you could make enemies. I would advise you to be mindful of that in the future. I would hate to see you try this on someone far less gentlemanly than myself.”

  He smiled slightly as an amusing thought came to mind. “Tell me, Mrs. Cole: Did you know that you’re referred to as the Ice Princess around my hospital?”

  “I’m crushed.” Morgan chuckled amusedly. “I think your hospital workers have way too much time on their hands.”

  “You know, Morgan, I do see why people call you that. When you don’t get your way, the temperature plummets.” He laughed at his own clever analogy. “Like winter in a bottle; that’s you, Princess of the Ice.”

  “I can probably guess who made up that one,” she mused. Morgan gave her head a dramatic shake. “It’s all one big game, Clay; that’s all any of it is. You had something I wanted so I used the only thing I knew how to, my so-called effect on the opposite sex. Don’t you know that it’s made me who I am, how I’ve made it through life?”