"Guess what, Jake?" five-year-old Emma bubbled happily.

Jake frowned and pretended to think hard. "Hmm. You've won the lottery and you're moving to Japan?"

She giggled loudly. "No!"

"You're really an alien from Mars in disguise?"

"No, silly!"

"Then I don't know," Jake said, shrugging in feigned confusion. "Unless… Oh! I know! You're about to get tickled by the tickle monster!"

Emma's giggles turned into shrieks of delight as Jake picked her up and spun her around.

When he finally put her down, she announced, "No, I'm going to be an angel."

Jake raised his eyebrows and glanced over at his mother.

"In the church Christmas play," Blythe explained, an indulgent smile on her face. "I've already started making her costume."

"'I'm going to have wings," Emma said proudly. "Right, Aunty Blythe?"

"That's right," Blythe confirmed. "And a shiny crown too."

"Wow!" Jake exclaimed. "You're going to be a star."

She frowned and put her hands on her hips. "No, Jake, I'm going to be an angel, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, an angel," Jake repeated, a twinkle in his green eyes. "Lucky you reminded me."

"Will you come to watch me?" she asked earnestly.

"Of course," Jake promised, looking forward to seeing his little friend take to the stage for the first time.

As the evening of the play grew closer, both the Woodhouse and Knightley families were swept up into the fervour of it all.

Emma happily practised her song and lines on anyone who was willing to listen… and even those who weren't. It wasn't long before she had memorised her part perfectly.

"She takes after me," Mr Woodhouse said proudly. "I played a sheep in the Christmas play when I was her age."

Blythe hid a smile at this remark. She couldn't imagine the staid and proper Henry Woodhouse ever having been on the stage… especially as a sheep in the Christmas play.

Izzy was slightly jealous of all the fuss.

"Nobody's ever made me a costume," she said petulantly to Blythe one day. "Why not?"

The obvious answer, of course, was that Isabella had never been offered an acting role that would require a costume. But Blythe, being the sensible woman that she was, didn't see the need to rub salt into the older girl's wounds.

It took all of her spare time but at the end of the week, there were two beautiful angels dancing around the living room and happily singing Christmas songs.

"Opening night is finally here!" exclaimed Peter. "How's our angel doing?"

His eyes drifted to the bundle of energy that was currently charging around the Knightley's backyard, wearing a set of feathery white wings and a shiny gold cardboard crown.

"She's full of enthusiasm, that's for sure," Blythe said dryly. "Emma, sweetheart, please come here so I can make sure that your wings are fastened on properly."

The excited five-year-old reluctantly slowed down. Blythe adjusted Emma's wings, added a safety pin to her white dress and finally gave her an approving pat.

"Pretty as a picture," said Mr Woodhouse approvingly. He glanced around in an absentminded manner. "Where's my camera?"

"Don't worry, Henry," Peter said, patting the Canon slung over his shoulder. "This baby should do the job."

"I want to wear my costume too," Isabella declared huffily. She was already wearing a lovely sky blue lace dress but was enviously eyeing Emma's wings and crown.

"Now, Izzy, we've talked about this," Blythe said patiently. "You can wear the costume on other days, but tonight is Emma's special night."

Izzy was normally a very good-tempered girl, but she crossed her arms and looked obstinate after Blythe's gentle interjection.

Peter and Blythe exchanged worried looks, not used to seeing this side of Izzy. Fortunately Mr Woodhouse came to the rescue. Having found his camera, he had started listening to the conversation around him once more.

"Don't you look lovely in that blue dress," he commented proudly he looked at his older daughter.

"You look so much like your mother."

Isabella's stubborn expression instantly softened. Her father couldn't have given her a greater compliment.

But as soon as one drama calmed down, another one blew up.

"Where's Jake?"

Blythe's anxious eyes swept the Knightley's backyard, but her older son was nowhere in sight.

"I'm not sure, honey," she told her husband. "I'm going to find out."

Seventeen-year-old Jake had recently saved up enough money to buy a new mobile phone. For the most part, he enjoyed having a phone. It was handy for calling and texting his friends, it came with a few cool games and he'd even downloaded some apps. But there was the occasional instance when he really wished he didn't have a phone.

"Mum, I'm busy," he hissed, hoping that his friends couldn't hear him. "We're playing games at Kyle's and we're ordering pizza too."

"Were you planning on doing anything else today?" his mother asked curtly.

Jake racked his brains and then his eyes widened. "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes," Blythe said. "Emma hasn't noticed yet, but she'll definitely be looking for you soon."

He squirmed. "Do I really have to be there?" he protested. "We just started playing and I'm really close to beating Kyle's highest score."

There was a long pause.

"Honey, I can't force you to come," Blythe said softly. "And I won't even try. But your father and I have always kept our promises to you and John. And we raised you to be the type of young men that would keep their promises to others." She paused again. "At least I thought we did."

It was Jake's turn to go silent.

"Stay at Kyle's, if you like," she added. "But I do hope you make the right decision, honey."

Traffic was heavy and Blythe breathed a sigh of relief when Peter finally drove into the parking lot. They had made it to the church with ten minutes to spare.

She was quietly congratulating herself on a job well done when a little voice suddenly piped up.

"Where's Jake?"

Upon hearing Emma's question, Peter sighed. "We almost made it."

Blythe bit her lip, not wanting to disappoint the five-year-old girl she loved as her own, but not willing to lie to her either.

"He had to go see some friends, sweetheart."

Emma's bottom lip wobbled. "But I'm Jake's friend." She looked at her father for confirmation. "Aren't I?"

"Of course, dear," Mr Woodhouse replied, not really knowing what was going on.

"Well, uh…"

"Surprise!"

Emma squealed delightedly. Jake was waiting for them in the church lobby, a sheepish expression on his face.

Blythe exhaled in relief.

As Emma skipped ahead into the church, Blythe beamed as she put her arm around her son. Height-wise, he was already towering over her, but he would always be her boy.

"I'm so proud of you," she said warmly.

He ducked his head, slightly embarrassed, but she could tell he was pleased too.

During Emma's performance, Blythe felt tears well up in her eyes.

Could that really be their little Emma on the stage? She looked so grown up in her pretty white dress, delivering her lines to the shepherds perfectly.

"She's doing such a wonderful job," Mr Woodhouse said proudly as he watched his younger daughter. "And doesn't she look beautiful?"

"She's an angel," Blythe smiled, wiping away her tears. "An absolute angel."

Author's Note: Is anyone still reading this? I sure hope so! I'd love to hear from you if you are :)