The Broken Window Part 14

"Before that," the teen replied. "You were in the alley behind the bakery on Halloween!"

"You're right, I was," the Wors.h.i.+per replied, suddenly serious. "You saw me?"

"Kinda hard to miss, with those glow-in-the-dark pajamas," Ransom replied. "What were you supposed to be in that get-up?"

"What did I look like?"

"Radioactive."

The redhead broke into a huge grin. "I like that!"

"Really, though ... how did you put out so much light?" Ransom asked curiously.

Laying a finger beside his nose and winking, Baird replied, "Trade secret."

Prissie had already resigned herself to the fact that Ransom would probably be sitting with her family during the service. Her folks arrived, and her dad was all smiles to find his part-timer mingling with his lot. During the scramble for seats in the gymnasium, Prissie filed in from one end of the row Tad had reserved only to meet Ransom in the middle. She turned around to march right back out, only to run up against her father.

"Trade?" she begged.

He firmly replied, "Sit."

Her pained expression was still in place when she slunk into her seat, but Ransom was too busy talking with Neil on his other side to notice. Leaning forward, she looked for her usual companion only to spot Koji sitting with Milo on the end of the row ahead. Twisting the end of her braid around her finger, she wished she was sitting with them instead. Ransom was too close for comfort.

As if to confirm this, the teen b.u.mped her with his elbow. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do," he confided in a low voice.

"You've never been to church before?"

Ransom shook his head. "I had to go to a wedding once, but I don't think that counts."

Prissie shrugged. "Just do what everyone else does."

"I'd rather know why everyone else does what they do."

"Well, this isn't exactly my church," she explained. "We do things differently than they do here."

Her cla.s.smate's eyebrows quirked. "So you don't do what they do? Huh. Do you think they're doing it wrong?"

Feeling a little defensive, Prissie replied, "No, I just don't do everything they do because they do some things I don't want to do."

"I thought you said I should do what everyone else does," he challenged. "Strange advice from someone who doesn't!"

This was getting ridiculous. With a stern look, she demanded, "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Doing what?" he asked innocently.

Prissie flapped her hands in exasperation. "This!"

"Yep. Totally on purpose."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered, "I'm done."

His brown eyes were s.h.i.+ning. "It was fun while it lasted. But seriously, though ... I might have questions."

"Why me?" Prissie folded her arms. "You could ask Neil."

The music started, and the only answer she received was a shrug and a crooked smile. Something told her it was no use. Ransom was determined to pick her brain ... or maybe just plain pick on her.

He behaved all through the first part of the service, standing and sitting at all the right times. It made sense that he didn't know any of the songs, but he wasn't rude about it. As far as Prissie could tell, Ransom mostly gazed with curiosity around the gymnasium while drumming his fingers against the side of his leg. Then Pastor Kern jogged to center stage and launched into a brief recap of his Christmas series.

Almost immediately, Ransom leaned over and asked, "Is he serious? 'Naughty or Nice'?"

Prissie frowned at him. It wasn't polite to talk during service.

"Don't give me that look. I warned you I'd be asking questions," he whispered back.

"Just listen. He'll explain himself better than I could."

Ransom tilted his head to one side, then nodded, conceding the point.

Dennis Kern was saying, "Naughty and nice, good and bad-they sound cut and dried, but there are times when everything isn't as it seems."

Stealing a peek at her angelic friends, Prissie nodded to herself. It was true. Appearances could be deceiving.

"Take reputations," the pastor continued. "There are those who have good ones; they're respectable citizens with all the appearances of righteousness. We have a prime example right here in the Christmas story-Herod! This king in his castle greets the wise men from the east, telling them he wants to wors.h.i.+p the child of prophecy, the same as them. Herod says all the right things, but there's murder in his heart."

Ransom muttered, "Yeah, I read about him. He was bad news."

Prissie s.h.i.+vered and whispered back, "I don't like lies ... or liars."

"On the other hand, you have someone like Mary, the young woman chosen by G.o.d to give birth to His Son. She did nothing for which she should be ashamed. Nowadays, Christians consider the role she humbly accepted to be an honor, calling her favored by G.o.d. But was she praised for her choice at the time? Her family, her friends, her fiance - they all believed that she'd sinned. Scandal nearly cost her upcoming marriage, and although the rumors and speculations were unjust, I'm sure they hurt. The poor girl's reputation was shot."

"Relate much?" Ransom whispered. "They're giving you c.r.a.p at school, but it's a farce."

"I haven't done anything wrong," Prissie muttered.

Jostling her again, he pointedly replied, "Me, either, but some people can't be reasonable."

"There's another reputation to consider in the Christmas story!" Pastor Kern exclaimed, scanning the congregation. "The good and the bad are easy to peg, but have you ever considered those with no reputation? They were right there, in the thick of things, the rabble of the hillsides-lowly men with humble livelihoods. No one expected anything from a bunch of men who watched over the herds. No fame, no status, no skills, no expectations-yet these were the ones to see the sky fill with angels, to hear the heavenly chorus, to learn the good news!"

Ransom poked her arm. "Is that where you put me?"

