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Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. Acknowledgments
  62. About the Author
  63. Books by Bobbie Pyron
  64. Back Ads
  65. About the Publisher

“Who knew!” I gasp between giggles.

Mama makes her eyes big and round. “Who knew?”

Daddy looks at us like we’ve completely lost our minds. We probably have. He shakes his head and turns around.

Mama wipes tears off her cheeks and leans her head on my shoulder. “Oh, Piper,” she says, “what in the world would I do without you?”

She takes my hand and squeezes it three times for “I love you.” I squeeze back twice: “How much?” In answer, she squeezes my hand so hard I know I’ll feel that squeeze even when I’m asleep.

12

Jewel

Jewel sleeps a fitful sleep on a thin blanket on top of even thinner cardboard in the doorway of a bathroom in the park where she and Baby live. In her dreams she is lost in a long hallway lined with doors, all locked. She once had a key. Where is the key? Where did she leave the key? Panic floods every inch of her body until she feels Baby’s heart beating against her chest.

A car door slams. Voices drift through the cold morning air. Baby worms and wriggles out of her coat, stands on Jewel’s chest, thrusts his unaccountably tall ears forward.

Jewel watches him for clues. How keen his ears, how clever his nose. Baby wags his little tail tentatively at first, then a full-bodied wag of joy. “Friends?” Jewel asks, pushing the blanket aside, standing slowly. And then she sees them coming across the parking lot. The last of the morning snow glitters all around them, halos of diamond dust.

“Angels,” Jewel whispers.

Behind them, they pull wagons. “Who needs food?” one calls. “Who needs blankets?” someone else asks.

Jewel squints. She is quite sure she can see wings folded, barely concealed under their coats.

Like shadows, from under the sheltering arms of trees, picnic tables, bathroom doorways, a dumpster. The people of the park come.

Ree and Ajax.

Judy, Trooper, and Doc.

Tony and Rudy.

Linda and Duke.

Tommy and Buzz.

Jerry and Lucky.

“Our family, Baby,” Jewel says. She kisses the white snowflake on the top of his head.

The angels bless each and every one with thick blankets, sheets of plastic, hats and gloves, sandwiches, oranges, apples, bananas, leashes, collars, dog food, cat food, dog jackets.

“Thank you kindly.”

“Bless you.”

“Bless you.”

Jewel pulls a hat onto her head and down over her ears. She closes her eyes and smiles. “Warm,” she whispers. “Like God’s love.”

The man with the barely concealed wings paws through the piles in his wagon.

“Try these,” he says, holding out a pair of gloves.

Gently, Jewel puts Baby down and pulls on the gloves. “Divine,” she sighs. Baby sniffs Jewel’s hands and sneezes.

The man laughs and scratches the top of Baby’s head.

“Where Baby and I come from, we only needed gloves for church on Sundays.”

“Where did you and Baby live?”