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to
me.”
    Buddy slapped his hand on the table.
“No need. I’ll grab a couple of my Elders, and we’ll take care of
it. All we’ll need are your keys.”
    “ You and your Elders,”
Tracey teased. “What am I gonna do with you guys?”
    “ Oh, you’ll love us. I
guarantee it. You won’t be able to help yourself.”
    Tracey walked over to hug him.
“Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”
    “ Right backatcha,
sweetheart.”
     

     
    Back in her old bedroom,
Tracey slept like a rock. There’s
something intrinsically soothing about having the same sheets and
blankets and quilts piled over you that you slept under when you
were a child, she mused. She smiled at the
thought and rolled over on her back, yawning as she gazed at the
clock which read 9:45.
    I haven’t slept this late
in years. This is heaven . . .
    She reached for her cell
phone on the bedside table and unplugged it from the charger. The
face lit up showing twelve more missed calls since she went to bed.
She flopped her head back on the pillow, debating whether she
should look at the list of names. She gave in and scrolled down the
list. Just as I thought. Morgan, Morgan,
Morgan . . . after ten calls, could you not get the
hint?
    Then she saw Amanda’s name, and her
heart skipped a beat. She pressed the link for her voicemail and
listened, bracing herself. There was no way to skip directly down
to Amanda’s message, so she listened to Morgan’s first message‌—‌a
fabricated reason for calling, nothing more. She skipped through
the rest of his messages, hearing only snippets of each until she
came to Amanda’s.
    “ Hey girl! Morgan said
you’ve already left town on your vacation! I thought we were going
to have coffee this morning before you left? Well, knowing me I got
the times mixed up and missed my chance to say goodbye. I’ll miss
you terribly, but I know you need some time at home. Call me
sometime if you feel like chatting‌—‌oh, hold on. Someone wants to
say hi.”
    “ Oh no, I don’t‌—‌” Tracey
stopped herself, realizing she was talking to a machine.
    “ Hi, Taycee!”
    Tracey smiled with relief as she
listened to the voice of three-year-old Aaron Thompson.
    “ Where are you go? Come
see me, Taycee. Come my house?”
    She pressed her lips together,
visualizing the little guy in Amanda’s arms, his big brown eyes and
thick head of blond hair so like his mother’s.
    “ Mommy, why Taycee not
talk?”
    “ Because she’s gone
bye-bye. Okay, Tracey, I’m jamming up your voicemail. Well, have
fun, okay? I’m already missing you! Love you! Bye.”
    Tracey clicked off her phone and
dropped it on the covers. “Oh Amanda . . . I hate
this. Hate. It.”
    “ HEY!” her dad yelled from
down the hall. “Are you gonna sleep all day?”
    “ I just might. Who wants
to know?”
    “ Nobody. Go back to sleep.
But if you miss us, come on down to the smokehouse. The Elders are
here. I left the coffee pot on. Grab a cup and come on
down.”
    “ We’ll see.”
    At the sound of his footsteps going
down the long staircase, Tracey decided to get up and take a
shower. Fifteen minutes later, with her wet hair piled up on her
head with a clip, she threw on a pair of worn jeans and a plaid
flannel shirt she found in her closet. She made her way downstairs
thinking she might make some toast before she went down the
hill.
    “ Hello.”
    She jumped, missed the last step, and
grabbed the banister to keep from falling.
    “ I’m so sorry!” he said,
reaching for her elbow. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
    “ No, it’s okay‌—‌I just
didn’t know‍—‍”
    She looked up at the man
behind the voice and found herself staring into the face
of . . . an angel? Backlit with sunlight from the open side door, a
bright aura seemed to surround him. For a moment, she wondered if
she’d actually fallen, cracked her head open, died, and this was
the angel Gabriel escorting her through the pearly
gates.
    “ Are you all right?”