The Happening

Valerie L. Smith

        

         He lay on the bench watching the traffic light change. It was the only one in the entire city that still worked. Maybe that's why he had such a fascination with it. It was one of a kind—just like him. Or maybe it was because that's where he had met her.

         He enjoyed these rare moments. Quiet. Peaceful. The skies were blue and dotted with wispy clouds. It was good to be here even if it only lasted for a little while. As he basked in the sun, a gentle breeze tickled his nose and he caught her scent.

         "Ah, Miss Molly, I was wondering when you would be coming around," he said, sitting up to give her his full attention.

         "I see you are making fine use of your time as usual, Jet."

         "Well, in my defense, there ain't a whole lot to do around here these days, you know."

         "Yes, but still, is this the best you can do? I mean, really, Jet, sometimes I just don't understand you."

         Jet joined Molly as she continued down the street.

         "Molly, Molly, come on, girl, I was just taking a break. I've been working all day long. Hard at it, too."

         "Really?"

         "You bet."

         "I'm not sure I believe you, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time."

         "Whaddaya say we scrounge up some dinner?"

         "Scrounge?" Molly shuddered. "Now there's a word I never would have thought would describe my dinner."

         "You just lived too high on the hog, Moll, what with your schmancy house and fine dinin' and such. It's probably a good thing you've never had to learn how the real world lives."

         "Yes, probably so..." Molly's voice trailed off and she came to a halt all of a sudden.

         Directly ahead were two four-lane roads that had bustled with traffic at one time. On the other side of them were several city administration buildings including a large firehouse and a police station. In the distance, reaching for the sky, were the arches of two of the city's bridges.

         "L-let's go back the other way," Molly said, her voice trembling.

         "Why?"

         "Because I want to."

         "But why?"

         "Because I want to and there doesn't need to be any other reason!"

         "Okay."

         They turned around, but Jet mumbled, "Somebody's up on her high horse today. Somebody's just a little bit spoiled. Somebo—"

         "Jet!"

         "What?"

         "Hush!"

         "Okay!"

         At the corner, they crossed the street without stopping. No need to bother with that because there hadn't been a car in the city in months. They only stayed on the sidewalk out of habit.

         An old newspaper blew in front of Molly and she stepped on it. She paused for a moment to gaze at the picture on the front page.

         "It's hard to believe this place was once filled with so many people."

         "Yeah."

         "I can remember it like it was yesterday. Do you think it will ever be that way again?"

         Jet shook his head. "I don't know, Molly."

         "So much life...so much food..." She licked her lips, longing for something fresh, something that didn't come out of a soup can...or a trash can.

         Molly stepped back and the breeze lifted the newspaper, carrying it into the air and down the street.

         "I'm starving. It's a shame all of that hard work of yours couldn't have provided dinner."

         "Molly, I do believe you're mocking me. Are you mocking me? I'm wounded. Wounded. Heh-heh-heh."

         Molly laughed. "You're a scoundrel, Jet."

         "Hey, look!"

         "What?"

         Jet gestured down the alley. "Goodman's door is open."

         "So?"

         "He's got food in there."

         "Yes, we know that, but he hasn't shared with anyone all this time. I'm sure he isn't starting now."

         "Maybe he's had a change of heart."

         Molly snickered. "Have you lost your mind?"

         "It could happen. Hey, if the Big Dog gets a-hold, he can change anyone, even old Goodman."

         "Oh, there you go again. You and your Big Dog."

         "Would you like for me to call Him something else?"

         "You can call Him the Man Upstairs, the Big Kahuna, whatever. I just can't believe you buy into all that hype."

         "You know, I can hear all that attitude you're giving me, but I can see, I can see, Molly, my friend, that you want to believe. I can see it."

         "You're delirious."

         "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's see if I'm right about Goodman."

         Molly narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

         "Let's see if he gives us some food."

         "Did you lie in the sun too long back there? Has your brain been fried?"

         "Why else would his door be propped open? He's always got that place sealed up tight."

         "I don't know."

         Jet started toward the restaurant's side entrance.

         Molly called out, trying to be inconspicuous, "Jet! This is dangerous!"

         Jet glanced over his shoulder and winked. "Come on, Moll, live a little."

