Christmas Memory

Chapter 3-2

Helen took a deep breath, glad to hear it, but the worries didn’t go away quite so easily. As a grandmother, it had been her primary responsibility to worry about her granddaughters for the better part of the last thirty years. “Did you say... watch them?”

Stella’s eyes bulged briefly, and Helen watched her throat tighten and then stretch as if she were swallowing something large. “What’s that, now?”

“You said you like to watch sometimes.” Helen glanced around the room. “How do you do that, exactly? Could we watch the meet-cute?”

“Oh, that.” Stella shook her head quickly, shrugging at the same time. “I don’t actually.... We can’t.... The Big Guy frowns upon anyone other than higher administrative staff, such as myself, doing that. It’s safer that way, you see.”

“Safer?” Helen asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, from time to time... things can go wrong... if one isn’t particularly careful accessing the portal. It doesn’t happen often. But we have to be cautious. You understand? It would be awful if an outside influence changed the course of things, you know.”

“Yes, of course,” Helen nodded. “I can imagine that would be terrible. But how would that happen exactly?”

“Well, I’ve never caused a problem myself,” Stella was quick to say. “But I’ve heard of it happening. Unintentionally, of course. At any rate, I’m afraid we simply can’t watch.”

Helen sighed. “You’re right. I’d hate for anything bad to happen because of my curiosity.” She’d have given anything to watch Memory meet the love of her life, but if there was a risk something could go wrong, it wasn’t worth it.

Stella checked her watch. “Well, if there’s nothing else, it was lovely to see you again.” She reached her hand across the desk, the cuff of her suit jacket catching the pen holder, sending it toppling again. “Dagnabbit!”

“Let me help you,” Helen offered again. For the second time, she gathered up the pens and put them back into the container. Dropping the last one, she offered her hand to Stella. “Thank you for your time.”

“Yes, yes, my pleasure.” She seemed to be in a rush now, so Helen hurried to the door. Stella followed behind her, pausing a few feet short of the doorway. For the first time, Helen noticed a white screen tilted back against the white wooden interior of one of the bookshelves. She couldn’t give it more than a glance because Stella seemed to need to get on with her schedule. “Have a good day!” Stella called, stopping next to the shelf.

“You, too.” Helen smiled and went out the door, thinking Stella’s behavior odd. She closed the door behind her but hesitated, wondering if she should go back in. Stella suddenly seemed preoccupied with the screen, and Helen had a sneaking suspicion she knew why.

If Stella were about to watch Memory’s meet-cute on that screen—it that was really a portal--then Helen wanted to see it, too. Slowly, she opened the door. “Stella....”

Startled, Stella waved her hands frantically, as if she’d been caught reaching into the cookie jar. “Helen! Goodness! You frightened me!”

“So sorry!” Helen meant it. She hadn’t intended to make her jump. “It’s only... what is that you’re doing?”

“This? Oh, nothing. It’s just....” Stella glanced back at the screen for a moment, then her eyes returned to Helen for a second before her forehead puckered and her gaze darted back to the device. “What’s happening? What? No! That’s not... Oh, no! Drat!” She snapped her fingers and stomped her foot, color draining from her face.

Panic welled up inside of Helen as she saw Stella’s expression. “What is it?” she asked. “It’s not Memory, is it?”

“Oh, dear.... I think I’m going to be sick.” Stella grasped her middle, her face almost as white as her suit. “I must’ve stirred up a wind when I waved my hands....”

“A wind? What?” Helen was confused. “How is that possible?”

Stella didn’t answer though. She was peering into the screen, her lips tight and turned down at the corner. She was shaking her head again. “No, no, no....” Balling her hands into fists, she turned and ran across the room to her desk and flipped open her laptop.

Helen’s curiosity got the better of her, and she hurried into the room, taking up the spot in front of the portal Stella had just vacated. At first, Helen couldn’t see anything at all. It was only white mist, as if she were staring at a cloud. But then, the white parted, and she saw Memory walking, alone, down the sidewalk to the shop they’d run together. There was no man near her, and as she unlocked the door to the shop, a cup of coffee in her hand and a familiar book tucked beneath her arm, Helen couldn’t help but notice how sad her granddaughter looked. “What did you do?” she called, listening to Stella typing furiously.

“Me?” Stella argued. “This is your fault, Mrs. Graham! I told you you weren’t allowed to look.”

