BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit

by Linda Stanley Dalton

  He glanced at his wife before returning his attention back to the congregation. “Sondra was born and raised in Israel. Sadly, she lived with and knows well what it’s like to go to bed afraid, and we’ve spent many hours discussing the nightmares she faced as a child. Too often we see the news bytes on TV of soldiers and of victims. It breaks my heart every time I see a child being carried on a makeshift stretcher through rubble and dust as crying parents stumble along behind. And friends, they don’t go to a hospital like Valley or Memorial where state of the art care is readily available. Believe me when I tell you that our cats and dogs have access to better medical care, and live far better lives.

  “I wanted to share one of my most cherished faces with you, my wife, and a survivor who lived through some of what we’ve seen on TV. It’s getting late and I promised I wouldn’t keep you long. Before I step aside so that Pastor Maropolis can close in prayer, I ask each and every one of you to include people a world away in your prayers tonight. You don’t know them, and you may never know if your prayers helped anyone, but God knows. Parents there aren’t much different from us, not really. Just like we do, they hold their children in their arms, they worry about them when they are sick or have a need. I will pray that you continue to pray for them after tonight, as the spirit moves you. We all know that prayer works, that Jesus is listening, that the Holy Spirit makes intercession for us, petitioning the very throne of God on our behalf. Thank you for braving the cold and coming out this evening, and your upcoming prayers for all the children of this world less fortunate than our own. May God bless and keep you.”

  Applause thundered across the sanctuary. Pastor Maropolis rose from the pew on the platform where he had been sitting. The two men shook hands and embraced before Seth, Sondra and the baby returned to their reserved seats on the front pew.

  Bernie sat quietly in the pew, remaining there as everyone else got to their feet. The change in Seth was astonishing; a selfish boy had turned into a Godly man who spoke with passion, and even cried over the plight of others! My son has been to Israel! Tears welled in Bernie’s eyes as his heart swelled with pride over his son, Rabbi Seth Bernstein.

  After Pastor Maropolis officially dismissed them, Bernie watched as his son and family spoke with some people near the pulpit. While they were too far away to make out any detail, Bernie noticed that Sondra had a pretty smile and carried herself like a ballerina, slender and graceful with her long neck and fair skin. She was wearing a simple, yet stylish knee-length black dress that accentuated her small waist and rounded hips, nor did it escape Bernie’s notice that little Isabella was a redhead, much like the grandmother she was named in honor of. In silence, Bernie spoke to his wife: Do you see her, Isabel? Can you see our beautiful granddaughter from up there?

  Kenni turned to Bernie. She saw the tears in his eyes and sat down beside him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, just a bit…stirred,” Bernie admitted, clearing his throat. He managed a wistful smile. “This has been quite an experience, Kenni.”

  “I’m sure it has been.” Kenni patted his hand and felt the thinning layer of aging skin over his knuckles. “What’s next?”

  Bernie lifted his chin and cleared his throat once again. “I’m going to make my way down to the front and tell my son that I’ve never been as proud of anyone as I am of him tonight.”

  “Would you like Jeb and me to go with you?”

  “Thank you, my dear Kenni, but no.” Bernie appreciated the offer but this was something he knew he must do on his own. He glanced at Brownie who sat once more with his eyes closed and head bowed. “I must do this myself, and I’m ready. Thanks to Brownie, I’m going to walk right up to my son and kiss him on the cheek, and throw my arms around him. If he rejects me, at least I’ll know I tried.”

  Kenni smiled and the shimmer of empathetic tears as they misted in her eyes reminded Bernie of a sparkling, blue topaz ring Isabel had favored.

  “Isabel would be proud of you,” she offered.

  “I’m sure she is,” Bernie agreed.

  When Brownie finished praying, he turned to Bernie and smiled at him. “Well, Bernie, it’s time to follow your heart.”

  Bernie took a deep breath and got to his feet. He patted Brownie on the shoulder and smiled at him. “Thank you, my very good friend. I owe this moment to you.”

  Brownie sighed and shook his head, slightly frustrated once more that the humans God cared so much for simply didn’t understand. “You owe me nothing; your gratitude belongs to God. I do the Father’s will in Jesus name, not mine. Be sure to thank Him tonight.”

