Christmas Memory E-Book

Johnson ID

• Herausgeber: ID Johnson
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

From the author of  Melody's Christmas.

Can a Christmas angel fix a meet-cute gone wrong?

Memory Wilson is supposed to meet Dakota Brooks and fall in love. But when a sudden gust of wind from a startled angel messes everything up, their two paths never intersect. Can Memory's late Grandma Helen come to earth in disguise and bring two hearts together? Or will Memory's skepticism keep her from finding the love of her life?

If you love sweet Christmas stories with heavenly themes, you'll love  Christmas Memory! 
 

Leseprobe

Christmas Memory

ID Johnson

Copyright © 2019 by ID Johnson

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover by Sparrow Book Cover Designs

Created with Vellum

For Dan for inspiring me never to give up.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

A Note from the Author

Also by ID Johnson

Chapter 1

December, 2009

Christmas music blared from the speakers strategically placed around the ice skating rink. No matter where one was skating--or in Memory Wilson’s case—falling, the festive sounds serenaded the perfect pirouette—or wipe out, as the case may be. Though her friends had been patient and tried to teach her, Memory was sure she’d just never get the hang of it. She’d come to the mall to buy a few last minute presents, not bust her behind on the ice, so she decided to watch from a nearby bench as Kathryn Rodgers and Rebekkah Stephens had fun whizzing past like naturals. Despite the ache in her hip, Memory laughed as they twirled each other around like ballerinas. Twisting her fingers through her long blonde hair, she decided watching wasn’t so bad, and it was a lot less painful.

Mariah Carey’s voice filled the rink, with many an aspiring singer joining in. Memory knew all the words to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” but didn’t sing along. Her voice was better left in her head where only she could hear it. She finished taking off the cumbersome ice skates and slipped her sneakers back on as Rebekkah and Kathryn bumped into the half-wall in front of her. “You sure you’re done?” Rebekkah asked. “It’s not as much fun without you.”

Smiling at her friend’s sweet comment, Memory nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. As it is, I’m going to have bruises. You two go, have fun.”

“We should get some cocoa at that new place by the Chinese restaurant at the food court,” Kathryn suggested.

“Good idea,” Rebekkah agreed, tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “I’ve heard their mint chocolate is the best.”

Kathryn took Rebekkah’s hand, and the two skated toward the exit, still talking about the cocoa shop. Memory couldn’t help but smile. Rebekkah and Kathryn were her very best friends—except for Grandma Helen. No one could be a better friend than her. The two girls sat down on the bench next to Memory’s and went about changing out of their skates, and her mind drifted.

She’d found the perfect gift for her grandmother. It was a journal with a cardinal on the front cover. Grandma Helen said whenever she saw a cardinal, it was the spirit of someone she loved coming back from heaven to say hello. Memory had no idea how that could be true, but she liked the thought of it. Sometimes, when she was at her grandmother’s large Victorian home, they’d sit by the picture window and stare out at the front yard, watching the birds flutter around the birdbath, flying from tree to tree. It was a magical place, with lots of beautiful plants and flowers. Grandma Helen spent hours telling Memory about each one, how her late husband, Memory’s Grandpa Joe, had planted them, and how Memory’s mother, Ann, had helped. Speaking about Ann seemed to make Grandma happy, so she let her grandma go on whenever she wanted to even though Memory had only met her mother through pictures and stories. She loved hearing about her, though. Whenever a cardinal landed nearby, Grandma Helen often insisted it was either Ann or Joe stopping to say hello, depending upon the color. Memory would smile, wishing it were true that angels could take the form of birds, but she was pretty sure it was just a feathered-friend enjoying her grandmother’s many bird feeders.

A group of boys skated by, their laughter jarring Memory out of her thoughts. Several of them slammed into each other trying to get through the exit at the same time, and she watched with a smile, finding it a little comical that five of them thought they could get out at once. The one at the back who waited on his friends to go first heard her giggle and looked her way. Memory felt her face turn red as his dark eyes landed on her face. He smiled at her, but she looked away. If she had to guess, he was probably about her age, maybe a little older. Since she wasn’t in her hometown of Christmas Falls she had never seen him before. Flirting really wasn’t her thing, even though she did think he was cute with his sprinkle of freckles and long eyelashes. The idea that a boy that attractive might be interested in her seemed comical, despite everyone always telling her how pretty she was.

The boys took up a couple of benches behind Memory and her friends who were still chatting even though they had their shoes on now. “I’ll run the skates back,” Rebekkah said, gathering them up. “Give me yours, Memory.”

“I don’t think you can carry them all,” Memory protested, picking them up herself to take them back.