“You’re the one who waved your arm!” Helen countered. It was difficult to see Memory looking so sullen, so she turned her attention to Stella, even though she’d longed to see her granddaughter’s face all these months they’d been apart.

“I waved my arm because you startled me!” Stella’s fingers stopped typing, and her eyes flew across the screen. Helen watched her read as she slowly approached the desk. “Oh, no. No... no... no!” Stella sunk into her chair, dropping her head into her hands. “Everything is ruined.”

“Ruined? What do you mean? Surely, it can be fixed. Can’t they have a different meet-cute? I mean, really, how hard must it be? The Big Guy can handle it. He can handle anything.”

Stella folded her arms across her chest. “The Big Guy doesn’t like cleaning up other people’s messes—especially when it takes so much time and attention to detail to make sure everything works in perfect harmony. Memory’s life affects the lives of others, you know? Now that she hasn’t meet Dakota, they won’t get married. She won’t have children.... We just lost the cure for cancer!”

Helen’s eyes bulged. “What’s that now?” It was bad enough to think her granddaughter would never meet the man she was meant to marry. To think they’d also lost such invaluable medical research because she’d opened a door was disastrous. “We have to fix this!”

“How? All of our Fixers are busy! It’s Christmas—the busy season for everyone! I just looked at the data base. There’s no one I can send to right the situation, Helen! We’re up a creek without a boat.”

“I think you mean paddle.”

“It’s far worse than being without a paddle!”

Helen took a deep breath, not willing to give up. She knew Memory better than anyone, and if this was the man she was meant to be with, Helen could make it happen. “Send me,” she said, excitement at the prospect building in her voice. “I can fix it. Give me a chance.”

“You?” Stella said, almost laughing. “You can’t be serious. You’re not a Fixer.”

“No, I’m not. But I can do it. I know my granddaughter. I can find a way to get her and Dakota to meet, fall in love, have those great-grandbabies of mine, and do everything that would’ve happened if you hadn’t interfered.”

“You interfered,” Stella reminded her, still unwilling to take any of the blame.

“Fine. You said the Big Guy doesn’t like to fix other people’s messes. Let me fix my own.”

Stella was shaking her head. “They’ll never approve this.” She reached for the phone, knocking the pen container over and toppling the paperweight. “Fiddle.” She dialed a number as Helen righted the objects.

After a few rings, she said, “Marjorie? Can I speak to Michael, please? Yes, I know this is the busy season, but it’s an emergency. Yes, I’ll hold.” Through the handset, Helen could hear a Muzak version of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and thought it most appropriate.

It took a long time for Michael to pick up. When he did, he sounded angry. “Yes, sir, I know,” Stella said. “It was an accident. No, I know this is your busy time of year. No, I’m not trying to mess everything up. Yes, sir. I know. I realize you have no Fixers available. Yes, I know this one is one that really needs fixing. What if... what if Helen goes?”

She was quiet for a moment, and Helen couldn’t hear Michael either until he distinctly asked, “Who’s that? I don’t have a Fixer named Helen.”

“No, sir, you don’t. She’s... she’s the woman’s grandmother. She’s in my office now.” More yelling. “No, no she wasn’t trying to watch. She just... startled me, that’s all. Yes, I know a blast of wind can cause havoc with anything, sir.” She rolled her eyes, and Helen wondered how it had been the wind that had stirred up trouble this time. “No, she’s never done anything like this before, but she knows Memory better than anyone.” More chatter from Michael, then Stella said, “Memory is the woman’s name. Yes, I know it’s an unusual name. No, I don’t know why her parents named her that. Yes, I think her grandmother can handle it. She seems... competent.” Stella looked at Helen for a moment, so she stood taller, trying to project confidence. “Yes, I will explain it to her. I understand. Yes, sir. Let me see.” She pulled out a drawer. “I have a copy of the handbook. Yes, all right. I understand. Thank you.” Stella hung up the phone, hanging her head as well. She pressed a few fingers to her forehead and inhaled deeply.

Helen waited, holding her breath, trying to be patient as she anticipated Stella’s acknowledgement. After what seemed like five minutes had passed, she finally said, “Well?”

Stella looked up as if she’d forgotten Helen was there. “Michael has agreed to let you go.”

