Angel Unaware (9 page)

While Dora waited, she thought about Calvin’s attitude, and the longer she dwelled on it, the angrier she got. How dare he tell her she couldn’t help anyone but her assigned mortals? She liked Millie and if she could help her, she darned well would. And she knew just how to keep Calvin from harassing her anymore.

“Dora.”

Her friend’s husky whisper yanked her from her thoughts. “Yes, Grace. Did you find anything out?”

Grace smiled. “My friend Jonathan looked through the next twenty years, and Preston’s name appears every year in the Book of Lifetimes, and there is no termination code next to it.” She started and looked over her shoulder. “Uh-oh. Here comes Calvin. Gotta fly.” She dissolved into a vibrant ball of light and instantly zoomed out of sight.

“Bye, Gracie, and thanks.” Dora heaved a sigh of relief. Preston still had a good many years ahead of him with Millie. What she’d do with that information still eluded Dora, but she was happy about it.

Now, to deal with Calvin. She lifted the heavy mirror from its hook and looked around. Then she carried it upstairs to her room, took down the twin mirror, and hung the hall mirror in its place. From the linen closet, she took a sheet and draped it over the mirror, then carried the other mirror downstairs and hung it in the hall. They were exact in appearance so no one would notice the switch. If they did, she’d make some excuse for exchanging them.

“There,” she said, brushing her hands off with a great deal of satisfaction. “So much for you, Mr. Nosey Head of Celestial Maintenance.”

“Did she just do what I think she did?” Calvin asked, his voice reflecting his incredulity as he stared fixedly into the Earth Pool at a wall of white.

“Yup, she sure did,” Grace said, her smile lighting up the heavens. “I think she cut you off, Calvin.”

“I … I …” He sputtered for a good fraction of an eon before he finally got his anger under control, cleared his throat, and fluffed his disheveled wings. “This is unacceptable. Totally unacceptable. What if she does something that will cause trouble, and I’m not there to intervene? What if she … ?” He put a hand to his forehead. “Oh, dear, this is not good. Not good at all.” He paced the cloud, sending up wisps of mist.

Grace giggled. “Easy Calvin. You’re popping wing feathers.” Grace leaned down and picked up two or three feathers that had fallen from Calvin’s wings. Carefully, she reinserted them and smoothed them down. “Dora will be fine. You have to start putting some faith in her judgment.” He stopped, having worn a rut so deep in the cloud that he had to look up at Grace. “Faith? The only faith I have in Dora is that she will be instrumental in getting me assigned to polishing lightning bolts in my retirement. The only certain thing with that angel is that she
will
mess up again.”

Grace laid a hand on his shoulder. “Trust her. She’ll do fine. She may not be able to repair angel wings, but she has an inborn sense for understanding the heart of these mortals, more than any angel I know.” She patted his shoulder and then fluttered off into the cosmos.

“Inborn sense, my halo,” Calvin mumbled. “She’s a disaster looking for a place to happen is what she is, and it’s not going to be on my watch.” He glanced into the Earth Pool, but all he could see was the expanse of white sheet covering the mirror on the other side. With an exasperated sigh, he shimmered out.

“Look!” Penny yelled as they pulled into the driveway. She bolted from the car and made a dash for the front porch, leaving her elephant backpack behind for Dora to bring into the house.

When Dora got close enough to see what had so excited the child, who had, until then, stared stoically out the windshield, she caught her breath. Sitting on the porch right in front of the door was a pitiful-looking, large, dirty white, shaggy dog.

Penny was on her knees with her arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. “Can we keep him, Dora?”

There was more life in Penny’s eyes than Dora had seen since she’d arrived. How she’d love to say yes, but she knew she didn’t have the authority to make this decision. “We’ll have to ask your uncle, sweetie.”

Penny’s smile melted.

CHAPTER 5

“Please, can we keep him? Please? I’ll take care of him. I promise.” Penny looked down at the pitiful animal she had enfolded in her arms. “He looks so sad and so lonely.”

