these dishes. Boys, get ready for school.’’
‘‘It’s Saturday, Mama,’’ Jimmy said. He and Luke exchanged glances. I was losing my mind.
Aunt Batty followed me out of the pantry and opened the door to Mr. Harper’s room, coffee cup in hand. She stopped short.
‘‘Goodness, you scared me!’’ she said. ‘‘You look just like a big old woolly bear lying in that bed! Now, why would you want to let your hair and beard get all shaggy like that?’’
I hurried into the room behind her, afraid she had offended him. ‘‘Mr. Harper has been sick with a fever, Aunt Batty. He can’t do much for himself.’’
‘‘Well, I could clean him up real nice, if you want me to. I took good care of Walter years ago, when he was bedridden. And then poor Papa, of course. Shaved them both clean as a whistle.’’
Even if I were dying I wouldn’t let crazy old Aunt Batty near me with a straight razor, but I didn’t know how to warn Mr. Harper. He looked from me to Aunt Batty in confusion, as if things were moving too fast for him to keep up.
‘‘Let’s wait until he’s feeling better,’’ I said quickly.
‘‘Suit yourself,’’ she said, with a shrug. She handed him the coffee. ‘‘Here you go. I’m Aunt Batty, by the way. Who might you be?’’
‘‘My name’s Gabe...Gabriel Harper.’’
Aunt Batty looked thoughtful. ‘‘Gabriel, eh? I once knew another angel by the name of Gabriel. You any relation? You do look kind of familiar....’’
He gave a nervous laugh. ‘‘I’m really sorry to disappoint everyone but I’m not an angel. Far from it, I’m afraid.’’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘‘Mmm! This tastes as good as it smells. Thank you, ma’am.’’
‘‘Would you like some pancakes to go with that?’’ Aunt Batty asked. ‘‘My pancakes are delicious, I must say. I have a secret ingredient— so secret that even I don’t know what it is.’’
He smiled slightly as she howled at her own joke. ‘‘Sure...Thank you very much, ma’am.’’
His attention seemed drawn to something in the doorway behind me so I turned to look. All three kids were trying to sneak into the room. ‘‘Everyone out!’’ I said. ‘‘This isn’t a sideshow. Mr. Harper deserves a little privacy.’’ I didn’t want them getting friendly and feeling Mr. Harper’s loss when he either died or left us again. I tried to herd them out but he overruled me.
‘‘No, it’s all right,’’ he said in his deep, soft voice. ‘‘I wouldn’t mind some company.’’
I gave up and fled to the kitchen to get his breakfast. The kids had left three pancakes sitting all by themselves on the platter. I put them on a clean plate, dabbed a mound of apple butter on top, and brought them in to Mr. Harper. I was only gone a minute or two, but in that time Winky managed to waddle in to join the crowd and the gray cat decided to sprawl herself across the foot of his bed. Before I had a chance to shoo them out, the orange cat jumped onto the bed, too, carrying Becky’s mitten in her mouth as if hauling a kitten around by the scruff of the neck.
‘‘Oh, look,’’ Becky said. ‘‘Arabella brought you her kitten.’’
Gabe stared at the cat, squinting his eyes as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or not. Arabella dropped the mitten in his lap then lay down beside him, purring and kneading his leg with her paws.
‘‘That’s the sorriest-looking kitten I’ve ever seen,’’ he said.
‘‘It’s really my mitten,’’ Becky said in a loud whisper. ‘‘Promise you won’t tell her?’’
Gabe laughed, and the sound of it reminded me again of the low notes on a church organ—the ones that tug on your heart and punch you in the stomach. The kids all laughed along with him and I knew I’d be fighting a losing battle if I tried to keep them away from him. I gave him his breakfast plate, then slipped from the room to go upstairs and make the beds.
It had turned out to be a beautiful day.
‘‘It’s Saturday, Mama,’’ Jimmy said. He and Luke exchanged glances. I was losing my mind.
Aunt Batty followed me out of the pantry and opened the door to Mr. Harper’s room, coffee cup in hand. She stopped short.
‘‘Goodness, you scared me!’’ she said. ‘‘You look just like a big old woolly bear lying in that bed! Now, why would you want to let your hair and beard get all shaggy like that?’’
I hurried into the room behind her, afraid she had offended him. ‘‘Mr. Harper has been sick with a fever, Aunt Batty. He can’t do much for himself.’’
‘‘Well, I could clean him up real nice, if you want me to. I took good care of Walter years ago, when he was bedridden. And then poor Papa, of course. Shaved them both clean as a whistle.’’
Even if I were dying I wouldn’t let crazy old Aunt Batty near me with a straight razor, but I didn’t know how to warn Mr. Harper. He looked from me to Aunt Batty in confusion, as if things were moving too fast for him to keep up.
‘‘Let’s wait until he’s feeling better,’’ I said quickly.
‘‘Suit yourself,’’ she said, with a shrug. She handed him the coffee. ‘‘Here you go. I’m Aunt Batty, by the way. Who might you be?’’
‘‘My name’s Gabe...Gabriel Harper.’’
Aunt Batty looked thoughtful. ‘‘Gabriel, eh? I once knew another angel by the name of Gabriel. You any relation? You do look kind of familiar....’’
He gave a nervous laugh. ‘‘I’m really sorry to disappoint everyone but I’m not an angel. Far from it, I’m afraid.’’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘‘Mmm! This tastes as good as it smells. Thank you, ma’am.’’
‘‘Would you like some pancakes to go with that?’’ Aunt Batty asked. ‘‘My pancakes are delicious, I must say. I have a secret ingredient— so secret that even I don’t know what it is.’’
He smiled slightly as she howled at her own joke. ‘‘Sure...Thank you very much, ma’am.’’
His attention seemed drawn to something in the doorway behind me so I turned to look. All three kids were trying to sneak into the room. ‘‘Everyone out!’’ I said. ‘‘This isn’t a sideshow. Mr. Harper deserves a little privacy.’’ I didn’t want them getting friendly and feeling Mr. Harper’s loss when he either died or left us again. I tried to herd them out but he overruled me.
‘‘No, it’s all right,’’ he said in his deep, soft voice. ‘‘I wouldn’t mind some company.’’
I gave up and fled to the kitchen to get his breakfast. The kids had left three pancakes sitting all by themselves on the platter. I put them on a clean plate, dabbed a mound of apple butter on top, and brought them in to Mr. Harper. I was only gone a minute or two, but in that time Winky managed to waddle in to join the crowd and the gray cat decided to sprawl herself across the foot of his bed. Before I had a chance to shoo them out, the orange cat jumped onto the bed, too, carrying Becky’s mitten in her mouth as if hauling a kitten around by the scruff of the neck.
‘‘Oh, look,’’ Becky said. ‘‘Arabella brought you her kitten.’’
Gabe stared at the cat, squinting his eyes as if he wasn’t sure if he was seeing things or not. Arabella dropped the mitten in his lap then lay down beside him, purring and kneading his leg with her paws.
‘‘That’s the sorriest-looking kitten I’ve ever seen,’’ he said.
‘‘It’s really my mitten,’’ Becky said in a loud whisper. ‘‘Promise you won’t tell her?’’
Gabe laughed, and the sound of it reminded me again of the low notes on a church organ—the ones that tug on your heart and punch you in the stomach. The kids all laughed along with him and I knew I’d be fighting a losing battle if I tried to keep them away from him. I gave him his breakfast plate, then slipped from the room to go upstairs and make the beds.
It had turned out to be a beautiful day.
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