Morwenna smiled. Her nephew had come over to try to give her comfort, too.

"Right," Genevieve said. She was very grave. "Except that G.o.d loves everyone, even those who are bad."

"Fallen," Connor said, sighing with great patience.

Morwenna smiled. "When you get in trouble, you know your folks still love you, right?"

Genevieve nodded gravely.

Morwenna reached for one of the big white napkins in the holder at the end of the booth and found a pencil. She started to sketch for the children. "So, here, you see, here's Lucifer, who is like a bad child, trying to instigate trouble. Now, as you said, G.o.d loves everyone, no matter what, just like a parent loves a child, even when that child's behavior is not so good. But a parent knows when he or she has a kid who can cause trouble..." She paused, sketching an angel. "So he sends out a friend, or maybe even a sibling or a cousin, an angel who does behave, to try to make the mischief-making angel behave, and not hurt other people. Is that the story, Genevieve?"

"Yes!" Genevieve said. "Gabe was saying that G.o.d sometimes has to send out one of his good angels to make sure that trouble doesn't happen." She looked at her aunt in wonder.

"That's a nice thought, Genevieve," Morwenna said.

"It's a nice story! I really like that story!" Genevieve said. She touched the paper Morwenna had been drawing on. "You can draw in people," she said. "You and my dad and Uncle Bobby, Gram and Gramps, Connor and me. And maybe even my mom."

"Definitely, your mom, too," Morwenna agreed, and sketched.

When she finished, Genevieve reached up and touched the little gold angel that hung around Morwenna's neck. "We have angels," she said. "Good angels. Like Gram's little angel on her tree. I held it, and I dropped it, but I never broke it," she said.

"No," Morwenna a.s.sured her, hugging her again as she smiled at Connor. "You didn't break it-none of us broke what was really important today," she said. Looking over Genevieve's head, she noted the star on the tree again. It was odd how it seemed to be burning more and more brightly.

"As if it is leading someone home," she murmured.

"What?" Genevieve asked.

"Sweetie, let me get up," Morwenna said. Genevieve obliged, and Morwenna hurried toward the door, heedless of a coat or the cold.

The moon was out, and the glow from the tavern seemed to be lighting up the mountaintop as she burst out into the night. She saw nothing at first, and she felt the cold, and wondered if she was an idiot.

Then she heard a groan. She might have imagined it. But she hadn't.

She raced out into the snow, listening. "Gabe!" She cried his name, and ran along the edge of the trees. "Gabe!"

She heard something...a rustling. And then she saw the heap of a man in the snow.

She raced over to him, falling to her knees.

It was Gabe!

He lay as if he had been walking to the door, and then collapsed.

"Gabe! Gabe! Oh, my G.o.d, you're hurt, you're..."

She touched his face, searched for a pulse.

His eyes opened, and he stared at her. He stared at her without a single sign of recognition.

"Gabe, it's Morwenna. You're hurt. We're going to get you in. Oh, thank G.o.d, you're alive!" She couldn't help herself. She leaned in and kissed his lips, quickly. She moved away, just an inch, looking into his eyes.

She saw confusion...and yet, a strange sense of recognition. And she wasn't sure if she moved, or if he moved, but she found that she was kissing him again.

Or he was kissing her. And the kiss was good, and sweet, and natural. And if it weren't for the circ.u.mstances, she would want it to be much deeper, and far more...

Pa.s.sionate.

But he had been hurt, and they were out in the snow, and others would be there. She broke away, touching his cheek tenderly. "I..." he began, but fell silent.

"It's all right. Don't try to talk. We're going to get you in, get you warm. Oh, Gabe!" she said. Tears stung her eyes. They were instantly like ice. She didn't care.

"I can't remember," he said. He winced. "My head..."

"May be a concussion," Morwenna said. "But it's all right. Shayne will know what to do. You're going to be all right. And I don't know how you did it, Gabe, but Luke DeFeo is in custody and-"

"DeFeo," he said. "Yes, I was chasing him and then...I don't remember."

"You were wonderful," she a.s.sured him, worried.

He almost smiled. He touched her cheek. "I know that I have been saved by an angel!" he told her.

She shook her head, clutching his hand. "No, we have!" she told him. She thought that she'd never really understand what had happened that Christmas on the mountain, and she couldn't help but wonder just what had been at play. Had she and her family been caught in a strange battle? A battle in which they had actually been given a choice between a fallen angel and a strange force for good that gave them back something special they had been missing as a family, and in life.

And now...

She smiled.

Was it possible? Had the angels taken on the flesh and blood of the men they had known in the last hours? And was the man she now faced in essence the same-but not the same at all?

She heard Shayne shouting to his father and Mac; her mother was out on the steps. They were all calling out with concern and joy that he'd been found. The church bells began to peal, and she remembered that it was still Christmas night, and the one service for the few people in the little mountaintop area would begin at eight.

It was still Christmas.

She stared down at Gabe, into the green of his eyes, and she realized that something about him was just a little bit different, and yet...

He was Gabe. And so much about him was going to be exactly like the man she had come to know.

Her family rushed around her. She was aware that her mother was scolding her for being out without a coat. Genevieve was hopping up and down, saying she had known that Gabe would come back to them.

Her father and Shayne got him to his feet. They started moving toward the tavern.

Morwenna followed, and paused, looking at the star on top of the Christmas tree through the tavern windows.

She smiled. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" she said, her voice a whisper in the night air. "And as Genevieve would say, happy birthday."

ISBN: 978-1-4592-1381-4.

end.