“Of course I can,” Rebekkah insisted, making a muscle with one arm to show how strong she was. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Laughing, Memory handed them over and watched Rebekkah stroll past the boys with a little more swagger in her walk than normal as Kathryn sat down on the bench next to her. “She’s so silly,” Kathryn said, running her hand through her short brown hair. “I wonder what school those boys go to.”

“They’re probably locals,” Memory said with a shrug. “Carmel High would be my guess. Why don’t you go ask them?” She pushed on Kathryn’s knee, giggling, knowing her friend was just as shy as she was and not likely to say a word to any of them.

“Ha! Go for it!” Kathryn chided, shaking her head. “You know they’d think you’re pretty. Everyone at CFH does.”

“Please!” Melody insisted, shaking her head. “That’s not true, and besides, there’s not a guy at Christmas Falls High that I’d wanna date anyway.”

“I know, I know. You’re going to find the man of your dreams while you’re studying business at Harvard.”

“Not Harvard,” Memory insisted, making her blue eyes wide for emphasis. “But somewhere. I’ll come back, though. I love Christmas Falls. I just don’t like any of the boys in our class. It’s not like we have many to choose from.”

“True. Too bad those guys don’t go to our school.”

Memory stole a glance over her shoulder to see the boy she’d noticed before looking her way. Feeling the heat in her cheeks again, she looked away as Rebekkah “accidentally” bumped into the guy on the end and started chatting. “Great. We’ll be here all day.”

Kathryn pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Not if I can help it.” She sent a quick text, waited a second, and then held up her phone as it dinged. “Bek, come on! My mom is waiting for us at the cocoa shop!”

Memory looked at her friend and not the boys, watching as Rebekkah rolled her eyes. “Fine!” she shouted and then turned back to say something to the boy. Kathryn grabbed her coat and handed Memory hers, holding up Rebekkah’s for her. Their flirtatious friend sauntered over and took it from her outstretched hand. “Couldn’t give me five minutes, huh?” she said, shaking her head.

“Hey, we didn’t come here to flirt with boys,” Kathryn reminded her. “This is our girls’ weekend getaway, remember?”

“Every weekend is a girls’ weekend getaway when you have no boyfriend,” Rebekkah said, pitifully.

Kathryn stood and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders to console her, heading toward the exit. Ever since Rebekkah’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few weeks ago, she’d been a bag of emotions—flirty and fun one minute, desperately sad the next. Memory had no idea what it would be like to be dumped by a guy, so she couldn’t empathize, but she did feel bad for her friend. Her mind was on Rebekkah when she stood and followed behind her friends, hoping the cocoa would cheer her up since Kathryn hadn’t let her flirt with the boys.

Memory had only taken a few steps when she felt a tap on her shoulder and stopped, “Excuse me, I think this is yours.”

Turning her head, her eyes met wide brown ones, a sprinkle of freckles, and a shy smile. “What’s that?” she managed, her heart beating out of her chest.

“This package—is it yours?”

He was holding her shopping bag, the one with her grandmother’s present in it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s mine. Thanks.” She took it, her fingertips brushing slightly against his, and a tingle climbed her arm. A rush of red crept up her neck to her cheeks, and Memory took a step back, not able to pull her eyes off of his yet.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his grin widening as his face also turned a light pink.

“Cody, come on!” one of the other boys yelled. “Ask her out later!”

The rest of the boys laughed loudly, and Cody’s face turned an even brighter shade of crimson. Memory wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she muttered, “Thanks,” again and hurried off to join her friends. If he said anything else to her, she didn’t hear.

When she caught up to her friends, who’d stopped a few feet away to wait for her, Memory’s heart was thundering in her chest louder than the drums in the song that was playing—which happened to be “Little Drummer Boy.”

“He’s cute!” Rebekkah said, a smile brightening her face. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. He just handed me my bag,” Memory insisted, walking briskly toward the exit.

“Girl, slow down,” Rebekkah called after her. “Did you get his name? His number?”

“No! I just got my bag.”

“For someone named Memory, you sure leave things behind a lot,” Kathryn mumbled. Memory turned and looked at her sharply. “Sorry, sorry. He was cute, though. If he lives here in Carmel, that’s not too far from Christmas Falls. You should go find out.”

Memory shook her head. There was no way she was approaching the rowdy group of boys that were making their way toward the exit on the other side of the rink. “Nope. Come on. Let’s go to the food court before Mrs. Rodgers thinks we’re lost.”

“Okay. Your loss,” Rebekkah muttered, and the three of them headed toward the exit closest to the food court, away from the one Cody was likely walking out of.

Memory didn’t dare look though. If it was meant to be, she’d see him again someday. She tried to put him out of her head and let the mall’s Christmas music fill her mind with happy thoughts. Kathryn was right—she didn’t always have a very good memory, despite her name. But she was pretty sure she’d never forget Cody.

