Paint the Sky with Stars
--by Egon Starcollector
Disclaimer: The last I checked, I wasn't JKR...ergo, I don't own HP. And fairy roses belong to my friend Wendy.
Author's note: Sorry this took me so long. I've been having some health problems that made writing pretty well impossible.
Stacy hummed and danced her way through most of Wednesday. She was young, she was in love, she was happy...what could go wrong?
Then she remembered she had to tutor Malfoy.
As usual, he beat her to the library. Her stomach lurched when she saw his too-pale face, but she was determined that even he wouldn't spoil her mood. *Probably famous last words, Stacy.*
The conversation was neutral enough at first. He still had questions about the Third Reich, and Stacy did her best to answer him.
Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject. "What were you and Finch- Fletchley doing by the ruins last night?"
"Praying; why?"
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone pray before. Must be a mudblood thing."
Stacy's hands clenched on her book. She gritted her teeth. There was THAT word again. She took a deep breath. "So...aside from insulting Muggle- borns, harassing my cousin and her friends, and generally being disagreeable to everyone you meet, do you have any hobbies?" Oh, that was so LAME! Why couldn't she ever be witty when she was angry?
If he could turn any whiter, he did. "Are all Muggle-borns so very witty?"
"Only when we meet guys like you and our brains freeze up from sheer horror."
"Oh very funny, mudblood."
"I'd rather have muddy blood than mud for brains like you do."
"How dare you...?"
"Pretty easily, actually; I just had to look at your grades."
"Why you little--!"
"Hey, now just because I'm short doesn't mean you have to rub it in."
"I could take your ugly head off and make you even shorter."
"Oh I'm tho thcared."
"You ought to be."
"What, going to run to your daddy again? I've heard how you are...if you don't get your own way, you go running to him instead of trying to do your own fights. Scaredy-cat."
"You watch what you're saying, mudblood."
"Now how can I do that? I can't see my mouth! You'll have to watch for me."
"Oh ha ha ha."
"I guess that answers my question: you don't have brains enough to have any real hobbies besides being a jerk."
"Hobbies? You think I LIKE this?" he hissed.
"Well, goodness knows you do enough of it."
"What else am I to do? Malfoys aren't supposed to be friendly; we're supposed to act superior! Do you think I LIKE knowing that I haven't any friends, that everyone hates me?"
"What about the two gorillas?"
"Vincent and Gregory are enforcers, nothing more. They keep tabs on me more than they do anything else. I don't know of a single person I can actually confide in--not one person I could actually call a friend. The only reason I tease your cousin and her friends is because the closest I get to true friendship is seeing it in action! I tease them to see them defend each other! But do you think I like it? NO! Given the choice, I'd rather be a part of their group--of any group that actually knows what friendship is! Instead, I get to be the school bully. Feared, hated, and laughed at. I'm shunned here by my schoolmates. I go home and I get beaten for being 'soft.' Do you think for one second I enjoy being Draco Malfoy?"
Stacy by this point was looking for an escape. This was making her acutely uncomfortable; she really didn't want to be cornered by Malfoy while he went over the edge. She pushed her chair as far against the wall as she could, looking for a way out. Going over the shelves was out of the question. Under the table was a possibility, but she'd probably get lost in a tangle of chairs. They were too many floors up for her to climb out the window. She considered using her wand to write "Help! I've been cornered by a raving lunatic," but thought it might be a bit obvious.
"And, and...and I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." He stopped and reached for his ink bottle--and in that second, Stacy's opinion of him changed forever. His sweater sleeve rode up, baring his wrist. On the white skin, Stacy noticed a net of scars. White on white. It would have been pretty in marble--but not in human flesh. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist. "Get your hands off me!" he hissed.
Ignoring him, she pushed his sleeve up further. She wasn't seeing things. The scars went as far up his arm as she could push his sleeve. "I think you told me...because it's been too long since someone listened." *This can't be happening!* she thought. *I'm not supposed to have to deal with this!*
"If you tell anyone...." he said, pulling out his wand.
"Whoa...hey now. I didn't say I was going to. I think you should talk to someone...but that's just my opinion. Now put that away...pretty please...?" He had a wild look in his eyes that made Stacy quite nervous.
He put his wand away angrily. "You see? It isn't pleasant being Draco Malfoy." He began to pack up his bag.
