Read Online Angel Be Good by Kathy Carmichael - Free Book Online

business
suit. Next you know, I'll have a job on Wall Street and be
hobnobbing with the rich and famous. It's exactly what I
wanted."
    "Now it's your turn," said the girl shyly,
as she handed an envelope to her mother. "Open it."
    The woman was fast to comply, shooting a
quick wink at her son before doing so. "Oh. It's a house. Look,
dear!" She showed the clipping to her husband. "Thanks so much.
I'll have wonderful dreams tonight."
    Then the father pulled a stack of envelopes
from his pocket, passed around one for each of them. The mother
opened hers first. She laughed. "A fine mink coat! I'll be
grand."
    "I'd like you to be warm," he said
quietly.
    Next the girl opened hers. Out fell a series
of clippings, showing a Christmas feast to dream of. Turkey,
stuffing, vegetables, pies, cakes. "Oh, how yummy! But," she added
reassuringly, as if she were the parent, "our dinner is better,
Poppa."
    Lastly the boy tore open his envelope. "A
puppy! Oh, Poppa, I've always wanted a fireman's puppy. Maybe next
year, Santa will find us and bring me one with spots just like this
one."
    A family who gave dreams for Christmas. It
tore at Nat's heart.
    The whole family heartily cheered as the
father served up their dinner. Then the glass became dull, making
Nat wonder if that was it for Christmas Present?
    Lovely drifts of snowfall filled the
copier's surface, bringing with it the sound of carolers singing
joyous Christmas song. A curtain opened in the snow, centering on
the ragtag group of carolers. They strolled down a quiet
neighborhood street, stopping at times to serenade passers by.
    Nat marveled that he could smell heavenly
scents from dinners cooking, pies cooling on shelves at open
windows. He could see hearths lit with fire, bringing a warm
welcoming glow to homes along the route. As cabs stopped to let out
arrivals, family members would come out from doorways to greet them
with calls of "Merry Christmas" and "I'm so glad you could
come!"
    Even the cab drivers seemed joyous. He could
hear one, surely an opera singer, belting out the Hallelujah Chorus
through his open car window.
    It was exciting heady stuff to be out in
humanity sharing love for mankind amid the lights and the snow.
Then the camera stopped, holding back from the carolers and Nat
watched their retreating backs with a sense of loss. The view
turned to an old walk-up and closed in on a particular window
several stories up.
    Curtains fluttered and the camera entered
the room. Nat saw a comfortable living room, then the image panned
in on Percy seated on an overstuffed chair. What was it about Percy
that made him of such interest?
    Nat searched the scene for Laura and found
her seated, playing with a doll just beyond the chair. Percy and
his wife, Henrietta, were in quiet conversation in the
forefront.
    "I can't help wondering if this will be our
last Christmas together, Perce."
    "Don't be such a pessimist, Henri. I'll get
a donor, you wait and see."
    "The doctors said you need that kidney right
away. There isn't much time left to find a match."
    "I'm thinking of asking Nat." He beamed with
that annoying smile.
    The woman laughed, a painful aching sound.
"Don't take optimism to a new high. He wouldn't give you an old
pair of shoes, much less a kidney. And even if he were the generous
sort, and you know he's far from that, there's no guarantee it
would be a match."
    "With dialysis, I've still got time
enough."
    "I hope and pray there is time." A tear
leaked from her eye, and she swatted it away as if it were a
bothersome insect. "I feel like such a vulture, hoping that the
next traffic accident will take—kill—someone so you can have life.
I worry that I'll be punished for having such thoughts."
    Tears now fell heedlessly from her face. "I
worry that you'll be taken away from me and Laura, and I can't bear
the idea. Oh, Percy. What will happen to us all?"
    Percy took his wife into his arms. "Hush
now. Everything will be all right. You'll see. Let's worry over
this