  Brownie looked beyond Bernie at Kenni and Jeb. “Goodnight, Hastings,” he called out with a smile as he turned and made his way into the aisle. He moved slowly along within the crowd of worshippers who were heading for the exits and had no idea an angel was among them.

  Bernie’s legs, which were shaky and weak, felt like they belonged to a very old man as he exited the pew and started toward his son, his daughter-in-law and granddaughter whom he had never met. Nothing could possibly dissuade him; not shaky knees or a racing pulse, nothing short of God striking him dead. He had a divine appointment and that was enough to propel him forward. He took a steadying breath and found himself standing behind a man who was talking to Seth about somebody who lived in Haifa. Bernie remembered Brownie’s advice that patience might be required, so he stood quietly and waited.

  Bernie couldn’t help but notice his lovely daughter-in-law who smiled as she cuddled Isabella. Suddenly, her attention went from her child to Bernie and her eyes widened for a split-second. Bernie swallowed hard as his eyes met hers, large and nearly forest green beneath perfectly-arched, dark-blonde eyebrows and sooty-black eyelashes. He saw a flicker of what looked like recognition, and then he observed as Sondra took Seth’s hand and commanded his attention. The man to whom he had been speaking with appeared to be finished and moved away, much to Bernie’s delight. He held his breath and watched as Seth looked at Sondra, and then slowly father and son gazed into each other’s eyes. For what seemed an eternity, they stared at one another.

  Bernie cleared his throat and swallowed, but it didn’t eliminate the unpleasant sensation of cottonmouth. He took a step forward, and to his surprise felt tears welling in his eyes. “Seth, I—I have no idea what to say, except that when a dear friend told me you were going to be here tonight, I had to come.”

  Seth, too, felt his emotions surge. He’d had a strange week and was still somewhat in shock after having been visited by a teddy bear who claimed she was an angel named Teerah. She had simply appeared in his study on Sunday evening while he was reading, not at all what he would have expected—female, pink and furry with a wreath of roses encircling her head. Teerah had told him he would have an opportunity soon to mend his relationship with his father, and when Seth replied quite honestly that he had no idea how to do that, she had smiled and explained that a door would open. Teerah had been there only a few, brief moments, but before she turned into a mist of pinkish-gold vapor, she revealed that while God would open the door, it would be Seth’s choice whether or not to go through it.

  “Poppa, it’s good to see you,” he said thickly, as tears streamed down his face. He wrapped both arms around his father, holding him close. Faint traces of Old Spice aftershave triggered memories of his boyhood, of greeting his Daddy when he came home after a long day at the hospital. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to pick up a phone and call you. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

  “I know, son,” Bernie cried as he held him. “I had no idea where you were, or how to get a hold of you, or I would have.” He sighed. “I have to be honest with you. In my heart, I would have wanted to; I’m not so sure I’d have had the nerve to actually do it!”

  “And that was my fault,” Seth admitted as they released one another, both grabbing for their handkerchiefs to wipe their faces and blow their noses. Feeling guilty for being pigheaded, Seth realized his father had aged over the years and the deep s
adness in his eyes struck him painfully in his heart. He knew that his mother had passed on; an old friend from high school whom he never lost touch with had sent him Isabel’s obituary from the newspaper.

  “Seth, your mother is—she’s passed on, son.” Bernie stepped over the words clumsily. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it and wondered, is there a right way to tell my son that his mother is dead?

  “I know,” Seth admitted and closed his eyes for a moment, praying for the Lord’s mercy to rain down on him. Then he looked once more at his father, ashamed of the wasted years he had spent at odds with his parents. He could not reclaim even one precious second, never mind the years, but he could start fresh and include Poppa in his future, include him in Isabella’s life.

  Sondra’s eyes were luminous and sparkled like dark emeralds as she looked up at her father-in-law. “There is a lot of healing that needs to be done, but I believe if you let Him, the Lord will hasten it to happen.” She smiled. It was not one of Sondra’s traits to be shy. “I’d like to be a part of that healing, if you’ll let me. While we haven’t been officially introduced, I’m Sondra Eisenstein Bernstein, your daughter-in-law.” She shifted the baby in her arms. “And this is Isabella. Seth and I named her as soon as we knew we were expecting a girl.”

