“How about doing a bit of Christmas shopping?” Helen suggested. “It’s been so long since I’ve gone into town, and there’s no better time than the present.”

  Mrs. Miracle smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea.”

  They waited until mid-morning and then caught the bus to the downtown shopping district. The streets were filled with shoppers, the air festive with the sound of the bell-ringers. A vendor stood on the corner selling hot chestnuts, bringing back childhood memories for Helen. She paused, sure she could smell cinnamon blended in with the smell of freshly cut evergreens.

  They walked arm in arm toward Pacific Place, the shopping mall in the heart of downtown Seattle. A group of carolers strolled past, dressed in Victorian costumes, complete with fur mufflers and long wool coats. The men wore top hats and knitted scarves. Helen and Mrs. Miracle paused to listen to the singers’ harmonizing voices until they faded as they rounded the corner.

  “This is everything that I remember about Christmas,” Helen said, pausing to look inside the Nordstrom windows at the long line of parents with impatient children awaiting their turn to visit Santa.

  Helen recalled taking Laurel here for her picture the first Christmas she’d come to live with them, despite the ten-year-old’s protests that she was too old. The pictures that were returned to them in the mail spoke volumes of the grief lingering in Laurel’s heart. Helen had been desperate, doing everything she could to bring a smile to that grieving child. Nothing had worked, until they’d baked those gingerbread men.

  Stepping out of the cold, Helen and Mrs. Miracle walked into the mall and took the escalator to the second floor, to Laurel’s favorite stationery store. Helen wanted to purchase a box of high-quality stationery for her granddaughter, knowing how much Laurel would treasure this gift.

  As she was about to head to the cashier, Helen’s eyes landed on a shelf displaying baby announcements. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled at Mrs. Miracle. “It’s a girl, you say?”

  Mrs. Miracle grinned and nodded.

  Helen added a box to the basket on her arm, knowing that Laurel would love to use her own beautiful handwriting for the exquisite announcements rather than spend money for the online version. “Should I put those under the tree? Or wait until after Christmas to give them to her?”

  “The tree,” Mrs. Miracle advised with a twinkle in her eye.

  Helen’s heart swelled. Laurel had to hold on only a while longer.

  They ate lunch at a lovely Italian restaurant, both savoring the ravioli. Splurging, Helen enjoyed a glass of wine with their meal and felt light-headed again for an entirely different reason.

  “You shouldn’t have let me order that Chianti,” she chastised her friend.

  “No worries. I’ll make sure we make it home safe and sound.”

  Once they finished lunch, Helen wanted to stroll down to Pike Place Market. She’d always loved the unique market, which happened to be the longest-running farmers’ market in the States, a fact that all of Seattle was proud to boast.

  As they walked past the shop that sold Beecher’s cheese, Helen noticed a line extending out the door for the original Starbucks. It amazed her to see so many willing to wait for the experience of paying five dollars for a cup of coffee. Several were looking at their phones, hardly aware of the moving line.

  They stepped across the street and into the market. Pike Place Market was a wonderland of sights and sounds, of fishmongers tossing salmon, and of colorfully displayed fresh vegetables and fruits. Booth after booth of craftspeople were selling their wares, from leather goods to flavored honeys, spiced nuts, and beautifully arranged Christmas bouquets.

  Mrs. Miracle paused long enough to look over the figurines crafted out of ash from the 1980 eruption of Mount Saint Helens. Thinking Zach might use the collectible as a paperweight on his work desk, Helen purchased one shaped like an orca, knowing how much he liked whales.

  The crowds were thick and the two stayed only long enough to make their way through the upper floor. A walkway from the market led down to the waterfront, but by then Helen had grown tired, and they made their way by bus back to the house.

  * * *

  —

  When Laurel returned from school, she found Helen sitting in her chair, knitting. “How was your day?” Helen asked her granddaughter.

  “Busy. What about you?”

  “Mrs. Miracle and I had a wonderful day,” Helen said, sharing a satisfied smile with her Caring Angel.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Helen watched as Laurel left the house to return to school for the meeting with the parents regarding the holiday program. As soon as the door closed, Helen looked toward her companion.

  “I want so badly to tell her about the baby that’s coming,” she said with a disgruntled sigh.

  Mrs. Miracle joined her in the living room, delivering a fragrant cup of Christmas tea along with a plate of cookies. She sat next to Helen and gently patted her hand. “Now isn’t the time, dear.”

  Helen trusted her angel friend. How could she not, seeing that Mrs. Miracle had been sent specifically for this mission? Her granddaughter was certain to think this news was yet another sign of Helen’s dementia.

  “She would pretend she didn’t hear me, wouldn’t she? She might even laugh it off,” she said, knowing the subject of a baby was the last thing her granddaughter would want to discuss.

  “Sarah did, too, if you recall.”

  “Sarah?” Helen couldn’t recall anyone in her acquaintance with that name.

  “Yes, Abraham’s Sarah. When the angel of the Lord came to Abraham and told him he would have a son at that time in the following year, Sarah overheard and did her best to smother a laugh.”

