Part 4

A Gathering of Angels
by Katherine Valentine

(Page 4 of 4)

The coffee's intoxicating aroma wafted up from Lori's Baseball's Hall of Fame mug. My kingdom for a cup of coffee, Father James silently lamented. Life wasn't fair. The priest watched, like a dog fixed on a bone, as Lori blew on the steam rising from her cup.

Lori continued. "But there isn't much that I can do. Bob's illness last year drained all of our savings, so summer camp's out. And now with this new bakery business. I can't just pick up and leave whenever I feel like it."

A few months ago, Harry had expanded the restaurant, knocking down a wall into the adjacent store and creating a bakery that showcased Lori's famous muffins and cakes, recipes all gleaned from her grandmother's files.

"Several of us working moms have approached Mother Superior about starting a daycare at the retirement home. It certainly would be a wonderful addition to our town."

"And what did she say?"

"She wants to wait until all of their residents are settled in before the nuns can seriously consider it."

"Maybe things will be a little better when Bob gets back," Father James said. "And how is his doing?"

"Not a trace of cancer," Lori said joyfully. "Doc Hammon said the oncologists have never seen such a perfect bone marrow match."

"Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised,'" he fairly sang. The entire town had prayed fervently for Bob's recovery. "And I take it the bakery is still doing well."

"Too well, if you can imagine such a thing," Lori said. "We're sold out most mornings by ten o'clock. I keep coming in earlier and earlier in hopes I can bake enough to satisfy the demand, but unfortunately there are always a few disgruntled customers who arrive after everything is gone." "Well, that's a nice problem to have."

"Oh, I don't mean to sound ungrateful," she said, "but all this success means I have a lot less time to spend with Sarah. I'm beginning to wonder if Harry shouldn't find someone else to run the bakery. I could always go back to just waitressing. Less hours."

"What? And deprive the town of those delicious confections? Why, I've yet to get a taste of your Haddam Hall Gingerbread. Every time I come in they're sold out."

Lori laughed, "I'll save you one next time I bake a batch."

Father James took a swig of his Lemon Balm and tried not to grimace. Replacing the mug, he suggested, "Why don't you enroll Sarah in the Bible camp? Father Dennis and Reverend Curtis are starting one up next week. It's free to parishioners. Classes are going to be held in the basement of the Congregational church. Arts and crafts, story time you know, things like that. They're using the town green for outdoor games and activities. Barry Hornibrook has even offered the kids the use of the beach by his new hotel complex. Sarah would have a great time, and it would free up some of that guilt you're carrying around," he teased.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea."

Sarah peeked out from around the corner. "Mommy, it's too hot in the kitchen. Can I color over there on a table?"

"Sure. Pick any one you want."

"Let's see what you've been coloring," Father James said as she started to pass by.

Sarah shyly handed him her picture.

Father James pretended to study it with great earnestness, then looked up and smiled. "Why, Sarah, this picture is supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

Sarah giggled. Father James felt as though he had won the Lotto.

"How would you like to go to summer Bible camp?" her mother asked, suddenly feeling not quite so desperate. "There will be games to play and trips to the beach and lots of fun things to do. It's got to be more fun than hanging around here or with Daddy when he gets home. What do you say?"

Sarah looked up and frowned. "Will Jamie be there?" Jamie Rupert was her very best friend.

"I don't know," Father James said, "but if your mom will come around to the rectory after work, I'll give her a brochure and she can deliver it to Jamie's mom and maybe she will be allowed to come, too." He patted the top of Sarah's head. "How's that sound?"

"Will I be allowed to color?"

Nellie kept an anxious eye on the clock in the teacher's lounge. She and her coworkers had only a few minutes left before the principal expected them back into the auditorium to resume their pre- school-year briefing. Classes were to begin in just a few weeks, and several changes in the state's educational policies and their ramifications needed to be discussed.

But before she allowed ideas about possible new placement tests and curricula to invade her thoughts, she deliberately closed her eyes, blocking out everything except the memory of Harry's gentle voice, which still rang in her ears. She turned toward the window and closed her eyes, sealing in its sound, committing every morsel of their conversation to memory. She would replay snatches of it intermittently throughout the rest of the day.

Just look at me, she thought, like some moonstruck teenager. Nellie Anderson, the town spinster, acting like an adolescent. It made her giggle. Two teachers seated in reading chairs by the large paneled bookcase looked at her quizzically, but she didn't care. How glorious it felt to be loved and adored by a man. Harry had helped to refashion her quiet, lonely world, filling her lackluster days with bright, hope-filled moments. Suddenly, she believed that anything was possible, even the miracle for which she so fervently prayed the means to save her family home.

No one except Father James knew that Nellie was in peril of losing her home, a property that had been in her family for hundreds of years. Her mother had heavily mortgaged it when her father had gotten ill, then she herself had taken sick, which greatly added to the expenses.

The family lawyer had suggested that Nellie make her mother a ward of the state, place her in a nursing home, declare bankruptcy. Nellie refused. Instead, she worked more hours, even through the summer months, stopped taking vacations and personally attended to her mother's needs. When her mother died, Nellie was left with a mountain of bills that included a balloon mortgage payment due in a few weeks' time. She had no way of paying it.

"Coffee break's over," one of the teachers announced, rising from his chair. "Time to get back."

There was a brief scuffling of feet and folding of newspapers and closing of books. Nellie gathered a stack of papers bearing the state's seal that she had intended to review but, instead, had called Harry. Her movements were slow, deliberate. She lingered behind, watching the others file out of the room.

She could still hear Harry's deep, baritone voice, and the way it sounded when he called her "Honey." She loved him so much and hated keeping her financial problems to herself. But if he knew he'd want to help. Nellie couldn't allow that. She was much too proud.

No, she would work it out alone somehow. She had been thinking about taking on a second job. The Dorsetville Gazette had advertised that office cleaners were needed over in Woodstock. She had circled the ad. She planned to drive there after today's meeting. Another reason for her call to Harry. She needed to break their date. They had plans to meet after the retirement home luncheon today.

Finally, Nellie could procrastinate no longer. She slowly made her way out into the hall.

© 2004 Penguin, a division of Penguin Putnam, used by permission.

About the Author

Katherine Valentine is an American folk artist who has been a regular guest on Lifetime's Our Home show and an instructor with the New York City Museum of American Folk Art and the Brookfield (Connecticut) Craft Center. Her 1980 near-death experience, the subject of several books, has been featured on television shows, including Good Morning America.