The sun was just beginning its downward descent, turning the church spire from a bright yellow to a deep gold, when Richard, Monica, and Tess stood back and surveyed the fruits of that first day's work. It was amazing transformation: where weeds and rocks choked the walk, it was clean and trimmed with bright, freshly planted flowers. Where dead bushes had lain tangled against the red brick, there was clean brown soil, waiting for new plantings. Everywhere in the air was the redolent scent of a warm spring evening, full of promise and renewal.

Tess nodded as she looked over the refurbished lawn. "I'll say this for you, Mr. Paxton, you got the gift."

Monica nodded in agreement and pressed her hand on Richard's shoulder. "You did a beautiful job."

"Yeah, well, thanks for helping," Richard said, turning to face them. "I'll get started on the windows tomorrow, and I took the money you gave me and ordered some new bushes and trees from the nursery."

Monica beamed at him. "That's fine. I'm sure God is very pleased that you have His house looking so alive again, Mr. Paxton."

Richard nodded, and rubbed his neck, looking uncomfortably at the sidewalk. "Listen, I ,uh...didn't get a chance to thank you ladies for standing up for me before. Nobody's ever done that for me, you know."

"It was my pleasure," Tess smiled broadly, and Monica knew she meant it. "It's high time the folks around here stopped having that unforgiving attitude and started looking to the good that you're doing."

Richard shook his head ruefully, looking back at the reemerging church. "I'm afraid you're asking too much, ma'am. And anyway, I don't expect it." He leaned over to gather up his tools.

"Tomorrow morning at nine, then?" Monica said hopefully.

Richard straightened up, tool box in hand, and nodded. "If you like."

And with that, he walked past the two women and slowly disappeared into the gathering dusk.

Monica looked at Tess uncertainly. "I hope this is working, Tess. The church looks better, but I'm not sure Richard's any closer to accepting God's forgiveness. I've never seen anyone so willing to live without God's light, and I don't understand it."

"I think I can help." Tess said, watching Richard's retreating figure. "You see, some folks, when they do something they're ashamed of, prefer to live in the pain rather than seek forgiveness and live with the knowledge that they can fall short of righteousness and still be loved by God. For some people, God's love can be a bigger burden that the guilt. And you know it isn't just people that struggle with it. We do too." Tess turned toward the church. "Come on, baby. Time for you to go in."

"Hm?" Monica turned toward the church. The door, locked that morning, was now standing open, and light that came from no earthly source glowed in the stained glass of the sanctuary windows. The rest of the church was dark.

"Come on, Angelgirl," Tess said, taking Monica's arm and leading her to the door. "It's time you learned about guilt."

The inside of the church was dim, dusty. The twilight filtered weakly through the dirty windows, gleamed dully on the scuffed linoleum floor. As Monica's eyes adjusted to the darkness inside she made out a wide hallway, painted cinderblock, flaking and old. They were standing outside the main sanctuary, whose doors, Monica turned to see, were closed and padlocked shut. Off the hallway were several doors, Sunday School classrooms no doubt, and on the walls outside the classrooms several children's pictures still hung, curled and brittle with age. The air was dank and a little misty.

"Oh," Monica said with a wry smile as she surveyed the sad surroundings. "I know all about guilt. You should know better than anyone how I feel when something I do goes wrong."

"Yes I do," Tess gave a reassuring smile, and squeezed Monica's arm, "And I know you try, baby. But the kind of guilt I'm talking about goes deeper than that. It's the kind that can haunt anyone. Even an angel."

Monica's eyebrows went up. "Why Tess, what do you - "

Before she could get any more words out the building around them suddenly burst forth with life. In an instant the lights were on, the dank air was replaced by candle-scented perfume, and the hall Tess and Monica stood in was thronging with people - dozens of people, all dressed in their Sunday best and milling about, happily greeting each other and smiling. Blinking in wonder, Monica heard organ music and whirled around. The sanctuary was open, brilliant with stained-glass windows that glittered in the morning sun, and buzzing with voices as parishioners filed out, faces beaming.

