BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit

by Linda Stanley Dalton

  The sound of the kitchen phone rang intrusively, startling them both as the sound invaded the hushed, early morning tones of their conversation. The caller ID revealed the call had originated from the hospital. “Hastings.” He held his breath as he listened to Jeff Anderson’s disturbing update on Michael’s condition. “That’s not what I was hoping for. I’ll be in shortly. Thanks, Jeff.”

  “Michael?” Kenni asked as Jeb hung up. The tightness in her gut had already sensed the answer and she was simply waiting for her husband to confirm her suspicion.

  “I’m afraid so, Hon,” Jeb answered her, frowning. He was suddenly exhausted, as if he had not slept in a month. “Michael slipped into a coma a few moments ago.”

  “No!” Kenni cried and her eyes welled with tears again. “Is Lauren at the hospital?”

  “No, Jeff is going to call her.” Jeb leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to grab a quick shower and get over there.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Kenni said, “I know there comes a time for everyone when life ends, but he’s just a little boy. I had hoped Michael would pull through.”

  Jeb shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He, too, had hoped for improvement. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. We’ll just have to keep praying.”

  ***

  Morgan’s sigh sounded almost feline as she savored the wonderful ambiance of being cradled in Marcus’ strong and loving arms, breathing in the clean male smell of the cologne he had put on before they went to bed. It had faded overnight, but traces still lingered on his skin. Her head rested against his bare chest amidst the prickly blond hairs that covered it and tickled her face. She listened to the steady beating of his heart as he slept. A smile spread slowly across her lips. She was content with the man she loved, and who loved her. Angela was home and they were a family again. The doctor told her that once she healed they could try to have another baby if they wanted to.

  Like a splash of cold water, she remembered the lies. Her smile vanished and a sudden chill crept across her skin. No matter how determined she was to quit thinking about it, the thoughts kept coming back, stronger and louder, and she wondered, how do I tell him about Miranda after all this time? She had gone to great lengths to distance herself from her family for fear they would unwittingly let something slip and reveal the truth. Marcus had never expressed any curiosity as to why Morgan’s family never called, and if he had suspected anything, he never showed it.

  Morgan, how are you going to tell him about the things you have done? The little voice in her head taunted her. He’s so happy, now. Look at him! You remember how wonderful things were last night, don’t you? He’s excited about Christmas and Angela being home, and he’s so in love with you. Do you really want to rock the boat? Do you want to risk possibly losing Marcus after all you’ve been through? Morgan cuddled closer to her husband as her thoughts twisted and turned their way through her troubled mind. What would life be like without Marcus? I can’t allow that to happen.

  ***

  While Jeb’s thoughts were focused on Michael Donahue, he had managed to forget all about the accident and that his car had been towed to the dealership for repairs. The insurance company had arranged for him to have a rental car, but it would not be delivered until later in the day. Fortunately, Kenni had plenty of experience in plans changing without warning, emergencies cropping up at a moment’s notice, and could get herself together quickly.

  They were soon on their way, and a short time later they arrived at the hospital. Kenni drove up to the circular main entrance to drop Jeb off. “You go on, Sweetheart, I’ll go park the car. I know you’re anxious to get to Michael.” She leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  “I would be so lost without you.” Jeb let himself out of the car. It was cold and windy and he pulled his coat tightly around him as he hurried toward the door. Fortune was with him as he got to the elevator before it made its ascent. He moved quickly and before long he had unlocked the door to his office, hung up his coat, slipped into his white lab coat, and was on his way to meet Doctor Jefferson “Jeff” Anderson for an update on Michael’s status.

  Jeff was African American, tall and thin with short, nappy hair and eyes that always seemed to be smiling behind oval wire-rimmed glasses. He had recently moved from Florida to Ohio with his wife, their four young children, and his widowed mother. He stood at the nurses’ station with a half-empty Styrofoam cup of rapidly cooling coffee in one hand, and Michael’s chart in the other.

