"I told your father I'd walk you home." "I meant for good, Daniel. You'd leave here for good."
"I won't let you walk alone."
"Then I'll call April or Pete Bradshaw," I said, even though I knew both of them were at the hockey game.
"I can take you," Don Mooney's voice boomed down the hall. He held a large fudge brownie in his fist, and there was a smudge of chocolate frosting on his chin. "I don't mind."
"That would be nice, Don." I pushed open the door. "Good-bye, Daniel."
Chapter Twenty-two Alpha and Omega
WALKING HOME
I clung to Don's bear like arm as I stumbled down the street. My breath created a thick, white fog around my face, and a migraine pressed behind my eyes--but that's not why I found it so difficult to see. I once would have never believed that I'd be happy to have him as my escort, but I silently thanked God that Don had been there to see me home.
I could tell he wanted to talk to me by the way he sputtered and sighed, as if trying to get up the courage to speak. We were almost to my front porch when he finally said something.
"Are you gonna come with us on deliveries tomorrow?"
"No." I wiped at my face, trying to hide the tears I used to be able to stop myself from crying.
"The Christmas dance is tomorrow evening. I have a date."
"Oh, that's too had." He kicked at the porch step. "I was hoping you would be there." "Why?"
"I wanted you to see," he said. "I bought thirty-two Christmas hams to donate for the parish."
"Thirty-two!" Why did that make my tears come faster? "That must have cost a fortune."
"All my Christmas money and then some," he said. "I wanted to help the needy instead of buying presents this year."
"That's great," I smiled because I knew that Don himself technically fit into the "needy" category.
"I have something for you, though." Don dug into his pocket. "Pastor says I should wait till Christmas, but I want you to have it now. I hope it will make you feel better." He opened his giant fist and offered me a small wooden figurine.
"Thank you." I rubbed away the few tears that remained in my eyes and inspected the present. It was crudely carved, like what a child would make, but I could tell that it was an angel with flowing robes and feathered wings. "It's beautiful." It truly was.
"It's an angel like you."
I tried to hide a frown. The last thing I felt like was an angel after what I'd said to Daniel. "Did you make this with your knife?" I asked. "You didn't put it back, did you?" Don looked around. "You still won't tell, will you? Promise you won't?" "I promise."
"You are an angel." He hugged me around the middle, squeezing all the air out of my lungs. "I'd do anything for you," he said, and finally let go.
"You're a good man, Don." I tentatively patted him on the arm, afraid of another bear hug.
"Thank you for walking me home. You didn't have to."
"Didn't want you going home with that boy." Don grimaced. "He's a mean one. He does bad stuff and calls me 'retard' when no one's around." Don's face flamed red in the lamplight of the porch.
"He's not good enough to be with you." He lowered his voice and leaned in like he had a big secret. "Sometimes, I think he might be the monster."
Don's accusation surprised me--but not the monster part. It made it easier to reject Daniel when I thought of his taunting Don.
"I'm sorry he treats you that way. But don't worry, I won't be hanging around Daniel anymore." I tucked the angel figurine into my dress coat pocket.
"Not Daniel. He does good work for your father and Mr. Day." Don shook his head and slumped down the porch. He stopped at the end of the front walk. "I was talking about the other one."
LATER THAT NIGHT
I was rooting around in the pantry for some ibuprofen, or anything that might make my head stop pounding, when I heard a howl from the front room. I ran to see what it was and found Charity watching her wolf documentary. It was the same part from before, with the two wolves savoring a fresh kill. It seemed extra morbid to me now.
"Why are you still watching this?"
"My final report's due on Friday," Charity said. Her middle school didn't get out for Christmas for another two days. "I wanted to get in a wolfy mood before I finished typing it up." Wolfy mood. She had no idea.
I stood and watched the plight of the little omega wolf, desperate for food but being denied. My heart sank as the alpha lunged at his throat, taking him down into the snow, and snarled into his pleading face. Then the little omega rolled over and exposed his belly and jugular to the alpha--giving up. I wondered how anyone could survive being treated that way his whole life. I thought of Daniel and his father. The way his dad had screamed and snarled at him for any little thing. I remembered how, when Daniel joined my family for dinner, he would stare reluctantly at his food while the rest of us ate--until my dad, joking, would tell him to stop being shy. I remembered all of his bruises. I remembered what it sounded like when his father beat him into oblivion for disobeying his rules about painting in the house. How had Daniel ever survived his father's monster?
But then I realized that he hadn't. He'd let the monster overpower him. The pain had been too great, and he had rolled over and given up, too. That he'd lasted so long was a miracle. And now he faced a lifetime as a monster himself. And even if he died, there was no escape. He'd be damned as a demon for all eternity.
I'd wondered if that was the fate Daniel deserved. But it all seemed different now, like looking at a Seurat painting from a whole new angle. Daniel had done something undeniably wrong. But did he have to live with that mistake forever? Couldn't he be redeemed? Couldn't everyone?
That's what Dad taught with every sermon. It's the meaning of my name. Grace. Or was it possible that some souls could not be saved? Isn't that what demons are? Fallen angels--damned to hell forever. Was Daniel's giving in to the bloodlust such an irredeemable act that he was now one of these fallen angels, too? But perhaps he wasn't actually a demon. Maybe the demon was simply inside of him. Was the wolf trapping Daniel's soul in its clutches, in some kind of limbo, keeping him from salvation?