BROWNIE: An Angel's Visit

by Linda Stanley Dalton

  Seth understood his father’s skepticism. He, too, and ashamedly so, remembered the times his mother had tried to share Jesus with him. She had wanted to share the greatest thing she ever found with her son, but he had rolled his eyes, stomped about, blasphemed and did everything except listen to what she had to say.

  “I’ve thought a lot about that.” Seth took a swallow of coffee, which was now unappetizing and cold. Traveling to other churches, meeting with many of the faith, he had become used to all types of coffee from great to gross, and it didn’t faze him. He met his father’s curious stare. “At the risk of sounding rather simplistic about it all, I wasn’t ready. I’ve heard that some people go through a transformation of sorts when they meet Jesus and accept Him for who He is.” He sighed, looked down at his hands and then returned his gaze to Bernie. “I wish I could describe what happened to me. I wish I could introduce you to all that has entered my heart since that night in Orlando.”

  Bernie nodded. “I do too.”

  ***

  Marcus had just finished signing a stack of documents to be sent out by FedEx when his secretary buzzed him on the intercom. He was anxious to be on his way, to finish up his errands so that he would have plenty of time to spend with his wife and daughter, to savor—really savor and enjoy each moment. “What is it, Crissy?” There was a smile in his voice. “Remember, the sooner I get out of here the sooner we can close this place down for Christmas.”

  There was a strained silence, the kind that leads to bad news, then, “Sir, Barbara Parmenter is here to see you.” Other than the name the woman had provided her, Crissy had no idea who her boss’ visitor was. “She says she needs a few moments of your time.”

  Through the phone, Marcus heard an unfamiliar female voice tell Crissy in a forceful but polite voice, “I must see him, it’s urgent, please.”

  “Barbara Parmenter?” Marcus had no idea why a woman he had seen during a handful of hospital related social functions wanted to see him, and on the day before Christmas Eve.

  “What should I tell her?” Crissy was in a spot with the woman only a mere foot away and in as discreet a voice as possible told him, “She’s here at my desk.”

  “It’s alright, Crissy, no worries. Have her come in, and tell the other girls that as soon as I’m finished up in here, we will all leave.”

  Seconds later the door to Marcus’ office opened. He barely knew Mrs. Parmenter, they had engaged in small talk now and then at a hospital fundraiser or two, but he couldn’t recall them ever engaging in an actual conversation.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Barbara Parmenter said in a confident tone and she smiled, closing the door behind her. The model-like wife of Doctor Parmenter, Barbara was in her mid-fifties but presented easily as a decade or so younger. She stood about five-foot-five with shoulder length, chestnut-brown hair worn in a layered bob style, and there was still a youthful sparkle in her eyes, an unusual shade almost like honey and gold combined. Her makeup rivaled Morgan’s in expertise of application, and the perfectly blended hues that accentuated her beauty. It was rumored that she had been a young starlet on the path toward a successful movie career when she met the man she would marry.

  Always portraying the gentleman Cybil raised him to be, Marcus quickly rose up from his chair. “Merry Christmas, Barbara, won’t you have a seat?” He gestured to the pair of large leather chairs in front of his desk.

  She unbuttoned her long crimson cashmere coat with one hand and Marcus couldn’t help but notice that Barbara clutched a large tan envelope in the other. With practiced grace, she chose the chair that would allow her the best eye contact with Marcus and sat down. She folded her black clutch bag in her lap, resting the envelope on top of the purse.

  Marcus saw that there were distinct similarities between Barbara and his wife. It wasn’t simply that they were both beautiful women—they shared the same body language, moved similarly, in the same type of grace, and he found it unsettling and inexplicably foreboding.

  “I understand this will be a special Christmas for you this year, Marcus,” she said sensitively, her eyes meeting his. “Clay told me that Angela has made a complete recovery, how wonderful for you and your wife.”

  “Why, yes, she has.” Marcus leaned forward in his chair. “Barbara, I can’t help but be curious as to why you’re here. Surely you didn’t come all this way to congratulate me on my daughter’s remission, though it is very kind of you to mention it.”