         She let out an exasperated sigh. "He'll be the death of me. I just know it."

         She stepped into the alley, but stayed a few steps behind Jet. As she neared the door, the aroma of baking chicken wafted out and was carried to her on the breeze. She began salivating and her hunger overtook her fear. She hurried to catch up with Jet.

         Then a young couple with an infant stepped around the door and entered the building. This bolstered Molly's and Jet's confidence. But what happened next stopped them dead in their tracks.

         "Out! Out! Out!"

         The couple flew out of the restaurant and back down the alley. A heavyset man was right on their heels, brandishing a butcher knife.

         "That's Goodman," Jet said as he retreated. Molly was frozen in her tracks.

         "I don't care about your momma! This is not a charity, you leeches!"

         Goodman turned around and locked eyes with Molly. He started flailing his arms and yelling at the top of his lungs.

         "And there's nothing for you either!"

         Molly and Jet bolted for the street and didn't stop until they were several blocks away.

         "Stop, stop, I have...to stop," Molly gasped. She flopped down on the curb to catch her breath.

         "Girl, you are out of shape. I guess all those years in a lap of luxury did that to you."

         Molly shot Jet a dirty look. "Enough with the wisecracks, okay?"

         "So sensitive..."

         Molly ignored him and scratched behind her ear. "Well, that was an absolute failure. Any more bright ideas?"

         Jet scanned the horizon. "It's gettin' late. It'll be dark soon. There's a place we could check out. I went by it today. If we hurry, we got just enough time to make it."

         "Fine."

         Their route took them past several boarded up storefronts, perhaps a sign that the owners hoped to return some day. But there were also abandoned cars, testaments of both the life that once filled the city and the desolation that now called the streets home. They saw no signs of life—no stray cats, no birds, not even a rat. Even they were forced to flee.

         They topped a hill and Jet led them into an alley. Right away Molly could smell death, something with which she had recently become familiar. In the beginning, the occasion was rare. Lately, though, it was becoming too common. At this rate, there would be no one in the city. How much longer did she have? Months? Weeks? Her nose told her that this unfortunate soul had died only hours ago. She hoped that he—or she—was at least comforted by a friend in his final moments. No one should die alone...no one. Molly shook her head and tried to think of something else.

         Jet zigzagged around a couple more buildings. When he stopped, they were overlooking a large complex down in a valley.

         "The hospital? You brought me to the hospital? You said it was someplace new!"

         "No, I never!"

         "Yes, you did!"

         "I said it was someplace we could check out!"

         "So you implied it was new!"

         "Hey, I can't help how you took it. I was just showing you the shortcut that I found."

         "You know I hate this place."

         "Well, we're here now. Come on. Time's a-wasting."

         Since the revolving door didn't work, the front door was held open by two old magazines. Inside, one half of the lobby had been converted into a medical ward, the other half was a hotel of sorts. The snack shop, well, it didn't have snacks anymore.

         Dinner was served in an adjoining hallway filled with ragged, dirty people leaning against the walls. Even the young couple with the infant was there. As Molly got comfortable on the floor, a woman placed a bowl of soup at her feet.

         She tasted it and sighed. "Vegetable."

         While Molly ate her dinner, her eyes wandered over to the medical ward. An elderly man propped up in bed was struggling to feed himself. With each shaky attempt, soup trickled down his chin and onto his shirt. Next to him, a boy slept while his mother stroked his bald head. Even from this distance, Molly could see that his skin was just hanging on his bones. Moans of agony from other patients grated on her like fingernails on a chalkboard.

         "Jet?" she whispered.

         "Yeah, Moll?"

         "I really do hate this place."

         "Why? It's a roof over our head. Food. Companionship. Isn't it nice to know you're not the last livin' creature on the face of the Earth?"

         "It's just so depressing."

         "I guess you could see it that way."

         "How do you see it?"

         "Whenever I'm here, I thank the Big Dog for everything I got."

         "Everything you—?" Molly scoffed. "Look around you, Jet! You have nothing! N-O-thing."

         "Not true, my dear. I got my eyes. I can see the sun and the stars and the moon. I can see you, my beautiful friend. I got my ears. I can hear the sound of your sweet voice—even though it's gripin' most of the time. I got my legs. They can carry me anywhere I want them to—anywhere. I'm strong. I'm fit. I can outrun you! Heh-heh-heh! I'm alive, Moll! I'm alive! I got lots—L-O-T-S—and that's lots to be thankful for."

