Angels Unaware

From Chapter Ten pages one and two.

   Chelsea missed Alexis very much. The person who was taking her place did not have half the patience with Brandon in putting him though the regimens of getting him to crawl and then walk.—reeducating the neurological patterns in the sequence of development. He had learned to crawl and was taking his first steps. He still spent a great deal of time waving his hands before his face, but there were definitely times when he focused on a toy or for an infinitesimal moment on Bryan or Chelsea. He was definitely making progress—though often it was difficult to see.
   Taking him from his seat, Chelsea took his hands and stood him before his father. There were no campers within sight and only an occasional shout of a child from the distance.. “Brandon, walk to Daddy,” she said softly, but he merely plumped to the ground and sat waving his hand before his dark long-lashed eyes.
   “It’s ok, Darling, we’ll try again in awhile,” Bryan grinned at his wife, surprised that he did not feel annoyed or embarrassed that his son was acting like an autistic child. “I’m rather hungry myself. I can’t wait to try that new recipe for fried chicken you made..” His eyes showed her that he was hungry for more than food.
   Taking the floral plastic tablecloth from the basket, she spread it out, touching his hand lovingly as she did so. “It’s such a beautiful day,” she said softly, putting napkins and silverware at two place settings, “and I have such a beautiful husband and son.” Sitting down beside him she kissed his eyes and then his mouth gently—then urgently. “Maybe we could postpone eating for a bit,” she murmured.
   He did not bother answering as his lips were too occupied.. Finally reluctantly she withdrew from his embrace. “We’d better give Brandon something to eat.”
   He won’t know the difference,” Bryan muttered, pulling him towards her once more.
   Firmly pulling away from him, but laughing apologetically she said, “But I will.”
   So he grinned and assisted her in taking the chicken, tossed salad, carrot and celery sticks out of the basket and placing them on paper plates. Taking Brandon on her lap, she handed him a celery stick with peanut butter, touching it to his rosy mouth several times. At last he took a tentative bite and smiled as he chewed. They had no way of knowing whether his delight came from the crunching sound or the flavor, but they basked in the smile and the crunching.
   They were mostly silent as they ate their own mea with only an infrequent comment about the food or the perfect weather. It was as though they were afraid to break the spell of peace and harmony the Lord had given them. Things were as perfect as anything could be, Chelsea was thinking, since Bryan had welcomed Christ into his life.
   And Bryan was thinking almost the same thing. Only in the form of a reproach—why had he resisted God so long? He and Chelsea—and Brandon had so much now—so much joy—it was almost scary. Oh, sure, Brandon still had his screaming periods, but they were less and less. He was responding more—no question about it.
   When they were eating their strawberry shortcake, Bryan broached a subject he had been thinking long and hard about. He had prayed about it also. “Have you thought any more about adopting Dorcas? Things seem to have quieted down—no more kidnapping threats.” The man who had kidnapped Dorcas was in jail awaiting trial. He was an ex-member of Armand Ramirez’ drug ring and had been hoping to get back into Armand’s good graces by kidnapping the little girl. But Armand’s girlfriend or significant other or whatever she was pregnant again and not obsessing about Dorcas anymore.
    There was such a radiant expression in Chelsea’s eyes and her smile that Bryan felt he was in the presence of an angel. Swallowing the bite of shortcake she had been chewing, she leaned forward and gave him a sticky kiss.
   Moving his tongue over her lips, he said, “Is that a yes?”
   At that moment Bryan felt a small hand brush his leg, whether by accident or by design they would never know, but a small voice said, “That yes. That yes.”
   Bryan scooped up his small son, kissing him warmly on the forehead. How could he have resented the little boy for so long—even been ashamed of him as though God had done a terrible thing to them. Except when Brandon was born, Bryan hadn’t even believed in God. Now they had a brief scripture reading or a reading from The Daily Bread at the breakfast table, prayer at all meals and a time in the Word at night with prayer—unless Brandon was having a difficult time.
   Evn the difficult times were easier, because they played Christian music or children’s music or sang and constantly asked the Lord to give them wisdom and help them through.