"Tess - " Monica stammered.

"That's right, baby," Tess remarked, watching the scene. "We're back in a time when this place knew life and hope."

As Monica watched the happy people, who seemed oblivious to the angels' presence, she caught sight of someone who looked familiar. An instant later a young man filed out of the sanctuary, pausing to shake the pastor's hand and give him a warm smile. The hair was somewhat shorter, but the face was unmistakable.

"Andrew!" Monica blurted.

"Yes, baby," Tess nodded. "You're about to find out that Andrew and this town have a lot in common." To Monica's questioning look Tess continued. "They're both about to go through the greatest tragedy of their existence, and neither one of them has gotten over it yet."

Nodding, but not really understanding what Tess meant, Monica watched in fascination as her friend walked past her and down the hall. He had just passed the door to the fellowship hall when a man came out of the room and crossed in front of him.

"Richard?" Monica asked, not altogether sure, even though it certainly looked like Richard, that it actually was her assignment. His face was too smooth, and he lacked the tired, defeated posture she knew.

"Mm-hmm." Tess acknowledged. "He was here too."

Andrew gave Richard only a passing glance, and continued down the hall. He hadn't gotten very far when a middle-aged woman with a preteen daughter came up and touched his arm.

"Why, Mrs. Weaver," Andrew smiled, taking her hand, "How are you doing today? Is this Amy?"

"Yes, it is," The woman said proudly, stroking the child's hair, "She's heard so much about your class she practically begged me to bring her this morning. Imagine that."

"Fantastic." Andrew grinned, and leaned slightly, extending his hand to the girl. "How ya doing, Amy? It's a pleasure to meet you."

The girl giggled and blushed, looking down at her shoes. Finally she looked back up at the angel and said, "Fine, sir."

"Oh, don't be so formal," Andrew chided, gently chucking her chin, "Around here, everybody calls me Andrew. Come on, class is just about to start."

"Okay!" The girl said brightly, and began walking down the hall. Three other girls about her age were clustering in the doorway of the Sunday School classroom, and as they all came together there was a huge hurricane of girlish laughter as they tumbled back into the room.

As Andrew and Mrs. Weaver walked down the hall Monica heard the woman say, "You've probably figured out by now, my daughters' friends have quite a crush on you."

Andrew smiled and laughed. "As long as it doesn't interfere with the lessons I'm teaching, and especially if it brings more people into the class, it's fine with me, Mrs. Weaver."

"Well, I just wanted you to know everyone here thinks you're doing a splendid job with the teenage class. It's the hardest one to teach, you know." Now the hall was emptying out as people left or went to the fellowship hall. Mrs. Weaver slowed her walk, then stopped. "They have so many questions at that age. And they're the tough ones too. They don't want to color pictures of the Good Samaritan anymore. They want to know why if God loves them so much there has to be so much pain in the world. Why things are so unfair." She shook her head. "And there aren't any easy answers either. Even the best ones sound like cop-outs."

Andrew smiled again, knowing and peaceful. "I didn't volunteer to teach this class because I like things to be easy, Mrs. Weaver. I volunteered because I love God. And I want these kids to know that He loves them too."

Mrs. Weaver patted his arm and made to go. "Well, you're a blessing to us all. I'll see you later."

"Bye."

As the woman walked into the fellowship hall and Andrew, sliding his hands into his pockets, turned to walk down the hall, Monica folded her arms and turned to Tess, "Andrew as a Sunday School teacher. Now that's a divine inspiration. I'll bet they learn so much from him."

"Not all of them do." Tess said darkly, nodding her head in Andrew's direction. "Look."

Monica looked. Andrew had stopped walking down the hall and was looking down another hallway that apparently led outside. His expression was not angry, but definitely sterner than before, and inquisitive.

"Cory," He asked some unseen person, "Coming to class today?"