Chapter 2

January 31, 2019

“Be careful on that ladder,” Memory said, staring up at her older sister Kirsten as she took another step higher toward the top of the Christmas tree.

“You mean like this?” Kirsten asked, leaning backward at a precarious angle and waving one arm around, though the other still gripped a rung.

“That’s not funny!” Memory glared up at her, holding firm to the ladder to steady it.

“Relax, sis. No one’s going to the hospital today.” Kirsten reached the top of the tree and carefully pulled the angel tree topper off, handing it down to Memory, who let go with one hand to take it.

Memory studied the angel for a moment. This was her grandmother’s favorite piece. Every year, when the girls’ dad, Bryce, placed it on top of the tree, Grandma Helen would tell the story of how Grandpa Joe had brought it home from a business trip to London when they’d first gotten married, back in the late 1960s. It was one of Memory’s favorite stories because Grandpa Joe had searched high and low for the perfect gift for his bride. The auburn-haired angel, dressed in a white gown with golden trim, had a beautiful porcelain face and held a candle. The angel bathed the entire tree in a glow that warmed the room and Memory’s heart.

She carefully handed the item over to her dad who waited with bubble wrap in hand to package it up. The angel had been the inspiration for her grandmother to open her own little shop on the square downtown, years later, when she decided everyone deserved special Christmas pieces in their lives. Memory had worked there with her in high school, and now that she’d finished her bachelor’s in business, her plan was to take The Memory Box to the next level. She was already working hard to make the shop an online presence. Grandma Helen didn’t care about any of that—she just loved sitting behind the cash register visiting with all of the folks as they came in to look around.

“Are you all right, Grandma?” Memory asked, glancing over at Helen who was overseeing operations from a chair by the window.

Helen smiled, though her eyes were only half-open. “I’m fine, dear. Just a bit of indigestion. I’ll be all right.” She chuckled, but something seemed off. Grandma was never happy on the day they packed up all the Christmas decorations, but today, she seemed unwell.

“Can I get you anything?” Bryce asked, carefully placing the angel in its own plastic bin.

“I’m fine,” Helen insisted. “Just need to rest my eyes.”

Memory took a few steps closer to her grandmother, noticing her coloring didn’t look quite right. Grandma Helen had just turned 72 last month, and while she had some health problems, she was still able to get around well, working at the shop almost every day and never missing a Sunday at church. “Grandma... do you want some water?”

“No, dear. Please, don’t worry over me. We need to get this tree put away. We can’t have a Christmas tree up in February. Not outside of the shop anyway. “ She laughed again, but it sounded forced.

“Maison will be over soon with the kids,” Kirsten said, handing the ornaments from the top of the tree down to their dad now that Memory had stepped away. Remembering she was supposed to hold the ladder, she went back, thinking the last thing they needed was for Kirsten to fall. She had a newborn son to take care of and a three-year-old daughter.

“Good, good,” Grandma Helen said, her voice sounding as if she were about to fall asleep. “I just love that little Lorelei. Reminds me of my Ann. And that baby Anson is precious.” Her voice trailed off, and Memory assumed she’d fallen asleep.

Kirsten came down from the ladder. “I don’t like this, Dad. I don’t think she’s well.”

A lump formed in Memory’s throat as she braced the ladder for her sister, her eyes turning back to her grandmother. Grandma Helen had been Memory’s best friend for as long as she could remember. Not only did they work together at the shop, Memory had moved into Grandma Helen’s house when she’d returned from college. When Memory was away at school, she’d called her grandma every night, and they’d decided it would be a big help to Grandma Helen if Memory lived with her and helped run the shop. Memory enjoyed living in the historic home, and she loved spending so much time with her grandmother.

Memory swallowed hard as her dad put the ornaments down on top of a bin and slowly walked over to Grandma Helen’s chair. “Helen?” he called, quietly. “Are you all right?”

Memory watched as her father reached out to his mother-in-law, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Helen? Helen!” Her hands flew to her mouth—she’d known something wasn’t right. “Kirsten—call nine-one-one,” Bryce insisted, shaking Grandma Helen, gently at first and then more vigorously. Tears streamed down Memory’s face as she heard her sister speaking to the emergency dispatcher. Grandma Helen wasn’t opening her eyes....

In the window behind her, three cardinals landed on the branch of an evergreen tree—one bright red and two brown. They flittered around together, calling a happy tune, as if they had just been reunited. Sirens blared in the distance, but they didn’t leave their branch, and seeing them, Memory remembered what her grandmother always said about cardinals. Another tear slipped down her cheek, rolling off, landing on the container that held the Christmas angel.