  Barbara tilted her head to one side and let out a slight sigh. “You’re right,” she replied as her eyes continued to meet his. “Something has been going on that I don’t believe either of us knew about.”

  Dread nagged at him as Marcus looked at the envelope. “And what might that be?”

  “Something you should see.” She placed the envelope on the mahogany desktop.

  A sensation like an electrical current, tingly and uncomfortable passed through Marcus and he felt his heart thumping in his chest with apprehension. He felt like he was moving through mud as his hand slowly reached across the desk for the envelope. His first impulse was to hand it back to her unopened, to tell her that whatever it contained, he wasn’t interested in seeing what was inside.

  Barbara leaned forward slightly. “Marcus, what you choose to do, if anything, is up to you, but you need to be aware of what’s been going on so that you can do what you must to protect your interests.”

  Marcus cleared his throat and a nervous, growling sound came out. He could not believe that his hands appeared steady when he felt them shaking as he picked up the envelope and unfastened the metal clasp. He lifted the flap and his worst possible fears were confirmed: there were photographs inside. With increasingly cold, stiff fingers, he pulled them from the envelope, and stared one-by-one at the images of his wife with his visitor’s husband.

  “When were these taken?” His heart broke at the sight of Clay Parmenter so close to Morgan’s face, so close that they seemed to be sharing each other’s breath. All the photos were neck and head shots and he was thankful that the subjects were not kissing, or worse.

  “This took place the other night.” Barbara held her hands laced tightly together in her lap. “I know all too well that my husband is no paragon of marital fidelity, so on occasion I hire a private investigator to find out what Clay is up to. These pictures were taken at Santoni’s, in the bar.”

  Marcus closed his eyes but it didn’t erase the image from his memory, not even marginally. Based upon what his wife wore in the picture, he realized this had happened the night before Angela came home, the night before Morgan miscarried. A truly horrifying thought entered his mind: Was the child Clay Parmenter’s?

  “I’m so sorry to spring this on you,” Barbara apologized, and she truly was. “You have a right to know what our spouses have been up to. These are hard to look at, I realize. The investigator said they’d had an argument, and Morgan remained alone at the bar after Clay left. She also said that this was the first time she had seen them together, and that she never witnessed any physical contact between them. Maybe we’ve caught them before it could happen.”

  Marcus opened his eyes and stared across the desk at his visitor. There was something about Marcus that instinctively kept his head clear, an inner compass that forced him to act and to think logically regardless of the situation he found himself in, and on his toes. “What do you plan to do?”

  Barbara shook her head. “I may confront him; I may not. This may be a little hard to understand, but this is not Clay’s first dalliance with another beautiful young woman, and I’m no longer naïve enough to believe it will be his last,” she stated in a calm voice. “I’ve been through this many times.”

  Marcus ran his hands across his face and let out a sigh as he sat back against his chair. “Morgan and I have had a difficult time during our daughter’s illness. Morgan, in particular, had problems dealing with all it entailed, and it has caused a lot of tension in our marriage.”

&n
bsp; “I always thought things like that would draw people closer together,” Barbara commented.

  “For my wife and I, it did exactly the opposite.”

  “I’ve seen it happen before with friends and never understood it,” Barbara said. “I’m so sorry to have been the bearer of bad news. Your wife is beautiful; I can see why Clay would pursue her.”

  Marcus ignored her last comment. He chose not to share with Barbara that he knew their spouses had plotted together against Kenni Hastings.

  “What are you going to do, Marcus?” Barbara asked. The unusual honey shade of her eyes reflected her sorrow over having possibly ruined his holiday.

  Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nearly Christmas and my daughter has been miraculously cured. Quite frankly, I don’t know what I’ll do until I do it.”