         "You're weird."

         "That's all you can say? That's really all you can say?"

         Molly stuck her nose in the air. "That's all I'm going to say."

         "That's 'cause you know I'm right. Man, you sure do have a hard time admittin' when you're wrong, don't you, girl?"

         "Hush!"

         "Fine!"

         Molly and Jet decided to spend the night in their usual resting spot at the hospital—the chapel. It was quiet and the cushioned pews made decent beds. And from here Molly couldn't hear the moaning anymore.

         She stretched out on her side and squirmed with delight. "Oh, this feels so good. Much better than a hard floor. I'll sleep soundly tonight."

         There was no response from Jet.

         "Jet?"

         Nothing.

         "Jet, where are you?"

         "I'm saying my prayers."

         Molly followed the sound of his voice. He was sitting in front of the altar. She became mesmerized by the cross on the wall behind it.

         "Do you suppose He's watching us right now?"

         "Of course I do, Moll."

         "Do you suppose He knows how bad things are and how much we need...how much we need a miracle?"

         "Yes, He knows."

         Molly laughed. "Oh, what am I saying? We need a miracle all right, but we won't find it staring up there."

         Jet turned his gaze to Molly and his eyes were filled with pity. "Oh, Molly, dear sweet, miserable Molly, I wish you could see things the way I do, even if it was just for a minute." He headed for the pews. "Good night, Moll."

         Molly stayed at the altar, trying to make sense of his comment. What did he mean? Had she offended him? Hurt his feelings? She glanced up at the cross, but quickly averted her eyes. She felt intimidated for some reason and didn't even know why.

         "This is ridiculous," she said under her breath.

         She strode over to her pew and curled up in ball. She was asleep within minutes.

 

        

         The scream pierced the night like an ice pick through the heart. Molly almost tumbled to the floor. Jet was nowhere to be seen. She rushed to the lobby and found him just a few feet from the medical ward. The mother of the sick boy was crying uncontrollably, cradling her child's limp body in her arms.

         Standing next to her was the matronly woman who oversaw the hospital. Everyone called her Momma T. Some thought she was a saint because she worked from the wee hours of the morning until well after midnight caring for the sick and the weary that wandered in. Some said she reminded them of Mother Teresa because she appeared to be religious. She wore a silver cross on a simple chain around her neck and was often seen clutching it. Others thought of her as Florence Nightingale because of her gift of healing. From those with the smallest of scrapes to those on their deathbed, she offered her expertise and her compassion to all. Although she didn't speak a language that anyone else understood, her eyes and her hands spoke volumes. At the moment she was grieving the tragedy of a life cut short.

         "Poor kid," Molly said. The smell of death caused her to wrinkle her nose.

         "Yeah," Jet said. He caught a glimpse of Molly's face. "Why don't you go on back? No sense in you staying out here. I know how much you hate this stuff."

         "Okay. Thanks."

         After Molly was out of sight, Jet walked over to the boy's bed, but no one seemed to notice him. Momma T's eyes were closed and she was holding her cross. Her lips were moving, but Jet couldn't hear her words. He knew what was in her heart though. He looked toward the heavens and said his own prayer.

         When Momma T opened her eyes, she laid her hand on the mother's shoulder and gestured toward the bed. The woman nodded and laid her son down, taking care to smooth out his blanket after she covered him up. She kissed his forehead and wiped her tears off his face with her tissue. She fell into Momma T's arms and sobbed.

         Then Jet stretched out on top of the boy and waited for the burst. He knew it would hurt, hurt a lot, but it would be worth it. And then it hit. Bam! Like a cannonball blowing through his gut, the power of the Almighty rushed through him and into the child. The boy heaved a deep life-saving breath then exhaled. He opened his eyes, big beautiful green eyes, and he smiled at Jet.

         "Thanks again, Jet," he whispered.

         "No problem, Alex."

         As the overjoyed mother reached to embrace her son, Jet rolled onto the floor and made his way out of the gathering crowd. He staggered into the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

         Everyone else was laughing and crying, shaking their heads in amazement—everyone but Momma T. She slipped into the hallway and fell to her knees to give thanks. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed something floating to the floor. She picked it up and as she held it in the light for a better look, the moonbeams danced across the long, white glittering feather.

