Christmas Angel

The young girl, though her eyes were closed, lay wide awake beneath her covers. Either side of her, her older sisters slept peacefully, small smiles on spread across their lips. The young girl, Carole, guessed their sleeping happiness had something to do with the music playing softly from the sterio in the corner of the room, and the beautiful, melodic singing. As she rolled onto her back, Carole squeezed her eyes momentarily before relaxing her lids again, all the while listening to the voice singing. The question that always plagued her mind whenever she listened to this tape, who was the singer? The Christmas angel, her sisters called her. But who was she? Who is the Christmas angel?

He sighed as he stood in the doorway of his daughters' room knowing his youngest had not yet drifted off. As quietly as he could manage, he tiptoed over to Carole's bed and sat down on it's edge. "Carole," he said in a whisper. "Sweetie, you're supposed to be asleep!"
"I can't get to sleep Daddy," said Carole, looking at him before slowly averting her eyes a few moments later. "Daddy, who's that?"
"Who Carole?"
"The lady singing Daddy," said Carole, "who is she?"
Carole's father is silent for a while before he says anything. "The lady singing is your mother, Carole," he said, his voice extremely quietly.
"My mummy?" Carole asked breathlessly.
"Yes."
As she melted into the pillows, her father lightly stroked her hair with the tips of his fingers.

Carole couldn't stop the smile spreading over her lips as the next song started to play. For some reason, this Christmas carol had always been her favourite, for as long as she could remember.
"Your mother used to sing this to get you to go to sleep," he said, and Carole jumped involuntarily at the sound of his voice, having not realised he was still there.
"Really?" She asked, and he nodded.

As the song went on, Carole quickly seemed to drift off to sleep, giving her father the chance to creep quietly from the room. He paused momentarily in the doorway, smiling at the sound of his wife's voice. "Merry Christmas, Angela," he said in a whisper. "Sing our girls to sleep, just like you do every year."

When he made to move he just didn't seem able. The memories came back in a wave. He remembered how much she had loved their daughters. How happy they'd been when Carole had been born, and how sad when they learnt she wouldn't be there for it all. He remembered her ingenious idea of recording a tape of Christmas carols, for the girls to remember their mother by. His smile widened as he realised how thankful he was she'd done that.
"Thank you Angela," he said in a whisper. "For preserving yourself as a Christmas Angel."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Merry Christmas everyone! As usual, I'll be taking a short break from posting online over the holidays. See you all on the 7th!