He Sees You When You're Sleeping Page 13

  “There’s gotta be room,” Eddie whispered, clenching and unclenching his hands.

  “I’m back, Mr. Santoli. I was right. We were full, but we just had two cancellations. One of our elderly sisters isn’t well enough to make the long flight, so she and her companion are staying home.”

  “She better not have a quick recovery,” Junior growled. “Book us those two seats.”

  On the other end of the phone, FBI agent Susan White, who had been sitting in the convent for several hours, waiting for the call, gave a thumbs-up to Rich Meyers.

  Then she began to write, “Brother Stanislas and Brother Casper…”

  Marge and Charlie were marvelous, Sterling thought, smiling from ear to ear as he realized that the first phase of the plan had worked perfectly.

  Marissa, we’re getting there, he thought.

  “Good night, Marissa,” Denise said, as she tucked her daughter in and bent down to give her a kiss.

  “Good night, Mommy. I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow. It’s my birthday and it’s Christmas Eve.”

  “We’re going to have lots of fun,” Denise promised as she turned out the light.

  Downstairs, she joined Roy, who was drying the pots. “Everybody bedded down?” he asked cheerfully.

  “Yes, but it’s strange. I thought Marissa would be upset tonight, but she seems to be excited and happy, as though she’s expecting a miracle, as though Billy and Nor will be here tomorrow.”

  “Then she’s in for a terrible letdown,” Roy said mournfully as he folded the dish towel.

  “I got them everything they need,” Charlie fretted. “The monks’ habits, the sandals, the prayer books, the suitcases-real beat-up ones, like the brothers took the vow of poverty and meant it.”

  He and Marge and Sterling were sitting in the Santolis’ living room, all of them tense with concern that the Badgett brothers would smell a rat before the pilgrimage charter plane took off.

  “How about their passports?” Marge asked. “Any chance of a glitch with them?”

  “First-rate forgeries,” Charlie said. “They took care of that themselves.”

  “How were they getting to Teterboro?” Marge asked nervously. “I hope they didn’t go in that showy limo.”

  “They were having the limo drive them to New York to one of their dry-cleaning shops that was closed. They were going to change there and take one of those cheap car services to the airport.”

  It was 11:55. The plane was due to take off at midnight.

  “I don’t know. Those two have a sixth sense,” Charlie moaned. “If at the last minute they figure out this was a setup, and don’t get on that plane, I’m dead.”

  “Did you pick up any indication that they were suspicious when you saw them earlier today?” Marge asked, nervously shredding a cocktail napkin.

  “None. I’m their new best friend. Don’t forget, I’m the one who’s getting them home to see Mama.”

  If this doesn’t work, I’m the one who gets blamed for suggesting it, Sterling thought with a pang of guilt.

  The ring of the phone made everyone jump.

  Charlie grabbed the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Mr. Santoli?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Rich Meyers. You’ll be glad to hear that a certain charter plane has just taken off, with Brothers Stanislas and Casper on board.”

  Charlie’s relieved smile told Marge and Sterling what they needed to know.

  “They should be landing in Wallonia in eight hours. The police there are waiting to arrest them. Our agents on board will shed their clerical robes and ride back home as soon as the plane refuels.”

  Charlie felt as though a two-ton weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “I imagine you’ll want to be taking further statements from me.”

  “Next week. Enjoy your holiday. I know you’ll cooperate with us.” Meyers paused. “Don’t worry too much, Mr. Santoli. I think you know what I mean.”

  “Thank you,” Charlie said quietly.

  Sterling stood up. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re going to be fine, Charlie. You’re a good man. And now I must leave you.”

  “ Sterling, how can we ever thank you?” Marge asked.

  “Don’t even think about thanking me. Just use your time on earth wisely. Believe me, it goes very quickly.”

  Marge and Charlie entwined their hands. “We’ll never forget you,” Marge whispered.

