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Angela and the Baby Jesus

He did. He told her in her head to throw the Baby over the wall and recover him on the other side. That was hard. She threw and threw and he wouldn't go over till she threw the third time and over he went.

"Mother o' God!" said Little Angela's mother. "Is that the Baby Jesus from St. Joseph's?"

When everyone said "'Tis," Little Angela stayed silent.

Her mother turned to her. "Angela. Did you put that Baby in the bed? Tell the truth because if you tell a lie in the presence of the Baby Jesus it's worse than any sin in the world."

Little Angela wanted to cry, but she didn't. There was something in her head that told her crying was useless at a time like this.

"I did," she said.

"And why, for the love of God?"

"He was cold in the crib and I wanted to warm him up."

After tea she was allowed to sit by the fire listening to the talk of her family. She always wanted to say something, but she was told she was too young and to shush up. She was only six, so what could she ever say that was important?

Tonight she didn't mind one bit. She had a big secret: Baby Jesus above in the bed nice and warm. It was hard for her to keep that secret, but she could not say a word or they'd all want to see him and play with him like any old doll. She had a doll once which she still cried over when she remembered how her sister, Aggie, pulled its head off and laughed.

Her family laughed again when Pat told them how he'd see Angela with the Baby Jesus in her arms out in the backyard, but when they laughed, he cried, "She have God in the bed, so she do."

Then the terrible thing happened. When she climbed up and looked into her backyard, there was no sign of him. Now what was she going to do? Where did he go? She was only six, but she knew how serious it was to lose the Baby Jesus. If she didn't find him, he'd be cold and calling for his mother.

Ah, there he was, all white in the dark, lying in the backyard of the blind woman next door, Mrs. Blake.

Now, perched on the wall, she talked to him sternly. Here she was trying to help him and there was no excuse for the way he was behaving, flying around like a bird and landing in a backyard where he wasn't supposed to be. She told him, "Baby Jesus, I have a good mind to leave you there in Mrs. Blake's backyard." But she couldn't. If God ever found out, he'd never let her have a sweet or a bun for a whole week. She told the Baby, "When I throw you over the wall, you're not supposed to land in Mrs. Blake's backyard. You're not supposed to be flying around like an angel."

She climbed down to Mrs. Blake's backyard and picked him up. This time, in one throw, he went over the wall into her own yard and that proved he was paying attention even if he had the same smile. She loved the way his hands and arms still reached out the way they did in the crib. She climbed into her own backyard, told him he was a good Baby for going where he was thrown, and hugged him to warm him up in that cold dark December night.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Angela and the Baby Jesus by Frank McCourt Copyright © 2007 by Frank McCourt. Excerpted by permission.
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