  Bernie smiled and genuine affection began in his heart for Sondra. He liked her, she was warm and real, yet she appeared to have spunk and he imagined she might have a feisty streak much like his wife had.

  “Here,” Sondra said and placed Isabella in Bernie’s arms. “Isabella, this is your grandpa, your Saba! Say hello to Grandpa Bernie. Say, ‘hello Saba Bernie’.”

  To Bernie’s surprise, Isabella didn’t cry, she just looked up at him with big, green eyes, a shade somewhere between her mother’s and her grandmother’s. She grinned and put her hands in her mouth. When she took them out again they were covered in drool and she rubbed her wet fingers on his hands.

  “Ooh, sorry about that, she’s teething,” Sondra apologized with a laugh. “She's drooling a lot right now.” She wiped Bernie’s hand with a tissue as well but he was too busy falling in love with the baby to notice.

  “Hello, my little Nina.” Bernie used the Hebrew word for granddaughter and got teary-eyed again. “Sweet Isabella.” He planted a kiss on her forehead and breathed in a whiff of baby shampoo, a memorable scent that transported him back to the time when he had been a young father.

  Seth touched his father’s arm. “I’m glad you came tonight, Poppa. It sounds very convenient for me to say that I was going to call you, but the truth of the matter is that I was.” He traded glances with Sondra. “If God didn’t get me, Sondra would have, and she’s far less subtle.”

  “Family is everything to me, Doctor Bernstein,” she explained and her eyes got a little teary. “I’ve lost too many members of my family, so I know just how precious we all should be to one another.” She lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m glad I’ve finally met you. I hope that you won’t mind if I call you Poppa!”

  Seth noticed a couple standing off from them who looked somewhat familiar and appeared to be waiting. “Could that be Jeb and Kenni Hastings?”

  “I almost forgot about them!” Bernie cried and turned toward them. He held up Isabella. “Look at what I’ve got!”

  “So I see!” Kenni laughed as she and Jeb joined them. “Congratulations, Grandpa, she’s beautiful!”

  Seth shook hands with Jeb while Kenni and Sondra made their own introductions. Sondra commented on Kenni’s promisingly pregnant state and the two women exchanged pregnancy anecdotes as if they had known each other for years.

  Seth noticed that preparations were being made around them to close the church and realized that the folks who remained were watching them politely, yet anxiously willing them to hurry up so they could leave. He smiled at them and nodded his head to let them know he understood.

  “I need to say goodnight to Pastor,” he said softly and looked encouragingly at his father. “Is it too late to invite you to come out with us for something to eat?”

  “No, not at all,” Bernie replied. “I would like that very much.” He remembered the Hastings who had driven him. “Jeb, would you and Kenni like to join us?”

  “Thanks, but we’re going to take a rain check on that one,” Jeb said. “We’ve still got some sleep to catch up on.” He was tired and he knew that Kenni hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before either. “We’ll catch you in the morning. Goodnight, all.” Goodbyes were said and the Hastings began to make their way out of the sanctuary.

  “I came with Jeb and Kenni,” Bernie told Seth. “Would it be too much trouble to drop your old man off at home later?” He was very anxious to spend more time with his son, to get to know Sondra and the baby.

  “No trouble at all, Poppa, it will be my pleasure.”

  Chapter 19

  Morgan tiptoed quietly down the carpeted hallway as she made her way to Angela’s bedroom. The door was ajar; the way Angela liked it when she went to bed. Slowly Morgan opened the door the rest of the way and peeked inside the bubblegum pink room with Priscilla curtains of the same color adorning the windows. Angela was asleep beneath a Hello Kitty comforter, cuddled with a stuffed teddy bear and her beloved Lovebug. Uncle Jack had given her a golden-brown teddy, which Angela insisted be named Little Brownie. She had wrapped her arms around Little Brownie as soon as she got into bed. Lovebug lay curled up along the curve of her spine, where he remained, ears twitching occasionally, as if keeping watch over his young mistress.