  “Jeb,” Jeff called out as soon as the two men made eye contact. “I called Lauren and she is on her way.” He had a soft voice that revealed a charming trace of his native Atlanta accent in his speech. When he smiled, his deep dimples showed, but he wasn’t smiling as he conferred with his colleague. He took a swallow of coffee and handed the chart to Jeb who sighed as he scanned the notes.

  “What do you make of it, Jeb? I’ve seen worse cases than Michael’s with dramatically better results!”

  Jeb looked into the deep brown eyes of the other physician. “Yeah, it’s troubling me too.” He frowned. “I’m wondering if maybe we shouldn’t have done the surgery. I mean, we had to take the kid’s heart out in order to remove all of it!”

  “And it was successful, Jeb! What other choice was there? You wouldn’t have found the other tumor and without the surgery, Michael might not have made it through the night,” Jeff offered somberly. “I think we made the only choice available to us.”

  “My second-guessing won’t help,” Jeb admitted. “It’s in God’s hands.”

  “Isn’t it always?” Jeff reminded him. He finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “Maybe we’ll see the improvement we’re expecting today.”

  The doctors heard a voice call out their names: “Doctor Hastings! Doctor Anderson!”

  Both men immediately turned toward the sound of Lauren Donahue’s voice coming from behind them. Her hair had been mercilessly whipped around by the wind and left in disarray despite her attempts to smooth the damage with her hands. The biting wind had stung her cheeks and turned them a bright shade of scarlet, and the puffy rims around her eyes clearly bore evidence that she had been crying. Jeb knew that despite whatever peace she may have made with her son’s fate, she was still a mother who might lose her child, and it always hurt.

  She was breathless as she approached them, winded from hurrying through the frigid air blowing outside. “I got here as quickly as I could.”

  “You’re good, I just got here myself.” Jeb’s features were neutral as he tried not to give much away about what he was feeling in these situations, but he did not smile as he touched her shoulder. “How are you holding up, Lauren?” She looked every bit the tired, anxious parent dealing with a critically ill child that she was.

  She shrugged and her eyes welled with tears. She blinked them back as best she could. “My son is dying, Jeb—I know he is. I know that he will be with the Lord and with his father, but it will still break my heart to lose him. I’ve tried so hard….” Suddenly her tears broke free to stream down her cheeks, and her shoulders bobbed up and down with each heart wrenching sob. Despite her faith and her belief in her Creator, Lauren’s heart felt like it was being ripped apart by unseen hands. Her beautiful child was comatose, perhaps on the threshold of death and she wished she could keep him from stepping through that doorway, but she also knew that such thoughts were futile. She could not change whatever Michael’s destiny was. She could only hold on, somehow, to the hope that she would see him again one day.

  Kenni arrived just as Lauren dissolved into tears. She rushed to Lauren’s side and immediately gathered her into her arms to comfort her. “Oh Lauren,” she murmured softly as she stroked the back of her head. “Lord Jesus,” she prayed with her eyes closed, “please let Your love and peace comfort Lauren. Strengthen her, Father, and let her feel Your love for her.”

  Jeb and Jeff went to Michael’s room in the ICU while Kenni comforted Laur
en. Still supporting her in her arms, she led the other woman to some chairs and they sat down together. Kenni shed a few tears of her own as she lovingly held Lauren. She offered words of encouragement and reassurance, and did her best to comfort her until the weeping subsided with an anguished sigh.

  Kenni reached over to the small table beside the chairs where they sat and handed Lauren some tissues. She took one and dabbed at her own eyes. “Can I get you anything, Lauren, a coffee or a soda? Could I bring you a glass of water?”

  Lauren shook her head as she mopped up her tears and blew her nose. She was exhausted, but the tension had abated somewhat and her head felt clearer. “Thank you, Kenni, for staying with me. I know you’re busy with other patients. I appreciate the concern you’ve always shown Michael, and me.”