Chapter 3

December 2, 2019

Helen Graham rushed down the hall, sliding her feet along the polished white marble like she was a kid, even though she was far from it if she counted by earthly years. After almost eleven months in this place, she was beginning to get used to the Big Guy’s affinity for all things pure and gleaming, though in her own home on the other side of the park from the administrative office she was visiting, she preferred to have as many colors as possible—bold reds, vibrant blues, and a color she hadn’t even known existed until she’d come here—blueple. Joe preferred more muted tones, but he could have all the browns and dark greens he wanted in his man-cave, so long as he didn’t interfere with Helen’s bright living room and kitchen.

Glancing down at her watch, she saw that she had two minutes. Punctuality had never been her strength in life, and it was something she was working on now as well. Not that the scatter-brained AA she was rushing to meet would likely be ready for her anyway. In their monthly meetings before, Stella hadn’t proven herself to be on top of things, and Helen often wondered how she got to be an Angel Assistant in the first place. She figured Stella must’ve known someone who knew someone who knew the Big Guy well. Either that or she’d just been around so long, she’d managed to get the job that way. With one minute to spare, Helen slid to a stop in front of the large white door, took a deep breath, and went in.

The waiting room was full of other angels, all of them wearing similar outfits to Helen’s white blouse and pants. She wore whatever she liked at home, but when one visited the administrative offices, or if one were lucky enough to be invited to the Big Guy’s home on the hill, it was best to wear white. She stood in a line three deep, waiting her turn, and when she reached the receptionist, she said, “Hello there. Helen Graham here to see Stella Smithy.”

“Yes, dear,” the receptionist, a woman with bright red hair and a large smile, replied. “I’ll let Stella know you’re here.”

“Thank you.” Helen returned the smile. “Your hair is so pretty. I always wanted to be a redhead, but the only way I could’ve managed that was out of a bottle.” She tugged on a lock of her mousy brown hair, which she’d taken to wearing long again now that she wasn’t old any more—not that she was young either. She just was....

“You can be a redhead if you like,” the receptionist, Ginger, according to her name plate, reminded her. “Here, you can be anything you want, so long as it’s pleasing to the Big Guy.”

“Right,” Helen remembered. She wondered what Joe would think if she came home with bright red hair.

“Have a seat, and she’ll call you back shortly.”

Helen nodded and took a seat near a woman who was knitting as she waited. Looking up from her work, the woman smiled politely but didn’t speak. Helen got the impression she hadn’t been here long. Her hands were shaking a bit as she purled.

One of the office doors opened and an AA stepped out, calling a name as he looked around the sitting area. A man dressed all in white except for his black socks, which looked odd poking out of his white loafers, rushed off in that direction, adjusting his belt as if he meant to impress.

Helen was glad she hadn’t busted her back getting here on time since it was obvious all of the AAs were running behind. She glanced at her watch again. Joe would probably be fixing lunch about now. It was so nice to be back together with him. When he’d passed on, she’d never gotten over it. He’d suffered a heart attack a few years after their beloved daughter, Ann, had passed giving birth to their granddaughter, Memory. Both events had been heartbreaking for Helen, and if it hadn’t been for Memory, she might’ve never gotten past either of them. Her granddaughter had been the light that kept her going.

Now that Helen had passed on, she worried about Memory. They’d always been so close, and Memory didn’t have many friends. She was a beautiful girl, but she hardly ever dated anyone. There had been that boy in college—Alex something-or-other—but he’d lived in Indianapolis and wasn’t willing to give up his big city lifestyle to move back to tiny Christmas Falls. Memory had always been a bit different than others, wise beyond her years but not always willing to trust other people, possibly because she’d lost her mom when she was born. She worked so hard and never made time for herself. It was a shame. Memory deserved to meet someone special and start a family of her own.

“Helen?” Stella’s familiar voice called from across the room.

Helen smiled and waved, checking whether or not she’d brought a bag, which she hadn’t because there was no need for such things here, and gathered herself up out of the chair. She made her way across the room and into Stella’s cozy office, closing the door behind her.

“Have a seat,” Stella said, offering a chair across from her desk. She sat behind the large wooden edifice, only her shoulders and head visible on the other side. She was a slight woman, with dark hair bobbed at her chin, and her white pant suit looked slightly large on her tiny frame. Helen might’ve been jealous if she weren’t past all that. She’d always been a larger woman with curves and hips and all that went along with it. Joe hadn’t minded one bit, calling her his voluptuous vixen, but Helen had always wished she could’ve been a bit more slender. None of that mattered now.

Stella opened a file. “This is your... eleven month visit, is that right? It’s been eleven months and two days since your passing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Helen said politely. “Almost a year.”