 

 

         "Are you going to sleep all day?"

         "Five more minutes." Molly turned her back to Jet.

         "Come on, Molly! We're missing the best part of the day!"

         "You go ahead. You can tell me all about it later."

         Jet leaned over and put his face just inches away from Molly's. "Up and at 'em."

         Molly groaned and opened her eyes. "Oh, all right. I'm up. I'm up. Are you happy?"

         They had just passed through the chapel doors when Molly remembered the night's unfortunate events.

         "Oh, no. That mother won't be in a good mood today."

         "Hmm. You think?"

         When she reached the lobby, Molly couldn't believe what she was seeing. The little boy was talking to the elderly man in the bed next to him. He still appeared weak and fragile, but he definitely wasn't dead.

         "Wh-what? I don't...that can't be!" she said.

         "You were right. He knew we needed a miracle, Moll."

         "What?"

         "Last night. Don't you remember? You asked me if God knew—"

         "Yes, I know what I said. That's not what I meant, though. And even if I did, you can't make me believe that had anything to do with this."

         "But—"

         "No way, no how. Give it up. Okay?"

         "Sure. Okay." Jet mumbled as he walked away, "Shoulda just let her sleep, that's what I shoulda done. Just let her sleep."

         There would be no breakfast for them. Three meals a day were served only to the sick. Also Momma T didn't like anyone hanging out at the hospital so Molly and Jet ventured into the city.

         "What shall we do, Molly?"

         "That's the puzzler, isn't it? How to fill the day. It seems that it's always a search—search for food, search for water...I would think that by now we would have searched every nook and cranny of this town."

         "Not by a long shot. Hey! Come on! I got an idea."

         Molly followed Jet as he led her through the city streets and alleys. Since she was refreshed from her sleep, the two of them chatted nonstop during their walk. But when Jet made his final turn and Molly realized the riverbank was just a few feet from her, she was mortified.

         "Jet! We have to...I can't...I have to go!"

         Molly whirled around and took off.

         "Molly!"

         "No, Jet!"

         "Molly!"

         "I can't!"

         Jet caught up with her and blocked her path. "Molly, stop!"

         Molly stood there, sobbing and panting.

         "Girl, you have got to tell me what's going on here."

         Molly lowered herself down to the sidewalk and then nodded. After her crying had subsided, she began to recount that fateful day.

         "Everyone said that it was all being blown out of proportion. That it wouldn't happen. Then when it happened in the east, everyone said, it would never happen here. Then when it did, that's all we heard about. On the radio, on TV, all I heard was, 'It's happening, it's really happening, can you believe it's happening?' I started wishing something else would happen, even if it was bad, just so they would talk about something different for a change.

         "Everyone told Emma she needed to leave town before things got too bad. She wouldn't listen though. She refused to walk away from her beautiful home, her beautiful things. When the gardener said 'bye-bye,' she said 'fine.' When the chauffeur said 'see ya,' she said 'fine.' Even when the maid hit the road, she was fine. But when the cook bailed, she said there was no way in queendom she was making her own eggs. Her sister invited her to come live with her in Miami. That's where a lot of other people had gone. So she packed our things, loaded them in the car and we headed out.

         "When we started across the bridge, I could sense that something was wrong. The maintenance crew had never finished the repairs. I tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. She just wouldn't listen. I heard the cables whipping through the air just seconds before the bridge collapsed. And then we were falling...falling...it seemed to last so long. I could tell Emma was confused. She wasn't screaming because she just didn't understand what was happening. But when the car hit the water, she screamed, oh, how she screamed. It tore my heart out. And then we started sinking and the water...the water...then a chunk of concrete slammed into my window and the water started pouring in. Emma was fighting with her seatbelt. I tried to help her, but she pushed me away. I tried again, but she just kept pushing me away. And the car...now the car was filled with water and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't breathe. I needed air. Emma was still struggling, but I had to get air...so I...I..."

