Matthew. “I think they might be a little too high.”
“No, it’s perfect. That’s Susie.”
Matthew braced himself for the inevitable second wave of pain. Susie had trusted him to save her life, trusted his faith to make her well. He’d never forgiven himself for letting her down. Somehow he hadn’t prayed hard enough or loud enough to make any difference.
“Did she have a pink dress?” Glory interrupted his thoughts. Matthew’s face had gone white and she didn’t know what else to offer but chatter. “I thought I’d paint her in a pink dress with a little lace collar of white.”
“Pink is good,” Matthew said as he turned to walk away on his crutches. The sweat cooled on his brow. He’d made it past the hard part. He’d seen Susie again. Seen the look of trust on her face. He’d promised he’d take care of her and he had failed. He had told her God would come through for them. But he’d been wrong. In the end, Matthew had bargained bitterly with God to let him die. But God had not granted him even that small mercy. Matthew kept his face turned away from everyone. He’d fight his own demons alone.
“You like pink, do you?” Elmer said as he walked over to Glory.
“Who, me? No, I’m more of a beige-and-gray type of person,” Glory said. She didn’t like the closed look on Matthew’s face or the ramrod straightness of his back when he’d turned around. But he’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk.
“Beige—gray—that’s good,” Elmer murmured as he leaned closer to Glory.
Matthew hobbled stiffly back to the counter and sat back down on his chair. The air cooled the remaining sweat off his face as he watched Elmer make his moves. The old fox. Matthew took a deep breath. Today he’d rather watch the nonsense with Elmer than hold on to his own pain. He wanted to live in today and not yesterday. It made him feel better to know he wasn’t the only one being charmed by Glory. No wonder the old man drank his orange coffee as if he enjoyed it. “No checker game this morning, Elmer?”
“Checkers—ah, n-no.” Elmer stammered a little. “I thought I’d sit and talk a bit with the ang—with Miss Glory.” Elmer gave a curt nod in Glory’s direction. “Get acquainted, so to speak.”
“That’s very friendly of you,” Glory said. She’d watched Matthew make his way to the counter and had relaxed when he turned to face them. When he started watching them, she turned her attention to Elmer. The old man was safer. She didn’t mind company while she painted and almost welcomed it while she set out her brushes as she did now. Since Matthew had approved the sketch, she’d move on to the first stages of the oil painting.
“My pleasure,” Elmer said, and then took another dainty sip of his orange coffee. “It isn’t often we have a young woman visiting—at least, not one your age.”
“Hmm,” Glory murmured pleasantly. She’d need to mix some blue with that mauve to get the eye color right.
“Your age,” Elmer repeated. “And what might that be?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Ah,” Elmer said.
Matthew watched as the older man marked down a figure in a little notepad he pulled out of his pocket.
“And your birthday?”
“March 15.”
“Good month,” Elmer said as he nodded and marked another figure in his notepad. “That means you were born in oh three, fifteen, ah, 19…ah…?”
“Say, what are you doing?” Matthew demanded in surprise as he hobbled over to Elmer and stared at the older man.
“What?” Elmer bristled as he slid the notepad into his jacket pocket. “Just making conversation.”
“You’re planning to buy a lottery ticket from your daughter in L.A., aren’t you?” Matthew said in amazement. “And you’re getting some lucky numbers.”
“It’s all right.” Glory looked up at the two of them and smiled. “At least that way, he’ll have to call her.”
“Yeah,” Elmer said smugly as he patted the notebook in his pocket. “It’ll be our family time. Nothing better than talking to your family.”
Matthew grunted. “You’ve got better things to talk about than numbers and lottery tickets. Besides, her numbers aren’t magic. She’s not an angel.”
“And how do you know that?” Elmer lifted his chin. “She could be. The Bible says we sometimes entertain angels unaware. Right in Hebrews 13:2. I looked it up.”
“But the angels aren’t unaware.” Glory didn’t like the direction this discussion was going. She was as earthbound as anyone. “And an angel? I assure you, I’m not one.” She was just finishing up the right eyebrow on Susie’s picture. Eyebrows were important character pieces. They could make a face look innocent, bewildered, sad. Glory had settled on innocent for Susie.
“You could be,” Elmer stubbornly insisted. “You just might not want us to know.”
Matthew snorted. “An angel wouldn’t lie.” He didn’t know why he cared, but it gave him a funny feeling to have people talk about Glory as though she was an angel.
Not that the people of Dry Creek didn’t need an angel. Fact is, they needed a whole troupe of angels and a basket of miracles, too. He didn’t begrudge them their hope. It’s just that he, of all people, knew the disappointment that came when expected miracles didn’t happen.
The bell over the door rang as the door swung open and a half dozen little children in snowsuits walked in. A huge gust of wind and Mrs. Hargrove came in behind them.
“Josh! Joey!” Matthew recognized his sons, or, at least, he recognized their snowsuits. There was much flapping about before the hoods were down and the young faces looked around the hardware store.
“There she is!” Josh shouted to his friends, and pointed at Glory.
Matthew tensed.
“Hi, there.” Glory looked up at the children and smiled. Their bright snowsuits made a lovely study in color. Blue. Red. Pink. Even a purple one. “I should paint you all sometime. Just like this.”
“I see you do have everything set up,” Mrs. Hargrove said in satisfaction as she stepped out in front of her charges. “I was hoping you did. The children have never seen a real artist at work. If you don’t mind them watching. I thought it’d be educational.”
Matthew relaxed. That’s why they were here.
“And she’s an angel, too,” Joey boasted quietly.
Matthew bit back his tongue. If Josh had done the boasting, he’d have corrected him in an instant. But it had been so long since he’d seen Joey care enough to speak up about anything, he didn’t have the heart to correct him.
“Well, maybe not quite an angel,” Matthew did offer softly. “Sometimes a good person can seem like an angel to others without really being one.”
“Josh said she’d take our pictures to God,” said another little boy, Greg, glancing sideways at Glory. “For Christmas.”
Glory put down her brushes and turned to face the expectant faces looking at her. She noticed that most of the pockets had a piece of paper peeking out of them.
“I’d be happy to take your pictures,” Glory said as she stepped forward. It had been a long time since she’d done this much Christmas shopping, but it’d be fun. Sylvia, she knew, would enjoy being her go-between and Glory had enough in her checking account to cover it. “Just be sure you put your full names on the pictures—first and last.”
“Last, too?” one of the boys asked, his forehead puckering in a quick frown. “I can’t write my last.”
“Maybe Mrs. Hargrove