“And how are you getting along?” Stella closed the folder, her hand tipping a glowing white paperweight, which fell over with a thud. She went to pick it up, dropped it again, and then managed to sit it on its base, tipping her pen holder over in the process. “Oh, dear.”

“Let me,” Helen insisted, standing and helping the AA put all of her white pens back into their white container. “There we are.” Helen smiled, smoothing her pants as she sat back down. “I’m getting along well. It’s lovely being back with my husband. My daughter, Ann, lives right down the street. I see my parents often, my older brother.... I’m doing well.”

“Good, good.” Stella placed her hands flat on top of the folder. “It’s nice to see you’ve made the adjustments necessary to fit in here. It can be jarring to some people, but you seem to have assimilated nicely.”

“Yes, I think I have,” Helen nodded. “There’s just one thing....” She hesitated, knowing Stella wouldn’t like what she had to say next. She’d asked about her family back on earth a few times before, and Stella had always insisted she wasn’t at liberty to discuss any of that. Still, she had to try.

“What is it?” Stella’s smile was tight, demonstrating she knew what Helen was about to say.

“Well, this is the time of year my family is the busiest. I owned a shop on the downtown square in my hometown, Christmas Falls. It was a quaint little place where people stopped by year round for trinkets and gifts, but during the Christmas holiday, it came to life with ornaments and special gifts. I ran it with my granddaughter, Memory. Such a sweet girl. She lived with me for a couple of years after college. We had the best time together.” She smiled fondly, thinking of Memory’s pretty face, all lit up by the Christmas tree lights. “I’m just wondering... this being our first Christmas apart, how is she doing? You can tell me, can’t you? Just that she’s doing all right? I’d hate to think she’s spending her favorite time of year moping around, missing me.”

Stella’s smile faded for a moment, her lips tightening into a thin line. “You know I’m not supposed to discuss such topics with you, Mrs. Graham.” The smile was back, but it had morphed so that it resembled a jack-o-lantern’s grin more than an angel’s.

“Yes, I know. But surely no one will mind just a quick update. I mean, really, how am I supposed to relax and enjoy the birthday celebrations coming up for the Big Guy’s son if I’m worried about Memory?”

“This is our most festive time of the year as well,” Stella agreed. “The angel choir is working on a new song right now. Whitney Houston will be singing a solo.”

“Lovely!” Helen said, giggling to punctuate her enthusiasm. “I would love to hear it. And I would love to know how my Memory is doing.” She tipped her forehead forward, her eyes wide, hoping Stella would see the desperation.

With a sigh, Stella shook her head. “I’m not supposed to do this,” she muttered. “But I suppose it won’t hurt. Just this once. You should know, however, if you have ambitions to be an AA someday, or otherwise serve the Big Guy, you’ll have to follow the rules.”

Helen nodded. “Oh, yes. I am a strict rule follower. Normally.”

Stella opened up a thin, white laptop and started typing, and Helen reflected on all of the other duties she’d heard of. She didn’t think she’d ever want to be an AA, but there were a few other jobs that interested her. She could’ve joined the angel chorus because she loved to sing, but even in Heaven, she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. Ann worked in the aviary, with the birds they sent down to comfort those who’d recently lost a loved one, and she seemed to enjoy that work, especially with the cardinals. But Helen was most intrigued by the Fixers, the group of angels who went back to earth to make corrections when something didn’t quite go as planned. There weren’t many positions available, but it seemed like an intriguing job, something Helen would be good at. She’d talked to Joe about it a few months ago. At the time, he’d said he didn’t know how he would do without her for any length of time, but as long as her mission was short, he’d love to see her off helping others. He had his gardening duties that he spent his free time attending to, along with a group of other angels who loved to care for the trees and plants that beautified their town. Occasionally, they’d plant a special tree or flower on earth as well, though Joe hadn’t been involved in that since he’d helped plant an evergreen outside of the home he’d shared with his wife, just a couple of years after he’d died. Helen hadn’t known where the tree had come from at the time, but now, she smiled, thinking of all the happy cardinals she’d seen flying about that tree over the years. She’d thought of him every time she looked out the window.

“Ah, here we go,” Stella said, bringing Helen’s mind back to the present. “Memory Wilson, age twenty-five, Christmas Falls, Indiana. Yes—you needn’t worry about her. She is just about to have a pivotal moment! A meet-cute! Ah, I love those.” Stella closed her laptop and smiled at Helen. “Don’t worry—Memory will be just fine. But I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

“A meet-cute?” Helen echoed, trying to piece together what Stella was saying. “What’s that?”