  Morgan leaned over her sleeping child and planted a soft kiss on the smoothness of Angela’s cheek. In the glow of the nightlight, Angela seemed to be smiling in her sleep. “You’re home now, baby girl,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I kept the one thing from you that meant so much to you. Obviously, your mother doesn’t always know everything she thinks she does, and I promise I won’t make that mistake again.”

  Morgan’s confidence about Angela’s condition allowed them to cancel the services of the nurse Marcus had placed on standby. The doctors had proclaimed their daughter ‘cured,’ and Morgan latched on to that with her entire heart. My little miracle, she thought as her fingers stroked her daughter’s hair above her eyebrows so lightly she barely touched her, the love touch mothers just seemed to have.

  Morgan heard the grandfather clock in the living room as it bonged its hourly chime. Marcus was out Christmas shopping with his brother. She could not recall ever seeing Marcus so excited about Christmas and it brought a smile to her lips as she remembered how he and Jackson had joked with one another before they left. Life was returning to normal for the Cole family, and it was almost as if nothing had happened, as if Angela’s illness was someone else's memory.

  But it had happened, Morgan thought grimly. Her stomach knotted as she thought for perhaps the millionth time that day about her foolish, ill-fated flirtation with Clay Parmenter, and what ramifications she might face for it. What on earth was I thinking? She closed her eyes as the impact of her own ugliness toward a caring nurse’s attention to Angela hit her like atomic fusion. Behind a close to perfect face of the former supermodel lurked the heart of a liar. Looking at her recent past was like trying to see clearly from behind a dark, opaque veil.

  The insistent voice that sounded from deep within nagged Morgan tirelessly that she must come clean with Marcus and confess what she had done—all of it—if she wanted a happy marriage with her beloved husband. She tried reasoning with the voice, admitting she was trying to reason with herself. Angela was home, it was nearly Christmas, and she and Marcus were finding their way back to one another, rekindling the love she feared had been lost forever. The persistent voice would not be silenced by excuses, nor would it grant her even a miniscule fraction of tolerance. No, it demanded truth and would only cease when it was told in its entirety. Morgan knew it was the price she would have to pay to regain her peace of mind and self-respect in order to move forward with marriage, with life
.

  Morgan faced the mere thought of telling Marcus with dread, unsure about how he would react to the truth once it was revealed, as there would be no going back. She had heard someone say once that sometimes it would be best to let sleeping dogs lie. Morgan knew that lies sooner or later take on a life of their own and are capable of wreaking mass destruction on the liar.

  Besides, Clay Parmenter knew what she had done and there was no guarantee he would keep quiet. She didn’t want that hanging over her head, which left her only one choice. “Oh God, I can’t tell him tonight,” she moaned in her misery. It terrified Morgan to think it might be her last night to lie in her husband’s arms and feel his love. Tomorrow would not be any easier, for all she knew Marcus might hate her once she told him the truth. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” she vowed.

  ***

  Having left Bernie at church, Kenni and Jeb were on their way home. “Look at that!” Kenni remarked. The sky was black as soot, but congregated in one spot above the hospital, a large cluster of bright white stars glittered like diamonds in the night sky.

  “Wow!” Jeb breathed. “An intern at work mentioned he saw on the news that stars have been seen clustered over the hospital. I figured it was the product of an overactive imagination.”

  Kenni took her eyes off the road just long enough to scan the skies as best as she could while maintaining safety. “I don’t see any other stars in the sky.”

  “I wonder if God’s protecting the hospital,” Jeb mused. “Someone once told me that stars signify a league of angels, and where they shine, angels are present.” He thought about Brownie and wondered.

  “Sounds almost prophetic, doesn’t it?” They would be home in a few minutes. “Who told you that about a league of angels?”

  It took Jeb a few seconds before he replied. “I think it was Tony in imaging.” He nodded. “Yes, that’s who it was. We were talking about the move of the spirit at our church—he and his wife go to Westside too—and he said that one night when he was driving home from services, the Lord showed him that. The sky was very dark when he pulled into his driveway, and when he got out of the car, he looked up and noticed that there were a couple of stars hovering above their house.”