  Kenni’s smile showed far more sadness than joy. She swallowed hard, and forced a new batch of teardrops back by blinking as quickly as she could. “You don’t have to thank me, my friend. I’m glad I could be here for you, to be that shoulder for you. Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

  “No, thank you,” Lauren replied as she continued to mop at her face and nose. “I don’t think I could keep anything down. My stomach is in knots; crying this way always makes me feel sick.”

  “Is there anyone I can call for you?” Kenni asked. “I’ll stay with you, of course, but perhaps there is someone you want to be here now. I think difficult times are made easier when there is someone we care about, and who cares about us, to share it with.”

  Lauren sighed. She used to have parents, a brother, a sister; she used to have a husband. It occurred to her that if God took Michael home she would be completely alone. “I don’t have any family besides Michael. It’s like one-by-one, my family disappeared.” Her eyes welled again but she willed herself not to cry; at least not now.

  Kenni bit her lip, hesitant about what she was about to suggest but still compelled to make the inquiry. “Would you like me to call Charlie?”

  Lauren stared at her for what seemed an eternity. She was tempted to shrug it off, to stand firm, stand alone as had become her way of life since Darryl’s death. The truth was that she wasn’t as strong as she wanted to be and it was excruciatingly painful to go through everything on her own. She liked Charlie; he was easy to talk to, a pleasant and decent Christian man.

  “I think I’d like that, Kenni,” she replied in an almost childlike voice. “Do you think he’d come?”

  Kenni smiled. “He’s your friend, Lauren. Yes, I think he’ll come.”

  ***

  Marcus and Morgan lay cuddled in their bed, taking advantage of some quiet time together before the day intruded and took their focus away from Angela and each other. “What would you think about having Christmas here?” he asked.

  Morgan’s eyes met his. They always had Christmas at his parents’ home in Cincinnati. “Why?” she asked. Morgan hadn’t decorated the house this year, and she wasn’t prepared to host the festivities. They were planning to put up the tree on Christmas Eve and allow Angela to trim the tree however she wanted to, to keep things easy and relaxed.

  “Well, I was thinking that with our little girl back home with us, it just seems right to have Christmas here this year.” Marcus planted a kiss on the top of his wife’s hair, inhaling the delicious watermelon scent of the styling products—Morgan Cole brand, of course.

  “I suppose it doesn’t really matter that we haven’t decorated, and I have to admit it would be nice to have it here, to build some family memories. We could use some new traditions.”

  “That’s my Morgan.” Marcus kissed her lips leisurely before he smiled at her once more. “Then I leave it in your capable hands. Tomorrow night is Christmas Eve! For the first time in a long time, I’m really excited.”

  Morgan smiled back, catching the excitement of his contagious enthusiasm. “And what are your plans for the day?” she asked him as she sat up and ran her fingers through her hair.

  Marcus shrugged. “I have a few things to take care of at the office, and then serious shopping. I want everything done so that tomorrow we spend all of our time together; you, me and Angela. If I have my way, this will be the most perfect, memorable Christmas ever.”

  Morgan had purchased Marcus’ and Angela’s gifts months before. “I’ll make sure the cameras, etcetera, are fully charged so we don’t miss a single second. Oh, Marcus, I agree, this is going to be the best Christmas we’ve ever had!”

  “I have no doubt about that,” Marcus replied and gathered his wife in his arms once more. His heart swelled with love and contentment. They had survived the storm of their daughter’s illness, though just barely. He had every reason to suspect that everything he wanted this Christmas would actually happen… and he wondered what Morgan would say when her parents showed up.

  ***

  Bernie smelled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee the moment his eyes opened. He wondered if it was what had woken him nearly half an hour before his alarm was scheduled to go off, or whether it was because he was not the only one in the house this morning. He arose and stretched before his feet slid into the slippers carefully placed on the floor in exactly the same position as always.

  Moments later, he walked into the peach-and-white colored kitchen where Seth sat at the kitchen table in his navy blue robe, his back to the doorway. He was reading as he drank his coffee and Bernie was hesitant to disturb him. “Good morning, Poppa!” Seth greeted without turning around. “The coffee’s fresh.”

