Johnny Angel

“I don't think so,” he said, sounding a little uncertain. It had never been absolutely clear to him what he had come for, but as things unfolded, it was easy to see all the good he'd been doing. And he himself had a sense that one by one he was accomplishing the appointed tasks. His assignment had never been spelled out to him. But he could sense what was needed day by day. “I think we'll both know when that happens.” But they both had a sense that it wasn't far away. Watching him she had become more intuitive too.

“And will you just vanish into thin air then?” she asked him with a look of panic.

“I told you, Mom,” he said, looking far beyond his years suddenly, “I won't do that to you. They wouldn't expect it of me.” He had been sent to heal, not to hurt.

“Good,” she said, sounding relieved, “it would be nice to have some warning.”

“I think when the time comes, we'll both know.” But she was already getting that feeling, even if he wasn't. Jim had stopped drinking after years of alcoholism, he and Charlotte had bonded as never before, he was an integral part now of her athletic activities, and went to every game he could get to. And Bobby was talking, even if only in secret. “I think I still have some fine-tuning to do here.”

“Well, don't rush anything,” she said with a grin, and he laughed at her. “Maybe you could drag your feet just a little bit.”

“I'll go real slow, Mom. I promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck as he hugged her. And that afternoon he went to see Becky. Things were going well at her house too.

She had been seeing a lot of Buzz, and she seemed very happy whenever Alice saw her. She no longer looked as devastated as she had in the months before. She laughed a lot more now, and she seemed more relaxed, just as Pam did. Her romance with Gavin had blossomed over the holidays, and he was talking about moving, to be closer to her.

Alice was trimming the tree with Johnny late one afternoon, playing CDs of Christmas carols and singing with him, when Jim came home from work early. He had forgotten some papers at home, and decided to work on them there, and he smiled when he saw Alice trimming the Christmas tree, and heard her singing.

“How did you manage the star on the top all by yourself this year?” It was a tough one to explain to him, and she just said that when the mailman came, he helped her. And Jim seemed satisfied with the story. Johnny chuckled as he listened to her and smiled broadly. He had put all the decorations on the top branches for her, as he always had.

“That was creative,” Johnny teased her, and she laughed, and then said something to him when she thought Jim wasn't listening, but when he came back into the living room again, he was frowning.

“We're going to have to do something about your talking to yourself. Maybe you should go to ‘Talking-to-yourself Anonymous,’” he teased. “Charlotte worries about you. She thinks it's because of Johnny.”

“I guess it is, sort of. I'll get over it.” All too soon, she feared. When Johnny left again, there would be no one to talk to. Not like that anyway. There was Jim, of course, and the children. But her oldest child had always been her soul mate, and still was. More than ever now. “I guess it's just become a habit,” she said to her husband, as he disappeared again with his briefcase and a stack of papers.

He was still working on them when Charlotte came home from school, and Alice went to pick up Bobby, and took Johnny with her. They chatted easily all the way to Bobby's school, and he laughed at what his father had said about her talking to him.

“By the time you leave, everyone will be convinced I'm crazy,” his mother complained with a rueful smile.

“That's not such a bad thing,” Johnny said, lying across the backseat, and hanging his feet out the window. He was a lot taller than his father. “You can do anything you want then. ‘Crazy Mrs. Peterson.’ It could be very liberating, Mom. It sounds like fun.”

“Not to me. I don't want people thinking I'm loony.” But it was a good kind of “crazy,” and such a good feeling being with him, a constant blend of seriousness and laughter and joy

In the last few months, Johnny had developed even greater insight and astonishing wisdom about people and sensitive situations. He understood his father better than he ever had, and he seemed to sense Bobby's feelings and needs without even trying. He could see right into Charlotte's heart, and know everything she thought and worried about. And he was closer than ever to his mother. Sometimes they each knew what the other was thinking, without even talking. They always had been able to do that, but it was even stronger now. Theirs was a tie that defied what had happened to them, and could never be severed. And she knew that even when he left again, she would never lose him now. It was comforting knowing that, and they both smiled in precisely the same way as Bobby came bounding out of school with a box of handmade Christmas decorations he'd made in art class.