And it was. Sunday morning, Amy woke up, left a note on the table for Tess, threw a bag in her car, and went to church. It was the first time she'd gone in weeks, and it felt like going home. People who had seen her in the play offered their congratulations and condolences and she handled it with as much humility as she could before retreating to a pew in the back.

By the end of the mass, she was ready to sprint out of the building to avoid any more people wanting to stop and talk. She pulled on her gloves and wrapped her jacket closer around her, scowling up at the sky, which had darkened to make it seem like it were early evening rather than mid-day. The clouds looked as if it were going to snow some more. It was as if God was trying to thwart her plans, but she shook her head resolutely and got in the car, driving to the park.

After changing into more comfortable clothes in the public bathroom, Amy took her old basketball out of the trunk and dribbled it a few times. She walked over to the court, covered with puddles from the recent snow, but with a chain-link net and hoop that was actually at the correct height. This had been her favorite court before… well, now it was just Before. She shook her head. Never mind.

Five minutes later, Amy took a shot from the top of the key and was abundantly disgusted when the wind blew hard enough to carry the ball behind her, where she thought she heard it hit someone's hands. And there was no mistaking that voice.

"Amy."

She turned. "Andrew. Want to play horse?"*

"Amy… what are you doing?" Andrew put the ball down and walked toward her.

"What's it look like?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, trying not to show that she could hardly stand on her right ankle.

"It looks like you've got a death wish. You're going to freeze in your own sweat if you stay out here."

"Can I have my ball back?" Amy held out her hand.

"No. Amy, you have to go home. You're hurt."

"I am not! Andrew, please…"

"No. No, no, no. Come on."

"Haven't you ever loved someone so much that you would do anything?" She asked suddenly, and he stopped in his tracks. Where in the name of heaven had that come from?

"Yes." He said, thinking of a certain Irish angel back at home with Tess and Christopher. "But what—"

"That is how I feel about basketball. I can't handle not being able to play! It's my life! I mean, acting's all well and good, and singing is amazing, and I know I've been given gifts for all that stuff, but basketball has been there for me since forever." Her voice started to crack, but she swallowed and forged on. "It was like an equalizer. I was an outsider everywhere except on the basketball court. I could shine. I felt like I belonged there, and now… you realize I have no friends now? All my old friends were just mutual acquaintances that shared a sport, and now that we don't have that in common, we have nothing to talk about. But none of that is even the most important thing, it's just the feeling I get… you're going to take that away from me?" He shook his head slightly. Was it time? But Amy took that as a 'no'. "Andrew, please…"

"Amy, listen to me. This is for your own good, trust me."

"Yeah, well, who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I'm an angel." Amy looked like she was about to go off again, but she stopped short and stared as Andrew began to shine into the darkness. There were no streetlights lit up anywhere.

"What's going on?" She asked shakily. The wind didn't blow as cold as it had, and he seemed to be giving off some kind of warmth that she was drawn to by some innate instinct. "Did you just say—"

"I'm an angel, Amy. Sent by God to help you through this difficult time. And it will be a difficult time; you're going to have to learn to give up something you love. But God will always be there for you, if you'll just ask Him. And Amy, I am willing to do whatever I can to help you. Anything. Just ask."

Amy sniffed, blinking back tears. "You're an angel, huh?"

Andrew smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah."

"Um—can I—could—" a tear raced down her face. Andrew opened his arms.

"Come here." Amy bit her lip, swallowed hard, and opened her mouth as if there was something she wanted to say. Then she walked into his embrace and wrapped her arms around to his back. Andrew stroked her hair as she buried her face in his chest and the real tears; the tears for her grandfather and her grandmother and herself finally came.