Making Faces

by Amy Harmon

love you, Fern,” Angie held her niece’s face in her hands as she kissed her cheeks. “Thank you for loving my boy. Thank you for serving him, for never leaving his side. What a blessing you’ve been in our lives.” Angie looked at Ambrose Young, at his strong body and straight back, at the hand that enveloped Fern’s. She let her eyes rest on the sober face marked by his own tragedy, and she spoke to him. “It always amazes me how people are placed in our lives at exactly the right times. That’s how God works, that’s how he takes care of his children. He gave Bailey Fern. And now Fern needs her own angel.” Angie placed her hands on Ambrose’s broad shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye, unashamed of her own emotion, demanding that he listen. “You’re it, pal.” Fern gasped and blushed to the roots of her bright red hair, and Ambrose smiled, a slow curve of his crooked mouth. But Angie wasn’t done, and she removed one of her hands from Ambrose’s shoulder so she could pull Fern into the circle. Ambrose looked over Angie’s blonde head and locked eyes with his old coach. Mike Sheen’s blue eyes were bloodshot and rimmed in red, his cheeks wet with grief, but he tipped his head when Ambrose met his gaze as if he seconded his wife’s sentiments. “Bailey was probably more prepared to die than anyone I’ve ever known. He wasn’t eager for it, but he wasn’t afraid of it either,” Angie said with conviction, and Ambrose looked away from his coach and listened to a wise mother’s words. “He...