On Christmas Eve morning, Billy and Nor were lingering over the breakfast neither one of them had any interest in touching. The distracting reality that it was both Christmas Eve and Marissa’s eighth birthday hung over them, a dense, oppressive blanket of pain.

The sudden steady ring of the doorbell startled both of them. Billy ran to answer it.

A beaming Marshall Frank Smith boomed, “Grab only what you need. You’re booked on the 12:40 flight to New York, and if you want to catch it, you haven’t got a minute to spare.”

On Christmas Eve, Nor’s Place usually enjoyed a pleasant flow of lunch customers. Some were last-minute shoppers, stopping for a quick bite. Others, more organized, came in for a quiet lunch before the religious and family celebrations began.

Today this place feels downright eerie, Dennis thought, as he surveyed the room from behind the bar. He shook his head. At least Nor had agreed that it was pointless to stay open on Christmas Day.

“I guess you’re right, Dennis,” she had admitted. “Only ten reservations! Those people would be better off at a place with a little life in it.”

We’re pretty much at the end of the line here, Dennis thought, as he was handed an order for a single beer.

Just then the bar phone rang. He picked it up.

“Dennis!” It was Nor’s voice, buoyant and energetic. “We’re at the airport, on our way home. We’re in the clear. The Badgett brothers are gone, locked up for good,” she exulted. “Get a birthday cake for Marissa for tonight, and phone our usual Christmas people. Tell them Nor’s Place will be open for Christmas dinner and it’s on the house. But don’t let Marissa know! We want to surprise her.”

From the moment she opened her eyes on Christmas Eve and whispered to herself, “Today I am eight years old,” Marissa began to lose faith that Sterling would be able to bring Daddy and NorNor home. She had been sure they would be there when she woke up, but now she realized it was going to be like all the other times.

She had promised herself they would be back for Easter, but they weren’t. Then she had been sure they’d be home when school closed for the summer… Then when it opened in September… Then for Thanksgiving…

It’s going to be just like that again today, she thought, as she got up and put on her bathrobe. Tears kept trying to flow from her eyes, but she pressed them back with her hands. Trying to put a smile on her face, she went downstairs.

Her mother and Roy and the twins were already at the kitchen table. They all began to sing “Happy Birthday” when they saw her. There were presents next to her cereal bowl: a new watch; books and CDs from Mommy and Roy and the twins; a sweater from Grandma. Then she opened the last two boxes: ice skates from Daddy and a new skating outfit from NorNor.

Now she was absolutely, positively sure they wouldn’t be coming home today. If they were, wouldn’t they wait to give her the presents when she saw them?

After breakfast Marissa carried all her gifts upstairs. When she reached her room, she dragged the chair from her desk over to the closet and stood up on it. She lifted the boxes with the new ice skates and the skating outfit and put them on the top shelf. Then, with the tips of her fingers, she pushed them back as far as she could, until they were out of sight.

She never wanted to look at them again.

At eleven o’clock she was in the living room, reading one of her new books, when the phone rang. Even though her heart stopped when she heard Mommy say, “Hello, Billy,” she still didn’t look up.

But then Mommy came rushing over to her. She didn’t give her a chance to say, “I don’t want to talk to Daddy,” before the phone was at her ear and Daddy was shouting, “Rissa, want to go to Nor’s Place for your birthday dinner? We’re on the way home!”

Marissa whispered, “Oh, Daddy.” She was bursting with so much happiness that she couldn’t say anything more. And then she felt someone pat the top of her head. She looked up and there he was-her friend who wore the funny hat and who was not quite an angel, and he was smiling at her.

“Good-bye, Marissa,” he said, and then he was gone.

In a daze, Marissa climbed the stairs to her room, closed the door, pulled over her chair, and stood on her tiptoes to retrieve the presents she had pushed away. But when she pulled the boxes down, something fell from the shelf and landed at her feet.

She sank to the floor and stared at the tiny Christmas ornament that she had never seen before. It was an angel dressed just like her friend.

“You’ve got the same funny hat,” she whispered as she picked it up and kissed it. Holding it to her cheek, she looked out the window and up at the sky.

“You told me you weren’t quite an angel,” she said softly. “But I know that you are. Thank you for keeping your promise to help me. I love you.”

When Sterling entered the celestial conference room of the Heavenly Council and saw the approving looks on the faces of the saints, he knew he had completed his task to their satisfaction.

“I say, that was most touching,” the admiral said with uncharacteristic tenderness.

“Did you see that child’s face?” The nun sighed. “It shone with as perfect happiness as is possible on earth.”

“I couldn’t help staying until I saw Marissa in her father’s arms,” Sterling explained to the council. “Then I went back to Nor’s Place with them. What a wonderful birthday party it was. As you know, the word that they’d returned flashed all over town, and everyone came in to welcome them home.”

“I had tears in my eyes when Billy sang the song he wrote for Marissa,” the queen observed.

“Talk about a sure-fire hit,” the matador declared.

“As you know, he’ll be recording it and the other songs he wrote while he was away,” Sterling said. “It was a very painful year for him, but he used it well.”

“As did you,” the shepherd said quietly.

“Yes indeed. Absolutely,” they all murmured, nodding.

“You not only found someone to help and used your head to work out a solution to her problem, but you also used your heart,” the Native American saint said, clearly proud of Sterling.

“And you saved Charlie Santoli from the destructive life he was leading,” the nun added.

There was a pause.

Then the monk stood up. “ Sterling, the celebration of the birth of our Savior is about to begin. It is the judgment of the council that you have earned not only a visit to heaven, but your permanent place there. It is time for us to lead you through the gates.” He turned toward the door.

“Wait a minute,” Sterling said. “I have something to ask you.”

The monk stared at him. “What could you possibly have to ask at this moment?”

“I am so grateful to all of you. As you know, I long to be in heaven. But I so enjoyed this experience that, by your leave, I would like to return to earth every Christmas and find someone who needs help. I never knew how good it could feel to really make a difference in other people’s lives.”

“Making other people happy is one of the great joys of the human condition,” the monk told him. “You have learned your lesson even better than we realized. And now, come along.”

As they approached, the heavenly gates opened wide before them, revealing a light brighter than a thousand suns, brighter than anything that Sterling had ever been able to imagine. A profound inner peace permeated his being. He was going toward the light; he was part of the light. The Heavenly Council stepped aside, and slowly and reverently he continued to walk forward. He was aware that there was one large group of people who were gathered together.

He felt a hand touch his. “ Sterling, let me walk with you.”

It was Annie.

“The other newcomers are just ahead of you,” she whispered. “They all came together. Their lives ended tragically, and although they themselves have found eternal joy, they are deeply concerned for the loved ones they left behind. But they will find their own ways to send help and comfort to them.”