“Oh, that’s what the kids are calling it these days. It’s when two people meet under funny or cute circumstances, and they share a laugh, and the next thing you know, they’re falling in love.” She sighed and her eyes glossed over as if she were thinking back to a meet-cute of her own. “I like to watch sometimes when I know one is coming up. It’s just so... romantic. Anyway, your Memory will be just fine, once Dakota Brooks enters her life, in just a couple of minutes.”

“Dakota Brooks?” Helen asked, wondering what he might be like. She thought she understood the meet-cute reference now, though why it needed a fancy name, she wasn’t sure. But she was curious about this Dakota. “I don’t think I know the gentleman.”

“No, no, you wouldn’t. He’s in Christmas Falls from Chicago—on business. He’s quite handsome and kind. He’s a hard worker, too. Don’t worry. Your Memory will have a lovely life with him.”

Helen took a deep breath, glad to hear it, but the worries didn’t go away quite so easily. As a grandmother, it had been her primary responsibility to worry about her granddaughters for the better part of the last thirty years. “Did you say... watch them?”

Stella’s eyes bulged briefly, and Helen watched her throat tighten and then stretch as if she were swallowing something large. “What’s that, now?”

“You said you like to watch sometimes.” Helen glanced around the room. “How do you do that, exactly? Could we watch the meet-cute?”

“Oh, that.” Stella shook her head quickly, shrugging at the same time. “I don’t actually.... We can’t.... The Big Guy frowns upon anyone other than higher administrative staff, such as myself, doing that. It’s safer that way, you see.”

“Safer?” Helen asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, from time to time... things can go wrong... if one isn’t particularly careful accessing the portal. It doesn’t happen often. But we have to be cautious. You understand? It would be awful if an outside influence changed the course of things, you know.”

“Yes, of course,” Helen nodded. “I can imagine that would be terrible. But how would that happen exactly?”

“Well, I’ve never caused a problem myself,” Stella was quick to say. “But I’ve heard of it happening. Unintentionally, of course. At any rate, I’m afraid we simply can’t watch.”

Helen sighed. “You’re right. I’d hate for anything bad to happen because of my curiosity.” She’d have given anything to watch Memory meet the love of her life, but if there was a risk something could go wrong, it wasn’t worth it.

Stella checked her watch. “Well, if there’s nothing else, it was lovely to see you again.” She reached her hand across the desk, the cuff of her suit jacket catching the pen holder, sending it toppling again. “Dagnabbit!”

“Let me help you,” Helen offered again. For the second time, she gathered up the pens and put them back into the container. Dropping the last one, she offered her hand to Stella. “Thank you for your time.”

“Yes, yes, my pleasure.” She seemed to be in a rush now, so Helen hurried to the door. Stella followed behind her, pausing a few feet short of the doorway. For the first time, Helen noticed a white screen tilted back against the white wooden interior of one of the bookshelves. She couldn’t give it more than a glance because Stella seemed to need to get on with her schedule. “Have a good day!” Stella called, stopping next to the shelf.

“You, too.” Helen smiled and went out the door, thinking Stella’s behavior odd. She closed the door behind her but hesitated, wondering if she should go back in. Stella suddenly seemed preoccupied with the screen, and Helen had a sneaking suspicion she knew why.

If Stella were about to watch Memory’s meet-cute on that screen—it that was really a portal--then Helen wanted to see it, too. Slowly, she opened the door. “Stella....”

Startled, Stella waved her hands frantically, as if she’d been caught reaching into the cookie jar. “Helen! Goodness! You frightened me!”

“So sorry!” Helen meant it. She hadn’t intended to make her jump. “It’s only... what is that you’re doing?”

“This? Oh, nothing. It’s just....” Stella glanced back at the screen for a moment, then her eyes returned to Helen for a second before her forehead puckered and her gaze darted back to the device. “What’s happening? What? No! That’s not... Oh, no! Drat!” She snapped her fingers and stomped her foot, color draining from her face.

Panic welled up inside of Helen as she saw Stella’s expression. “What is it?” she asked. “It’s not Memory, is it?”

“Oh, dear.... I think I’m going to be sick.” Stella grasped her middle, her face almost as white as her suit. “I must’ve stirred up a wind when I waved my hands....”

“A wind? What?” Helen was confused. “How is that possible?”

Stella didn’t answer though. She was peering into the screen, her lips tight and turned down at the corner. She was shaking her head again. “No, no, no....” Balling her hands into fists, she turned and ran across the room to her desk and flipped open her laptop.

Helen’s curiosity got the better of her, and she hurried into the room, taking up the spot in front of the portal Stella had just vacated. At first, Helen couldn’t see anything at all. It was only white mist, as if she were staring at a cloud. But then, the white parted, and she saw Memory walking, alone, down the sidewalk to the shop they’d run together. There was no man near her, and as she unlocked the door to the shop, a cup of coffee in her hand and a familiar book tucked beneath her arm, Helen couldn’t help but notice how sad her granddaughter looked. “What did you do?” she called, listening to Stella typing furiously.

