Free Daniel and the Angel by Jill Barnett

preferred puppies to diamonds. Kittens to pearls. Rabbits to ...
    He looked down at her and scowled. "No rabbits, Lilli. Puppies .. . yes. And kittens too. But no rabbits."

8
     
Unless you can love as the angels may
    With the breadth of Heaven betwixt you;
    Unless you can dream that his faith is fast
    Though behoving and unbehoving;
    Unless you can die when the dream is past
    Oh never call it loving!
    —Robert Browning
     
     
     
     
    THE RABBITS WERE CHEWING ON DANIEL'S SHOELACES.
    Lilli sat in a chair in the open parlor, her lap full of wiggling puppies, while purring kittens crawled on the arms and wings of the chair. She was stringing cranberries and smiling at Daniel.
    He was on his hands and knees in front of a brass bucket filled with wet sand, muttering and turning the trunk of the Christmas tree. It was his third attempt to get the tree straight.
    "It looks fine to me," she told him.
    He backed out, scowled down at the two brown and white rabbits, then shifted away, eyeing the angle of the tree. "A little more to the right."
    Lilli rolled her eyes and tied a knot in the string of deep red cranberries. The formal parlor was a disaster. A huge bowl of popcorn sat in the center of a Savonnerie carpet, a trail of plump kernels leading to the tree, where the rabbits nibbled the crushed popcorn from the soles of Daniel's shoes.
    Scraps of colored paper and string had been scattered by tumbling puppies and playful kittens until the center of the room, where settees by William Kent formed a conversation area, looked like the aftermath of a parade. Next to embroidered pillows once owned by Marie Antoinette were stacks of greens, and in giant piles around the room were spools of red ribbons next to twigs of laurel and cedar.
    The entire lower floor of the Stewart mansion was filled with the fresh scent of Christmas. By the time the mantel clock struck eleven the tree was decorated, and greenery hung throughout the front of the house. Tied with red ribbons, cedar and laurel, pine and holly hung from pictures and mirrors and wrapped around the bases of candelabra.
    Besides the candles, tables held vases of red roses and the most exquisite white lilies she had ever seen. And the rabbits, puppies, and kittens were tucked into their baskets beneath the tree, exhausted after an evening of chasing string and cranberries—and Daniel's shoes.
    "Now it looks like Christmas," she said, putting her hands on her hips. She turned just in time to catch the look on Daniel's face.
    He stood next to her, silent and looking at the tree.
    His expression was naked and open and for one brief instant filled with such desolation that she was unable to breathe.
    She reached out and touched his arm. Because she had to. Because she sensed he needed touching now as he relived some memory.
    "Daniel," she whispered his name.
    He didn't respond, didn't move, until finally he looked at her as if he had just noticed she was there.
    She searched his face for answers and saw nothing but a shuttered look that she sensed hid pain and fear and other emotions so personal that he couldn't bear to let anyone see. "What's wrong?"
    He shoved his hands in his pockets, a move she was beginning to recognize. She suspected that his hands were tight fists.
    Daniel had, over the years, learned to hide his emotions from the world.
    "I haven't had a Christmas tree since I was thirteen." He didn't look at her. He stared at the tree.
    She watched him with this horrid sinking feeling. "Do you want to get rid of it?"
    "No." He shook his head. "It's not the tree. I never had the time for one. I was working too hard, and then when I did have the time ..." He shrugged. "I didn't care anymore."
    "Do you want to talk about it?"
    "No." He laughed without humor, then turned to her.
    "I think perhaps you should."
    He leaned back against the edge of the pocket door and crossed his arms. "Why?"
    She could be as stubborn as he could. She mimicked him, crossing her arms and raising her