Dora’s heart ached for Penny. She could understand Penny’s empathy for the dog and would have loved nothing better than to have been able to tell the child she could keep him, but in her heart, she sincerely doubted Tony would go for it. After all, the man was Mr. Neatness himself and seemed to be intolerant of anything that left a mess in the house. Dogs were notorious, or so she’d been told by some of the Guardian Angels whose job it was to watch over the animals of the mortals, for chewing on various objects that didn’t belong to them, and for not always understanding the need to go outside for … certain things.

Besides, the dog was filthy. His fur was a tangled, matted mess, and he smelled of wet dog. On top of that, she thought, as she watched him lift a hind leg to scratch vigorously behind his ear, he was probably playing host to an infestation of fleas. Dora didn’t have the heart to tell Penny that she was fighting a losing battle. Tony would most definitely not want this animal in the house.

She opened her mouth to tell Penny the dog would have to go, but the child looked at her with big, sad eyes glistening with moisture, and Dora’s heart twisted.

Unable to stand the pleading in those enormous green orbs, Dora made a decision she knew would entail a lot of explaining to Tony. “Tell you what. We’ll bring him inside where it’s warm and give him something to eat, but don’t get too attached to him because your uncle might say the dog has to go.” In her heart, Dora knew the warning had already come way too late. If the sappy look on Penny’s face meant what Dora thought it did, the poor child had already fallen in love with the disreputable beast. “He’ll have to stay in the laundry room until your uncle comes home.”

Dora opened the front door and stood to the side to allow both child and dog to enter. Since the dog had no collar, Penny grabbed a handful of its neck fur and pulled the animal into the house. As they slid past Dora, the dog raised his dark-eyed gaze to her, and she could have sworn it reflected smug satisfaction. She followed the two down the hall and frowned at the wet, dirty paw prints the dog left in his wake on the shiny pine floor.

Penny obediently guided him straight to the laundry room and grabbed one of the snowy towels stacked on the washer. Before Dora could stop her, she began drying the dog. The white towel quickly became spotted with large globs of mud and dog hair and, in Dora’s mind, instantly became the dog’s personal property.

Penny sat back to assess her work. “There. That’s much better, isn’t it, Dora?”

Dora didn’t have the heart to tell the child the improvement in the dog’s appearance was miniscule. He still reeked of damp doggy odor and God only knew what else, and, if possible, the rubdown he’d received had matted his hair even more. But for Penny’s sake, she fibbed.

“Uh … yes. He’s very … uh … beautiful.”

“Dora!” Penny said, shaking her head. “Boys aren’t beautiful. Boys are handsome.”

An image of Tony flashed through Dora’s mind. On that she had to disagree with Penny. Tony Falcone, from the top of his dark hair, to the muscles that rippled down his arms, to the tips of his toes, was beautiful. As beautiful as any Roman god.

The dog raised his shaggy head and emitted a low growl. The sound drew Dora’s attention away from her thoughts. There was so much belly hair hanging down that it was impossible to tell what sex he was just by looking at him. For now, they’d play it by ear and assume. However, given his snarky attitude,
he
was probably correct.

“I think you insulted him,” Penny said, looping her arm around his neck. “It’s okay, Jack. Dora only meant that you look good. She doesn’t know boys get upset when you say they’re beautiful.”

Oh, goodness. She’s named him
.

Immediately, Dora regretted her decision to allow Penny to bring the animal in the house. In a few short minutes, the attachment had progressed way too far. If Dora allowed it to go any further, when Tony declared the animal had to leave, which she knew he inevitably would, she’d never be able to separate Penny from the dog without breaking the child’s heart.

Dora pulled an old blanket from a shelf above the dryer and spread it on the floor. “He can use this as a bed for now.” She looked at Jack and in a stern voice commanded, “Lie down.”

