“We were surprised that you went back to Wallonia,” the monk told him, “but then we got an inkling of what you were up to. That was my old monastery, you know. I lived there fourteen hundred years ago. Hard to believe it’s being turned into a hotel. I can’t imagine that place having room service.”
“I can understand that, sir,” Sterling agreed, “but for our purposes it may be most fortuitous. I think I have at last found a way to help Marissa and Nor and Billy, and maybe even Charlie. He needs my help as much as Marissa does, but in a different way.”
He squared his shoulders and looked into one face after the other. “I request permission to appear to Charlie so that he can work with me on solving the problems.”
“Do you mean to appear as you did to Marissa, who understood you were not of her world?” the shepherd inquired.
“Yes. I think that’s necessary.”
“Perhaps you’d better plan to become visible to Marge as well,” the queen suggested. “Something tells me she rules the roost in that family.”
“I was afraid to push the envelope and ask to meet her,” Sterling admitted with a smile. “It would be wonderful if I could communicate with both of them.”
“Push the envelope?” The matador’s eyebrows raised. “That expression wasn’t in vogue when you were alive.”
“I know. But I heard it somewhere. Maybe in Nor’s restaurant. I kind of like it.” He stood up. “According to the earthly calendar, tomorrow will be the day when I first met Marissa. I’ve come full circle.”
“Don’t forget, it was also the day you first appeared before us,” the Native American saint teased.
“That, I assure you, I’ll never forget.”
“Go forward with our blessing,” the monk told him. “But remember-Christmas Day, which you hope to celebrate in heaven, is drawing very near.”
Marissa opened the door of her room and was delighted to see Sterling sitting in the big chair by the desk. “I thought you were going away and would come back to say good night,” she said.
“I did go away,” he explained. “I took a look at the whole last year of your life when you were down at dinner and understand now why Daddy and NorNor had to leave.”
“But I’ve only been downstairs for an hour!”
“Time is different for me,” Sterling said.
“I kept thinking about you. I ate fast, then got stuck listening to Roy tell his boring story about Christmas when he was a little boy and was one of the shepherds in the school play. I got away as fast as I could. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Well, I learned a lot while you were at dinner. I’m going to have to leave now because I’m going to be very busy trying to get your daddy and NorNor back for your birthday.”
“That’s Christmas Eve,” she reminded him quickly. “I’ll be eight years old.”
“Yes, I know.”
“That’s only four days from now.”
Sterling saw skepticism mixed with hope in Marissa’s eyes. “You can help me,” he told her.
“How?”
“Say a few prayers.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And be nice to Roy.”
“It isn’t easy.” Her whole personna changed, and her voice deepened. “‘I remember the time when… blah, blah, blah.’ ”
“Marissa,” Sterling cautioned, with a twinkle in his eye.
“I knowwwwww… ” she said. “ Roy ’s all right, I suppose.”
Sterling stood, relishing the momentary lightheartedness he saw in Marissa’s eyes. It was an instant reminder of the first time he had seen her with Billy and Nor. I cannot fail her, he thought. It was both a prayer and a vow.
“It’s time for me to go now, Marissa.”
“Christmas Eve-you promised!” she said.
Charlie and Marge always piled the presents under the tree a few days before Christmas. Their three children all lived nearby on Long Island, a blessing for which Marge gave daily thanks.
“How many people’s kids are scattered to the ends of the earth?” she would ask rhetorically from under the dryer. “We’re so lucky.”
Their six grandchildren were a source of joy, from the seventeen-year-old about to start college to the six-year-old in the first grade. “All good kids. Not a lemon in the lot,” Marge often boasted.
But tonight, after she and Charlie had arranged the gifts, they did not feel their usual sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Dread of the inevitable outcome of Charlie going to the FBI had settled over them, and at 8:30 they were sitting quietly side by side in the living room, Charlie aimlessly flipping the channels on the television.
Marge stared at the Christmas tree, a sight that usually brought her great comfort and joy. Tonight it didn’t have that effect on her. Not even the homemade ornaments her grandchildren had made over the years could bring a smile to her face.
Then, as she watched, one of the ornaments slid to the carpet, the paper-mâché angel with one wing shorter than the other, and wearing a hat instead of a halo. She got up to retrieve the angel, but before she could reach it, the ornament started to glow.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. For once, not a word came from her lips. In ten seconds the angel had been transformed into a pleasant-faced man, neatly dressed in a dark blue chesterfield coat and wearing a homburg, which he promptly removed.
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH,” Marge screamed.
Charlie had started to doze on the couch. He jumped up, saw Sterling, and cried, “Junior sent you, I know he did.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Marge cried prayerfully. “The Badgetts didn’t send him, Charlie. He’s a ghost.”
“Please don’t be alarmed. I’m here to help solve your problems with the Badgetts,” Sterling said calmly. “Do sit down.”
They looked at each other and then obeyed. Marge blessed herself.
Sterling smiled. For a moment he said nothing, wanting them to get used to him and lose any lingering fear that he might do them harm.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked.
Marge’s eyes were still like saucers. “Please do, and help yourself to the Christmas cookies,” she said, pointing to the dish on the coffee table.
“No, thank you.” He smiled. “I don’t eat anymore.”
“I wish I had that problem,” Charlie said, staring at Sterling, the remote control still in his hand.
“Turn off the TV, Charlie,” Marge ordered.
Click. Sterling was amused, remembering the queen’s remark that in this house, Marge ruled the roost. He could see them both begin to relax. They understand that I’m not here to harm them, he thought. It’s time to explain myself to them.
“You know Nor Kelly and Billy Campbell, Charlie,” he began. “And you know they are in the Witness Protection Program.”
Charlie nodded.
“I was sent here to help Billy’s little girl, Marissa, who longs to be with her father and grandmother. In order to accomplish that, it is necessary to remove the threat that hovers over them.”