Prissie was a little surprised by his question, because she'd been thinking that maybe this was where she fit into the story. It was awfully easy to relate to a group of ordinary shepherds who were minding their own business, only to have their world turned upside down by a bunch of angels. She happened to glance Milo's way, and the Messenger held her gaze and nodded once. "Yes?" she murmured uncertainly.

"Rabble," he mused sarcastically. "Nice to know where I stand."

Desperately hoping her father hadn't overheard, Prissie held up a finger to hush Ransom, just in time for the pastor to declare, "Those with no reputation are in good company, since Paul tells us that Jesus made Himself of no reputation. That very night, when He was born, Jesus became nothing ... but also everything we need!"

Bible pages riffled as the congregation turned to Philippians, and Ransom sat a little taller. From that moment on, his smart-mouthed comments ceased. He was locked in with startling intensity to what Pastor Kern had to say. Prissie should have been relieved that he was finally leaving her alone, but maybe she was spoiled by the usual constancy of Koji's company. Yes, that could explain why she was once more feeling lonely in the middle of a crowd.

12.

THE.

SHOPPING.

FRENZY.

Good morning, Milo."

The deep voice flowed soft and slow, a warm rumble of sound that could startle the unprepared, but the Messenger's ready smile widened in greeting. "Same to you, Aril."

"You are early."

"My wings were restless. And I didn't think you'd mind if I turned up before sunrise."

Aril waved a large hand to the stone step on which he sat. "Your company is always welcome. Come aside and tell me your news."

"Little has changed," Milo admitted. "Most of my days are filled with ordinary things."

"I do not mind," Aril a.s.sured, but his orange eyes studied the Messenger thoughtfully. "Though I am curious about your confession."

The Messenger's brows lifted. "What did I say?"

With a note of amus.e.m.e.nt, Aril replied, "Restless wings are rarely a sign of peace."

"I suppose not," Milo conceded, running his fingers through his hair. Then, he blinked and murmured, "What If ...?"

"Yes?"

"Instead of speaking of ordinary things, what if I told you an extraordinary story ... about a girl whose eyes have been opened to heavenly things?"

Interest piqued, Aril answered, "Tell me."

Prissie was disappointed with progress. Despite her best intentions, she wasn't getting very far with finding presents for the people she counted dearest. According to Momma, Christmas presents were an expression of love, not an obligation. She always told them that small things, even intangible things, could be more thoughtful than any of the stuff money could buy.

The more Prissie wandered through the stores in West Edinton, the more she was forced to agree with her mother. Shelf after shelf was stocked with merchandise, but nothing struck her as appropriate for any of her angel friends. "How do you shop for an angel?" she groused.

Koji shook his head. "I do not know. I have never tried."

With a frustrated huff, she begged, "Do you see anything here that might work?" Dark eyes darted from shelf to bin, and Prissie could practically see him dismissing it all. "No good?" she asked with a dreary sigh.

He shook his head, but remarked, "One never knows what G.o.d can use. Even if I do not understand the purpose of a thing, that does not mean it has none."

"I give up," she grumbled, heading for the door. "Let's go." She pulled her hat around her ears before stepping outside. The wind had whipped up so much, it was hard to tell which way it was coming from. Snow whirled at them from every direction, and she pulled her scarf up over her nose. "We'd better hurry. It's gotten worse."

"Indeed," Koji agreed, squinting against the icy gusts.

Prissie struck out, aiming for the bakery, but a sudden noise froze her in her tracks. The deep groan rose to a high, angry screech that made her want to cover her ears. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to place the sound but came up empty. "What was that?"

"You heard?" Koji asked, eyes wide.

"Obviously," she scoffed, peering through her lashes toward the sound's origin. "Maybe someone's roof was pulled loose by the storm?"

The noise ripped along the vacant street again, harsh and off-key, and this time, Prissie saw something moving against the dizzying whiteness. Koji grabbed hold of her arm so quickly, she nearly dropped her bag. "No!" he shouted. "No, that is not what it was!"

"What is that?" she asked, her voice shaking. Though the figure was indistinct, she could tell that the dark shape moving toward them was taller than most of the buildings on Main Street.

"We need to go!" Koji said sharply.

Prissie nodded nervously. "Yes, I think we should go. The bakery, or Harken's?"

As the pair glanced uncertainly up and down the street, poised to make a run for it, Prissie caught sight of a familiar figure shuffling along on the other side of the street. The scene took on a nightmarish quality as Ransom headed straight for the hulking shadow that loomed larger by the moment.

A tree branch creaked and cracked, plunging to the snow-covered lawn in front of the town hall, narrowly missing the gazebo. Ransom turned to look at the sudden noise, and Prissie's heart leapt to her throat. She might not like the guy, but she couldn't stand by and do nothing. Things had changed.

Koji pulled on her arm again, but she shook it free and raised mittened hands to her mouth. "Ransom!" Her voice came out shrill and faint against the wind, so she took a deep breath and bellowed his name again.

This time, he spun to face them, and she waved desperately for him to come over. "This way! Quick!"

To her relief, Ransom changed direction and ambled their way. "What's up, Miss Priss?"

"It's not safe! Come with us!"

He glanced around with a bemused expression. "It's just snow."

Prissie latched onto his arm and cast a fearful look at the shadow. Panic thrilled through her soul. "Which way, Koji?" she begged.