A Season of Angels Page 0,1

what was required, but generally not when it came to answering prayer. Humans tended to believe all that was required of them was a few mumbled words, then they were utterly content to leave the matter in the hands of God.

Through the ages humans had yet to discover what should have been obvious. The answers to prayer required participation. The people of earth expected God to do it all. Only a shocking few realized they had their own role to perform.

A good example was a request that had come in earlier from Monica Fischer, a preacher's daughter. Monica had asked for a husband. Normally this wouldn't be a problem; she was twenty-five and strikingly attractive, or would be if she didn't choose to disguise her natural beauty. The whole process of attracting a young man was complicated by her self-righteous attitude. Few men, even devout servants of God, were willing to marry sanctimonious prudes.

Gabriel hadn't decided how he would handle Monica's request or the prayer that had come in the unusual form of a letter from Timmy Potter. Gabriel had a soft spot when it came to children's prayers. Timmy was nine, and had requested a father.

Gabriel shook his head, needing to clear his thoughts. He'd deal with one prayer at a time. For the moment Leah's request was the most pressing, and the most challenging. He'd figure out something for Monica and Timmy later.

He stood and walked around his desk. Gabriel thought best while on his feet. It didn't help matters that Leah chose Christmastime to issue her fervent prayer. The busiest time of year, no less. His best prayer ambassadors were already out on assignment and those who were left were young angels lacking in experience.

Of course there was always Mercy. She possessed a heart of pure gold and was especially patient with humans. But there was a small problem with this particular angel.

Mercy was enthralled with earthly things. Mechanical things. She seemed particularly fond of escalators and motor scooters and not even heaven knew what else. Reports of her escapades circulated in both spheres.

An angel, especially one under Gabriel's command, simply did not hijack meter maids' carts. That business with the forklift on the San Francisco waterfront . . . well, that didn't bear thinking about.

Gabriel's musings were interrupted by the whisper of rustling wings. Mercy appeared bright-eyed and hopeful before him, her hands clasped in prayerlike fashion. She was a dainty thing, petite in stature when compared to several of the other prayer ambassadors.

"You wanted to see me."

Gabriel grinned. He hadn't sent for Mercy, but apparently God had.

"I'd be happy to volunteer my services in any way I can," Mercy offered brightly, her wings fluttering slightly with anticipation. "I want to prove myself."

"Can you stay away from motor scooters?"

Mercy nodded eagerly. "And jet skis."

Jet skis. He hadn't heard about that one and it was best that he didn't, not now, at least. "I can't have you intercepting any more Boeing 747s."

"I've learned my lesson, Gabriel," she murmured, and smiled innocently, as if to suggest that these incidents were a series of minor misunderstandings. "I promise I won't get into any of the trouble I have before."

"I'm sure you won't," Gabriel muttered.

"Then you'll give me the assignment?"

Gabriel stood. His seven-foot stature was intimidating, he knew. Each time the heavenly Father had sent him on a mission to earth he'd been required to calm a multitude of fears before relaying his message.

"The prayer is from Leah Lundberg," Gabriel explained with a thoughtful frown. "For the past ten years she's been in constant communication with heaven. She longs for a child."

Compassion filled Mercy's deep blue eyes. "Her arms must feel empty."

"When Leah first married Andrew Lundberg the prayer request came now and again, but when she didn't become pregnant after repeated failure, well, let me put it like this. Leah had us in a tizzy for a good long while. At one point we had five angels assigned full-time to her prayers. A year later we reduced it to one, and now her prayers are infrequent, and her faith is weak."

Mercy blinked several times. "This is a problem case, isn't it?"

Gabriel nodded. Mercy had achieved some success in answering prayer, but her experience was limited. To assign her to Leah was an extreme measure. Gabriel regretted that, but he didn't have much choice.

"How often does she pray now?" Mercy asked, and her wings stilled.

"Once or twice a year. She's given up believing God listens to the concerns of His