“Me?” Stella argued. “This is your fault, Mrs. Graham! I told you you weren’t allowed to look.”

“You’re the one who waved your arm!” Helen countered. It was difficult to see Memory looking so sullen, so she turned her attention to Stella, even though she’d longed to see her granddaughter’s face all these months they’d been apart.

“I waved my arm because you startled me!” Stella’s fingers stopped typing, and her eyes flew across the screen. Helen watched her read as she slowly approached the desk. “Oh, no. No... no... no!” Stella sunk into her chair, dropping her head into her hands. “Everything is ruined.”

“Ruined? What do you mean? Surely, it can be fixed. Can’t they have a different meet-cute? I mean, really, how hard must it be? The Big Guy can handle it. He can handle anything.”

Stella folded her arms across her chest. “The Big Guy doesn’t like cleaning up other people’s messes—especially when it takes so much time and attention to detail to make sure everything works in perfect harmony. Memory’s life affects the lives of others, you know? Now that she hasn’t meet Dakota, they won’t get married. She won’t have children.... We just lost the cure for cancer!”

Helen’s eyes bulged. “What’s that now?” It was bad enough to think her granddaughter would never meet the man she was meant to marry. To think they’d also lost such invaluable medical research because she’d opened a door was disastrous. “We have to fix this!”

“How? All of our Fixers are busy! It’s Christmas—the busy season for everyone! I just looked at the data base. There’s no one I can send to right the situation, Helen! We’re up a creek without a boat.”

“I think you mean paddle.”

“It’s far worse than being without a paddle!”

Helen took a deep breath, not willing to give up. She knew Memory better than anyone, and if this was the man she was meant to be with, Helen could make it happen. “Send me,” she said, excitement at the prospect building in her voice. “I can fix it. Give me a chance.”

“You?” Stella said, almost laughing. “You can’t be serious. You’re not a Fixer.”

“No, I’m not. But I can do it. I know my granddaughter. I can find a way to get her and Dakota to meet, fall in love, have those great-grandbabies of mine, and do everything that would’ve happened if you hadn’t interfered.”

“You interfered,” Stella reminded her, still unwilling to take any of the blame.

“Fine. You said the Big Guy doesn’t like to fix other people’s messes. Let me fix my own.”

Stella was shaking her head. “They’ll never approve this.” She reached for the phone, knocking the pen container over and toppling the paperweight. “Fiddle.” She dialed a number as Helen righted the objects.

After a few rings, she said, “Marjorie? Can I speak to Michael, please? Yes, I know this is the busy season, but it’s an emergency. Yes, I’ll hold.” Through the handset, Helen could hear a Muzak version of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and thought it most appropriate.

It took a long time for Michael to pick up. When he did, he sounded angry. “Yes, sir, I know,” Stella said. “It was an accident. No, I know this is your busy time of year. No, I’m not trying to mess everything up. Yes, sir. I know. I realize you have no Fixers available. Yes, I know this one is one that really needs fixing. What if... what if Helen goes?”

She was quiet for a moment, and Helen couldn’t hear Michael either until he distinctly asked, “Who’s that? I don’t have a Fixer named Helen.”

“No, sir, you don’t. She’s... she’s the woman’s grandmother. She’s in my office now.” More yelling. “No, no she wasn’t trying to watch. She just... startled me, that’s all. Yes, I know a blast of wind can cause havoc with anything, sir.” She rolled her eyes, and Helen wondered how it had been the wind that had stirred up trouble this time. “No, she’s never done anything like this before, but she knows Memory better than anyone.” More chatter from Michael, then Stella said, “Memory is the woman’s name. Yes, I know it’s an unusual name. No, I don’t know why her parents named her that. Yes, I think her grandmother can handle it. She seems... competent.” Stella looked at Helen for a moment, so she stood taller, trying to project confidence. “Yes, I will explain it to her. I understand. Yes, sir. Let me see.” She pulled out a drawer. “I have a copy of the handbook. Yes, all right. I understand. Thank you.” Stella hung up the phone, hanging her head as well. She pressed a few fingers to her forehead and inhaled deeply.

Helen waited, holding her breath, trying to be patient as she anticipated Stella’s acknowledgement. After what seemed like five minutes had passed, she finally said, “Well?”

Stella looked up as if she’d forgotten Helen was there. “Michael has agreed to let you go.”

Helen couldn’t help but clap her hands in excitement. She loved the idea of seeing Memory again—as well as her two little great-grandchildren, Lorelei and Anson, and their parents—her granddaughter Kirsten and her husband Maison. Her son-in-law, Bryce, had always taken such good care of her. There were her friends from church....