"Sit down."
"Who are you to order me around?"
"Okay...would you sit down, please?" He looked as though he were about to refuse...then clearly reconsidered and sat down. Stacy did the only thing she knew to do. She clasped his hands in hers, bent her head, and began to pray in a quiet voice. "Father God, you see how this young man is suffering. You know how much pain he must be feeling if he desires to end his life. Father...he is an intelligent young man, with more promise than he knows. I ask...I ask that you bring him peace so that he may live and fulfill whatever destiny You have in mind for him. I ask that he find someone he can call a true friend to ease the aching of his heart. And I ask...I ask that You forgive me--and that he forgive me--for misjudging him and for thinking that I knew him when I did not. In this and all things...Father, Thy will be done. In Jesus' name, Amen."
She took a deep breath and raised her head. Malfoy looked like he was completely shocked. "No one...has ever prayed for me before...." he finally managed to say.
"Get used to it. From the looks of that arm, I'm going to be praying for you a lot." Then she picked up her bag and walked out of the library.
Stacy did a lot of thinking the rest of that night. Draco Malfoy clearly had a lot wrong with him--and she wasn't being snide, either. He WAS an intelligent enough guy, for a complete jerk. She hated to see that kind of potential wasted. What could drive someone to that? Plenty, from the sounds of it...had he said that his father beat him up? Good grief! No wonder he was so obnoxious all the time; it was the only way he knew how to behave.
"Thank You God for giving me a good father, for as long as I had him," she muttered. Hm...November 18th. It was almost her father's birthday. "I still miss you, Pop."
She picked up the Muggle picture on her nightstand. It showed a younger version of herself with a tall man who had dark hair and blue-grey eyes: her father. "I love you, Doodle. Love always, Pop."
Frank McIvers thought that the wispy brown curls on his infant daughter's head looked like swirls of cinnamon on a snickerdoodle cookie, so he called her his little snickerdoodle--or Doodle for short. He'd even had the nickname engraved on her motorcycle helmet.
Quite before she knew it, a tear fell onto the glass over the picture. She wiped it off, put the picture back on her nightstand, said her prayers-- surprising herself by tucking in an extra prayer for Malfoy--and cried herself to sleep.
Friday was Frank McIvers' birthday; he would have been thirty-eight. His only daughter woke up gloomy. "Happy Birthday, Pop," she whispered to his photograph as she headed for the shower.
Stacy was in a sad mood all day. Nobody could snap her out of it: not Hermione, not Neville--and certainly not Malfoy.
It didn't help that it started to snow right after supper. Her father had loved winter, and the first snow always made Stacy think of him.
She was in tears by the time she climbed the stairs up to the Astronomy tower. She wasn't sure why she was even bothering; it wasn't like she could see anything for the snow anyway. Nevertheless, she needed some of the charts kept in the tower to finish her calculations anyway.
Justin was bent over a table when she walked in. She wasn't sure she was quite in the mood to see him, but at the same time she was glad of it. He looked up when he heard her. "Oh hello...Stacy? What's wrong?" He rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're crying...did that git Malfoy say something to you?"
"No...it's...it's my father's birthday."
"Oh Stacy...." He pulled her into his arms and let her cry into his robes. "Stacy...Dory...honey...what's wrong?"
"I miss him Justin...I miss him so much...every time his birthday comes along, or Christmas...anything that makes me think of him.... Why, WHY didn't he call in that day and say he couldn't make it because of the roads? There'd been an ice storm the night before...most of the county was shut down. But the factory was open for anyone who wanted to come in...he felt he should be there 'cause he was a foreman. Mom and I kissed him goodbye at seven-thirty. The phone rang at ten...." She choked and cried harder.
"Stacy...shhh...." He rubbed her back and hugged her tightly.
"Some Muggle had been out drinking the night before...he crossed the center line and met Pop head-on. The other guy walked away with just a broken wrist. Pop died instantly. They said he never had a chance...aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Her voice rose in a sharp wail that echoed off the tower walls. She pounded on Justin's chest. "It's not fair...it's not fair...it's not fair!"
"Honey...ow...."
She gripped his shoulders tightly, buried her face in his neck, and wailed into his robes. "I...want...him...back...."