  “Never,” Charlie echoed fervently.

  “We’ll meet again. I’m very sure of that,” Sterling said as he disappeared.

  “How much longer? This robe is making me itch,” Eddie hissed, and was rewarded by an elbow in the ribs from Junior.

  Junior fished a pad from his pocket and wrote, “Vow of silence. Shut up. Almost there.”

  At that moment the voice of the flight attendant came over the loudspeaker. “We are due to land at Monastery Airport in twenty minutes…” The usual instructions followed.

  Eddie was twitching with excitement and beside himself with joy. Mama Heddy-Anna! I’m coming, Mama! he thought.

  Junior didn’t know the exact moment when the sinking feeling started. He looked out the window and narrowed his eyes. It was cloudy and, as the plane began to descend, light snow drifted against the windows.

  He craned his neck and narrowed his eyes then spotted the monastery and the landing strip next to it. It’s okay, he thought. For a minute I had a feeling that Santoli mighta skunked us.

  Then the voice of the flight attendant came on again. “We have just been advised that due to extremely icy conditions, we will be unable to land at Monastery airport. Instead we will be landing at Wallonia City airport thirty miles away.”

  Junior and Eddie looked at each other. Eddie pushed back the hood of his robe. “Whaddaya think?”

  SHUT UP, Junior scribbled furiously.

  “You will be bussed immediately to St. Stephen’s Monastery,” the flight attendant chirped happily. “We do regret this inconvenience, but your safety is our first concern.”

  “How do we go through customs?” Eddie was trying unsuccessfully to whisper. “Are the passports okay if they really look at them under a special light or something?”

  SHUT UP, Junior scrawled. Maybe it’s okay, he thought. Maybe it’s on the level. He looked around, searching out the faces of his fellow passengers. Most of them were deep in their prayer books.

  THE PASSPORTS ARE OKAY, he wrote. IT’S YOUR BIG MOUTH I’M WORRYING ABOUT.

  Eddie leaned over him to look out the window. “We’re over the mountain. Look! There’s the village. Look! I bet I can pick out Mama’s house.”

  His voice was rising. To cover the sound, Junior began to cough violently. Immediately the hostess was at his side offering water.

  I need a drink, he thought wildly. If we get back to Long Island, I’ll tear Charlie Santoli apart limb from limb.

  The plane landed, taxiing to a halt a good distance from the terminal. What Junior and Eddie saw out on the tarmac rendered them both more speechless than any vow of silence could ever have accomplished.

  In the midst of dozens of uniformed Wallonian policemen, a lone figure was jumping up and down and waving vigorously.

  Mama Heddy-Anna.

  Junior shook his head. “She don’t look like she’s dying to me.”

  Eddie’s face was puzzled. “She looks so healthy. I can’t believe it.”

  “We took this trip for nuthin’, and now we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives in jail.”

  The door of the plane opened and four policemen raced down the aisle. Junior and Eddie were encouraged to get out of their seats and put their hands behind their backs. As they were led away, their fellow passengers began removing roman collars and nun’s veils, and burst into spontaneous applause.

  At the foot of the stairs, they were enveloped in one of Mama Heddy-Anna’s bear hugs.

  “The nice policemen came for me. They said you were coming home as a surprise. I kn
ow you’re in trouble, but good news! Papa was just made head trustee at the prison where you’ll be staying from now on.” She beamed, “All three of my boys together, nice and safe, where I can visit every week.”

  “Mama,” Eddie sobbed as he laid his head on her shoulder. “I been so worried about you the whole time I was gone. How do you feel?”

  Heddy-Anna patted him. “Never better.”

  Junior thought of the estate on Long Island, the limo, the money, the power, and Jewel, whom he knew would have a new boyfriend in two weeks. As Eddie’s shoulders shook with emotion, all Junior could think was, How could I have been so stupid?

