Goodness gave him an incredulous look. “From that computer game Beth’s hooked on? That Peter?”
Gabriel nodded.
Goodness thought about it and when she spoke again, she betrayed her reservations. “He’s a possibility, I guess.”
Gabriel arched one of his heavy white brows. “You guess?” As endearing as Goodness was, he wouldn’t accept insubordination from her or any of the other Prayer Ambassadors.
“Don’t misunderstand me, I like Peter quite a bit,” Goodness added hurriedly, obviously realizing she’d overstepped some invisible line. She should know by now, Gabriel grumbled to himself, that he took Prayer request protocol seriously.
“It’s just that I’m afraid the only way they’ll ever be able to communicate is as Night Elves,” she said after a moment’s pause.
This produced a smile. “Yes, well, the computer game’s a concern, but a minor one.”
“Beth likes Peter—doesn’t she?” Goodness asked.
Gabriel had to reflect on that question carefully. “She’s comfortable with him. With what she knows of him, anyway,” he finally said.
“That’s a start,” Goodness murmured in an uncertain voice.
“You have a problem with it?” Gabriel asked, genuinely interested in her reply.
“Not a problem…” Goodness hesitated. “I think it’s a sad state of affairs that humans are resorting to relationships through the computer. There’s no real intimacy—but I could be wrong. I’ll admit that’s happened before.”
Gabriel shrugged. “For some, it’s simply an easier way to meet people. In fact, a person’s character can be revealed in these role-playing games.” He nodded sagely, pleased with his up-to-date observation. “The way Beth and Peter are able to work together as partners, for example.”
“I suppose,” Goodness agreed with evident reluctance. “I still think it’s rather sad.”
Gabriel studied her. With her current attitude, he had to wonder if Goodness was the right choice for Beth.
“How’s she doing now?” Goodness asked.
“Shall we take a look?”
“Please.” Goodness sidled closer to the archangel. “You are going to send me to earth, aren’t you?”
Those same blue eyes gazed at him expectantly. Goodness wasn’t his first choice and he feared this request was too difficult for her. Another Prayer Ambassador, one with a little more experience in complicated situations, might serve better. One who wouldn’t be as tempted by things of the earth. Unfortunately—like Mercy—Goodness had a somewhat blemished reputation when it came to her prayer assignments. But even knowing that, Gabriel found he couldn’t refuse her. “You can join Mercy.”
“Oh, thank you,” Goodness trilled, clasping her hands together. Her wings fluttered rapidly with excitement, dropping a feather or two. “I won’t disappoint you, Gabriel. You have my word.”
“I’m counting on that.” He meant it, too. This was too important an assignment for her to bungle; it needed a delicate hand. He caught himself before warning Goodness. No, Gabriel decided, he’d let her unravel the revelations about Beth all on her own. This presented a growth opportunity for Goodness—and for Beth Fischer, too.
“What’s she doing now?” Goodness asked, crowding close to Gabriel in her eagerness to see Beth.
“It’s lunchtime,” Gabriel said. “She’s at a small waterfront restaurant with a friend.” With one sweep of his arms, Gabriel parted the veil of clouds that obscured the earth below. At first, the view was hazy, but a few seconds later, the air cleared. Then, as though they were gazing through glass, Gabriel and Goodness saw Beth. She and her friend were seated at a table in a busy restaurant. A wreath in the nearby window was decorated with sprigs of holly and red Christmas balls.
Beth’s long dark hair was parted in the middle, and she wore a soft pink cashmere sweater with gray wool pants.
“She looks very pretty,” Goodness whispered.
Gabriel could only agree.
“So, what are your plans for Christmas?” Heidi asked as she picked up half of the tuna-salad sandwich they were sharing.
“I’ll spend it with my parents,” Beth said without any real enthusiasm. Already she was worried. Her mother had suggested—no, insisted—that Beth invite Peter to join them on Christmas Day. It was an unlikely scenario. After six months of impersonal conversation, she had no idea how they were going to make the transition from being WoW partners to friends to…well, dating each other. Sort of. A Christmas Day blind date—with her family, yet. She grimaced.
How could she possibly convince someone she’d never even seen to accompany her to one of the most important holiday functions of the year? She might as well ask for a miracle.
“You’ve drifted off again.”
Beth didn’t need to ask what her friend meant. She often grew quiet when something troubled her. “Can I ask you a question?” Beth asked, setting down her sandwich and leaning toward Heidi.
“Sure, anything. You know that.”
Beth considered the other woman one of her best friends. She’d been a member of Heidi’s wedding party and was godmother to her son, Adam.
“When you first met Sam…” she began. Heidi and Sam had just begun seeing each other when Beth met her; they’d now been married four years.
“When I first met Sam,” Heidi repeated. “Did I know I was going to fall in love with him? Is that what you want to ask?”
Beth blinked. That wasn’t exactly it, but close enough. “Yes.”
“The answer is no. In fact, I thought he was a total nerd. I mean, could you imagine me married to an accountant? I found him so fussy and detail-oriented, I couldn’t picture the two of us together.”
It was remarkable. Heidi, her fun-loving, easygoing friend attracted to a bean counter. Yet as far as Beth could tell, they were completely happy in their relationship. They were so different; Heidi was slapdash and impulsive and, as she’d said, Sam was the opposite. But where it truly mattered—their feelings about marriage and family, for instance—their values were the same. Recently, with Heidi’s encouragement, Sam had joined a couple of his friends in a new business venture. Their firm, specializing in forensic accounting, was doing well.
“It wasn’t like that with John and me,” Beth murmured. “When we first met, I was sure we were the perfect match.” She swallowed hard. She didn’t know why she continued to do this—torturing herself with the details of her failed marriage. All it did was remind her that she simply wasn’t any good at relationships.
“John was a long time ago.”
This was Heidi’s gentle way of urging her to stop dragging the past into the present, and she was right. Sitting up straighter, Beth squared her shoulders. “I think I might have met someone.”
That immediately sparked Heidi’s interest. In the last five years, she’d frequently tried to introduce Beth to available men, mostly colleagues of Sam’s. Beth had declined each and every time. “Who did you meet? Where? When?”
“We met online.”
Her friend instantly brightened. “You signed up with one of those Internet dating services?” Heidi had suggested this approach months earlier—advice Beth had strongly rejected.
“No,