Christmas Angel

Author: Shirley

Email: sgoates2607@charter.net

Rating: G

Summary: A very short Christmas vignette.

Disclaimer: Some of the characters portrayed herein have been shamelessly taken 
directly from “The Guardian” – a CBS TV Series. The resemblance to any person(s) 
living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarity of events, dates, or 
characters or the portrayal of events, dates or characters depicted in any 
FanFic previously posted by other authors is totally unintentional. This is a 
work of FICTION.
 
~*~*~

It was 8:30 on Christmas Eve. Not a creature was stirring—not even a mouse, when 
all of a sudden, the quiet was shattered by the ringing of a phone. 
 
Nick flinched then was immediately aggravated by the invasion. He reached for 
the cell phone in his inside coat pocket.
 
He answered, sharply, “Yeah?”
“Nick. It’s Laurie.”
 
“Well… what is it?” he asked, impatiently.
 
“It’s Bryant Wilcox. Dr. Wasserman doesn’t think he’ll make it through the 
night.” When Nick didn’t respond, Laurie continued. “He tried calling you at 
home but didn’t get an answer and when he dialed your cell phone he kept getting 
a wrong number. He must have copied it down wrong. Listen, Nick, I really hate 
to disrupt your evening, but you are Bryant’s medical guardian. I’ll meet you at 
the hospital.”
 
“Laurie, I can handle…” but Laurie had already disconnected.
 
Nick grabbed up his papers and stuffed them into his briefcase. He flicked off 
his office lamp and pulled the door closed then made his way through the empty 
office building to the street. 
 
~*~
 
Nick was standing outside Bryant’s room talking with Dr. Wasserman when Laurie 
arrived. She was wearing a funky knit Christmas sweater and a pair of wool 
slacks under the down-filled three-quarter length car coat—quite different from 
her usual business attire. 


Laurie noticed Nick looking at her sweater. “My grandkids gave this sweater to 
me last Christmas.” She turned her attention to the matter at hand. “Doctor, how 
is Bryant?”
 
“He had another seizure earlier today and has been going down hill ever since. 
There’s nothing further we can do, I’m afraid.”
 
“Can we go in?” she asked.
 
“Sure. I have a few other patients to see. I’ll be back in about fifteen 
minutes.”
 
Nick followed Laurie into the room. She immediately walked to Bryant’s bedside 
and touched his small hand. There was no acknowledgement at all. There had been 
no improvement in Bryant’s condition since he had lapsed into a coma weeks ago. 
Nick, always uncomfortable in situations like this, walked to the window and 
noted there were very few cars out and about this evening—most everyone already 
home with their loved ones for Christmas Eve. He turned back to face Laurie. She 
was sitting on the foot of the bed. 
 
“Laurie, you should go home. Be with your family.” Nick could see no point in 
her being there. 
 
“Are you sure, Nick? I don’t mind staying.”
 
“I’ll be…” Suddenly a warning alarm sounded and they were aware of increased 
activity just outside Bryant’s room. Nick was all too aware of the significance 
of that warning signal. Two nurses scurried into the room followed closely by 
Dr. Wasserman. Nick and Laurie stood out of the way while they worked to 
resuscitate the boy. After efforts failed, the doctor glanced at his watch and 
noted the official time of death on the medical file. 
 
“Mr. Fallin, can I see you outside?” Nick and Laurie followed the doctor into 
the corridor. “I’ll need your signature as medical guardian for the final 
disposition of the body.” 
 
Nick looked over the form handed to him and signed where indicated. He handed 
the clipboard back to the doctor. 
 
“You should go back home to your families. We can take it from here.” He turned 
and walked off. And that was that. It was all so final and over in a twinkling 
of an eye. 
 
Nick and Laurie rode the elevator to the main lobby without a word. They were 
greeted by a blast of cold air when they opened the main doors to the hospital. 
Nick buttoned up his coat and turned up his collar against the chill. 
 
“Nick, are you gonna be all right?”
 
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” he answered, a little too quickly. 
 
Laurie knew Nick well enough by now to know when something was bothering him. 
She placed her hand on his shoulder and, in that comforting way she had of 
speaking, she said, “Nick, just think of Bryant as Heaven’s newest little 
angel.” She squeezed his shoulder then turned and, as she walked away, she said, 
“Nick. Merry Christmas. And tell you father hello for me.” Nick stood and 
watched until she was out of sight then he walked to his car.
 
~*~
 
“O Holy Night” was playing softly on the CD player and there was a crackling 
fire in the fireplace. Burton had fixed himself a Manhattan and had just settled 
down to read a recent law journal when he heard a noise. He looked up to find 
Nick standing in the doorway to the den. 
 
“Nicholas. What a surprise. I thought you said you had other plans tonight.” 
When Nick didn’t respond he detected that something must be bothering him. He 
placed the unread journal on the table beside the chair. “What is it, son?”
 
Nick stepped further into the den and said, “That boy… Bryant Wilcox…”
 
“Yeah?” Burton searched his memory for the name but couldn’t recall.
 
“The kid who ate the lead paint…”
 
“Oh… yeah. What about him?”
 
Nick walked to the fireplace and with one hand outstretched he leaned against 
the mantel and stared into the fire. “He died tonight.” 
 
Burton detected a waver in his son’s voice. He got up and walked over to Nick, 
placing his hand on his shoulder. He was surprised when Nick turned to face him, 
his eyes brimming with tears. He reached out to comfort him and was relieved 
when Nick relaxed in his embrace. “It’s God’s will, son,” he said, as he patted 
him, soothingly. “Some things are just not in our power to control, Nicholas.” 
He thought he heard his son stifle a sob. Nick was first to pull away. He turned 
from his father and quickly wiped at his face. 
 
In an effort to lighten the mood, Burton said, “Hey, listen, Nicholas. Why don’t 
you take off your coat? I could make you some coffee, or… I know… how about some 
hot chocolate? Remember when your mother would fix hot chocolate and then read 
the Christmas story on Christmas Eve?” 
 
Nick removed his coat and tossed it over a vacant chair. He sat down in the 
chair nearest the fire, still chilled from the night air. “Yeah. Hot chocolate 
would be good.” He did remember those times, many long years ago, before he was 
aware of anything amiss in his parents’ marriage. 
 
Burton busied himself in the kitchen making the hot cocoa. Before long he 
appeared carrying a tray with two steaming cups of cocoa and a plate of cookies. 
He placed the tray on the ottoman, which also served as a coffee table and 
passed a cup to Nick, who wrapped his hands around it, taking comfort in its 
warmth.
 
Burton walked to the bookcase and removed the family Bible from its slot. He 
couldn’t recall the last time it had been read. He thumbed to Luke 2:01 and, 
taking his seat, he began to read, “And it came to pass in those days, that 
there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world…” Nick settled 
back in his chair to listen to his father read the familiar story of the birth 
of the Christ child. 
 
At one point, Nick closed his eyes and for a moment, real or imagined, he 
thought he heard his mother’s sweet voice reading, “And she brought forth her 
firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; 
because there was no room for them in the inn.” 
 
For the first time in a very long time, he felt safe and warm and loved.
 
The End