want to say anything, especially to his little sister. She still believed. When he was her age, he’d wanted to believe, too.
Santa was like his grandparents who lived in Wenatchee. His mother’s family didn’t have a budget, or at least he didn’t think so. It never seemed hard for them to buy presents the way it was for his parents. Maybe …
Carter decided he’d mention the possibility to his mother in the morning and see what she said. If his own mom and dad couldn’t afford a dog, then maybe they’d let his grandparents buy him one. Or perhaps Grandma and Grandpa could pay the vet bills his dad was so worried about.
Feeling better now, Carter pulled back his sheets and slipped into bed. He’d just closed his eyes when a backup plan came to mind. Santa might be make-believe but God was real, and Christmas was Jesus’s birthday. Remembering that, he got out of bed and knelt down. He’d already said his bedtime prayers, but this was extra. He hoped God wouldn’t mind hearing from him again.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “Thank You for Your birthday. I think it’s great that because You were born we get presents. I’m really glad You arranged it like that. Um, God, I asked about getting a dog before and my parents said I had to wait. I waited. It was hard, too.
“They said I had to be nine years old before I was responsible enough to take care of a dog. Well, I’m nine and I do all my chores and I do my homework and I don’t cheat on tests or anything.”
He hesitated, thinking he’d better tell the whole truth. God knew anyway. “Sometimes Mom has to remind me about my chores. But I try to be good.”
Carter paused, wondering if God might say something back. He listened intently, his eyes closed, but no matter how hard he concentrated he couldn’t hear anything. That didn’t mean God wasn’t listening, though; Carter understood that.
“If You could find a way to get me a dog for Christmas, God, I’d really like it. I promise to take care of Rusty and train him right. I’ll make sure he’s loved. Thank you.”
Finished now, Carter lowered his head and whispered, “Amen.” He stayed on his knees a few minutes longer, in case God wanted to talk to him, after all. Eventually he climbed back into bed.
God had a dog for him, a special one. Carter was sure of it. He didn’t know how the dog would arrive. Maybe his grandparents would give him one for Christmas, maybe not. He’d just wait and see. He might not believe in Santa anymore, but Carter believed God answered prayers. All he had to do now was be patient.
“You heard?” Gabriel asked Shirley. The Prayer Ambassador had once worked as a guardian angel and her love for children was the reason he usually assigned Shirley the prayer requests from boys and girls.
“A dog,” Shirley repeated.
“There are more important requests, if you prefer,” Gabriel said.
“No,” came her immediate reply. “I want to help Carter get his dog.”
“I thought you would.”
“It’s just that …”
“Yes?”
“It’s just that I could probably take on two or three such requests while I’m on Earth,” the angel said with utter confidence. “But I know why you haven’t given me more than one.”
“You do?” Gabriel asked. “And why would that be?”
“My real assignment is to keep watch over Goodness and Mercy. Heaven knows, and I don’t mean that as a pun—” she paused and gave him a smug smile “—those two need looking after.”
“Indeed they do,” Gabriel agreed. “But it seems to me that you’ve taken part in their schemes a number of times.”
“Under protest,” Shirley rushed to explain. “I knew they were headed for trouble and I tried to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen to me. So what choice did I have?” She shook her head ruefully. “You can’t imagine the trouble I’ve saved you on other assignments. But I’m only one angel and there’s only so much I can do on my own.”
Gabriel didn’t need a reminder of the problems these three had caused. Yes, he did expect Shirley to be a supervisor of sorts for the other two, but as often as not they’d led her into temptation. Still …
“As the most responsible of the trio—”
“That would be me,” Shirley said, cutting him off. She folded her wings close to her back without revealing any degree of eagerness as Goodness and Mercy had done. Shirley was the picture of calm serenity, of unquestionable confidence.
“Let me point out the time limitations involved,” Gabriel said. “All three of you need to return to Heaven on Christmas Eve.” This shouldn’t come as any surprise, since it was one of the terms always set upon them during visits to Earth at this time of year.
A look of panic flashed into Shirley’s eyes. “That means we have barely a week by the earthly calendar.”
“Don’t forget, we need you back for the festivities,” Gabriel told her.
“Yes, of course.” She did seem unusually concerned with the temporal constraints, which he found odd, considering that they’d answered prayer requests in less time than that.
“If there are problems, I can come directly to you?” Shirley asked.
It went without saying that with Goodness and Mercy, there were bound to be problems. “Of course.”
On second thought, Gabriel wasn’t so sure of that. He’d seen compassion and a new depth in Mercy; she understood the seriousness of her assignment. Harry Alderwood’s days on Earth were few, and Mercy would have to convince Rosalie to move and at the same time prepare Harry for the crossing. Heaven awaited his arrival.
As far as Goodness went … That was an entirely different story. Beth Fischer had lessons to learn, obstacles to negotiate—obstacles of her own making. It might not be as easy as Goodness assumed to steer her toward the future. Gabriel would keep a close eye on this assignment.
And young Carter Jackson—this wasn’t an easy prayer request, either, despite what Shirley seemed to think. She might be a relatively senior angel, but she had a few lessons to learn herself.
“Can I see Carter?” Shirley asked.
“Of course.” As he’d done with the others, Gabriel parted the veil between the two realms and offered Shirley a chance to assess the situation.
Sitting at the breakfast table, Carter watched his parents closely.
“You remember this summer you said I could have a dog when I’m nine, Dad?” he asked, braving the subject dearest to his heart.
His dad exchanged a look with his mother. “I remember.”
“I’m nine now.”
His father put down his fork, and the careful way he laid it on the table told Carter this was going to be an important discussion. “Son, it hurts me to tell you this, but we can’t afford a dog.”
“Dad