There was a long pause, during which Andrew's eyes never left the hallway. At length a young boy, maybe twelve, appeared, dressed in a beaten-up black leather jacket and tight, ripped blue jeans. He glared up at Andrew from under shaggy brown hair. A cigarette hung from his lips.

"Hello, Cory," Andrew said, a little gentler, taking his hands from his pockets and motioning to the waiting classroom. "Put that cigarette out and come on. We're about to start."

Cory pulled the cigarette from his lips but didn't put it out. "My dad said I could just wait out here. I don't wanna be in your stupid class."

"Now, Cory," Andrew turned entreating eyes on the youth, "You know I discussed this with your Dad and he wants you in my class. Now you don't want me to call him again, do you? Cause I don't want to."

Cory looked down, then after a few moments dropped the cigarette on the linoleum and crushed it beneath one battered sneaker.

Andrew placed a guiding hand on the boy's shoulder and without another word the pair went into the room and the door was closed.

Monica turned to Tess. The other angel said, "Cory's parents are the type that believe they can just drop their son off at church and not go themselves and he'll turn out just fine. You can see what kind of an attitude he has, and Andrew's been trying to break through that attitude for months."

"Months?" Monica exclaimed, "This isn't a case working assignment then? They're usually much shorter."

"Well," Tess replied, "It started out as a shorter assignment, but Andrew took a special interest in Cory. He saw the boy was hurting and asked God to let him be sort of a long-term caseworker to him until he felt better about himself, and God. It hasn't been easy."

At that moment the classroom door burst open and Andrew reappeared, pulling Cory by the collar of his leather jacket and looking as angry as Monica had ever seen him.

"Quit it!" Cory growled as Andrew guided him by the collar down the hall. "I'll tell my dad."

Andrew stopped and faced Cory, taking a deep breath. "Cory," he said in slightly higher-pitched tone than Monica was used to hearing, "I've told you before I want you in my class. I want to teach you about the love God has for you. But you make it very hard for me to do that when you don't show respect for the other students."

Cory glowered at Andrew. "My parents let me say whatever I want. It's a free country."

"Cory," Andrew said, after taking another deep breath. "I want you to go back in there and apologize to Amy for what you said to her."

Cory sneered. "Make me."

Andrew straightened up. He was a tall angel, and easily towered over the youth that stood in front of him. Fixing Cory with his most piercing look, Andrew stared down at him and said, in a quiet but commanding tone, "I'm calling your father."

Andrew turned and began striding purposefully towards the main office. Monica watched as Cory stood alone in the hallway, clearly uncertain as to which would be worse, apologizing or facing his dad. Dad apparently won out, for as Andrew reached the door to the office, he paused and looked back at Cory. After a few seconds Cory began shuffling back to the classroom, head down and muttering words Monica was glad she couldn't understand.

Andrew watched compassionately as the boy passed him, then turned and walked with him, again placing a firm but loving hand on the shoulder of the beaten leather jacket.

"We'll talk about this later," He said just before they went back into the room.

"Well," Monica said brightly, "I think Andrew's handling all of this very well. He certainly doesn't have anything to feel guilty about in my opinion."

"Andrew did his best," Tess allowed, looking at the angel with unabashed pride, "He really wanted to be Cory's caseworker, and if ever any boy needed one, Cory did. Andrew saw him every day when he could, and managed to keep him out of trouble whenever he was around. But that's going to change. Come on, baby, I'll show you what this place used to know."

Intrigued, Monica followed Tess out the door. It was the same Main street she had gazed sadly on that morning, but transformed - the street teemed with life, people walking in warm sunshine, busy storefronts glittering with wares and food, a bustling hive of activity.

"Oh, Tess," Monica beamed, "So this is what this town used to be like."

The church was no longer dilapidated and worn - the lawn was trimmed and brilliant with spring flowers, and the sign was no longer cracked but shiny and new-looking. The letters arranged within the sign read, "Glory in the Lord April 25"

"Tess," Monica asked, keeping her eyes on the sign, "How long until - "

"From where we are now? Less than a week."