  Ah yes, the Bible story. Helen knew it well. While Helen understood that her granddaughter might doubt her sanity, she wished there was a way she could infuse Laurel with faith. She badly wanted to give her granddaughter a reason to believe without outright announcing there would soon be an infant in her arms. She trusted that Mrs. Miracle knew best.

  Her eyes returned to the Christmas tree. She was mesmerized by it, caught up in the memories of Christmas past. How quickly the years had flown by. It seemed like only yesterday that the troubled ten-year-old Laurel had come to live with her and Robert. And here she was now, married and teaching at the local school, the very one her daughter, Kelly, had attended. As an adult, her granddaughter’s heart was once again hurting, as she dealt with another significant loss. Only this time, baking cookies wasn’t going to help smooth the road.

  “Laurel has reached a place of resignation,” her companion said. “That’s understandable, but Zach isn’t there yet. What I’m hoping is that Laurel will see all that’s good in her life, instead of focusing on what she doesn’t have, and be grateful for what she does.”

  Mrs. Miracle was right, Laurel needed to find a way to be genuinely grateful for what she had, not sorry for what she was lacking, and let that gratitude fill the hole in her heart.

  Caught up in her musing, she hadn’t noticed that her friend had left the room. It was several moments before Mrs. Miracle returned, carrying a dilapidated box with her.

  “What in heaven’s name is that?”

  “I believe it’s the nativity set you mentioned,” she said. While on the bus ride home, Helen had reminisced about the set from her childhood that she’d once had and lost.

  Helen’s musings quickly came to a halt. “Where did you find it? Was it stored in the garage, like all those other long-lost ornaments you discovered?”

  The other woman smiled and left the question unanswered. “Where would you like me to put it up?”

  Her mother had set up the ceramic nativity scene every Christmas on a small table next to the fireplace in the family’s farmhouse. It was the first thing visitors saw when entering their home during the Christmas season. It was the item she’d wanted most when her parents had passed. Over the years, several of the pieces had been broken. The original set had seventeen pieces but had dwindled down to three or four. Helen had despaired when the arm of the Baby Jesus had cracked. She glued the Christ Child back together as best she could, and tucked the remaining pieces away in Bubble Wrap, never pulling them out of storage after that.

  “It’s a lovely set.”

  “It was at one time,” Helen agreed, saddened by the loss. “I made the mistake of placing it under the tree. Kelly loved the animals and would play with them. She was careful, but accidents happen. I should’ve known better than to let her treat them as toys, seeing how precious that set was to me. The donkey and one of the sheep were the first to be broken.”

  “Yes, children do love playing with nativity scene pieces.”

  Kelly had wept at the loss of that donkey, and she was genuinely sorry. Silent tears had fallen from Helen’s eyes, too.

  “What would you think if we put it up on the end table closest to the tree?” Mrs. Miracle asked.

  That sounded fine with Helen. The tea had cooled, and she sipped it. The orange-cinnamon flavor was the perfect complement to the season and exactly what she needed after their shopping expedition.

  While she relaxed, the caregiver disappeared for a few minutes and returned with a second box. She set it down and carefully unwrapped each piece of Helen’s long-lost nativity set.

  All seventeen pieces.

  Watching in astonishment, Helen closed her eyes and smiled. Why was she shocked? Mrs. Miracle had made no secret of her heavenly connection. This was simply one more fun surprise. One more miracle.

  Mrs. Miracle placed the baby in the manger in the center of the table before she added two more of the figurines: Mary and Joseph. The shepherds appeared next, along with a variety of barnyard animals. The last to be set into place were the host of heavenly angels.

  “The angels were always my favorite,” Helen said, caught up in the memories of Christmas as a child.

  “Were they?” Mrs. Miracle asked, seemingly delighted. “Several of my closest friends were in the countryside of Bethlehem that very night.”

  Helen waited, certain there was a story to be told.

  “Shirley couldn’t stay away. She isn’t one of the Caring Angels here on earth like me.”

  “She isn’t?” Helen asked, genuinely interested. “And Shirley? Angels have human names?”

  “Yes. Shirley is part of a trio of angels who are my dearest friends.”

  “Are they guardian angels?”

  “No, my friends are classified as prayer ambassadors.”

  Helen was unfamiliar with the term. “What’s the difference between what you do and what they do?”

  “Let me explain. Gabriel assigns the ambassador angels to answer prayers, which doesn’t require taking on human form. As a Caring Angel, I’m able to do that as needed.”

  “So prayer ambassador angels aren’t able to appear as humans…like you or me?”

  “Not unless it’s absolutely necessary, although my friends have pushed the limits of that rule on several occasions.”

  Helen could see that the Caring Angel was having trouble holding back a smile. “Oh?”

  “Answering prayers isn’t as easy as it sounds,” Mrs. Miracle clarified, growing serious once again. “First off, Goodness and Mercy tend to be somewhat free-spirited. No pun intended. They are intrigued by earth and its people. All too often, they manage to get caught up in the lives of those they’ve been assigned to help, only to forget the original reason they’ve been given their assignment.”

  “Can you give me an example of what you mean?” Helen had been listening intently but wasn’t sure she fully understood.

