An Angel for Dry Creek

“Hmm,” Glory murmured pleasantly. She’d need to mix some blue with that mauve to get the eye color right.

“Your age,” Elmer repeated. “And what might that be?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Ah,” Elmer said.

Matthew watched as the older man marked down a figure in a little notepad he pulled out of his pocket.

“And your birthday?”

“March 15.”

“Good month,” Elmer said as he nodded and marked another figure in his notepad. “That means you were born in oh three, fifteen, ah, 19…ah…?”

“Say, what are you doing?” Matthew demanded in surprise as he hobbled over to Elmer and stared at the older man.

“What?” Elmer bristled as he slid the notepad into his jacket pocket. “Just making conversation.”

“You’re planning to buy a lottery ticket from your daughter in L.A., aren’t you?” Matthew said in amazement. “And you’re getting some lucky numbers.”

“It’s all right.” Glory looked up at the two of them and smiled. “At least that way, he’ll have to call her.”

“Yeah,” Elmer said smugly as he patted the notebook in his pocket. “It’ll be our family time. Nothing better than talking to your family.”

Matthew grunted. “You’ve got better things to talk about than numbers and lottery tickets. Besides, her numbers aren’t magic. She’s not an angel.”

“And how do you know that?” Elmer lifted his chin. “She could be. The Bible says we sometimes entertain angels unaware. Right in Hebrews 13:2. I looked it up.”

“But the angels aren’t unaware.” Glory didn’t like the direction this discussion was going. She was as earthbound as anyone. “And an angel? I assure you, I’m not one.” She was just finishing up the right eyebrow on Susie’s picture. Eyebrows were important character pieces. They could make a face look innocent, bewildered, sad. Glory had settled on innocent for Susie.

“You could be,” Elmer stubbornly insisted. “You just might not want us to know.”

Matthew snorted. “An angel wouldn’t lie.” He didn’t know why he cared, but it gave him a funny feeling to have people talk about Glory as though she was an angel.

Not that the people of Dry Creek didn’t need an angel. Fact is, they needed a whole troupe of angels and a basket of miracles, too. He didn’t begrudge them their hope. It’s just that he, of all people, knew the disappointment that came when expected miracles didn’t happen.

The bell over the door rang as the door swung open and a half dozen little children in snowsuits walked in. A huge gust of wind and Mrs. Hargrove came in behind them.

“Josh! Joey!” Matthew recognized his sons, or, at least, he recognized their snowsuits. There was much flapping about before the hoods were down and the young faces looked around the hardware store.

“There she is!” Josh shouted to his friends, and pointed at Glory.

Matthew tensed.

“Hi, there.” Glory looked up at the children and smiled. Their bright snowsuits made a lovely study in color. Blue. Red. Pink. Even a purple one. “I should paint you all sometime. Just like this.”

“I see you do have everything set up,” Mrs. Hargrove said in satisfaction as she stepped out in front of her charges. “I was hoping you did. The children have never seen a real artist at work. If you don’t mind them watching. I thought it’d be educational.”

Matthew relaxed. That’s why they were here.

“And she’s an angel, too,” Joey boasted quietly.

Matthew bit back his tongue. If Josh had done the boasting, he’d have corrected him in an instant. But it had been so long since he’d seen Joey care enough to speak up about anything, he didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Well, maybe not quite an angel,” Matthew did offer softly. “Sometimes a good person can seem like an angel to others without really being one.”

“Josh said she’d take our pictures to God,” said another little boy, Greg, glancing sideways at Glory. “For Christmas.”

Glory put down her brushes and turned to face the expectant faces looking at her. She noticed that most of the pockets had a piece of paper peeking out of them.

“I’d be happy to take your pictures,” Glory said as she stepped forward. It had been a long time since she’d done this much Christmas shopping, but it’d be fun. Sylvia, she knew, would enjoy being her go-between and Glory had enough in her checking account to cover it. “Just be sure you put your full names on the pictures—first and last.”

“Last, too?” one of the boys asked, his forehead puckering in a quick frown. “I can’t write my last.”

“Maybe Mrs. Hargrove can help you,” Glory said. “But I do need first name and last name so the right present gets to the right child.”

“I thought God knew our names,” a little girl in a pink snowsuit said suspiciously as she stepped out of the leg of her suit. “If you’re his angel you should know, too.”

“I’m not an angel,” Glory said.

“Then why do you want our pictures?” the little girl demanded.

“She’ll give your pictures to your parents.” Mrs. Hargrove stepped in front of the children. “It’s your parents that—” She stumbled. Glory could see why. Those shining little faces looked up with such trust.

“My parents already said I won’t get no Betsy Tall doll,” the girl said. “They said it’s too ex—cen—sive.”

“Expensive, dear.” Mrs. Hargrove corrected the pronunciation automatically. “Too expensive. And I’m sure there are other dolls.”

The hope was beginning to fade on the young faces.

“I’d be happy to take your pictures,” Glory said again softly. She held out her hands and the children quickly stuffed their pictures into them.

“Mrs. Hargrove will help me figure out who’s who,” Glory assured the children.

Glory was watching the children and didn’t hear Matthew coming up next to her.

“I’ll help with the pictures,” Matthew whispered in her ear.

Glory jumped. Matthew startled her. He was so…well, just so close. He unnerved her. She pulled away slightly. “I don’t need help. I’m fine. I can take care of it.”

“How? You’re not an angel.”

“Just because I’m not an angel doesn’t mean I can’t buy a few gifts.”

“For children you don’t even know?”

“I know them now.” Glory shrugged. What was it with this man? Didn’t he believe anyone could do something for someone else just because?