Monica nodded. A group of kids came racing past on bicycles, laughing and enjoying the sun. Then from around the corner Monica heard Andrew's voice.

"I'm not trying to tell you what to do - "

Then she saw Andrew round the corner, dressed more casually in a light flannel shirt and jeans and talking to a large, rough-looking man who looked uncomfortably stuffed in a business suit.

" - It's just I don't think now is a good time for Cory to be uprooted again. He's just beginning to feel accepted here and - "

"Look, mister," The other man said, stopping and giving Andrew an exasperated look, "Your concern is touching, but what am I supposed to do? The office calls, says I'm moving. So I'm moving."

Andrew nodded, his long blond hair bobbing in the sunlight, "I understand, Mr. Churchill, and I know this isn't easy for you, but I've talked to Cory and he feels like he doesn't belong anywhere. Your family moves so often he never has a chance to make friends, and at his age that's very important. At least let me know where you're moving to. I'm sure I can arrange to follow Cory to a new church."

Mr. Churchill gave Andrew a surprised look. "Huh. You'd do that for the kid?"

Andrew put his hands together. "His welfare is very important to me, and I'm sure it is to you too. I think if I can just get Cory to understand that God loves him - "

Mr. Churchill cut the angel off with a short laugh, "That's okay, you don't have to go into the religion thing with me. I'm more worried about keeping the kid from getting arrested. You do that, I'll be happy."

Andrew's brow furrowed. "Mr. Churchill," He said quietly, "Cory causes trouble because he's unhappy and scared. You shouldn't just be concerned about his record. You should be concerned about his soul."

"His soul is your department," the man said flippantly as he strode toward a nearby Cadillac. "My only problem is keeping a lid on him till he turns 18. Then he can do what he wants."

Andrew was shaking his head, following the man to his car. "Mr. Churchill, with all due respect, I think that's the wrong attitude to take with Cory. If he thinks you don't care he'll find ways to try and get you to care. He's at a very sensitive age."

"That kid?" Mr. Churchill coughed. "He swears at his mom and me like a stevedore! He don't care about our feelings. Look," the man opened the car door, stopped and looked at Andrew. "Between you and me, I've just about given up on the kid. I try, but - what are ya gonna do? Now you, you think you can beat some sense into him, do your worst. But between you and me, I think you're wasting your time."

Monica watched Andrew sigh in exasperation as the man got in a shut the door. As the Cadillac pulled out of the parking space, Mr. Churchill rolled the window down.

"I'm going home to tell the family tonight," He hollered, " So I'm sure you'll get more of that kid's soul than you can handle come Sunday. See ya!"

Monica could see the frustration on Andrew's face as he watched the Cadillac drive off. She turned to Tess and asked, "So what happened to Cory?"

"Let's go inside and find out," Tess suggested, and they turned and walked back into the church. Magically, it seemed, it was another Sunday morning, church had let out and the parishioners were streaming to their various destinations. Monica saw Andrew, in a different but similar beige suit, chatting with other churchgoers. A small gaggle of giggling girls rushed past him to the classroom, and Monica smiled at Andrew's somewhat puzzled reaction to such naked adoration. Soon the hall was emptying and then it was quiet. Monica saw Andrew begin to walk down the hall, then stop at the hallway that led outside and look out for a few moments. Then he leaned forward, as if trying to see something that wasn't there. Then he sighed, and she saw his shoulders sag a bit. He gave the door to the parking lot one final look, then quietly walked into the classroom and shut the door.

Suddenly Monica found herself and Tess inside that classroom. It was small, with old folding chairs set up haphazardly in a sort of circle in the middle. There were a good fifteen pre-teenagers in the room, eight of them girls, who were clustered on one end of the circle and whispering to each other as Andrew came in. The boys were lounging on the other side, and rolling their eyes at the girls' snickering.