Helen couldn’t help but clap her hands in excitement. She loved the idea of seeing Memory again—as well as her two little great-grandchildren, Lorelei and Anson, and their parents—her granddaughter Kirsten and her husband Maison. Her son-in-law, Bryce, had always taken such good care of her. There were her friends from church....

“Mrs. Graham, I hope you understand, it is vitally important that you be successful in this endeavor. Michael has threatened to fire me from my position if you do not come through. I’ve been doing this job for hundreds of years, and I enjoy it, so please pay careful attention as I go over the rules with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Helen said, focusing on Stella. She sat in the chair she’d previously vacated but kept her bottom on the edge, ready to leap up.

Stella pulled out a drawer in her desk and brought out a book titled Angel’s Handbook. It wasn’t very thick and would easily fit in the palm of Helen’s hand. “Now, this book contains information for every job an angel might be assigned. You’re going to want to carefully read Chapter Six, ‘Fixing Things Up.’ It will explain everything to you.” Stella handed the book over, knocking over the paperweight in the process. She righted it as Helen opened the volume.

The print on the page was minuscule, but somehow, Helen was able to read it. She now understood how the book could be so small. It might take her ages to read through all of this. “I will certainly read it,” Helen promised, “but might you be able to go over the highlights?”

Frustration seemed to bubble out of Stella’s head. “Essentially, the rules are quite simple. You may not reveal your true identity under any circumstances. You may use magic when it suits you, but not for things like bringing yourself or others back from the dead or for manipulating people’s feelings—use it strictly for travel and for handling inanimate objects when none of the living are looking. I will be able to speak to you directly through prayer--which is two-way communication, contrary to popular belief.” Helen nodded, but she still had several questions. Stella didn’t pause. “You will have until Christmas Eve to complete your task. If you cannot do it by then, when you will return here, I’ll lose my job, and Michael will have to find some other way to fix the problem—if it’s even fixable. Also, you cannot reveal anything about Heaven that isn’t specifically mentioned in the Bible. You will be given a new identity, money, all of those types of things that you need, but nothing more. At night, when everyone on earth you’re interacting with is sleeping, you may check in with your family here if you wish since you will not require rest. What are your questions?”

“How will they not recognize me?”

“You will look like a different woman—however you want to look,” Stella said with a shrug. “We haven’t had time to plan out what sort of a person might be able to fix this problem, so I suggest you don’t stray too far from your own personality. What else?”

Thoughts of what she might look like flooded Helen’s mind as she tried to remember her other questions. “When can I leave?”

“As soon as you like.”

“Can I say goodbye to my husband and daughter?”

“Yes, but don’t go into too much detail about what you’re up to. I have a feeling no good can come of it.”

Helen thought things through again. It seemed like she should have a million questions. “Can you tell me what was supposed to happen?”

Stella let out a loud sigh, aggravation building as she thought about how everything had been ruined. “Memory was sitting on a bench outside of the coffee shop, reminiscing, I suppose. She had a book on the bench next to her. When she stood to leave, she was supposed to forget the book. Dakota came along a moment later. He was meant to see the book, pick it up, and hand it to her—meet-cute in full swing.”

Helen nodded. Memory was always forgetting things, leaving them behind. It sounded like her granddaughter. “What happened instead?”

Her face turning slightly red, Stella folded her arms. “Not that. Let’s just say, when I waved my arms, I created a blustery wind.... It doesn’t matter. Now, you have to fix it. So, have you decided who you want to be?”

“Not exactly,” Helen admitted. Thinking back to the receptionist, she said, “But I know I’d like to have red hair. And a slender figure.”

Stella looked down her nose sharply at Helen as if she were saying looks weren’t everything. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to be in my late-fifties. My bones felt better then, not as many aches and pains as when I was older. Oh, and if I could be taller....”

“This is not a beauty contest, Mrs. Graham. All right. I’ll see what I can put together. You go on home and say goodbye to your husband and daughter for a little while. You’ll be able to check in with them but otherwise you’ll be gone for a few weeks. Oh, I hope this works. If not....” Stella ran her hand across her desk lovingly and gazed around the room.

“It’ll work,” Helen assured her. “I know my Memory. I’ll find a way.”

Stella nodded, but her frown stayed put. Excitement bubbling inside of her, Helen spun around and headed for the door, grateful she’d have a chance to see Memory again, even if her granddaughter wouldn’t recognize her. Watching her fall in love would be the greatest Christmas gift Helen could think of.