‘This is so cool!” cried Katie as the two flew under the starry mantel of deep night.

“Nothin’ to it,” said Moira with a twinkle in her eye.

 “Moira, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” said Moira, her hair, nearly the color of the night, streaming behind her. “Ask away, Kate.”

“How did you … you know, …”

“How did I become an angel’s helper? Is that what you’re askin’?” Katie nodded.

“You can thank the English for that. They hung me in 1821 on Christmas Eve. In Kerry where I lived with me da’ and three little brothers.”

“Hung you? You mean with a rope?” asked Katie, incredulously.

“Yes. A very big rope as I remember.”

“Oh, Moira, that’s gross. How could they? I mean you’re just a kid like me. Did you murder someone?”

“No, nothing so grand as murder. I’d stolen two loaves of bread.”

“Wait a minute, Moira,” said Katie. “You stole some bread and for that you got the death penalty?”

“Times was tough then, Kate. One Irish girl more or less didn't mean anything to the English. But I'm no thief, well, not usually, anyway. It was Christmas, you see. Me da’ had no work and we were hungry. No one had much work. The English saw to that. Anyway, I didn’t want the boyos hungry at Christmas.”

“What about your mom? Couldn’t she stop it?” asked Katie.

“Me ma’ died when I was nine. We loved her so much. Da’ used to say that there was the light of a thousand summers in her face. Poor dear, he cried every day for months after she was gone.

“Me da’ was a big man, with a big ruddy face. I remember the day they hung me, standing on the scaffold. I could see his face in the crowd, tears streaming down his cheeks. You’d of thought it was him they was hangin’, not me, he was carryin’ on so. I yelled out to him and told him not to worry. I’d made me act of contrition. I told him I loved him. The last thing I remember seein’ was him mouthin’ those same words back to me.”

Tears were forming in Katie’s eyes. “Oh, Moira, that is so horrible. I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothin’ to say, Kate darlin’. But it’s okay. It got me into heaven, didn’t it now? And what a place, Katie, what great gifts God has waitin’ for all of us there. You’ll know one day. But enough. We’re here.” Moira bent her head down and the two girls began to descend towards a neat farmhouse in the middle of a large, snowy field.

Katie stared at the white-frame house whose windows cast soft yellow squares on the snow.

“Know where you are, Kate?” asked Moira.

“Yes,” said Katie. "This is Casey’s grandmother’s house. What are we doing here?”

“I want you to see something. Let’s go in.”

“Won’t they be able to see us?”

“No. Not unless I want them to and I don’t want them to. I want you to see.”

The two girls mounted the stairs and opened the front door. Inside, the house was decorated according to the old ways of the country. Fresh pine boughs framed the door tops. Candles glowed inside glass chimneys, and from a large parlor, the sounds of laughter and song were drifting towards the entry hall.

“Great,” snorted Katie.

“What is it, Kate?” asked Moira.

“More Christmas music. Gag me.”

“Well, Kate, try to endure it for just a bit. Come on now.”

Katie and Moira entered the parlor where some twenty people, adults and children stood or sat around the room. Through an arched doorway, a large table with the remnants of a Christmas dinner could be seen. Several people stood around a piano, singing. Casey’s grandmother was playing White Christmas.

Katie was about to roll her eyes back in her head when she spied one of the carolers. It was Casey, her Casey, singing loud and clear with the adults around her. It was then Katie noticed her friend’s dress. Casey was dressed in a deep red velvet dress. It had white lace Peter Pan collar and a matching lace sash at her waist. In her hair was a red velvet bow holding her hair back in a ponytail.

“Oh, poor Casey,” said Katie. Look what they’re making her do.”

“What do you mean, Kate,” asked Moira. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, look! Look at how she’s dressed. And they’re making her sing, too.”

“What do you mean, ‘making her sing?’ I don’t see anyone making her sing, Kate.”

Before Katie could answer, the carolers finished White Christmas. Casey’s grandmother turned around and said to her, “It’s time.”

“Okay, Gramma,” Casey said with a smile.

Her grandmother stood up and motioned for the room to quiet down and move towards the piano. Those who had been singing moved back leaving just Casey standing by her grandmother, who’d sat back down and preparing to play. Casey’s father took a step out from the group.