"Good morning, everybody," Andrew said, trying to be cheerful. "How's everybody today?"

Monica was impressed by how the children straightened up in their chairs and turned their attention to Andrew when he entered. Whatever he had been saying to them about God, it was obvious they had been listening. And learning.

Andrew picked up a piece of chalk and began writing on the blackboard. "Jordan, how's your mom doing?" He asked as he wrote.

The boy he was addressing said, "Um, better. She'll be out of the hospital next week."

"Good. Tell her I'm praying for her." Andrew had just finished writing the words GOD COMES THROUGH on the blackboard and turned around. "Anybody else have any news?"

One of the girls said, "Christy's dad just bought a VCR."

"Really! Christy, you like it?"

The girl whose name was Christy nodded her head vigorously, "It's really cool. I can tape 'Dallas' and watch it over and over and over - "

The cluster of girls collapsed in giggles until Andrew politely cleared his throat and said, "Well, that's...fine. Now everybody, today's lesson is going to be all about how God comes through. You know - "

At that instant the door opened and an older man, bespectacled and worried-looking, stuck his head in the door.

Monica looked at Tess. "Church superintendent." Tess answered.

"Andrew, I need to see you right away." The man stammered.

"Um, well, I'm in class but - "

"Right away. It's Cory."

Andrew put the chalk down and turned to the class, worry evident on his face. "I'll be right back," he said, and left the room.

At once Monica found herself and Tess in the church's parking lot. The side doors of the church burst open and the superintendent hurried out, with Andrew on his heels.

"Is Cory hurt?" Andrew asked anxiously.

"Oh, no," the superintendent snorted sarcastically, "He's fine. He's been out here all morning slashing tires!"

Andrew slowed, then stopped. At the end of the lot stood another of the Sunday School teachers, who had Cory by the arm and was watching the superintendent's approach. Cory stood motionless, his head down, seemingly oblivious. Glancing around, Andrew could see at least a dozen flat tires. He ran his fingers through his fine blond hair and sighed loudly.

"Just look at what this little hooligan did!" The other teacher was saying as Andrew came up.

"I'll take over, thanks." Andrew smiled wanly and carefully released Cory's arm from the teacher's grip.

"You can have him," the teacher said sharply and strode angrily into the building, "I'm calling the police!"

Andrew shot a concerned look in her direction, then turned to Cory, "Cory? You gonna talk to me?"

Cory kept his eyes on the ground and said nothing.

"Come on Cory, let's go back inside." Andrew said softly and began to lead Cory toward the church door. The boy didn't resist.

"Wait a minute," the superintendent said quickly, throwing up both hands and blocking the angel's way, "You're not taking that little thug into my church."

"That's God's house, not yours," Andrew admonished, "And He has said everyone is welcome there."

With that he led Cory around the superintendent, who shook his head in disgust but didn't say anything more.

As soon as they were inside the hallway Andrew stopped and looked at his charge again. "Cory, come on, talk to me here. What's going on?"

Cory still didn't look up, but said, "Dad says we're moving away."

Andrew nodded. "I know. He told me earlier this week."

Cory looked up, too much anger in those young blue eyes. "It sucks! Why does God hate me so much?"

"God doesn't hate you, Cory. He loves you, and He wants to be with you wherever you go. But you can't take your anger out on other people's property, that's wrong."

"Who cares!" Cory scuffed his heels into the linoleum. "Right and wrong, what a crock."

By now the door to the classroom had slid open and Andrew's class had begun to file surreptitiously into the hallway, peeking around the corner to catch the conversation.

"Who cares,"Andrew responded," I care, Cory. I know you don't want to leave, but you're not doing yourself any favors pulling stunts like this. When you feel like you wanna lash out like that, come talk to me, with God's help we can work this all out. Okay?"

Cory had stubbornly folded his arms and pouted, "I don't want God's help. God sucks."