Jack looked at her, then stepped onto the blanket, turned in a circle several times, and finally flopped down. Well, at least he was obedient.

“I’m home! Where is everybody?”

Tony’s voice rang through the house. His heavy footsteps were heading for the kitchen. Dora grabbed Penny, hauled her outside the laundry room, and closed the door on their secret guest. The two of them stood like soldiers on review when Tony entered the kitchen.

“What’s up?” he asked, looking from one to the other. “Nothing,” they said in unison.

Dora muffled a groan. Even if they’d tried, she knew they couldn’t have looked or acted guiltier. From behind them a muffled, low whine slipped from beneath the laundry room door.

“What was that?” Tony asked, stretching to look around them.

Instinctively, they moved closer together. What?” they again asked in unison.

The whine came again, this time a bit louder.

You’re blowing it, Jack. If you want a full belly and a warm bed for tonight, you’d better be quiet
.

“That,” Tony said, his dark brow arching in silent question.

“I didn’t hear anything, did you, Dora?” Penny raised her cherubic face to Dora, the innocence in her eyes as false as a Halloween mask.

Dora forced a smile. She pushed Penny forward. “Why don’t you show your uncle that paper you did at school today, and I’ll start—”

Her next word was drowned out by a sharp, high-pitched bark. She and Penny froze in place. They turned guilty faces toward Tony. Penny slipped her small hand into Dora’s and pressed against her leg.

Woof
!
Woof
!
Woof
!

Well, there was no covering it up.

Way to go, Jack
.

“Is there a dog in there?” Tony pointed at the closed door. He took a step forward, but Dora held up her hand to stop him.

She considered saying no, but with another
Woof
!

Woof
!
Woof
! Coming through the door, she calculated that her chances of convincing Tony were growing more distant with each bark. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

“Yes. We found him on the porch when we came home from school. Penny would like to keep him.”

There. It was out
.

Penny’s grip on Dora’s hand tightened.

Aside from the three of them breathing, not a sound could be heard in the kitchen. Silently, Dora begged Tony not to send the dog away. Until they’d found that dog, she hadn’t seen Penny this excited about anything. But when she’d spotted the animal, she’d let loose of that stoic front so unnatural on a child. Dora watched the expression on Tony’s face closely for a sign he’d allow the mutt to stay.

Tony studied the two guilty faces staring at him as though they stood before a jury waiting to be charged with some heinous crime.
A dog. Great
. The last thing he needed around here was something else to be responsible for. He opened his mouth to tell them the dog had to go, but when he saw the look on his niece’s face, the words froze on his lips.

Even though her brow was creased in a pleading expression, for the first time since the accident Penny’s eyes sparkled with life, and her cheeks were pink with excitement. Even getting the Christmas tree hadn’t provoked this kind of animation. Could he, in all good conscience, make her get rid of the dog when it had already brought her such happiness—something he had failed to do?

Woof
!
Woof
!
Woof
!

Tony sighed. “Okay. Let’s see him,” he finally said, but, when Penny let out a
whoop
of joy, he added, “That doesn’t mean he’s staying. A dog is a big responsibility. He has to be fed, bathed, walked, and brushed. And, if he makes a mess inside, you’ll have to clean it up.”

Penny grabbed his hand and began tugging him toward the laundry room. “I will, Uncle Tony. I’ll do all those things. I promise.”

“There’s one more thing to consider.” He stopped her forward motion, and then squatted down to her eye level. “Penny, he might belong to someone and, if he does, we can’t keep him, no matter what I say. We’ll have to put an ad in the newspaper so his real family knows we found him, and they can come get him. Do you understand?”

Penny nodded and some of the light went out of her eyes. “Yes, I understand.” But her brows furrowed. “But if he has a real family, why didn’t they take care of him? He’s so sad, Uncle Tony. He has no one to hug him and talk to him. If we keep him, I can be his friend and hug him any time he wants to be hugged.”