sooner the better.”
“Okay,” Marta said, her voice gaining conviction. “I can do that.”
“A good one, but not one you both know.”
“All right.” Marta hesitated. “Should I tell Jack what I’ve done?”
To be fair to both parties, Anne felt she should. “I would. In your own time. It doesn’t have to be confrontational.”
“I should keep it simple, in other words, like … like, I know what you’re doing and I’ve seen an attorney. Period. End of story.”
“Something like that.”
“I’ll do it.” Marta sounded determined now.
Anne longed to put her arms around her friend and offer her reassurance and comfort. Marta, so experienced and sophisticated, was as emotionally vulnerable as Anne had been.
“Call me the minute you know anything,” Anne said, trying to encourage her.
“About the painting?”
Anne had forgotten about her angel. “That, too, but right now I’m more concerned that you take care of yourself.”
“I … I think I’ll wait until after the holidays,” Marta said. “To see an attorney, I mean.”
“Don’t,” Anne warned. “Do it today, before you lose your nerve.”
“You’re right, you’re right. I will.”
“And stay in touch,” Anne said.
“I will,” Marta promised.
Anne hoped she would. But there was nothing more she could say or do. It was Marta’s decision.
Fourteen
Things were working out nicely, Goodness thought. Despite their differences, Julie and Roy had knocked down some of the roadblocks that stood between them. Although she hadn’t admitted it yet, Julie was attracted to Roy. They were having their first official date on Saturday, and the relationship was starting to take shape. Mercy was right, after all. Goodness gave her friend credit; Julie might very well be the answer to Anne’s prayer request for her son.
This was the second evening the three angels had hovered over the Wilcoffs’ living room while Dean and Roy played two-handed poker. Granted, Dean and not Julie had invited him tonight, since they’d both enjoyed the previous poker game. But Julie hadn’t objected. And she’d even made dinner again—black-bean soup, corn bread and a salad. Chatting as he dealt, Dean picked up his two cards for Texas Hold’em and set the deck on the coffee table between them.
Roy looked over his cards and quickly placed his bet. Mercy, a serious student of cards, peered down at his hand.
“Should I help him with the deal?” she whispered.
“No,” Goodness cried. It was exactly this sort of intervention that got them in trouble. “Roy can win or lose this game on his own. Besides, I think it would do him good if Dean beat him again.”
“Oh, come on,” Mercy pleaded. “Don’t be such a spoilsport.”
Shirley sat atop the light fixture and sighed expressively. “Have you ever noticed how the game of poker is a lot like Roy’s life just now?”
Goodness and Mercy stared at her. Sometimes Shirley came up with the most bizarre pronouncements.
“In what way?” Goodness was already certain she was going to regret asking.
“Notice how willing Roy is to fold,” Shirley said, pointing to the six and the three, one a spade and the other a heart.
“Well, yes, but if I was dealt those cards in Texas Hold’em, I’d fold, too,” Mercy told her. “He doesn’t have much opportunity to make anything of it, and Dean has something better.”
“Roy’s done the same in life,” Shirley said. “He’s cast his father and Aimee aside. His inability to forgive them, as Anne has done, is a blight on his soul.” She shook her head. “Forgiveness is hard, and most people tend to hold on to their hurts, to take some kind of perverse satisfaction in them. I don’t understand, but it’s the way of humans.”
“Roy needs more time,” Goodness murmured. Angry and bitter as he was, any positive relationship with his father was impossible. Every effort Burton had made toward reconciliation with his son, Roy had rejected. He wasn’t anywhere close to finding forgiveness for either his father or Aimee.
“Perhaps,” Shirley agreed, but reluctantly.
“He’ll get a better hand next time,” Mercy said, watching as Roy shuffled the deck.
“He needs what humans call luck, and we both know there’s no such thing as luck, only God,” Goodness reminded them both, but no one seemed to be listening. Both her fellow Prayer Ambassadors were intent on the game.
“Roy needs all the help he can get,” Shirley said. “That’s why we’re here.”
“Did you lend him a little heavenly assistance?” Goodness asked when Roy came up with a pair of kings.
First Mercy and now Shirley. The two of them were out of control. Goodness was the only one with a sense of mission, a sense of purpose. They had important work to accomplish, and her fellow Ambassadors weren’t taking it seriously. They seemed more interested in this card game. Not that Goodness was averse to poker, of course, but unlike her colleagues, she did have her priorities straight. Pouting, she folded her wings, crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
Mercy looked up, surprised at this uncharacteristic display of temper. “I didn’t have anything to do with him getting that pair.”
“Me, neither,” Shirley said with an expression of such innocence that Goodness had no choice but to believe her. “I’m just saying Roy could do with a good turn of the cards, but I wasn’t responsible for that one.”
“Oh, all right,” Goodness muttered. She was tired of policing her friends. And at least they seemed to be realigning their priorities….
The phone rang. “Who’s that?” Mercy asked.
“Quiet,” Goodness said. “Julie’s answering it.”
Both Shirley and Mercy flew around while Goodness hovered in the kitchen doorway, listening in on the conversation. “It’s Anne,” she said excitedly.
“How’d she get Julie’s phone number?” Shirley asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Probably the phone book,” Mercy suggested.
“What does she want?”
“Shh,” Goodness cautioned. This was wonderful! She beamed at her friends. “Anne’s inviting her to lunch.”
“When?”
