“Never. They haven’t spoken in ten years.”
Goodness sat up and looked around. “I don’t know if I can take much more of this. You two do what you want, but I need a break.”
“Where are you going?” Shirley demanded. If her fellow angel got into any mischief, she’d be the one held accountable. As usual.
“Outside,” Goodness called over her shoulder.
Without a word, Mercy followed Goodness.
“Mercy!” Shirley shouted.
Flustered now, she raced after the pair and came to an abrupt halt when she saw the hot-air balloons. Their huge parachutes with the bright rainbow-colored panels brightened the sky. There must have been a dozen balloons in the lower Kent Valley. She knew that conditions in the early-morning hours were often ideal for ballooning.
“Goodness! Mercy! Don’t even think—” She was too late. Shirley caught sight of them as they hopped into a wicker carriage already filled to capacity. The ground crew was about to release the giant balloon from its tether line.
“Goodness!” Shirley called, exasperated beyond measure. “Mercy! Get out of there!”
Both pretended not to hear her. Shirley had to be careful. It wasn’t uncommon for humans, especially young ones between the ages of one and five, to hear angels speak. Some older people possessed the ability, too. Inside the basket was an eighty-year-old grandmother who was taking the flight as a birthday gift from her grandchildren.
“For the love of heaven, will you two kindly—” Shirley froze, certain she was seeing things. The hot-air balloon had risen only about six feet off the ground, where it remained, hovering, even though the ropes that had bound the craft to earth had been set free.
“What’s happening?” the old woman called to the ground crew, who’d stepped aside, obviously waiting for the balloon to glide upward. “Shouldn’t we be going up?”
Shirley groaned when she saw the problem. Just as she’d ordered, Goodness and Mercy had indeed left the wicker basket, but had taken positions outside it, securing the dangling tether lines to the ground.
“Let go,” Shirley yelled.
“Are you sure that’s what you really want us to do?” Goodness asked.
Without waiting for a response, both Goodness and Mercy released their tether lines at the same time. The balloon shot into the sky like a rocket. A few seconds later, its speed became more sedate.
“Wow!” Shirley heard the grandmother shout, holding on to her protective helmet with one hand and gripping the basket with the other. “Can we do that again?”
Goodness stood next to Shirley, looking extremely pleased with herself.
“That felt wonderful.”
“You’ve risked the entire mission,” Shirley said coldly. “Gabriel is sure to hear about this.”
“Look at this,” Mercy called as she joined them. She held a bottle of sparkling wine in one hand and dangled a trio of champagne flutes in the other.
“Where’d you get that?” Shirley asked.
“They fell from the sky.” She grinned broadly as she said it.
“Come on, Shirl,” Goodness cajoled, “humans aren’t the only ones who enjoy a glass of bubbly now and then.”
Five
Greg had barely slept or eaten in five days. He hadn’t recognized the gaunt beleaguered man who’d stared back at him in the bathroom mirror that morning. For a long time he’d studied his reflection, shocked into numbness. Anyone seeing him would assume his condition was due to either the stress of his vineyard being wiped out or the failure of his third marriage. Neither was true.
He had a son. Catherine had given birth to a boy, raised that child, loved him, guided him into adulthood. Now this child, the son Greg had rejected, was a doctor. His son was a father himself, which made Greg a grandfather. A grandfather! That knowledge was heady stuff for a man who’d never…never been a real father and never would be. When he’d abandoned Catherine and the child, Greg had assumed there’d be plenty of time for a wife and family. He hadn’t realized back then that this child of Catherine’s was his only chance. In his cowardice he’d thrown away the very life he’d always expected to have.
The first emotion he’d felt when Catherine told him about Edward had been undiluted joy. He had no right to feel anything—he knew that without her having to say it—but it’d been impossible to hide his reaction. Catherine always did possess the uncanny ability to see through him. It was one reason he hadn’t been able to face her after she’d told him about the pregnancy. Evading responsibility, he’d run and hadn’t looked back—but he’d been looking back plenty these past five days. Every waking minute, to be precise.