Page 28 of Evan

As we hurry to close up shop and ensure the safety of the last few customers, I can't shake the feeling that this storm is more than just a weather event. It's an opportunity—a catalyst for change in Evan's life. And as his guardian angel in training, it's my job to make sure he weathers it in more ways than one.

The next few hours pass in a flurry of activity. Evan and I work side by side, securing loose items, checking on the animals in the barn, and making sure all the farm equipment is safely stored away. As the last customer drives off, the first fat snowflakes begin to fall, quickly blanketing the ground in white.

I watch as Evan stands on the porch of his log cabin, his eyes scanning the horizon with a mix of awe and concern. The wind whips around us, carrying with it the promise of a long, cold night ahead.

"I've never seen a storm move in this fast," he mutters, more to himself than to me. "Glad we sent Paul and Seth home when Molly and Chad left. I hope everyone made it home safely."

I can sense the worry radiating off him in waves, and I know exactly where his thoughts are headed. Sure enough, he turns to me, his blue eyes dark with concern. He pulls his phone from his pocket, glances at the screen, and shakes it in frustration.

"Betty, I hate to ask, but would you mind holding down the fort here for a bit? I just... I need to check on Molly and Chad. Make sure they're okay."

I nod, trying to hide my smile. This is exactly the kind of selfless action I've been hoping to see from Evan. "Of course, dear. Don't you worry about a thing here. Go make sure they're safe."

He gives me a grateful smile before dashing inside to grab his keys. As I watch him drive off, his truck disappearing into the swirling snow, I close my eyes and focus my angelic senses. I can feel the storm's fury building, the raw power of nature unleashed. It's both terrifying and exhilarating.

I know I should stay put, play my role as the helpful volunteer, but something tugs at my heart. A whisper of divine intuition tells me that Evan might need more than just his own determination to make it safely to Molly's house.

Quickly, I pull the Miracle Card from my pocket and request invisibility, something only full guardian angels are allowed, as I transport myself to the cab of Evan’s truck.

The journey is treacherous. The snow falls so thickly that it's almost impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. More than once, I have to use my angelic abilities to subtly guide Evan's truck away from hidden patches of ice or fallen branches.

As we near Molly's neighborhood, I can sense Evan's rising panic. The streets are nearly impassable; the snow piling up faster than the plows can clear it. But his determination never wavers. If anything, the challenging conditions seem to strengthen his resolve.

Finally, we turn onto Molly's street. Her house is dark, the power clearly out. Evan's truck skids to a stop in front of the driveway, and he's out the door before the engine has even fully quieted, plowing through knee-deep snow towards the front porch.

I appear on the sidewalk, just in time to see Molly throw open the door, a flashlight in her hand and relief written all over her face.

"Evan!" she calls out, her voice barely audible over the howling wind. "What are you doing here?"

He reaches the porch, covered in snow, but grinning like a man who's just won the lottery. "I had to make sure you and Chad were okay. The storm... it's worse than they predicted."

Molly's eyes shine with unshed tears as she ushers him inside. "You drove all the way out here in this? Evan, you could have been hurt!"

As the door closes behind them, shutting out the storm, I’m filled with joy. This is love, pure and simple. The kind of love that braves storms and defies logic. The kind of love that changes lives.

I close my eyes, sending up a silent prayer of thanks. My job isn't done yet—far from it. But in this moment, watching Evan choose to put Molly and Chad's safety above his own comfort, I know we're on the right track.

The storm rages on around me, but I barely feel the cold. Instead, I'm filled with a sense of purpose and hope. Because inside that darkened house, illuminated only by flashlights and the warm glow of a fireplace, something beautiful is happening. A family is coming together, finding strength and comfort in each other's presence.

And isn't that, after all, what Christmas is truly about?

* * *

I leave Evan and Molly to carry out my duties at the farm. As I return to the barn, I can sense the anxiety of the animals—the horses stamping nervously in their stalls, the barn cats huddled together in the hayloft, and their worried voices in my head. Using my angelic abilities, I send out waves of calming energy, soothing their fears. It's a small thing, perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, but it feels important. These creatures are under Evan's care, and by extension, under mine.

As I move through the barn, checking on each animal and securing any loose items that might pose a danger, I reflect on Evan's journey. When I first began watching over him, he was a man adrift, tied to this farm more out of duty than love. But in the weeks since Molly and Chad entered his life, I've seen a change in him. A softening, a rediscovery of joy in the simple things.

A strong gust of wind rattles the barn doors, and I hurry to secure them more tightly. As I do, I glimpse the farmhouse through the swirling snow. The windows are dark, the power clearly out here as well. Closing my eyes, I focus my energy on the farmhouse. I can't restore the power—that's beyond my abilities as a trainee—but I can create a bubble of warmth, a pocket of safety in the midst of the storm.

It's a subtle thing, something Evan might not even consciously notice, but it will be there when he returns, a silent comfort in the darkness.

As I complete this task, I feel a familiar presence materialize beside me. I turn to see Henry, my mentor, his kind eyes twinkling with approval.

"Well done, Betty," he says, his voice carrying the warmth of a summer breeze even amid this winter storm. "You're learning to use your abilities with great discretion."

I feel a flush of pride at his words, followed quickly by a twinge of uncertainty. "I hope I'm not overstepping," I confess. "It's so tempting sometimes to just... fix everything for him."

Henry nods, his expression understanding. "That's the greatest challenge we face as guardians," he says. "Knowing when to act and when to step back. But you're finding the balance admirably."

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