At dawn the next morning Monica took a walk along the main street of the town, watching the sun rise. Above her the sky changed its hue from the deep blue of night to a crimson purple, the stars fading graciously before the coming light. It was too early for anyone to be awake, yet she noticed as she passed the vacant stores and quiet sidewalks that even at that hour the place seemed too empty and sad. She thought of a lonely child, looking for someone to play with,waiting to be loved and fulfilled. Hoping against hope that someone would notice the potential that lay behind the facade of uselessness. Like Cory, Monica thought suddenly, and sadly shook her head.

Poor Andrew! Now she understood why coming back to this place hurt him so much. Monica thought of her own failures, the times she thought she'd damaged things beyond even God's repair, and felt a pang. Weren't there times when she'd come close to giving up, just like Andrew had? Hadn't she begged Tess at one point to let her quit, rather than face her past mistakes? Hadn't she, like this town, like Beth and Richard, longed in those dark moments to just fold up and wallow in self-recrimination instead of accept the past and move on?

Yet God always helped her, Monica remembered as she watched the sun's first rays glint the treetops and gabled roofs along the street. He never gave up on her, even when she herself had. He was like the dawn, always certain to rise against the blackest night and fill it with unexpected joy.

Monica reached the end of the block, and in the growing light she could see the church three blocks down, its white steeple a glowing saffron against the azure blue of the cloudless sky. She smiled and crossed her arms. Yes, maybe God could dawn in this town again. Perhaps that was why she had been shown that vision, she mused: to understand the depths of Andrew's, Richard's, and the town's despair so she could help God lift it. Perhaps now was the time for renewal. She prayed to be used however God saw fit to that purpose, and continued her walk toward the church.

To her surprise, as she neared the brick edifice Monica saw Richard on the lawn, carefully laying mulch around newly planted bushes along the walls with a small shovel. As she approached he looked up.

"Oh!" He said in surprise, then went back to the mulch. "Didn't expect to see you until nine."

"I was going to say the same," Monica replied in amazement. "Have you been here long?"

"Oh, long enough to get the bushes in." Richard said, smiling at his work. "Didn't want to waste any time, and I don't sleep much anyways."

His beaming face made Monica think of the Richard she'd seen the night before, younger and free of the care that lined his face when she first met him. She looked at the bushes. "They're perfect."

Richard nodded silently, then leaned on his shovel and looked around. "Yeah, it's funny, but...working on this makes me feel better, like I'm still good for something. I won't charge you any more for being here early, so don't worry about your boss being mad or anything. "

"That's fine, Richard," Monica assured him, laying her hand on his arm. "I'm sure my boss is very happy that you want to spend your time making His house beautiful again."

Richard smiled - the first time Monica had ever heard him do so - and stuck the shovel back into the bag of mulch. "Ma'am, you sure are poetic. But I appreciate it."

As he bent his back into the task of mulching again, Monica looked up and saw someone crossing the street towards them. As the person came closer, she saw it was the short,spectacled woman from the municipal building. Moaning inwardly, Monica went out onto the sidewalk to meet her, and realized she couldn't remember her name.

"Hello," The woman said pleasantly, which allayed Monica's fears somewhat. The woman held out a paper bag. "Care for a doughnut?"

"Uh, no thanks." Monica replied. "Good morning, Mrs...ah..."

"Cooper," The woman supplied good-naturedly, "Mildred Cooper. Course, you didn't know my whole name the other day, the only name you heard was Mildred. Though I wouldn't expect you to remember me at all with that tornado Mrs. Stratford around." Mildred giggled, her small eyes squinting in the brightening morning sun.

"Um, good morning, Mrs. Cooper," Monica stammered, trying to guess the woman's intent. She braved a backwards glance at Richard, but he was concentrating very hard on the bushes and was at least pretending not to notice what was going on. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh,no," Mildred said in a sunny voice, "Just thought I'd drop by and tell you what a lovely idea this is, fixing up the church. So tell me," She said in a low voice, leaning close to Monica and looking at her meaningfully, "Have you had any problems?"

"Problems?" Monica asked, just as softly.

"You know. With him." Mildred pointed at Richard, who was busily tending to the bushes. "He's such a queer duck, always keeps to himself. I must confess I thought you were out of your mind to hire him."

"Well, he's doing a marvelous job, as you can see," Monica said, trying not to let the irritation she was beginning to feel creep into her voice. "And perhaps he wouldn't keep to himself so much if you were as nice to him as you are to me."

Mildred leaned back and cocked her head, as if this thought had never occurred to her. "Well, of course I try to be nice to everyone, but...well, after all he - he -" She blinked, looked at Richard, and stopped talking for a moment, pursing her lips in concentration. "Well...I know you're from out of town, so I guess it's hard for you to understand what we've all been through." then the broad smile returned. "But it really is nice, seeing the church all gussied up like this. Makes me think of old times. This used to be quite a neat place to live, you know." The bubbly demeanor faded a bit, and Mildred gazed at the deserted street with a melancholy sigh.