  On Christmas Eve morning, Billy and Nor were lingering over the breakfast neither one of them had any interest in touching. The distracting reality that it was both Christmas Eve and Marissa’s eighth birthday hung over them, a dense, oppressive blanket of pain.

  The sudden steady ring of the doorbell startled both of them. Billy ran to answer it.

  A beaming Marshall Frank Smith boomed, “Grab only what you need. You’re booked on the 12:40 flight to New York, and if you want to catch it, you haven’t got a minute to spare.”

  On Christmas Eve, Nor’s Place usually enjoyed a pleasant flow of lunch customers. Some were last-minute shoppers, stopping for a quick bite. Others, more organized, came in for a quiet lunch before the religious and family celebrations began.

  Today this place feels downright eerie, Dennis thought, as he surveyed the room from behind the bar. He shook his head. At least Nor had agreed that it was pointless to stay open on Christmas Day.

  “I guess you’re right, Dennis,” she had admitted. “Only ten reservations! Those people would be better off at a place with a little life in it.”

  We’re pretty much at the end of the line here, Dennis thought, as he was handed an order for a single beer.

  Just then the bar phone rang. He picked it up.

  “Dennis!” It was Nor’s voice, buoyant and energetic. “We’re at the airport, on our way home. We’re in the clear. The Badgett brothers are gone, locked up for good,” she exulted. “Get a birthday cake for Marissa for tonight, and phone our usual Christmas people. Tell them Nor’s Place will be open for Christmas dinner and it’s on the house. But don’t let Marissa know! We want to surprise her.”

  From the moment she opened her eyes on Christmas Eve and whispered to herself, “Today I am eight years old,” Marissa began to lose faith that Sterling would be able to bring Daddy and NorNor home. She had been sure they would be there when she woke up, but now she realized it was going to be like all the other times.

  She had promised herself they would be back for Easter, but they weren’t. Then she had been sure they’d be home when school closed for the summer… Then when it opened in September… Then for Thanksgiving…

  It’s going to be just like that again today, she thought, as she got up and put on her bathrobe. Tears kept trying to flow from her eyes, but she pressed them back with her hands. Trying to put a smile on her face, she went downstairs.

  Her mother and Roy and the twins were already at the kitchen table. They all began to sing “Happy Birthday” when they saw her. There were presents next to her cereal bowl: a new watch; books and CDs from Mommy and Roy and the twins; a sweater from Grandma. Then she opened the last two boxes: ice skates from Daddy and a new skating outfit from NorNor.

  Now she was absolutely, positively sure they wouldn’t be coming home today. If they were, wouldn’t they wait to give her the presents when she saw them?

  After breakfast Marissa carried all her gifts upstairs. When she reached her room, she dragged the chair from her desk over to the closet and stood up on it. She lifted the boxes with the new ice skates and the skating outfit and put them on the top shelf. Then, with the tips of her fingers, she pushed them back as far as she could, until they were out of sight.

  She never wanted to look at them again.

  At eleven o’clock she was in the living room, reading one of her new books, when the phone rang. Even though her heart stopped when she heard Mommy say, “Hello, Billy,” she still didn’t look up.

  But then Mommy came rushing over to her. She didn’t give her a chance to say, “I don’t want to talk to Daddy,” before the phone was at her ear and Daddy was shouting, “Rissa, want to go to Nor’s Place for your birthday dinner? We’re on the way home!”

  Marissa whispered, “Oh, Daddy.” She was bursting with so much happiness that she couldn’t say anything more. And then she felt someone pat the top of her head. She looked up and there he was-her friend who wore the funny hat and who was not quite an angel, and he was smiling at her.

  “Good-bye, Marissa,” he said, and then he was gone.

  In a daze, Marissa climbed the stairs to her room, closed the door, pulled over her chair, and stood on her tiptoes to retrieve the presents she had pushed away. But when she pulled the boxes down, something fell from the shelf and landed at her feet.