"Stacy, you know that's not possible...."
"Justin, I need him! He wasn't even there when I turned sweet sixteen! He won't see me graduate, and he was so proud of his little witch! He won't walk me down the aisle or hold his grandchildren...I! NEED! HIM!" she yelled, punctuating her words with her fists on Justin's chest.
"Honey, I wish there was something I could do...but there isn't. Honey, you have to let go...I know it must be hard...."
"You have no idea!"
"No, actually I don't. Both of my parents are still alive. But I know how much I hurt when I lost my grandfather; he and I were very close. I can only imagine how much worse you're feeling. But giving me bruises isn't going to bring him back."
"Oh...oh JoJo...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" She hadn't even noticed that she might be hurting him. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, mumbling apologies while he stroked her hair and soothed her.
"It's okay...shh...you're upset...it's okay...."
She noticed again how solid he felt. "Justin...you um, work out a lot, don't you?" she asked, trying to change the subject and calm herself down.
"Hm? Oh not really...well, some. Every break I help my father with his electrical work, so it's exercise enough. But I do try to stay in shape...Dad used to be an amateur boxer, so he drilled that into me too."
"It works," she said, blushing. Anything to get the conversation away from why she was crying.
"Watch this." He stepped back and took off his robes, sweater, and tie. He lay face down on the floor and began doing military-style pushups. Stacy watched appreciatively as his muscles flexed under his shirt.
"Impressive."
"Thank you," he said, standing up and winking at her.
"Now what was that all about?"
"Thought it might cheer you up."
"You naughty boy." She kissed him and swatted his backside.
"Hey!"
"Silly...I came up here to work, not snog. By the way...how long is that rose you gave me supposed to take to bloom?"
"It hasn't yet?"
"Nope. Just keeps getting fatter and fatter."
"Hm. I wonder if they gave me the wrong kind. It wasn't supposed to be a snow fairy, but it sounds like it might be."
"Huh?"
"Snow fairies take longer...they aren't born until after the first snow. So actually, it could bloom at any time now. Just keep fresh water in the vase and it'll be fine."
"Okay...."
"Oh Dory, come look at this!" he said, half-sighing as he looked out the window. The microscopic length of the man's attention span never failed to amaze Stacy. She wandered over to stand next to him--and saw what he meant.
A layer of snow now blanketed the Hogwarts grounds and lightly iced the rooftops on the lower parts of the castle. The forest was sparkling with soft silver-white. It was utterly glorious.
"Oh...."
"I never get used to this...every winter it's brand-new."
"It's incredible...."
"I know." He put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. "I love you, Stacy."
"I love you too, Justin."
Stacy was the last of her roommates to go to bed that night. She stopped to take one last look out the window before she turned in. It had stopped snowing, and the moonlight shone softly on the crystalline ground. She couldn't help wishing she was back in Justin's arms and seeing this view. She wondered if he was still awake in Hufflepuff tower, and if he was thinking about her.
She turned and went over to her night stand. She picked up the picture of herself and her father and pressed a light kiss to the glass over her father's face. "I love you Pop...Happy Birthday."
As she sat the picture down, she glanced at the fairy rose in its vase...and did a double-take. The petals--at that moment a soft yellow-- were starting to open. She picked the vase up and took it over to the window to see it better. Yes...yes, it WAS blooming! Very slowly, the petals parted...and in the center of the flower lay a tiny baby with pale blue hair and wings. "Oh...."
There was a faint tapping at the window. She whipped her head around and saw a delicate creature no more than four inches tall fluttering outside the glass, hovering on pale blue wings. "Is this your baby?" she whispered. The fairy nodded.
Stacy gently scooped the baby fairy--so light she hardly felt it and feared she might injure it--into her palm and cracked open the window. The parent- -a woman, from the looks of it--flew over and landed on the heel of Stacy's hand with a feathery touch. She said something in a tiny voice, shaking the baby gently. The little one opened its icy blue eyes and blinked, then the mother picked it up in her arms and flew away.
"This is definitely one for the diary," Stacy murmured as she shut the window. She felt lighter somehow, and she knew it was because of what she'd just seen. It was...healing in some sense. Maybe God was reminding her life goes on after all.... She knelt by her bed and said the only thing she could think of to pray: "Thank You for letting me experience that."