         For the longest time, Molly just stared at the sidewalk, not seeing it, but afraid to see anything else. Finally she forced herself to glance back at the tangled web of concrete and steel. The river was little more than sludge now so she could see Emma's twisted car poking out of the heap. She closed her eyes as the tears began to fall. "I messed up, Jet. I left her to die...all alone."

         "Molly, you can't blame yourself. You gotta let go of this and forgive yourself."

         "I can't. I just can't. I will always believe that I failed her, that I should have done more." She stood up and lifted her chin high. She paused as she passed Jet and stared him down. "And now that I've told you my dark secret, I don't ever want to talk about it again, understand? And we will never, ever come back here."

         "Sure, Moll, sure," Jet said. Then he thought, breakin' in might be tougher than I thought.

 

 

         When Molly and Jet returned to the hospital that evening, they were greeted by the sound of laughter streaming through the doorway. Inside the young couple was dancing arm in arm to a lively tune being played on a harmonica by the elderly gentleman, the one who just the day before could barely feed himself. Alex was propped up in bed clapping. Momma T sat next to his mother, bobbing her head to the beat as she fed the baby. Other onlookers were whistling or cheering and tapping their toes. It was a much different scene than the one they had encountered the previous night.

         "Ah, such enchantment! I wonder what's on the menu tonight! Maybe steak, baked potato, croissant," Jet said, finishing with a bad French accent.

         But Molly was not in a playful mood. "Cut it out. There will be nothing more than the usual soup, if we're lucky."

         "Yeah, but we can pretend. We got a roof over our heads, music, laughter—"

         "It doesn't matter what we have, it's still just flavored water. Unless you want to call your big time God down here and—"

         "Now hold on, missy, I'm not likin' your tone." Jet faced Molly and looked her straight in the eye. "You know, I've tolerated your foul moods and fussiness. I always believed it was because you hurt for some reason. I just let it roll. That's just me. The way I am. Let it roll. Even when you get snippy with me, I let it roll. But when you start talking about our Lord with that kinda tone—"

         "Oh, hush!"

         "No, you hush!"

         Molly took two steps back. Jet had never spoken to her like that before.

         "When you talk about our Lord with that kinda tone and that kinda attitude, it's wrong and I'm not gonna to stand for it. Not from you. Not from anybody. It might be just a joke to you, but it's something mighty serious to me and I don't appreciate it at all."

         Molly was speechless. She hadn't expected this outburst, not from him.

         "I-I'm sorry, Jet. Really I am."

         All he did was shake his head. He had such a pained expression on his face. She didn't know what to say or do to set things right.

         "I mean it, Jet. Please accept my apology."

         "I need a break."

         "F-from me?"

         "I'm just gonna go on over to the chapel now. I'll see you in the morning."

         When Jet reached the chapel, he stretched out on one of the pews. He hadn't been there long when the young woman came in with her baby in her arms. She was the first person Jet had seen in there since he had arrived. She took a seat in the second pew and bowed her head.

         "Ramona?"

         The woman turned around to see her husband at the entrance.

         "Ramona, I was worried about you," he said as he sat next to her. "What are you doing in here?"

         "Oh, I don't know. You'll think I'm silly, but, well, yesterday I saw Momma T praying and, well, that's something I haven't done in a long, long time. Then that boy, Alex, it was like an answered prayer, right there. I guess I thought maybe that could happen for us with Uncle Tony, you know. I'm glad we were there for my mother and she didn't die alone, but that won't be the case if something happens to him."

         "Your uncle is a hateful old codger who deserves to die alone."

         "No, Adam! He wasn't always like that. Not always. He was just so lonely after his wife died. He couldn't imagine life without Aunt Sonia."

         "Why turn his back on his own sister though?"

         "Who knows why people do these things? Who knows what goes on in their heads? The fact remains that he is family."

         "So you came here to say a prayer for him?"

         "Yeah...and us...," she laughed, "and Momma T and everyone else."

         Adam grinned. "Sounds like a lot of praying. Maybe I should help."

         Ramona leaned over and kissed Adam then they bowed their heads together.

         Jet closed his eyes and smiled.

         Molly had arrived at the chapel just behind Adam. She had been standing quietly at the back. After hearing the conversation, she felt uncomfortable and withdrew to the lobby.

         The next morning, Molly decided to venture out on her own. She took a deep breath of the fresh air. At the same moment, a small whirlwind of dust kicked up and blew right into her face. She started sneezing and gagging.

