Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [7]
“The poor dear.”
Gabriel didn’t view Monica in those terms. It was her type that caused him the greatest concern. While Monica struggled to lead people to God, her sanctimonious ways often steered them in the opposite direction.
“She sings very well,” Goodness commented.
Gabriel nodded. “She’s gifted in several areas.”
“I shouldn’t have any trouble teaching what she needs to know before Christmas.”
How confident Goodness sounded, Gabriel noticed. He sighed inwardly, wondering once more how much he should explain, then decided it would be best not to discourage Goodness’s enthusiasm. She’d discover everything she needed to know soon enough.
“The man God has for her is ready for a wife?”
Gabriel was beginning to feel a twinge of guilt. “Yes, and eager. Very eager. Only he doesn’t know it yet, but you won’t have to worry about him. Monica’s the one who needs you.”
“Then I’ll do everything within my power to help her.”
“You’re ready?” Gabriel asked, thinking he’d best send her soon before he said too much. This request would be a learning experience for this young prayer ambassador as well as for her charge. All he could do was hope for the best.
“Let’s go,” Goodness said, impatient to leave the splendor of heaven and walk incognito into a dull, sin-cloaked world.
Gabriel watched as Goodness floated down from heaven, thinking humans were right about one thing. God often did work in mysterious ways, and never more so than in this instance. Gabriel was confident of one thing. Neither Goodness nor Monica Fischer would ever be the same again.
Monica looked out over the gathering crowd and was pleased at the attention their small choir had garnered. Shoppers stopped, their arms folded around packages, and some of the tiredness left their eyes. A few joined in and sang themselves. Children were lifted in their fathers’ arms for a better look. The transformation the singing group produced brought a small, satisfied smile in Monica’s heart.
Then she noticed a man who stood head and shoulders above the others. He seemed to be trapped by the people around him, and was impatiently edging his way around the gathering.
Being on the top riser gave her an excellent view and she frowned at this intruder. He needed both a shave and a haircut. Even from this distance she noted his eyes, which were a cutting shade of cobalt blue. He seemed to need to get somewhere and was impatiently making his way through the crowd, scooting around one and then another with nary a word of pardon. He wore a beige trench coat and looked as if he’d slept in the bedraggled thing.
Monica’s gaze followed him as long as she could, but he soon moved out of her peripheral vision. What an unpleasant man, she decided, annoyed at his intrusion into their performance. No doubt he was a modern-day Scrooge who resented every moment wasted on the celebration of the Savior’s birth.
The small church band struck up the first chords of the next carol, “Silent Night.” The highest notes were well within Monica’s vocal range and her voice was strong enough to ring out loud and clear. When the moment arrived for her short solo performance she allowed her soul to soak up the music and fly free. Then unexpectedly, from out of nowhere, another voice joined and blended with hers.
Quickly Monica looked in both directions to see who had been so bold as to disrupt her one moment of glory. She knew she shouldn’t be so concerned, but it bothered her, and yet as far as she could tell none of the other sopranos was singing.
She raised her voice a full octave, straining her vocal cords. The second voice followed her lead, angelic in its purity and so strong it all but drowned out her own. What perplexed Monica most was that no one else around her seemed to notice anything was amiss. Faces from the audience gazed on approvingly and even the choir director smiled, delighted