  Chapter 21

  It was mid-morning, around 10:30; Morgan was alone in the kitchen and sensed he was in the room. Angela was upstairs playing in her room with Little Brownie, Lovebug, and her entire collection of stuffed animals. Morgan was fixing herself a cup of coffee when she felt the aura of Brownie’s presence. Still, it gave her a bit of a start when she turned from the counter and saw Kevin Browne standing in the doorway. He was wearing blue scrubs beneath a tan, fleece lined winter jacket and looked like an average hospital worker, any one of dozens Morgan had seen coming and going during Angela’s hospitalization. Had she not known his true identity, she never would have suspected Brownie to be any different from the others.

  “Hello Brownie,” she called out casually despite a sudden onset of anxiety over his being there. “Angela is playing in her room.”

  Brownie crossed his arms in front of him as he studied her intently with striking green eyes. “I didn’t come here to see Angela today, Morgan; I’m here to see you.”

  “May I get you a cup of coffee?” Morgan asked as she leaned back against the white tiled counter and stuffed her hands into the pockets of well-fitting, faded jeans that accentuated her feminine curves.

  “No, thank you, I only have a moment; I’m on my way to the hospital. I thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing. You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Morgan replied honestly, wearing a cheery smile she hoped hid the anxious thump-thumping of her racing heart. “Things between Marcus and I are terrific and I believe we’re going to be okay. Thanks, Brownie, for caring about us. It’s nice to know that, well, that an angel has taken a special interest in my family.”

  Brownie was aware of what had transpired a short time ago at Marcus’ office, and that Morgan still had not been forthcoming with her husband about her relationship with Clay Parmenter. He knew it had been one-hundred percent deception, a ruse Morgan used to tempt him to do her will. History proved that even though the majority of humans underwent a spiritual awakening while in the presence of the Lord, there was no guarantee that the change would be permanent. In as little as a few hours, many disregarded what they had witnessed and returned to their usual thinking patterns and activities. This baffled Brownie; he wondered why the Lord favored humans and cared about them so much as it was obvious to him and the other angels that they caused Him great pain.

  “And Angela is back to her old self just like she was before she got sick, my perfect little princess. It’s almost as if she was never away from us. Thank you for giving back my little girl.”

  Brownie shook his head. “I didn’t, Morgan, I’ve had nothing to do with her cure. Have you forgotten where we went together, or who made it possible?”

  She shrugged, unsure what to say. She felt uneasy in his company and found it difficult to meet the gaze of those luminous green eyes and wondered why he had come. She figured there had to be a specific purpose for the visit; she wished he would get to it soon and leave so she could get back to her holiday planning. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” she asked. “Would you like to see Angela? I’m sure she would love to see you.”

  “I know Angela is happy, and my business with her is complete. As I said, I stopped by to see how you’re doing.” Despite her efforts to hide it, he knew all about her discomfort, and that it was due to guilt over things she had done, events she mistakenly believed she could continue to hide.

  “Are you going home for Christmas?”

  Brownie smiled at her choice of words. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that.”

  “Well, it was so sweet of you to stop by. I hate to rush you off, but I’ve got a million things to do. Marcus wants to have Christmas here, and on such short notice, I’m afraid I don’t know where to begin!”

  Brownie looked deeply into her eyes, hoping that he could reach past her fears. He cared deeply for the humans this year’s mission had introduced him to. He knew that this was the last time he would be able to encourage Morgan to do what she knew was right. “It’s always best when whatever you do begins in your heart, that’s where God looks,” he said gently. “While man looks at the outside, judging books by their covers, the Father looks deep within at what is in the heart. What does God see in yours? There is no hiding from God, it’s simply not possible. Tell me, Morgan, what is in your heart right now?”

  He didn’t wait for her answer; he knew she could not think of one. As quickly as he had arrived, Brownie dissolved within a mist of glittering gold sparkles to leave Morgan fearful of the meaning behind his visit, and disturbed by the words he had left her with.

