The Angel of Barnes & Noble
by: Jon Crane

Saturday Ramblins, Vol. 1, No. 1 (May 16, 1998)

A few days after Lana died, my younger brother, in town from Georgia, and I set out on a few errands. Passing Barnes and Noble, I suggested we stop in and get a cup of coffee from the Starbucks. Once inside, I ws hit with an impluse and asked Patrick to be patient for a moment while I looked for something.

I wanted a copy of Lana's favorite book so I approached a young woman standing behind the Information and Service Desk. I proceeded to tell the girl what I wanted but in my state of mind, I was confused about the title. I asked for Hello God, This Is Anna, a variation on the name of a book by the wonderful writer, Judy Blume.

The girl put my erronious title into the computer every which way she could, but nothing would come back. I finally told her, "Thank you." I would come back for the book another day.

Suddenly, a light went on in the girl's eyes as she said, "Wait a minute, sir. That book's called Mister God, This Is Anna. I remember now because I looked it up last week for someone." Her fingers clattered over the keyboard for a few seconds then stopped. She stood thoughtfully studying the results on her screen. Touching it with her finger, she smiled and said, "We've got it." My heart gladdened.

She started to tell me where to find it when she said, "Nevermind, I'll show you and help you locate it." I followed her up the esculator, my long-suffering brother in tow.

Ten minutes later after a fruitless and frustrating search through the Religion section (including a trip downstairs to the childrens' section before going back up for one final search), the book was not to be found. Disapponted, I asked this kind person if I could order it. After giving her the information, I turned to collect my brother from another section so we could leave.

Patrick and I were just about to step onto the down esculator when I heard a voice behind me calling, "Sir! Sir! Wait up a minute! Sir?!" I turned to see the young woman walking quickly towards me with a sweet grin on her face. In her outstretched hand was a copy of the book, Mister God, This Is Anna. She told me in a breathless voice how after she left me, she was walking through another area two or three stacks over from the Religion section when her eyes happened to fall on the small, white paperback she was placing in my hand. It had been mishelved, probably by a customer. "'Happen's all the time," she told me of this little miracle.

I began to offer my thanks when my brother nudged me, indicating the girl with his head. Not understanding, I looked at her, then back at Patrick and gave him a look that said, "What?" He nodded for a second time in the direction of the girl who was now as puzzled as I was.

"Her name tag," he said softly. "Look at her name tag."

My eyes dropped down and for a moment my breath stopped coming. This angel's name was Lana.

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