“Okay, daddy,” said Casey. "This is for you." Her dad blushed but beamed at his daughter.

With her grandmother playing, Casey began singing Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabella, never taking her eyes off her father.

When she finished the last verse, she launched into the carol again, this time singing it in French:

When she finished, there were tears running down her father’s cheeks. Everyone in the room applauded as she stepped forward towards her father. “Oh, daddy,” she said as she hugged him.

“Baby,” he said. “You’ve sung me that carol every year almost since you could talk. It wouldn’t be Christmas without it. I love you.”

“I love you, too, daddy.”

Katie watched the scene in disbelief. She turned to Moira.

“Something wrong, Kate?”

“I don’t get it, Moira. Casey hates Christmas music as much as I do.”

“Does she?” asked Moira.

“Sure she does. She’s said so.”

“It wasn’t her, Katie, that said so. It was you. Maybe you misread her silence as agreement.”

“No. She’s my best friend. She tells me everything.”

“It might just be, Katie, that she’s afraid to disagree with you, afraid she might lose your friendship. Maybe you give her that impression.”

“No, I don’t, I mean I can’t. I love Casey. I – oh, I don’t know what I mean. Let’s get out of here.”

“As you wish, Kate darlin’. Touch me arm again.”

Instantly the two girls were standing before the large carved doors of St. Patrick’s Church. From inside came the sounds of Midnight Mass.

“Why are we here?” asked Katie.

“Let’s go inside,” said Moira.

The pair entered the church, which was full for mass. Several priests were passing out communion to the large crowd. Moira and Katie walked up the center aisle until they came to a pew where they stopped. Katie looked into the pew and saw her father, her mother and Colleen kneeling, their heads bowed in prayer. “I want you to hear something, Kate.” Moira placed one hand on Katie shoulder and the other on her father’s. Suddenly, Katie could hear her father’s thoughts. He was praying.

Dear God, please help me with Katie. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I try and try to reach her but the more I try the more she distant she gets.

The organ began to intone the introduction to O, Holy Night. The choir began:

Katie’s father continued praying. Please grant me the wisdom and patience I need. Katie’s a good girl; she’s got a good heart. But she’s drifting away from her family, from those who love her.

Please reach out to her, Heavenly Father. Please touch her heart and bring it back to where it belongs.

Oh, dear God, I’m so afraid I’m going to lose her. Katie could see tears slipping out from under his closed eyelids.

God help me, please. I’d die without Katie’s love. Please, please help me. Help Katie.

Katie suddenly pulled away from Moira’s hand, turned and ran down the aisle to the door. Reaching it, she flung it open and flew out into the night where a light snow had begun to fall.

Katie leaned against one arches and began to sob. Moira came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong, Katie?”

“I do love him, Moira. With all my heart I do. How can he think I don’t?”

Moira turned Katie until she faced her. “Does he know that, Kate? How long since you’ve told him? How long since you’ve spoken to him with anything above a grunt, huh?

“Let me tell you something, you see a lot of things in a hundred and eighty years. You see all kinds of people who say them words and don’t mean them. They abuse the love God has for them and puts in their hearts. For that love you have for you da’, like the love I had for mine, is the love of the Divine Heart, Katie dear. It wasn’t put in your heart to stay or be hidden. If you love your da’, tell him so. Live it. The last words me da’ and I exchanged were “I love you.” Those are the words I took into eternity with me and left with him. You gotta tell him, Kate.”

Moira reached up and wiped the tears from Katie’s cheeks.

“Moira?” Katie asked.

“Yes, Katie.”

“If you’re a spirit, how come I can touch you and feel you touch me?”

“That’s simple, Kate. You believe in me. It’s your faith that makes me real. Whatever you believe in becomes real. I don’t think you’ve had much to believe in lately, have you?”

“No,” said Katie shaking her head, “I guess I haven’t.”

“Well, faith, like love, is still in your heart. You just have to find it.”

“Take me home, Moira. I want to be there when daddy gets home.”

“Are you sure, Katie?” asked the little spirit. “You may not like what you find there.”

“What do you mean? I just want to tell daddy I love him. Mom, too.”

“Be warned, Kate. Things may not be what you expect. I have one more thing to show you.”

“What?”

“Hush, now. Soon enough. Touch me sleeve again.”