Monica watched Andrew's face sweep through a variety of expressions, from angry to sad to bewildered, then it settled on stern. "Cory, you know I told your dad that if you want I can come with you to wherever you move to. That way you'll have someone in your new town to talk to. Would that make you feel better?"

Cory was still pouting. "Yeah, right. Like you'd follow me. Liar."

Andrew straightened up again, this time in surprise. "Cory - "

"You feed us all that crap about God," Cory cried, his voice rising until it was nearly a shout, "About how much He cares and how He always takes care of you. But if God loves me so much, why did He give me a father who doesn't give a - " Here Cory used a word Monica had never heard in a church, and she blushed and saw the girls from the classroom giggle nervously. " - about me, huh? He hates me. God hates me, and I'm sick of it. Don't follow me, don't feed me this crap any more cause I'm sick of it."

"Cory," Andrew said, giving a nervous glance to the group clustered at the corner of the hallway, "Stop talking like that and listen to me. I've told you, God doesn't hate you. Understand? God does not - "

At that point Cory hurled another expletive at Andrew, this time one Monica had only heard once or twice in her 8000 year existence, and certainly never in a church. The girls in the group gasped and covered the mouths; the guys mostly just stood with their mouths open.

For his part Andrew turned ash grey for a moment, then very quietly, very firmly said, "Cory, I love you as God loves you, but if you can't be in God's house without using that kind of language we'd better go outside."

Cory stared back at him, red with emotion, a million sparks of resentment and pain in his eyes. Then he bolted for the door, flung it open, and ran outside, his sneakers smacking the parking lot pavement, fading, growing silent.

The rest of the class stared at Andrew. He was watching the path Cory had taken, himself pale and Monica thought about as shaken as she'd ever seen him. He took a few steps towards the door, and Monica could see in his face the struggle he was obviously going through: should he follow Cory, who had just told him he didn't want his help, and abandon the class, or attend to his class, who were eager to learn about God, and abandon Cory? For a few moments the air was heavy as Monica watched to see what her friend would do.

Then Andrew took a deep, uncertain breath and cleared his throat. "Let's get back to our lesson." He said quietly, and without a word he herded the muted students into the classroom.

Monica hugged herself in sympathy. "Poor Andrew. He certainly got the blunt end of the stick that time."

"And it didn't end there," Tess revealed. "For the rest of the day Andrew stayed away from Cory; he was beginning to think he wasn't ready to be that boy's caseworker, and that little encounter you just saw rattled his wings more than he'll ever admit."

Monica scratched her head, "Well, I guess I'm not the only one who makes mistakes. And I do feel sorry for Andrew, and Cory, but I don't see why this would upset Andrew as much as it has. After all, he knows it was Cory's choice whether to accept God's love or not."

"But our story isn't over yet." Tess said, and suddenly they found themselves on a long stretch of Midwest country road at twilight. In front of them, walking with fed-up strides, Monica saw Andrew again.

"Where's he going?" She asked Tess.

"He's on a long walk back to God. We're now at the end of that Sunday, and Andrew has just decided he needs to get away from people for a while."

"But what about Cory? Andrew would never abandon him."

"But Andrew doesn't see it that way. He thinks he just needs to give the boy some space; Remember, what's clear to angels most times isn't to people, and to someone like Andrew anybody not loving God he just can't figure out. He knew Cory was mad, but he didn't know how mad until this morning. So Andrew's sorting that all out in his head."

Monica nodded, remembering her own struggles with human peculiarities. She gave Tess a knowing smile, "Well, I'd say I know Andrew well enough to know he went back and helped Cory, so I confess I'm still a little lost about the guilt. Did somebody else do something that hurt Andrew?"

Tess' expression was unreadable. "Wait and see."

Puzzled, Monica turned back to watch Andrew. The sun was sinking lower behind the horizon, and it was becoming harder to make the angel out as he approached them. As he drew near, Andrew suddenly looked up and stopped, his expression changing from self-reflection to surprise, then chagrin. He seemed to be looking straight at Monica.

