They met online six months ago, remember?”
“Quite right,” Mercy confirmed. “And before you mention Harry and Rosalie running into Lucy Menard, I’ve explained that.”
A wistful expression came over Goodness. “I do hope everything works out for Beth and Peter.”
“Why shouldn’t it?” Shirley asked.
“They’re both so stubborn—and so scared. What they need is a good shove in the right direction.”
“Goodness!” Shirley’s expression was scandalized. “Don’t even think like that. Our job is to teach these humans a lesson. They have to make their own decisions, find their own way.”
“Find their own way?” Mercy didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but she couldn’t help it. The evidence was overwhelming; humans were a pathetic bunch. “May I remind you that humans wandered in the desert for forty years on a trip that should’ve taken three months, tops?”
“Joshua had them march around Jericho seven times, looking for the main gate to the city,” Goodness added, shaking her head.
Shirley frowned. “You both know there were very good reasons for those incidents.”
“True, but you have to admit humans don’t exactly have an impressive track record.”
With a disgruntled look, Shirley was forced to admit the truth.
“Humans need help,” Mercy reiterated.
“Our help.”
Still Shirley didn’t seem convinced. “But Gabriel—”
“Will never find out,” Mercy assured her. “We won’t be blatant about it—just a nudge or two where it’s warranted. If Gabriel’s going to place us under earthly time constraints, we need to be inventive.”
“Inventive,” Goodness echoed. “How do you mean?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s obvious that you’ll have to step in with Beth and Peter.”
“I will?”
“Yes.” Mercy didn’t understand why she had to clarify everything for her fellow Prayer Ambassadors. “Didn’t you tell me they still haven’t set a time to meet?”
“Well, yes …”
“And the reason is?”
Goodness shifted uncomfortably. “Well, like I said, they’re afraid….”
“Afraid of what?” Mercy asked. “Do you suppose maybe they’re afraid of being disillusioned?”
“They could be,” Goodness said. “And I agree—they need help. The last time I looked, Beth was depressed. Everything was going so well between her and Peter, and then he closed down for no apparent reason.”
“Is there anything you can do about it?”
“I … Yes, of course there is.” Her eyes darted from side to side. “Unfortunately, I can’t think what it would be at this precise moment, but it’ll come to me.”
“Shirley.” Mercy focused her gaze on the former guardian angel.
“Reporting for duty.” She stood military straight, wings neatly folded, feet together. Mercy wondered if Shirley was making fun of her.
“How do you plan to help Carter?” she asked.
Shirley’s shoulders sagged with defeat. “I’ll make sure the dog’s nowhere to be seen when he arrives for school tomorrow.”
“You’re sure that’s the right thing for Carter?” Mercy asked, her own heart aching for the little boy.
Reluctantly Shirley nodded. “His father said he couldn’t have a dog, no matter what. I don’t have any choice.”
All three considered this unfortunate set of circumstances.
“Maybe I could steer Carter’s father toward a better-paying job,” Shirley suggested.
“That’s an idea.”
Goodness turned to her. “What’s happening with Harry?” she asked.
Ah, yes, Harry and Rosalie. “They visited Lucy Menard earlier this afternoon and got a tour of the assisted-living complex.”
“And what happened?” Shirley asked.
“Come with me and let’s find out,” Mercy invited. Together with her two friends, she descended on the house at 23 Walnut Avenue, where Rosalie and Harry sat across from each other at the dinner table.
“I was surprised at how many of our friends have moved to Liberty Orchard,” Rosalie murmured, gazing down at her bowl of canned chicken stew.
She seemed deep in thought, and that encouraged Harry. The visit had gone even better than he could’ve expected. Rosalie had met three good friends she’d lost contact with in the last few years. Each one had urged them to make the change and become part of the community at Liberty Orchard.
“Did you notice how most people said they were sorry they hadn’t moved into assisted living sooner?” Harry waited for his wife to protest. She hadn’t wanted him to know, but he could see that she’d been impressed with the facility.
“What I liked was all the social activities,” Rosalie murmured.
Harry agreed. He’d been impressed himself, glad, too, because he felt that after he died Rosalie would have the social contact she needed. A wave of sadness washed over him at the thought of leaving his wife behind. He tried not to dwell on the subject of death, but knowing it was imminent, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Trying not to appear too enthusiastic about the assisted-living complex, Harry nodded.
“My goodness,” Rosalie said happily, “those folks have something going on every day of the week.”
Harry nodded again, taking a bite of his stew.
“Did you read the dinner menu?” Rosalie asked him. She’d found it posted outside the dining room and gone over it three or four times. She’d had all kinds of questions for Lucy, too. The midday meal was the main one of the day, with a lighter one served at about five. “Why, they had a choice of two soups and a salad, plus fish, chicken or meat loaf. And Lucy said it’s different every day!”
“I took a look at it myself,” Harry said gently. One thing was certain; the residents at Liberty Orchard weren’t eating any of their meals out of a can—unless they chose to. He didn’t need to point out the obvious, however.
His wife set down her spoon. “Harry,” she began shyly, “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m starting to forget things now and then.” The admission came with some hesitation. “I’ve begun to wonder if one of the reasons is that my mind isn’t as active as it used to be.”
“Lucy