Disclaimer: The last I checked, I wasn't JKR...ergo, I don't own HP. And fairy roses belong to my friend Wendy.
Author's note: Sorry this took me so long. I've been having some health problems that made writing pretty well impossible.
Stacy hummed and danced her way through most of Wednesday. She was young, she was in love, she was happy...what could go wrong?
Then she remembered she had to tutor Malfoy.
As usual, he beat her to the library. Her stomach lurched when she saw his too-pale face, but she was determined that even he wouldn't spoil her mood. *Probably famous last words, Stacy.*
The conversation was neutral enough at first. He still had questions about the Third Reich, and Stacy did her best to answer him.
Then, out of nowhere, he changed the subject. "What were you and Finch- Fletchley doing by the ruins last night?"
"Praying; why?"
"I don't think I've ever seen anyone pray before. Must be a mudblood thing."
Stacy's hands clenched on her book. She gritted her teeth. There was THAT word again. She took a deep breath. "So...aside from insulting Muggle- borns, harassing my cousin and her friends, and generally being disagreeable to everyone you meet, do you have any hobbies?" Oh, that was so LAME! Why couldn't she ever be witty when she was angry?
If he could turn any whiter, he did. "Are all Muggle-borns so very witty?"
"Only when we meet guys like you and our brains freeze up from sheer horror."
"Oh very funny, mudblood."
"I'd rather have muddy blood than mud for brains like you do."
"How dare you...?"
"Pretty easily, actually; I just had to look at your grades."
"Why you little--!"
"Hey, now just because I'm short doesn't mean you have to rub it in."
"I could take your ugly head off and make you even shorter."
"Oh I'm tho thcared."
"You ought to be."
"What, going to run to your daddy again? I've heard how you are...if you don't get your own way, you go running to him instead of trying to do your own fights. Scaredy-cat."
"You watch what you're saying, mudblood."
"Now how can I do that? I can't see my mouth! You'll have to watch for me."
"Oh ha ha ha."
"I guess that answers my question: you don't have brains enough to have any real hobbies besides being a jerk."
"Hobbies? You think I LIKE this?" he hissed.
"Well, goodness knows you do enough of it."
"What else am I to do? Malfoys aren't supposed to be friendly; we're supposed to act superior! Do you think I LIKE knowing that I haven't any friends, that everyone hates me?"
"What about the two gorillas?"
"Vincent and Gregory are enforcers, nothing more. They keep tabs on me more than they do anything else. I don't know of a single person I can actually confide in--not one person I could actually call a friend. The only reason I tease your cousin and her friends is because the closest I get to true friendship is seeing it in action! I tease them to see them defend each other! But do you think I like it? NO! Given the choice, I'd rather be a part of their group--of any group that actually knows what friendship is! Instead, I get to be the school bully. Feared, hated, and laughed at. I'm shunned here by my schoolmates. I go home and I get beaten for being 'soft.' Do you think for one second I enjoy being Draco Malfoy?"
Stacy by this point was looking for an escape. This was making her acutely uncomfortable; she really didn't want to be cornered by Malfoy while he went over the edge. She pushed her chair as far against the wall as she could, looking for a way out. Going over the shelves was out of the question. Under the table was a possibility, but she'd probably get lost in a tangle of chairs. They were too many floors up for her to climb out the window. She considered using her wand to write "Help! I've been cornered by a raving lunatic," but thought it might be a bit obvious.
"And, and...and I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." He stopped and reached for his ink bottle--and in that second, Stacy's opinion of him changed forever. His sweater sleeve rode up, baring his wrist. On the white skin, Stacy noticed a net of scars. White on white. It would have been pretty in marble--but not in human flesh. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist. "Get your hands off me!" he hissed.
Ignoring him, she pushed his sleeve up further. She wasn't seeing things. The scars went as far up his arm as she could push his sleeve. "I think you told me...because it's been too long since someone listened." *This can't be happening!* she thought. *I'm not supposed to have to deal with this!*
"If you tell anyone...." he said, pulling out his wand.
"Whoa...hey now. I didn't say I was going to. I think you should talk to someone...but that's just my opinion. Now put that away...pretty please...?" He had a wild look in his eyes that made Stacy quite nervous.
He put his wand away angrily. "You see? It isn't pleasant being Draco Malfoy." He began to pack up his bag.