Startled, Monica turned to Tess. Then she heard Tess' voice say, "What do you think you're doing, Angel boy?"

Monica blinked - Tess hadn't opened her mouth! But then another Tess, the Tess of the past,

walked past her Tess and toward Andrew, her arms folded sternly.

Andrew shot her a meek look and ducked his head down. "Tess, I've been thinking about turning Cory over to somebody else." To Tess' exasperated countenance he said hurriedly, "Well, it's obvious I'm failing! He isn't listening to me at all. Maybe, maybe somebody with more experience can get through to him."

"Even experienced angels did something for the first time once," Tess observed. "Did it ever occur to you that this is your first time to help someone like Cory?"

Andrew mulled this over, then shrugged. "I don't know, Tess, sometimes I think I'm starting to get him to trust God and open up, but then something happens and he just disappears into all that anger again. I don't know how to get through that."

"Is that why you didn't go after Cory this morning?"

Andrew shot Tess a shamed look. "I was going to, Tess, but...there wasn't anything else I could do for Cory this morning. I offered him God's love and he rejected it. Those other kids, they all love God already..."
"So you took the easy choice, huh? I'll bet you know how God feels about that."

Andrew looked down again and scuffed one shoe on the pavement. "Yes, I do. I made a mistake, I should have gone after Cory and tried to calm him down but - " He brought his head up and regarded Tess with frustrated eyes. "Tess, I don't know what to say anymore. I've told him God loves him, he doesn't care. I've tried everything I know, but his soul is...it's fighting me."

"I know, baby, but you just got to keep fighting back. God wouldn't have given you this assignment if He didn't think you could bring Cory to God's heart. You just got to hang in there."

Andrew looked at her and nodded, then shrugged, "I'll go see him later tonight. Maybe by then he'll have calmed down enough for me to..."

Andrew had stopped talking, his voice trailing off to a whisper, the look he gave Tess was one Monica hadn't seen before, infinite sadness and total knowledge. "There's been an accident."

Tess looked at him. 'You being called, baby?"

"Yes," Andrew said, and began walking again, a little faster. "It's a bad one. I'll have to see Cory tomorrow..."

Monica watched Andrew go past, and the truth dawned on her. "The bus accident."

"That's right," The present-day Tess acknowledged, "Andrew had hard work ahead of him that night."

"Oh, so that's why he's so upset," Monica deduced, "All those children, it must have been very difficult for him. But he's the angel of death, I thought by this time he'd be used to untimely passings."

"He is," Tess said, her voice sounding sadder, "But not this time. Time you learned the end of this story, Monica. But get ready, it's worse than you think."

In a flash, Monica found herself surrounded by darkness and pulsing red and white lights, and screaming sirens. Blinking in confusion, she finally made out, in the harsh glare of police cars and ambulance lights, the twisted wreck of a yellow school bus. Everywhere people were running and crying, a cluster of bereaved parents were huddled some distance away, supporting each other as best they could. Rescue crews and townspeople were crawling all over the remains of the bus, looking for survivors. On the pavement, Monica saw paramedics laboring over three still forms, young girls, clad in bloodied jeans and t-shirts. She instantly recognized one of them and whispered, "Beth."

Monica's eyes were riveted as she watched the paramedics lean over Beth, cleaning and wrapping a gaping arm wound. Tears in her eyes, she looked up and saw Andrew coming towards them through the smoke and blaring lights, his hands in his pockets and his face a blend of pity and compassion.

As he passed the bus, Monica saw someone else come from behind the bus, flanked by two police officers. It was Richard, younger and now quite beside himself, almost dazed, and as they neared Monica could hear him talking to the policemen.

"How many on the bus?" One officer was asking Richard, who dabbed at his bloody forehead with a handkerchief.

"Huh? Oh, um, there were twenty-five. Yeah. Twenty - five kids..."

The officer nodded, then looked down at his notes in puzzlement. "Paramedics said twenty-six."