"The old times are just memories," Monica noted, "Wouldn't you rather be thinking about the future instead? It can start here, you know. Today."

Mildred blinked again, and gave Monica a look that had "queer duck" written all over it. "Yes...well...got to get to work I guess. Sure you don't want a doughnut?"

Monica shook her head. Mildred looked at Richard, and for a moment Monica thought perhaps she'd gotten through.

But no. Mildred bit her lip and shot Monica a quick, embarrassed look. "Um, you know I saw you walking with Beth Perkins yesterday. She's such a sweet girl, I knew her folks. Did she tell you she's leaving town?"

Monica shook her head. "She is?"

Mildred nodded. "She's the last of the kids who survived that accident, well I guess the memories are too much for her. They told me at the diner this morning that she's leaving just as soon as she can figure out where to go. Poor thing, she never was the same after - well, you know..." She trailed off, with an accusing look at Richard that Monica prayed he didn't see.

"Well, that would be a shame," Monica said thoughtfully, "This town will need young people like her to get back on its feet again."

"If it ever does." Mildred said with a sigh as she rolled the paper bag closed, " Well, I'd better run. Say, If you see your supervisor tell her I got a real hoot out of that form she filled out."

Monica just smiled, not wanting to betray her ignorance.

"I mean, she must have a real sense of fun to put down names like "Miss Wings" and "Angelboy" as references. She must be a real kick to work with."

Monica kept on smiling. "She is."

Mildred nodded. "Catch ya later." She waved, bag in hand, and trotted back across the street.

Monica thought for a moment, twisting her long hair. Then she turned to where Richard was kneeling, patting mulch around one of the bushes and said, "Richard, I have to go, but I'll be back to help you in a wee bit."

Richard nodded, his face blank. "You going to see Beth Perkins?"

Monica couldn't lie. "Yes."

"Don't try to talk her out of moving," Richard said, not looking at her. "Getting away from this place is the best thing that girl could do."

"We'll see." Monica said simply, and giving Richard's arm a reassuring squeeze she got up and headed down the sidewalk towards Beth's house.


A little later Monica walked up the stone steps to Beth's house. As she came to the side door, she saw that the door was open, and through the screen door she could see the large, sunny room that was being used as a painting studio, and there, standing in a paint-streaked smock, was Beth, laboring at a canvas.

Not wanting to startle her friend, Monica rapped gently on the wooden frame of the screen door. Beth's head turned, and she smiled. "Hi, Monica!" She said, and setting down her palette and brush, came to the door and opened it.

"I thought I'd come by and say hello," Monica said with a smile as she entered.

Beth looked down and wiped her hands on her smock. "Well, I hope you don't mind a little mess. I paint whenever the sun's out."

Monica stepped closer and examined the painting Beth was working on. It was the same one she'd seen before, closer to completion perhaps. "I must say, you certainly do have a gift."

"You could call it that," Beth said, picking up her brush. "You'd probably laugh if I told you I didn't have a lick of talent before the accident, but it's true. One day I can't draw a straight line with a ruler and the next..." She shook her head, obviously still puzzled. Then she looked at Monica with a curious kind of intensity. "You wanna know what happened? Remember I showed you my arm the other day?"

Monica nodded.

Beth cast her eyes on the trees outside the window, remembering. "I can still remember how much that hurt, having my arm ripped up like that. I remember lying on the pavement, it was still warm from the sun that day, feeling the asphalt on my back and just screaming inside from the pain, but I guess I was too out of it to cry much. And all those lights and people screaming..."

She paused and took a breath. Monica put a sympathetic hand on her arm, remembering herself. "You don't have to talk about it, Beth, if you don't want to."

Beth shook her head and smiled at Monica, "Oh, no, I do want to. See, I've never told anybody this next part before. I was lying there, watching the paramedic try to stop the blood, and I'm getting real dizzy and panicky and thinking I must be dying, and then..." She paused, and indicated the canvas with her brush. "And then he showed up."

Monica's eyebrows went up.

Beth laughed at her reaction and continued painting. "Yeah, I know, I'm crazy. I mean, it's not like angels really exist, but this guy...I'm getting really scared and all of a sudden this guy appears out of nowhere, and he's got this golden glow around him, and he takes my hand and looks into my eyes, and I wasn't scared anymore. In fact, I felt really good, warm and protected, I mean, he was really cute, you know? He looked just like this hot Sunday School teacher we had at the church."

Monica smiled to herself, but Beth didn't notice. She cocked her head at the painting and thought a moment. "But that wasn't it, he was really gentle and calm, even though everything was going to Hell around him, it was like - like we were in this little pocket of Heaven, and I knew I was safe there. And he told me he was from God, and it wasn't my time yet, and God had saved me for something special. Well," She added ruefully, "If you can call working in a diner special..."