"Sit down."
"Who are you to order me around?"
"Okay...would you sit down, please?" He looked as though he were about to refuse...then clearly reconsidered and sat down. Stacy did the only thing she knew to do. She clasped his hands in hers, bent her head, and began to pray in a quiet voice. "Father God, you see how this young man is suffering. You know how much pain he must be feeling if he desires to end his life. Father...he is an intelligent young man, with more promise than he knows. I ask...I ask that you bring him peace so that he may live and fulfill whatever destiny You have in mind for him. I ask that he find someone he can call a true friend to ease the aching of his heart. And I ask...I ask that You forgive me--and that he forgive me--for misjudging him and for thinking that I knew him when I did not. In this and all things...Father, Thy will be done. In Jesus' name, Amen."
She took a deep breath and raised her head. Malfoy looked like he was completely shocked. "No one...has ever prayed for me before...." he finally managed to say.
"Get used to it. From the looks of that arm, I'm going to be praying for you a lot." Then she picked up her bag and walked out of the library.
Stacy did a lot of thinking the rest of that night. Draco Malfoy clearly had a lot wrong with him--and she wasn't being snide, either. He WAS an intelligent enough guy, for a complete jerk. She hated to see that kind of potential wasted. What could drive someone to that? Plenty, from the sounds of it...had he said that his father beat him up? Good grief! No wonder he was so obnoxious all the time; it was the only way he knew how to behave.
"Thank You God for giving me a good father, for as long as I had him," she muttered. Hm...November 18th. It was almost her father's birthday. "I still miss you, Pop."
She picked up the Muggle picture on her nightstand. It showed a younger version of herself with a tall man who had dark hair and blue-grey eyes: her father. "I love you, Doodle. Love always, Pop."
Frank McIvers thought that the wispy brown curls on his infant daughter's head looked like swirls of cinnamon on a snickerdoodle cookie, so he called her his little snickerdoodle--or Doodle for short. He'd even had the nickname engraved on her motorcycle helmet.
Quite before she knew it, a tear fell onto the glass over the picture. She wiped it off, put the picture back on her nightstand, said her prayers-- surprising herself by tucking in an extra prayer for Malfoy--and cried herself to sleep.
Friday was Frank McIvers' birthday; he would have been thirty-eight. His only daughter woke up gloomy. "Happy Birthday, Pop," she whispered to his photograph as she headed for the shower.
Stacy was in a sad mood all day. Nobody could snap her out of it: not Hermione, not Neville--and certainly not Malfoy.
It didn't help that it started to snow right after supper. Her father had loved winter, and the first snow always made Stacy think of him.
She was in tears by the time she climbed the stairs up to the Astronomy tower. She wasn't sure why she was even bothering; it wasn't like she could see anything for the snow anyway. Nevertheless, she needed some of the charts kept in the tower to finish her calculations anyway.
Justin was bent over a table when she walked in. She wasn't sure she was quite in the mood to see him, but at the same time she was glad of it. He looked up when he heard her. "Oh hello...Stacy? What's wrong?" He rushed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're crying...did that git Malfoy say something to you?"
"No...it's...it's my father's birthday."
"Oh Stacy...." He pulled her into his arms and let her cry into his robes. "Stacy...Dory...honey...what's wrong?"
"I miss him Justin...I miss him so much...every time his birthday comes along, or Christmas...anything that makes me think of him.... Why, WHY didn't he call in that day and say he couldn't make it because of the roads? There'd been an ice storm the night before...most of the county was shut down. But the factory was open for anyone who wanted to come in...he felt he should be there 'cause he was a foreman. Mom and I kissed him goodbye at seven-thirty. The phone rang at ten...." She choked and cried harder.
"Stacy...shhh...." He rubbed her back and hugged her tightly.
"Some Muggle had been out drinking the night before...he crossed the center line and met Pop head-on. The other guy walked away with just a broken wrist. Pop died instantly. They said he never had a chance...aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!" Her voice rose in a sharp wail that echoed off the tower walls. She pounded on Justin's chest. "It's not fair...it's not fair...it's not fair!"
"Honey...ow...."
She gripped his shoulders tightly, buried her face in his neck, and wailed into his robes. "I...want...him...back...."