Monica took her eyes off Richard for a moment to watch Andrew. Normally, she knew, as Angel of Death her friend would be looking for souls to escort to Heaven. So why was Andrew standing at the bus, staring into one crumpled corner?

"Twenty-six? Oh, yeah, there was another kid - "

Now Andrew's face changed, all color draining from it, a look of horrified shock.

"Younger, maybe eleven, he must have snuck on the bus before we left - "

He kneeled into the wreckage, slowly, as if the very movement pained him to his soul.

"- I think he was going to run away, but I guess he changed his mind cause he got back on the bus with the other kids..."

And, as Monica watched with in anguish, Andrew pulled a battered, familiar-looking black leather jacket, streaked with blood. His face was ashen, sick, his eyes huge with disbelief.

"Oh, Tess, no," Monica moaned, turning to her supervisor, "Not Cory... "

But Tess sadly shook her head, watching the scene with only a little less emotion than Monica.

"After he left the church, Cory decided to run away from God, and Andrew wasn't there to stop him. Richard wasn't watching who got on the bus, and as a result Cory was on the bus when it hit the train."

Pained, Monica turned back to the scene. Andrew was still there, kneeling on the ground, and the past Tess was bending over him. He had dropped the jacket and covered his face with both hands, and Tess was giving him a comforting embrace, muttering something soothing that Monica couldn't make out.

The present-day Tess shook her head. "Andrew took it very hard. He blamed himself for Cory's death, thought if he'd followed him that morning he might have made a difference. He knew he let God down, and for someone who loves God as much as Andrew does the pain of that knowledge can be unbearable."

"Tess," Monica asked softly, "Did Cory accept God's love before he died? Did he go to Heaven?"

"Andrew never found out," Tess replied,"By the time he reached the scene the boy was already gone, and Andrew couldn't bear to ask, afraid of the answer he might get."

Monica nodded, and turned back, her heart breaking to see her friend so beside himself with grief. Behind Tess and Andrew, Richard was still talking to the police.

"Now you say you didn't see the train?"

Richard was looking down, and said numbly, "I - I - no, I didn't, I just...wasn't watching, I guess..."

Andrew, still kneeling on the ground, took his hands away from his face and looked at Richard, his expression one of unbelieving anger. Then he turned back to stare at the bus, running one hand raggedly through his hair in helpless sorrow.

One officer shook his head and looked at Richard in disgust. "All these kids dead because you just weren't watching. Mister, your carelessness cost this town plenty tonight. I hope you can live with yourself."

Tess spoke as the police led Richard away. "Andrew knew Richard was responsible for letting Cory on the bus, and that his carelessness caused the crash that took Cory home too quick. He felt if Richard had been more careful, Cory would have lived and maybe Andrew would have had the time he needed to reach him. But Richard took that chance away, and our Angel boy has had a hard time dealing with it ever since that night."

Monica watched as Andrew slowly stood up, smoothing his hair and taking deep, shaky breaths. The past Tess stroked his shoulder a few times and leaned close, saying something to him in low tones which he answered with a small nod.

"Andrew did his job that night," Tess said in a voice mixed with pride and sadness, "But the pain he felt in his heart made it tough. And now - "

As Monica watched, the bus, the sirens, Andrew, the whole scene faded into the night, and they were standing alone at a dark country railroad crossing, surrounded by stars and chirping crickets.

"-now he's back in this same town again,feeling that same pain and guilt he's buried for fifteen years. He'll be leading Richard home to God soon, and he knows he can't do it with that much anger and shame locked in his heart."

"But he can't let it out?"

"He wants to, but that's what he has in common with this town, baby. He's scared of what might happen if he actually has to deal with forgiving Richard, and himself, and moving on. "

Monica shook her head and wiped her eyes. "Tess, I had no idea. What can I do to help him through this?"

Tess smiled and put her hand on Monica's shoulder. "Just do your job, baby. The rest is in God's hands."