  She sank to the floor and stared at the tiny Christmas ornament that she had never seen before. It was an angel dressed just like her friend.

  “You’ve got the same funny hat,” she whispered as she picked it up and kissed it. Holding it to her cheek, she looked out the window and up at the sky.

  “You told me you weren’t quite an angel,” she said softly. “But I know that you are. Thank you for keeping your promise to help me. I love you.”

  When Sterling entered the celestial conference room of the Heavenly Council and saw the approving looks on the faces of the saints, he knew he had completed his task to their satisfaction.

  “I say, that was most touching,” the admiral said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

  “Did you see that child’s face?” The nun sighed. “It shone with as perfect happiness as is possible on earth.”

  “I couldn’t help staying until I saw Marissa in her father’s arms,” Sterling explained to the council. “Then I went back to Nor’s Place with them. What a wonderful birthday party it was. As you know, the word that they’d returned flashed all over town, and everyone came in to welcome them home.”

  “I had tears in my eyes when Billy sang the song he wrote for Marissa,” the queen observed.

  “Talk about a sure-fire hit,” the matador declared.

  “As you know, he’ll be recording it and the other songs he wrote while he was away,” Sterling said. “It was a very painful year for him, but he used it well.”

  “As did you,” the shepherd said quietly.

  “Yes indeed. Absolutely,” they all murmured, nodding.

  “You not only found someone to help and used your head to work out a solution to her problem, but you also used your heart,” the Native American saint said, clearly proud of Sterling.

  “And you saved Charlie Santoli from the destructive life he was leading,” the nun added.

  There was a pause.

  Then the monk stood up. “ Sterling, the celebration of the birth of our Savior is about to begin. It is the judgment of the council that you have earned not only a visit to heaven, but your permanent place there. It is time for us to lead you through the gates.” He turned toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” Sterling said. “I have something to ask you.”

  The monk stared at him. “What could you possibly have to ask at this moment?”

  “I am so grateful to all of you. As you know, I long to be in heaven. But I so enjoyed this experience that, by your leave, I would like to return to earth every Christmas and find someone who needs help. I never knew how good it could feel to really make a difference in other people’s lives.”

  “Making other people happy is one of the great joys of the human condition,” the monk told him. “You have learned your lesson even better than we realized. And now, come along.”

  As they approached, the heavenly gates opened wide before them, revealing a light brighter than a thousand suns, brighter than anything that Sterling had ever been able to imagine. A profound inner pea
ce permeated his being. He was going toward the light; he was part of the light. The Heavenly Council stepped aside, and slowly and reverently he continued to walk forward. He was aware that there was one large group of people who were gathered together.

  He felt a hand touch his. “ Sterling, let me walk with you.”

  It was Annie.

  “The other newcomers are just ahead of you,” she whispered. “They all came together. Their lives ended tragically, and although they themselves have found eternal joy, they are deeply concerned for the loved ones they left behind. But they will find their own ways to send help and comfort to them.”

  Annie paused. “Oh listen, the celebration is beginning.”

  Music filled the air, rose toward a crescendo. With the angels and saints and all the other souls in heaven, Sterling lifted his voice in song as they continued walking toward the light.

  “Glory to the newborn King…”

  ***

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: fbd-607824-be27-c340-ed98-2317-dcb5-53a36f

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 19.06.2009

  Created using: Fiction Book Designer, Fiction Book Investigator software

  Document authors :

  Source URLs :

  About

  This file was generated by Lord KiRon's FB2EPUB converter version 1.1.5.0.

  (This book might contain copyrighted material, author of the converter bears no responsibility for it's usage)

  Этот файл создан при помощи конвертера FB2EPUB версии 1.1.5.0 написанного Lord KiRon.

  (Эта книга может содержать материал который защищен авторским правом, автор конвертера не несет ответственности за его использование)

  http://www.fb2epub.net

  https://code.google.com/p/fb2epub/