Steve Perry:Touched by an angle(fan fiction)

STEVE PERRY
TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL

Steve Perry, lead singer of the rock band Journey, returned home from another day at the recording studio. He and his band mates, Neal Schon, Jonathan Cain, Ross Valory, and Steve Smith, the drummer; had decided to put together an album of Christmas songs. Today, they were selecting the music for the album. Their manager, Herbie Herbert, had invited them all to dinner, his treat. But, Steve said he wasn't hungry, and opted out of the invitation.

The lights flipped on as the homeowner entered. Steve looked around at the cold, empty vastness of the house. It was as welcoming as a bear's cave. Neal, Jonathan, and Ross were married, with families waiting for them. Even Smithy had a family at home. It wasn't their fault he had never settled down, and gotten married. Not their fault that Sherri Swoford, his ex-girlfriend, broke his heart the way she had. And, it certainly wasn't their fault that he was, as Neal had said, a mama's boy.

Steve washed his face, and brushed his teeth for bed. On the nightstand, he kept three pictures that meant the most to him. The first was of his mother, Mary, who had died of cancer. As she was dying, she made Steve promise he wouldn't start another solo project until Journey was finished.

His mother was the only person who had ever really understood him. She saw his talent at a time when Steve himself had doubts. It was at her urging that he had auditioned at all for Journey. After he was hired, she bought the eight-track cassette of her son's first album for her car. With motherly pride, she would play it for anyone who got into the car with her!

The second picture was of his daughter, Shamira. Shamira had been born of a relationship Steve had before being hired with Journey.

An old girlfriend was moving out of state, and Steve wanted to give her something to remember him by. His daughter was thirteen before her mother made her existence known. Her father remembered the paternal love he felt for her. Shamira was married now, with a family of her own.

Steve turned to the third, and final, photograph. His granddaughter, Mary, who had been named for her great-grandmother. The child in the picture was four-years-old. Her sable hair pulled up into pigtails. Affection warmed his heart as Steve regarded the bright-eyed little girl. Luckily, she had inherited her father's nose, and not his own beak.

"I wish you could have lived to see little Mary, Mom." Steve ventured. He moved the pictures so they could be as close as possible. He smiled, and blew them a kiss.

Steve reached over to turn off the lamp, but something stopped him. From the corner of the room, a light had appeared. Its gentle warmth stayed his hand. Steve froze, and slowly withdrew. He turned to see a woman with long, auburn hair was standing there. She was dressed all in white, and shone like the sun. She smiled, gently.

"How did you get into my house?"

The vision spoke, her voice carried the lilt of Ireland. "My name is Monica. I am an angel."
Instinctively, Steve rose from the bed, and knelt before the visitor. She continued. "Do not be afraid, Steve Perry. The Lord has sent me to you."

"Am . . . I in trouble?"

"No," she gently assured him. "Tomorrow, the Lord will come to visit you."

"You're kidding!" Steve could hardly believe his ears. "What does he want with me? I'm just a rock star. Wouldn't the Pope be a better choice?"

"God has chosen you, Steve. Tomorrow, he will come to you."

Feeling humbled, Steve lowered his eyes. "Thank you for the tip off, Monica," he said. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Hey, wait. When . . .." Steve looked up to see the angel had vanished as quickly as she had come. "God is coming to visit me. God is coming to visit me!" Steve muttered as he returned to bed.

Un-nerved by the visit, Steve was unable to sleep that night. Thoughts kept racing through his head. Would God come to the house, or the studio? When? What hour? Morning? Mid-day? Dinnertime? What would you serve such an important guest? Wondering, Steve began to doze, only to be awakened by the ringing alarm clock!

Steve showered, and chose a tie to wear to the studio. He also removed the hat he had worn in the "Oh, Sherrie" video from the closet. Steve dressed, and was brushing his long, ebony hair when the phone rang. He hurried to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Dad," it was his daughter's voice.

"Shami! How are you, sweetheart?"

"You haven't left for the studio yet, have you?"

"No, but I was on my way. What's wrong?"

The new baby, Steve's grandson, had taken ill with a high fever. Shamira and her husband had their hands full with him, so she asked grandpa to take little Mary for the day.

Steve's mouth flexed as he remembered the angel's words. But, his daughter needed him. "Be right there, baby girl." He promised.

Steve drove to his daughter's house. Shamira's husband had left for work already, so Mary watched from the front window. She came to meet her grandfather as he got out of the car.