  “Well…” Mrs. Miracle hesitated and looked over her shoulder, in case someone might be listening in on their conversation. “You see, the role of prayer ambassadors is more than answering prayers. Before they can complete their mission, their end goal is to teach a lesson to the human assigned to them.”

  “What kind of lesson?” Helen leaned forward to better hear the explanation. This business about the angels’ duties intrigued her.

  Tapping her finger against her lower lip, Mrs. Miracle appeared deep in thought. “This isn’t my area of expertise, you understand.”

  “But you know more than you’re saying.”

  “I do,” she agreed, “but I’m not free to share any more information than I already have.”

  That made sense.

  “I can tell you this much,” the other woman continued. “Once the prayer is recorded, Gabriel reads it over and assigns it to the most qualified angel to find the answer. The key element for each angel is to be certain to teach the one who prays what they need to learn. Rest assured, every prayer is answered in God’s time.”

  “Every prayer?”

  “Oh yes, but not always the way one might want or expect. God knows best, and humans are left to accept that on faith.”

  “What were the names of your friends again?”

  “Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy.”

  Helen leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and smiled. “ ‘Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life,’ ” she quoted. “Like the Twenty-third Psalm?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you say these three angels are your dearest friends?”

  “They are,” she confirmed. “And when the time comes, and you’re called to heaven, you’ll meet them yourself.”

  “I’ll look forward to it.” Helen’s mental abilities might not be what they once were, and her body was slowly giving out, but that was to be expected. She still had time yet and was feeling like her much younger self since her companion’s arrival.

  “Getting back to that first Christmas,” Mrs. Miracle continued, “Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy were there with the heavenly host of angels who visited the shepherds—they were far too excited to stay away. Unfortunately, Shirley sang off-key, but the shepherds didn’t appear to notice.”

  Helen laughed. “I’m not musically inclined myself, so she and I suffer the same problem.”

  “Shirley volunteered to stay behind to watch over the flocks while the shepherds hurried into the city to see the baby the angels told them about.”

  “Poor Shirley.”

  “Goodness and Mercy both stayed behind to help. There were plenty of angels that night at the manger to help celebrate, so they weren’t missed, especially since they had already crashed the party on the hillside.”

  “What a glorious night that must have been! Do you see your friends often?”

  “Not nearly as often as I’d like.”

  The nativity scene was in place now, and Mrs. Miracle stepped aside so Helen could view it. “What do you think?”

  “It’s exactly like it used to be,” Helen said, thinking back to her childhood when her mother had arranged the pieces. They were in the same position as her mother had placed them all those years ago.

  “Tell me more about the angels,” Helen said, wanting to learn everything she could.

  “I dare not. I shouldn’t have said as much as I already did. It would be far too easy for you to forget in the excitement of the season and repeat what I said to Laurel and Zach.”

  “Oh dear, you’re right. I should have never mentioned you’re an angel. I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries, dear one,” Mrs. Miracle assured her. “My fear is that it has caused them extra concern for you. It’s best to say nothing else for now. All in due time, they will learn the truth.”

  That was enough to satisfy Helen.

  “However, I will tell you this—I’ve enlisted Mercy’s help.”

  “You have? With the adoption?”

  “No, with Zach. It has something to do with shopping for baby clothes. I’m not going to say anything more. It’ll be a surprise, and I don’t want to spoil it.”

  “Can’t you at least tell me what Mercy’s going to do?”

  “You’ll learn all about it later. I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

  Helen immediately started putting things together. There was an entire nursery filled with baby items that Laurel and Zach had bought for Jonathan.

  The nursery. Laurel had refused to enter ever since they’d had to give up the boy they’d come to love, to think of as their own.

  Helen would never forget the agonized look on her granddaughter’s face as she’d handed Jonathan over to the social worker. Zach had placed his arms around Laurel, and when the door closed, they’d clung to each other and openly wept. The scene had played over and over in Helen’s head for weeks afterward.

  They’d carefully painted the room in preparation for the arrival of their baby boy. Zach had drawn a huge hot-air balloon with a baby in the basket. Jonathan was the name they’d chosen for him. It meant ‘a gift from God,’ and it had been scripted on the woven bucket hanging below the big, colorful balloon.

  To know there was another baby due for them filled Helen with happiness. It was all she could do to keep the news to herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Zach’s meeting didn’t last as long as he thought it would, which came as a pleasant surprise. Laurel was staying late at school, working with the parents and other teachers for the holiday assembly. Nana was with Mrs. Miracle, so Zach couldn’t think of a better time for him to do a bit of Christmas shopping.

  He left his office at Amazon, which overlooked the Spheres in downtown Seattle. This close to Christmas, everyone seemed to have someplace to be and they were in a hurry to get there. Zach didn’t normally pay much attention to crowds. He was a man accustomed to routine and seldom deviated from it. As he made his way toward Macy’s on foot, he mulled over what to get Laurel for Christmas. Being practical, and on a budget, he quickly discounted the idea of jewelry as too expensive. He knew she’d been looking at purses lately, but he wouldn’t dare attempt finding one she would use and enjoy.