“Mrs. Graham, I hope you understand, it is vitally important that you be successful in this endeavor. Michael has threatened to fire me from my position if you do not come through. I’ve been doing this job for hundreds of years, and I enjoy it, so please pay careful attention as I go over the rules with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Helen said, focusing on Stella. She sat in the chair she’d previously vacated but kept her bottom on the edge, ready to leap up.

Stella pulled out a drawer in her desk and brought out a book titled Angel’s Handbook. It wasn’t very thick and would easily fit in the palm of Helen’s hand. “Now, this book contains information for every job an angel might be assigned. You’re going to want to carefully read Chapter Six, ‘Fixing Things Up.’ It will explain everything to you.” Stella handed the book over, knocking over the paperweight in the process. She righted it as Helen opened the volume.

The print on the page was minuscule, but somehow, Helen was able to read it. She now understood how the book could be so small. It might take her ages to read through all of this. “I will certainly read it,” Helen promised, “but might you be able to go over the highlights?”

Frustration seemed to bubble out of Stella’s head. “Essentially, the rules are quite simple. You may not reveal your true identity under any circumstances. You may use magic when it suits you, but not for things like bringing yourself or others back from the dead or for manipulating people’s feelings—use it strictly for travel and for handling inanimate objects when none of the living are looking. I will be able to speak to you directly through prayer--which is two-way communication, contrary to popular belief.” Helen nodded, but she still had several questions. Stella didn’t pause. “You will have until Christmas Eve to complete your task. If you cannot do it by then, when you will return here, I’ll lose my job, and Michael will have to find some other way to fix the problem—if it’s even fixable. Also, you cannot reveal anything about Heaven that isn’t specifically mentioned in the Bible. You will be given a new identity, money, all of those types of things that you need, but nothing more. At night, when everyone on earth you’re interacting with is sleeping, you may check in with your family here if you wish since you will not require rest. What are your questions?”

“How will they not recognize me?”

“You will look like a different woman—however you want to look,” Stella said with a shrug. “We haven’t had time to plan out what sort of a person might be able to fix this problem, so I suggest you don’t stray too far from your own personality. What else?”

Thoughts of what she might look like flooded Helen’s mind as she tried to remember her other questions. “When can I leave?”

“As soon as you like.”

“Can I say goodbye to my husband and daughter?”

“Yes, but don’t go into too much detail about what you’re up to. I have a feeling no good can come of it.”

Helen thought things through again. It seemed like she should have a million questions. “Can you tell me what was supposed to happen?”

Stella let out a loud sigh, aggravation building as she thought about how everything had been ruined. “Memory was sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop, reminiscing, I suppose. She had a book on the bench next to her. When she stood to leave, she was supposed to forget the book. Dakota came along a moment later. He was meant to see the book, pick it up, and hand it to her—meet-cute in full swing.”

Helen nodded. Memory was always forgetting things, leaving them behind. It sounded like her granddaughter. “What happened instead?”

Her face turning slightly red, Stella folded her arms. “Not that. Let’s just say, when I waved my arms, I created a blustery wind.... It doesn’t matter. Now, you have to fix it. So, have you decided who you want to be?”

“Not exactly,” Helen admitted. Thinking back to the receptionist, she said, “But I know I’d like to have red hair. And a slender figure.”

Stella looked down her nose sharply at Helen as if she were saying looks weren’t everything. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to be in my late-fifties. My bones felt better then, not as many aches and pains as when I was older. Oh, and if I could be taller....”

“This is not a beauty contest, Mrs. Graham. All right. I’ll see what I can put together. You go on home and say goodbye to your husband and daughter for a little while. You’ll be able to check in with them but otherwise you’ll be gone for a few weeks. Oh, I hope this works. If not....” Stella ran her hand across her desk lovingly and gazed around the room.

“It’ll work,” Helen assured her. “I know my Memory. I’ll find a way.”

Stella nodded, but her frown stayed put. Excitement bubbling inside of her, Helen spun around and headed for the door, grateful she’d have a chance to see Memory again, even if her granddaughter wouldn’t recognize her. Watching her fall in love would be the greatest Christmas gift Helen could think of.

Chapter 4

Memory walked out of the corner coffee shop, sipping her latte, her grandmother’s journal tucked under her arm. The snow beneath her feet crunched, which was better than the slush it would become once the sun was overhead. Her phone dinged, so rather than heading straight for the shop a few doors down, she took a seat on a bench and pulled the device out of her pocket, hopeful it was confirmation that the store she’d been talking to in Indianapolis had decided to place that order for the candy cane ornaments they’d been chatting about for the last few weeks.