Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber

were wide with curiosity.

      “The stem part is the nut, the cashew,” she explained.

      “Wow.”

      “And they’re delicious,” she said. “Good for you, too,” she couldn’t resist adding.

      “What are you doing for Christmas?” Gabe asked.

      “I’ve been invited to a party, a big one with lots of celebrating. I’ll be with my friends Shirley, Goodness—”

      “Goodness? That’s a funny name.”

      “Yes, you’re right. Anyway, the party preparations have already begun. It won’t be long now.”

      “Oh.” Gabe looked disappointed.

      “Why the sad face?”

      “I was going to ask you to come here for Christmas.”

      Emily was touched by his invitation. “I know you’ll have a wonderful Christmas with Holly,” she said.

      “I invited Aunt Holly’s boss, too.”

      She had to make an effort to hide her smile. This was all working out very nicely. Very nicely, indeed.

      “Lindy didn’t say she’d come for sure but she might.” He paused. “She said to call her Lindy, not Ms. Lee like Aunt Holly said I should.”

      “Well, I hope she comes.”

      “Me, too. I think she’s lonely.” “So do I,” Emily agreed. The boy was very perceptive for his age, she thought.

      “I asked her what she wants for Christmas and she said she didn’t know. Can you believe that?”

      In Emily’s experience, many people walked through life completely unaware of what they wanted—or needed. “I brought along a book,” she said, changing the subject. “Would you like to read it to me?” She’d put the children’s book with its worn cover on the arm of her chair.

      Gabe considered this. “I’m not in school now. Can you read it to me?”

      “The way your dad used to when you were little?” she asked.

      Gabe nodded eagerly. “I used to sit on his lap and he’d read me stories until I fell asleep.” His face grew sad. “I miss my dad a lot.”

      “I know you do.” Emily set aside her knitting. “Would you like to sit in my lap?”

      “I’m too big for that,” he insisted.

      Emily could see that despite his words he was mulling it over. “You’re not too big,” she assured him.

      Indecision showed on his face. Gabe wanted to snuggle with her, yet he hesitated because he was eight now and eight was too old for such things.

      “What book did you bring?” he asked.

      “It’s a special one your grandma Larson once read to your dad and your aunt Holly.”

      “Really? How’d you know that?”

      “Oh, I just do. It’s the Christmas story.” “I like when the angels came to announce the birth of Baby Jesus to the shepherds.”

      She closed her eyes for a moment. “It was the most glorious night,” she said. “The sky was bright and clear and—”

      “And the angels sang,” Gabe finished enthusiastically. “Angels have beautiful voices, don’t they?”

      “Yes, they do,” Emily confirmed. “They make music we know nothing about here on earth … I’m sure,” she added quickly. “Glorious, heavenly music.”

      “They do?” He cocked his head to one side.

      “You’ll hear it yourself one day, many years from now.”

      “What about you? When will you hear it?”

      “Soon,” she told him. He climbed into her lap and she held him close. He really was a sweet boy and would become a fine young man like his father. He’d be a wonderful brother to his half brother and half sister, as well—but she was getting ahead of herself.

      “Tell me more about the angels,” Gabe implored. “Is my mom an angel now?”

      “No, sweetheart. Humans don’t become angels. They’re completely separate beings, although both were created by God.”

      “How come you know so much about angels?”

      “I read my Bible,” she said, and he seemed to accept her explanation.

      “I never knew my mom,” he said somberly. “Dad has pictures of her at the house. I look at her face and she smiles at me but I don’t remember her.” “But you do understand that she loved you very much, right?”

      “Dad said she did, and before she died she made him promise that he’d tell me every night how much she loved me.”

      “I know,” she whispered.

      “Do you think there are lots of angels in heaven?” Gabe asked.

      “Oh, yes, and there are different kinds of angels, too.”

      “What kinds are there?”

      “Well, they have a variety of different tasks. For instance, Gabriel came to Mary as a messenger. Other angels are warriors.”

      “When I get to heaven, I want to meet the warrior angels.”

      “And you shall.”

      “Do you think I was named after the angel Gabriel?” he asked.

      Emily pressed her cheek against the top of his head, inhaling the clean, little-boy scent of his hair. “Now, that’s something you’ll need to ask your father when you see him.”

      “Okay, I will.”

      “Gabriel had one of the most important tasks ever assigned,” Emily said. “He’s the angel God sent to tell Mary about Baby Jesus.”

      He yawned. “Can people see angels?”

      Emily’s mouth quivered with a smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh, yes, but most people don’t recognize them.”

      Gabe lifted his head. “How come?” “Not all angels show their wings,” she said.

      “They don’t?”

      “No, some angels look like ordinary people.”

      “How come?”

      “Well, sometimes God sends angels to earth. But if people saw their wings, they’d get all excited and they’d miss the lesson God wanted to teach them. That’s why angels are often disguised.”

      “Are they always disguised?”

      “No, some are invisible. Other times they look like ordinary people.”

      “Do angels only come to teach people a lesson?”

      “No, they come to help, too.”

      Gabe yawned again. “How do angels help?”

      “Oh, in too many ways to count.”

      He thought about that for a while, his eyelids beginning to droop.

      “Are you ready for me to read you the story? “ Emily asked.

      “Sure.” He rested his head against her shoulder as she opened the book. She read for a few minutes before she noticed that Gabe had fallen asleep. And she hadn’t even gotten to the good part.

      Chapter Fourteen

       When you flee temptation, don’t leave a forwarding address. —Shirley, Goodness and Mercy, friends of Mrs. Miracle

      The