Monica nodded, smiling to herself. "Then what happened?"

Beth gently dabbed more paint onto the canvas, keeping her eyes on it as if afraid to look at Monica. "He stayed with me until I drifted off. When I woke up I kept asking where's that gorgeous guy in the beige suit? But I guess I was the only one who saw him. I think," She leaned back and studied the canvas, "I think he must have just been a hallucination or something, but you know I never felt such - such intense peace as I did in that light. As you can see," Beth waved her brush at the canvasses littering the floor. "I've been spending most of my time since then trying to pin it down again."

"Well, they're lovely paintings," Monica observed again, walking over to the windowsill and lightly touching the edge of one frame, "They're the brightest thing I've seen here yet."

"Thanks." Beth said, picking up a tube of paint and squeezing a few dabs onto her painter's palette. "The way things are around here, they're probably the only bright things you'll see."

Monica turned away from the window, placing her hands together. "Actually, Beth, that's why I came to see you. Mrs. Cooper told me you're planning on moving away soon."

"Huh? Oh, well, yeah, as soon as I've saved up enough from waitressing. No reason to hang around here any longer than I have to." Beth swept the paint onto her brush and began touching up the figure's hair.

"Where will you go?" Monica asked.

Beth shrugged. "Haven't decided yet. I don't have enough to go real far."

"Well, there's a few big cities you could try." Monica suggested cagily.

Beth looked at her and wrinkled her nose. "I don't really like big cities. You never get to know people."

"Another small town, then."

Beth thought a moment. "Nah, I don't think I'd like that either. You know..." She put her palette down suddenly and walked over to the window seat and sat down, staring at the sunlight shimmering in the leaves for a moment. Then she turned to Monica and said, "You know where I really wanna go? I want to go back. I want to be here, in this town, like it was before. When everybody was all happy, and kids played ball games at the sandlot. I want to go downtown and see it like it used to be. I want the high school band to give Saturday concerts in the big gazebo at the end of main street. That's where I want to live." She looked out the window again. "But I can't. And I don't think I'll be all that happy no matter where else I go."

Monica moved quickly to sit beside Beth. "But why can't you have happiness here?"

"You know why!" Beth shot back, suddenly defensive. "I told you why. That - that accident. Everyone I knew - every thing I knew died that night. It's gone, and nobody can ever bring it back." Tears started in Beth's eyes as she glared out the window. "And I walk around, and I see things, and I remember how they used to be before that - before the accident, and I come home, and I cry. That's all I do lately. And it's got to stop, so I figure if I leave it'll go away. But you know, maybe it won't, and then what? I'll be carrying this around for the rest of my life, knowing what a wonderful place this was before all this happened, and hating myself because I got to live and my friends all died and I don't even know why. Why did I get to live? Why me? I wasn't pretty, or smart, or popular. I don't get it. Why me?" She looked at Monica with bewildered eyes. Then she blinked, as if coming back to herself, and looked down in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I - I just...sorry."

"Oh, don't be," Monica soothed, laying a hand on Beth's arm, "I'm here to help you."

Beth sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I know. You're just being nice, but...you can't help. You don't even know."

"You know," Monica ventured gently,"I recently spoke to somebody else, who talks about this town much like you do. He remembers the good times, and also grieves for it, just like you do. So you see, you're not alone, Beth."

"Oh, yeah?" Beth replied. "Who?"

"Richard Paxton."

Beth snapped back with a bark of disgust. "What! That creep caused all this."

Monica nodded. "He knows he did, and he told me how sorry he is."

"Sorry!" Beth stood up, angrily striding to her canvas. "He should be a lot more than sorry. He ruined everything for this town!"

Monica stood slowly. "I know, Beth, but sometimes beautiful things can be built on ruins. God Himself has built temples from shattered clay. And he can rebuild this one too."

"Yeah, well," Beth grabbed her paints and jabbed at the canvas. "That jerk wrecked my life and everybody else's, and it would take a miracle to rebuild anything out of - out of -"

Beth stopped and stared at the figure on her canvas. It was glowing - no, the glow wasn't coming from the canvas, but rather being reflected on it, reflected from -Beth turned, and her mouth dropped open.

Monica stood there, in front of the window just as she had been a moment before, but now she was bathed in a beautiful, transcendent light that gleamed in her auburn hair and permeated the air in the room with a rich, warm presence. Her face radiated joy and love.

"Don't be afraid, Beth," Monica intoned kindly, "It's time you knew - I'm an angel, sent by God."

Beth blinked, then swallowed hard. Finally, she stammered, "Am I going to die now?"

Monica smiled reassuringly, "No, Beth, I'm not that kind of angel. I've been sent to help you."