  It seemed so natural to find Seth in the kitchen as if the years and the distance between them had been instantly bridged. “Good morning, son.” Bernie grabbed a mug and prepared his coffee with cream and two yellow-colored sweetener packets. “Where are my lovely daughter-in-law and granddaughter this morning?”

  Seth smiled. “The girls are still sleeping. The baby is teething and kept Sondra up late. Isabella always has her hopping; I don’t know how she keeps up with her.”

  Bernie savored the sound of fatherly pride and love evident in his voice when Seth spoke about his wife and child, the warm glow that showed in his chocolate brown eyes. It made him feel that he may have been a pretty good dad after all, and grateful that his son had found someone wonderful to share his life with.

  Bernie looked at the leather-bound book resting on the table; its cover was creased and obviously well used, a Bible. He clearly saw the sentences printed in red ink and knew they marked the words spoken by Jesus Christ. “What drew you to become a Rabbi?” Bernie asked, unable to hold back his curiosity about his son’s vocation. “I never would have guessed that you would have this type of calling on your life.” A little tug at his heart reminded him that Isabel had taken her love for her Lord very seriously.

  Seth marked his page with a red satin ribbon woven into the binding of the book before he closed it. He rested his hands atop the lovingly worn, burgundy leather and as he met his father’s curious gaze he wondered how he could possibly explain.

  “I was searching for something to believe in, something that would fill all the emptiness and restlessness that tormented me,” Seth began. The memories that came to his mind were not without a certain amount of pain, but his final fight with his parents led him to the path that transformed his life.

  “It seems that your mother’s prayers for you were answered,” Bernie remarked and stared into the coffee mug. “She was very worried about you.”

  “I eventually ended up in Orlando, Florida and I had this overwhelming desire to attend temple. It was like a yearning that I simply had to fulfill, something I’d never experienced before, not over anything. I met a man in a coffee shop and I asked him if he knew of a synagogue in the area. He gave me directions and off I went.”

  Bernie had not been to temple in more years than he could recall, and an old saying many people said about a church, or temple, falling in on him if he entered one came to mind.

  “When I got there, I realized that there was something different going on, and a
t first, even though I felt very uncomfortable, I also felt compelled to stay.” Seth smiled. “As it turned out, it was a temple of Messianic Jews.”

  “Did you just instantly convert?” Bernie asked. It surprised him that he was genuinely interested and he felt a little guilty. He had never expressed any interest in Isabel’s attempts to discuss her faith, her Jesus, with him.

  “Not that day,” Seth explained, “but a seed had been planted. I began attending their Bible studies, which linked the Old and New Testaments together for me for the first time. It’s funny, but what they were studying, what I was hearing and reading for myself, well, something in me began to see. It was as if a veil tore and suddenly I could see things for what they are. I know that sounds rather dramatic, but that’s how it happened.”

  He noticed the skeptical look on his father’s face, the lips pursed slightly and slanting to one side, the furrowed brow and narrowed, and squinting eyes. It was a look he knew well, but it had nothing to do with faith or even Jesus; it was simply Martin Bernstein’s way of showing that whatever was being put before him, be it theory, food, etcetera, he wasn’t finding it quite kosher. “What are you thinking, Poppa?”

  Non-committal, Bernie gave a silent shrug. While his wife had been a Gentile, Isabel’s story was different, but not by much. His wife had been raised lovingly in what she described as a “haphazardly religious household” without consistency or structure. Her parents took her to church if and when they felt like it. Even after she and Bernie were first married, the church and God didn’t seem to be important to her. Then one night, she went with a friend to an evangelical church in Columbus, and when she came back she announced that not only had she accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior, she had also been baptized.

  “I guess I have a hard time wondering why not everyone reaches the same conclusion as you have, as these Messianic Jews you mention.” Bernie rested his chin against his hands and looked at Seth as if seeing him for the first time. “Your mother tried to share her faith us and you weren’t any more receptive than I was. If I recall correctly, you chastised her for it, then unloaded on me for not attending temple, and as you put it, ‘forsaking the Holy Days’.”