Christmas Angels

Chapter 13 & 14

Angela was ten years old when she asked Marianne about her birth. She had only heard vague mentions of Marianne's ordeal, and she wondered if she was the reason for her mother's condition. They were sitting in the kitchen one Saturday morning, peeling apples for the pie that Marianne planned for Sunday dinner. Bandit lay on the floor by Angela's feet, sleeping contentedly. There was music playing on the radio, the volume turned low. Marianne was holding an apple in one hand and a paring knife in the other, humming softly as she worked. Angela was sitting at the table, holding the bowl of sliced apples, turning it slowly in her hands. She fidgeted nervously. It was obvious that she had something important on her mind and it had been bothering her for some time. She felt awkward and guilty but she knew she had to ask her mother for the truth.

"Mom, did having me make your heart go bad?" she finally blurted.

"Oh no, Honey! I have always had a weak heart, all my life. Why would you think such a thing?"

"You almost died when I was born and you had to stop working and everything. I was healthy and you were sick. It was my fault, wasn't it?" Angela's eyes were tearing up.

Marianne dropped the knife and apple into the bowl, wiping her hands quickly on her apron. She pulled Angela to her in a tight hug. "Don't ever think that, Sweetheart. Daddy and I wanted you more than anything else in the world and we love you so much. My heart has always been weak and having a baby was what I wanted more than anything in the world. You were a gift from God and I thank him every day for you. Angela, you are my heart and without you near me, I swear, my heart would just stop. You are my angel, Love. Don't ever doubt that."

Angela hugged her mother and they both were sobbing. Bandit, sensing something was wrong, leapt up and pushed his nose in between them, whimpering.

"I think you are Bandit's angel, too," Marianne said, lightening the moment and brushing a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Thanks Mom. I would never want to hurt you," Angela said, hugging Bandit.

"Let's get this pie made so we can clean up our mess before lunch."

The moment passed and Angela felt a little better because of Marianne's assurance, but she still felt guilty about her mother's poor health. She may not have been the cause of it but she surely must have contributed to it, she reasoned.  

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Autumn ended early, the year Angela turned twelve, with cold, clear weather and plenty of snow in December. Most years, it was touch and go whether there would be a green Christmas, with mild weather and bare grass everywhere in Mount Bethel. Not this year. Snow banks lined the streets and the pine and spruce trees were laden with heavy loads of snow. Angela was more ecstatic than most other people about the early winter. It made Christmas and her birthday even more special than usual, and that suited her just fine.

The weekend before Christmas, Josh, Marianne, Angela and Bandit spent Saturday afternoon skiing through the conservation area a few miles outside of town. Bandit raced through the snow, leaping and burrowing and using his nose as a plow as he snuffled the ground beneath the blanket of white. Blue jays flitted from tree to tree ahead of him, their cries of "jay, jay, jay" designed to warn all and sundry of the fierce hunter's presence.

"That dog never tires of looking for something to chase, does he?" Josh said with a laugh.

"Bandit is so silly, Daddy. He can't catch anything, no matter how hard he tries." Angela said. "In all this snow, and on his short legs he might just as well forget it. He never learns."