"Stacy, you know that's not possible...."
"Justin, I need him! He wasn't even there when I turned sweet sixteen! He won't see me graduate, and he was so proud of his little witch! He won't walk me down the aisle or hold his grandchildren...I! NEED! HIM!" she yelled, punctuating her words with her fists on Justin's chest.
"Honey, I wish there was something I could do...but there isn't. Honey, you have to let go...I know it must be hard...."
"You have no idea!"
"No, actually I don't. Both of my parents are still alive. But I know how much I hurt when I lost my grandfather; he and I were very close. I can only imagine how much worse you're feeling. But giving me bruises isn't going to bring him back."
"Oh...oh JoJo...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" She hadn't even noticed that she might be hurting him. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, mumbling apologies while he stroked her hair and soothed her.
"It's okay...shh...you're upset...it's okay...."
She noticed again how solid he felt. "Justin...you um, work out a lot, don't you?" she asked, trying to change the subject and calm herself down.
"Hm? Oh not really...well, some. Every break I help my father with his electrical work, so it's exercise enough. But I do try to stay in shape...Dad used to be an amateur boxer, so he drilled that into me too."
"It works," she said, blushing. Anything to get the conversation away from why she was crying.
"Watch this." He stepped back and took off his robes, sweater, and tie. He lay face down on the floor and began doing military-style pushups. Stacy watched appreciatively as his muscles flexed under his shirt.
"Impressive."
"Thank you," he said, standing up and winking at her.
"Now what was that all about?"
"Thought it might cheer you up."
"You naughty boy." She kissed him and swatted his backside.
"Hey!"
"Silly...I came up here to work, not snog. By the way...how long is that rose you gave me supposed to take to bloom?"
"It hasn't yet?"
"Nope. Just keeps getting fatter and fatter."
"Hm. I wonder if they gave me the wrong kind. It wasn't supposed to be a snow fairy, but it sounds like it might be."
"Huh?"
"Snow fairies take longer...they aren't born until after the first snow. So actually, it could bloom at any time now. Just keep fresh water in the vase and it'll be fine."
"Okay...."
"Oh Dory, come look at this!" he said, half-sighing as he looked out the window. The microscopic length of the man's attention span never failed to amaze Stacy. She wandered over to stand next to him--and saw what he meant.
A layer of snow now blanketed the Hogwarts grounds and lightly iced the rooftops on the lower parts of the castle. The forest was sparkling with soft silver-white. It was utterly glorious.
"Oh...."
"I never get used to this...every winter it's brand-new."
"It's incredible...."
"I know." He put his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. "I love you, Stacy."
"I love you too, Justin."
Stacy was the last of her roommates to go to bed that night. She stopped to take one last look out the window before she turned in. It had stopped snowing, and the moonlight shone softly on the crystalline ground. She couldn't help wishing she was back in Justin's arms and seeing this view. She wondered if he was still awake in Hufflepuff tower, and if he was thinking about her.
She turned and went over to her night stand. She picked up the picture of herself and her father and pressed a light kiss to the glass over her father's face. "I love you Pop...Happy Birthday."
As she sat the picture down, she glanced at the fairy rose in its vase...and did a double-take. The petals--at that moment a soft yellow-- were starting to open. She picked the vase up and took it over to the window to see it better. Yes...yes, it WAS blooming! Very slowly, the petals parted...and in the center of the flower lay a tiny baby with pale blue hair and wings. "Oh...."
There was a faint tapping at the window. She whipped her head around and saw a delicate creature no more than four inches tall fluttering outside the glass, hovering on pale blue wings. "Is this your baby?" she whispered. The fairy nodded.
Stacy gently scooped the baby fairy--so light she hardly felt it and feared she might injure it--into her palm and cracked open the window. The parent- -a woman, from the looks of it--flew over and landed on the heel of Stacy's hand with a feathery touch. She said something in a tiny voice, shaking the baby gently. The little one opened its icy blue eyes and blinked, then the mother picked it up in her arms and flew away.
"This is definitely one for the diary," Stacy murmured as she shut the window. She felt lighter somehow, and she knew it was because of what she'd just seen. It was...healing in some sense. Maybe God was reminding her life goes on after all.... She knelt by her bed and said the only thing she could think of to pray: "Thank You for letting me experience that."