  ***

  Charlie’s emotions—nervousness, happiness, anticipation—were all over the place as he made his way through the hospital’s crowded parking lot to the main entrance of Brannan’s Point Pediatric. He couldn’t have been more surprised to have received a phone call from Kenni Hastings who had explained the graveness of Michael’s condition and invited him to visit with Lauren if he was able to. It wouldn’t have mattered to Charlie had the President of the United States himself had been waiting for him; he would cancel anything if Lauren needed him.

  Charlie waited impatiently for the elevator, along with several other people who were quite vocal about their frustration and repeatedly banged on the call button. The elevator car seemed to be lost somewhere, taking forever, then finally arriving. They all piled in, and a lanky, pimply-faced teenager with a pierced nose and lip, his face partially hidden by a hooded black sweatshirt pressed the buttons for each rider’s floor. Charlie found it disturbing to look at his jacket that bore an image of a hideously ugly skull with bright orange flames shooting from its eye sockets.

  The elevator doors finally opened to the doorway of the ICU waiting area. “Over here, Charlie!” He heard Kenni call out to him as she waved her hands in the air to help him find her.

  “Any change?” he asked as he approached her.

  Kenni shook her head. “No.”

  “I guess all we can do is keep praying,” Charlie offered with a sigh. “I called Pastor before I left. He and Jenny have been praying since early this morning for Michael and said he was going to call some of the other prayer teams and pastors.”

  “You’re an awesome friend, Charlie,” Kenni complimented with a smile and touched his arm. “I knew you’d come. Lauren needs someone in her corner right now and you’re the only person I could think of to call.”

  It was the twenty-third of December but Charlie’s thoughts were not focused on his store, or the money he might lose in sales by remaining closed. If Lauren needed him, that was all that mattered. “Thanks, Kenni. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “It’s the truth,” Kenni told him. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Lauren. Do your best to get her out of here for a breath of air or a cup of coffee, okay? I don’t know if or when Michael’s condition will change, but if it does, I can always call her cell.”

  “Maybe we can go to Lyn-Della’s,” Charlie said, referring to the coffee shop near the hospital as he walked beside Kenni toward a room behind a sliding glass door assigned to Michael. He took a deep breath and pu
shed away any feelings of anxiety brewing inside of him for Lauren.

  “Lauren, look who I found wandering the halls,” Kenni said cheerily as she and Charlie entered the room.

  Lauren was sitting at Michael’s bedside amidst medical science’s best monitoring equipment, dwarfed by the sheer volume of electronic boxes that emitted high-pitched beeps, and video screens she couldn’t decipher; could only watch and wonder if what she saw depicted something good or bad. She looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and smiled at the sight of Charlie.

  “Thank you so much for coming, Charlie,” she greeted him as their eyes met. The faint scent of his cologne found her nostrils—she recognized it as Lagerfeld. It had been a long time since she smelled a man’s cologne up close, and it reminded her of Darryl in the morning before he left for work, how the fragrance would linger on her face, and sometimes her clothes after she kissed him goodbye.

  “We all need someone to lean on once in awhile,” he replied smiling back at her. Charlie didn’t see her lack of makeup or un-styled hair, nor did he see the fatigued, red-rimmed eyes, or the pale, cracked lips. Looking at Lauren, all Charlie saw were stunningly vibrant, violet eyes smiling back at him. She was a beautiful vision to Charlie who saw Lauren with the eyes of his heart.

  Lauren looked beyond Charlie to Jeb who was entering the room. Reflexively, she tensed every time anyone in a lab coat or scrubs came into the room, causing her to brace herself for the worst. “Is there any news?” Her eyes searched his for answers to questions she was unable to put into words. She couldn’t bring herself to ask how long her child had, if he could tell her when Michael might die.

  Jeb shook his head. “Doctor Andrews and I are going to run some more tests,” he said soothingly. It wasn’t much but was all he could offer her at the moment. “I’m sure you’re very tired of hearing those words right about now. Seeing as Charlie is here, may I encourage you to get out of the hospital for a few minutes? Seriously, Lauren, it will do you good. Go out for coffee or just a breath of fresh air.”