         She turned around to avoid the mini tornado, but it seemed to follow her. To make matters worse, the wind was picking up and all sorts of debris was coming at her. No matter which way she turned, she was assaulted by either the twister or the wind. Was the world conspiring against her?

         One wrong turn too many and she found herself back in the alley beside Goodman's restaurant. The door was propped open, but the wind had closed it part of the way. Even so, she could smell a roast that almost had her drooling. Then she caught a whiff of something else. What was it?

         Part of her wanted to flee, especially as she recalled her last encounter with Goodman. But another part of her was urging her toward the door. She edged closer and closer with the stealth of a tiger approaching its prey. When she reached the entry, she peered in, but could see no sign of Goodman. Was that a good sign or a bad one?

         Molly took a couple steps inside the kitchen. Then she recognized the smell. Gas! She looked to her right and there by the stove was Goodman with a nasty gash on his forehead. She rushed to his side and tried to rouse him.

         "Come on! Get up! Get up!"

         He was unresponsive.

         I can't have another one die on me, no matter how mean he is, she thought.

         She tried to drag him outside, but he was too heavy for her. She couldn't budge him. What was she to do? What had she seen people do in the past? Water on the face? A cold cloth? She searched but couldn't find either. Exasperated she licked his eyelid.

         "Ew, yuck!" she said. "That is the nastiest, grossest thing I've ever done in my entire life and it didn't even work."

         He would die if he stayed here. She had to get help.

         Molly raced out the door and back to the hospital as fast as her legs could carry her. Just as she reached the entrance, Jet strolled out.

         "Whoa, girl! Where's the fire?"

         "It's Goodman! He's passed out!" She panted heavily. "Gas leak! Gotta get help! Gotta get the family!"

         "Go on, girl! I'm right with you!"

         Molly rushed up to Ramona and Adam who were standing in the lobby with Momma T.

         "Your Uncle Tony! He's passed out at the restaurant! There's a gas leak! Come on! He needs your help!"

         Ramona and Adam stared at Molly and then exchanged confused glances.

         "Jet, it's not working. They don't understand me."

         "Then you gotta try body language or something. Try anything. But hurry!"

         Molly started charging up to the young couple and circling them then bolting toward the door to indicate that she wanted them to follow her. She kept repeating the gyration, talking the entire time.

         "Honey, I think that dog wants us to follow her," Ramona said.

         "I don't know," Adam laughed. "That seems kind of weird."

         "Honey, come on. She's never acted this way before. And listen to all that barking. It sounds important."

         "Oh, all right."

         Ramona handed the baby to Alex's mother. Then she, Adam, and Momma T followed Molly to the restaurant. They pulled Goodman out into the alley where the fresh air revived him momentarily.

         "Ramona, please forgive me. I've been such a crotchety old man."

         "It's okay, Uncle Tony." Ramona held his hand and caressed his cheek.

         "Your momma...she was a good woman, an angel."

         "Yes, she was."

         "She's here with me now. God bless 'em. They gave her wings."

         "Uncle Tony? Uncle Tony?"

         Momma T shook her head and Ramona knew it was over.

         Molly had stayed in the background, but now she approached Ramona and nuzzled her arm. Although they didn't speak the same language, Molly tried to convey her condolences with her soft brown eyes. Without hesitation, Ramona scooped up Molly and buried her face in the dog's white fur.

         "Thank you," she said through her tears. "Thank you so much." Then Ramona looked toward the skies. "And thank you."

         Molly turned her eyes upward and suddenly felt very ashamed of the way she had treated Jet. She glanced around, but he was gone.

 

 

         At the hospital that evening, Ramona told everyone about her prayer and her conversation with her uncle. Although she had hoped for more time with him, she was grateful that they were reunited before he passed away.

         When Molly turned in for the night, half the pews were taken. But no one was sleeping. This time Molly didn't sneak out.

         At dawn, Molly was awakened by whoops and hollers unlike anything she had ever heard in her pedigreed life. She hurried into the lobby to see what was wrong. Almost everyone was glued to the windows. A few were outside dancing...in the rain.

         "It's happening!"

         "...you believe it?"

         "...really happening..."

         "Who would have thought?"