Beth blinked again, and said,"Help me?"

Monica ventured a little closer, carefully because she could tell Beth was somewhat spooked. "God does indeed have a special plan for you, Beth. There's a full, rich life waiting for you, right here, but you have to accept God's plan before you can live it."

Beth nodded a little. "What's God's plan?"

"The first thing you need to do is heal," Monica revealed, "And the first step in healing is forgiveness."

"Forgiveness? Forgive who?"

"Yourself, first," Monica came a step closer, "For surviving that terrible accident. God knows the pain you've felt since that night, that you don't understand why you lived and your friends died. He knows how much you miss them. And He grieves the shortness of their time on Earth as much as you do."

"But He let them die." Beth said tightly, blinking back tears.

Monica shook her head. "God didn't want them to die, any more than He wanted this town to die. But God didn't cause that accident, a man did - "

"You mean Richard Paxton did." Beth spat, her face hardening. "And now I suppose you're going to tell me I need to forgive him too."

"I'm not going to tell you what you know so well already. That because of his carelessness you've lost your friends. That you've spent fifteen years in bitterness and hatred because of what he took away from you. That what happened that night created a big emptiness inside of you that you don't think anything can fill. But, Beth, I will tell you that God knows what you've gone through and He wants to fill that emptiness, fill it with the waters of joy and abundance, fill you as He did when you were little, don't you remember?"

Despite her tears, Beth smiled. "I used to love going to church. I'd run around singing 'Jesus Loves Me' all the time. And I believed it too. Then," She gave a sad little shrug, "I guess after the accident I just stopped believing. The pastor left, the church closed...I thought God gave up on me." She paused to wipe away a tear.

"But He didn't, Beth," Monica stepped closer, and held out her hands,"He's been here, all this time, trying to get in and fill that emptiness. He's standing at the door of your heart, But He can't get in, because the bitterness and resentment you feel for Richard and what happened are still pressing the door shut."

"But what can I do?" Beth asked helplessly. "I don't want to keep God out, but - but I can't just forgive Richard Paxton, just like that. He cost me too much."

"Yes," Now Monica moved in and placed a guiding hand on Beth's arm, "He did cost you a lot, nearly everything you had, that terrible night. But don't you see, God's trying to tell you that what you've been paying since then is interest. All the anger, the pain, you can let go of it and start over, with God."

"Start over?"

Monica smiled again. "That's another part of the plan. The talents that God has given you are truly special gifts. You can use them to do the one thing you've told me you really want to do. You can help make this town whole again, as God wants you to be whole."

Beth looked at her paintings, all around, at the one on the easel. "God's saying I can do all that, just by forgiving one person? That's it?"

"That's everything," Monica revealed. "It's all the joy of God's creation, to forgive. Once you've done that, well...then God can open that door you've been pushing against so hard and come in."

Beth smiled, obviously still unsure about the whole thing, but her eyes told Monica she wanted to accept it. Tentatively, Beth held one hand up, towards Monica's hair. "That light around you." She said.

"Yes," Monica acknowledged. "You told me you've felt it before."

Beth nodded, a small look of awe on her face. "It's so warm. Is it God?"

"It's His love. And it's for you. All you have to do is ask for it."

Beth nodded again, apparently thinking.

She was still holding her hand up to that wonderful glow when there was a small, insistent scratch at the side door.

Beth blinked and turned her head in puzzlement. Monica brought her glow down and, going to the door, opened it.

There on the concrete stoop sat a little black and white dog, a mutt really, with pointed ears and a wagging tail. In his mouth he carried a folded piece of paper. It was Tess' dog.

Beth grinned. "Is he an angel too?"

"That depends on who you ask." Monica replied lightly, leaning down and taking the paper from the dog's mouth.

As Beth bent to scratch the dog's ears, Monica unfolded the note and read it.

"MONICA - PICK UP CARRYOUT AT DINER AND MEET ME AT THE CEMETERY - TESS"

Monica looked up from the note. "I'm sorry, Beth, I have to go."

Beth stood up. "Is it from God?" She asked sincerely.

"No, but it might as well be." She put a hand on Beth's arm. "Are you all right?"

Beth nodded, looking back into the living room, and let out a huge breath. "It's pretty weird, you know, but...yeah, I guess. You've given me something to think about, anyway. Thanks."

Monica nodded, gave her a reassuring smile, and said, "Let me know what you decide."

"I will." As Monica turned to go, Beth suddenly said, "Monica?"

She turned back.

"The hot Sunday School teacher? He was really an angel too?"

Monica nodded, smiling.

"Huh."

Monica followed Tess' dog out the door and down the walk. As she turned back to wave goodbye, Monica saw Beth looking not at her, but at her own hand, feeling it gently with the other as if remembering the warmth she felt. And as she continued down the walk, Monica's smile was especially hopeful.