From the Corner of His Eye

doesn't exist-yet Angel is a miracle and a blessing." He looked up from the city to the woman. "So when you're lying in bed tonight, kept awake by grief, don't think just about what you've lost with your father and Phimie. Think about what you have in this world that you've never known in some others-Angel. Whether God's a Catholic, a Baptist, a Jew, a Muslim, or a quantum mechanic, He gives us compensation for our pain, compensation right here in this world, not just in those parallel to it and not just in some afterlife. Always compensation for the pain… if we recognize it when we see it."
        Her eyes, lustrous pools, brimmed with the need to know, but she respected the deal. "I only half understood all that, and I don't even know which half, but in some strange way, it feels true. Thank you. I will think about it tonight, when I can't sleep." She stepped close and kissed him on the cheek. "Who are you, Tom Vanadium?"
        He smiled and shrugged. "I used to be a fisher of men. Now I hunt them. One in particular."

Chapter 78
        
        LATE TUESDAY AFTERNOON in Bright Beach, as a darker blue and iridescent tide rolled across the sky, seagulls rowed toward their safe harbors, and on the land below, shadows that had been upright at work all day now stretched out, recumbent, preparing for the night.
        From San Francisco south to Orange County Airport on a crowded commuter flight, then farther south along the coast by rental car, Paul Damascus brought Grace, Celestina, and Angel to the Lampion house. "Before we go to my place, there's someone I very much want you to meet. She's not expecting us, but I'm sure it'll be okay."
        With a smudge of flour on one cheek, wiping her hands on a red-and-white checkered dishtowel, Agnes answered the door, saw the car in the driveway, and said, "Paul! You're not walking?"
        "Couldn't carry these three ladies," he said. "Svelte as they are, they still weigh more than a backpack."
        Quick introductions were made in the process of moving from the porch to the foyer, and Agnes said, "Come on back to the kitchen, I'm baking pies."
        The rich aromas on the air would have thwarted the will of the most devout monks on a fast of penitence.
        Grace said, "What is that wonderful smell?"
        "Peach, raisin, walnut pies," Agnes said, "with regular bottom crust and a chocolate-crackle top crust."
        "This is the devil's workshop," Celestina declared.
        In the kitchen, Barty sat at the table, and Paul's heart pinched at the sight of the boy in padded eyepatches.
        "You must be Barty," Grace said. "I've heard all about you."
        "Sit down, sit down," Agnes urged. "I can offer coffee now and pie in a little bit."
        Celestina had a delayed reaction to Barty's name. An odd look came over her. "Barty? Short for… Bartholomew?"
        "That's me," said Barty.
        To her mother, Celestina said, "What did you mean when you said you'd heard all about Barty here?"
        "Paul told us the night he first came to the parsonage. About Agnes here… and what had happened to Barty. And all about his late wife, Perri. I feel like I know Bright Beach already."
        "Then you have a big advantage, and you'll have to tell us all about yourselves," Agnes said. "I'll get the coffee brewing… unless you'd like to help."
        Grace and Celestina fell at once into the rhythms of kitchen work, not only brewing the coffee, but also helping Agnes with the pies.
        Six captain's chairs encircled the big round table, one for everybody, including Agnes, but only Paul and Barty stayed seated.
        Fascinated by this strange new realm, Angel returned to her chair periodically, between explorations, to sip apple juice and to reveal her latest discoveries: "They got yellow shelf paper. They got potatoes in a drawer. They got four kinds of pickles in the refrigerator. They got a toaster under a sock with pictures of birds on it."
        "It's not a sock," Barty explained. "It's a cozy."
        "A what?" Angel asked.
        "A toaster cozy."
        "Why's it have birds on it? Do birds like toast?"
        "Sure they do," Barty said. "But I think Maria embroidered the birds just because they were pretty."
        "Do you have a goat?"
        "I hope not," Barty said.
        "Me too," Angel said, and then she went exploring again.
        Agnes, Celestina, and Grace were soon working together with