         "Thank you, God!"

         It rained all day long. It rained all night. Not pouring rain, just gentle, quenching, life-giving rain. When Molly entered the chapel that night, she couldn't find a place to sleep. Ramona noticed her standing in the middle of the aisle and picked her up. As she curled up on Ramona's lap, Molly realized there was something that she wanted, too. It wasn't luxury or fine cuisine. She just wanted to be loved. She wondered if God would answer the prayers of a dog. She hoped that He would.

         Meanwhile...

         "Jet, I am proud of you," the archangel Michael said. "But, Adrien, that attitude of yours needs to change. Keep this up and your wings might get clipped."

         "Why? What did I do?"

         "I am well aware that when Jet was given this assignment, you greeted it with skepticism. You did not have faith that the Lord's people would return to prayer. You did not even offer Jet any encouragement as he set out on his mission. You have been in His courts far too long and should have known better."

         "But you were putting all of your hopes on a dog," Adrien countered.

         "Not true," Michael said. "The chain of events started with Emma."

         "Emma? How?"

         "Yeah, I don't get that one either," Jet said.

         With a wave of Michael's hand, a small reflecting pool appeared. As they gazed into it, they saw a car pull up to a red light.

         "Emma was concerned about the long drive to Miami. At her age, she feared that something might happen to her, leaving poor Molly to fend for herself. While she was stopped at that light, she asked the powers that be to watch over Molly if anything should happen to her."

         "Ah, so that's why I was sent down," said Jet.

         "Precisely."

         "But Emma died. Didn't that break the chain?" Adrien asked.

         "No, the next link was Ramona's mother. Even though she was confined to a wheelchair, Ramona would take her for walks. She had taken her for one the day Emma headed to Miami. When Emma stopped for the red light, they crossed the street in front of her. That's when Ramona's mother saw Emma praying. It reminded her of her Bible school days many years ago. She knew her time on Earth was drawing to a close, so every day after that, she prayed. Just before she died, she told Ramona there was an angel sitting with her. Toward the end, her mother hadn't been lucid most of the time, so Ramona just thought it was the disease talking."

         "But I was really there!" Jet said with a grin.

         Michael raised his eyebrows.

         "Hey, no one said I had to spend all of my time with Molly."

         "Anyway, when Ramona arrived at the hospital, Alex overheard her telling the story to his mother. That night he prayed that if he were to die could he please have an angel by his side, too. Momma T was so touched by the sight of such a frail child in prayer that she asked that his life be spared. When Ramona witnessed Momma T's prayer followed by the miracle of Alex's recovery, she was moved to pray."

         "And now it's happenin' all the time," Jet said. "Morning, evening, nighttime. It's happenin.' It's like a revival and it only took one to start it."

         "That is right, Jet. Adrien, I am sorry, but because of your lack of faith, you might have incurred the wrath of the Master this time. You need to...uh-oh!"

         Just then, a sharp wind blew around them then took the shape of a large hand. The fingers curled around Adrien and he was wrenched away from the others.

         "Ahhhhhhhhh!"

         "I thought so," Michael said.

         Jet whistled through his teeth. "Man, taken out to the woodshed by the Lord himself. I wouldn't wanna be Adrien right now."

         "He'll be fine. It's not his first time. It won't be his last."

         "I gotta know something, Michael. After all that trouble, the old man died anyway. I don't get it. If he wasn't anybody special, what was this for?"

         Michael frowned. "Jet, they are all special."

         "You know what I mean. What was this all about?"

         "The infant."

         "That tiny baby?"

         Michael dipped his staff in the pool and when the ripples reached the edge, an alternate future was revealed. "If Molly had not reunited the family, they would not have gained access to the food in the restaurant. The infant would have perished along with the others." He dipped the staff again and a brighter future emerged. "Now Alex will find a cure for cancer. Momma T will start her own clinic. Adam and Jenny will be blessed with more children—twins. They will even adopt Molly."

         "And the baby?"

         "She will leave the city."

         "What's so great about that?"

         Michael touched the tip of the staff to the water. As she traveled from place to place, country to country, crossing great divides, the ripples of the pool continued without end.

         Michael smiled.

         "She will pray."

 

Copyright 2008, Valerie L. Smith

Cover: "The Gatherers"