"Grandpa!" She called, running to him with outstretched arms. "Hey! Hey!" The aging long hair stooped, and caught his grand daughter in a bear hug. Small arms encircled his neck as he lifted her.

"How's my little angel?" He kissed her tenderly, in greeting.

"Baby's sick," she informed him.

"I know. Your mommy called, and said you and I could spend a few days together. We'll have lots of fun," Steve assured the child. "Do you have your things ready?"

"Yeah. They're in the house."

"Let's get them, shall we?"

Mary nodded. Steve set the little girl down, and took her by the hand. Shamira met them at the door. The backpack was in Mary's room.

"Don't forget your toothbrush, Munchkin!" Her mother reminded her.

"Ok!" Mary called back, scampering to obey.

"How is he?" Steve asked after his grandson's health.

"He's sleeping now, but cried most of the night, Dad." Shamira led the way to the baby's room. Gently, the rock stay laid a hand on the littlest one's brow. Steve frowned.

"Shami! He's burning up!"

"I've given him Children's Tylenol," the baby's mother said. Her father shook his head. "I think you'd better get him to a doctor!"

"That's why I asked you to take Mary. I hope she won't be a bother."

"No bother at all," Steve assured his daughter.

The two exited the room as Mary appeared. Her purple, Dora the Explorer backpack slung over one shoulder. She carried a blue, plush monkey doll, with red boots, in her arms. "Ready now?" Steve's eyes twinkled.

"I am," Mary lifted the doll to her ear, and listened to what it had to say. "Boots said he's ready too."

"Then, we're set. Say good-bye to your mother," Steve instructed.

"Bye, mommy," Mary hugged her mother in farewell. "I hope brother feels better real soon."

"So do I, honey." Shamira kissed her daughter. "Be a good girl, now. Mind grandpa."

Steve took the backpack. "Today's my turn to get the donuts," he said. "Think you can help me pick out some good ones?"

Mary nodded, emphatically. She was certain of that. She noticed the hat in the front seat as her grandfather strapped her into the back car seat. "Grandpa, are you going to church?" She asked as he slid into the front driver's seat.

"What?"

"Well, you're wearing a tie, and your hat's in the car."

"I'll tell you something, Mary, but you have to promised to keep it a surprise." Wide-eyed, the little girl promised to do as told. "Grandpa's going to get a very important visitor today. Last night, I met an angel named Monica. She said God was coming for a visit today."

"Really?" Mary breathed in wonder.

"I don't know when He'll show up, and I want it to be a surprise. Think you can do that?" Steve also didn't want someone to laugh at him. Mary promised to keep the secret.

The donut shop featured a new flavor, Jelly Belly donuts. "Straight from the bean," Steve guessed, setting Mary to giggling. He ordered two of those for the dozen. "Those are Jon's favorites."

Steve and Mary arrived at the studio, and were greeted by the sound of men arguing. Clutching Boots, Mary pressed closer to her grandfather. The argument was between Neal and Jonathan in the break room. They barely noticed Steve enter.

"Hey! Quit scaring my grand daughter!" He scolded.

Neal turned, eyes flashing, and saw Little Mary peeking at him from behind her grandfather. "Why, Mary!" The guitar player stooped to be at the child's eye level. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Neither did I," Steve admitted. He stroked her pigtails, reassuringly. "This little one's brother's sick, and I get to watch her for a couple of days."

"Are you feeling any better today, Steve?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"A little. And, you two watch your mouths. There's a child present."

"Two," Neal corrected, rising.

"Shut up, Schon!" The keyboardist snapped. Fearful, Mary hid behind her grandfather's leg. Steve set the donut box on the table. "What happened?" The lead singer wanted to know.

Neal explained that he and Jonathan had been at the studio earlier in the day. Jonathan had bought a bag of his favorite candy, Jelly Belly jellybeans, and left them on the table as Neal took out the trash. By the time the two returned, the bag was gone! Jonathan turned an accusing eye to Neal!

"Now, you don't know Neal threw them out, or ate them," Steve reasoned.

"Then, what happened!?" Jonathan demanded.

"Maybe God ate them," Mary volunteered in a little voice. Steve swiftly looked at her, his round face miming surprise. "Tattle tail!" He playfully scolded.

"What?" Neal looked at Steve questioningly.

"Secret's out, so I guess I can tell you. I met an angel last night."

"In what bar?" Jonathan teased.

"She appeared in my room, said her name was Monica. She was the real thing. Anyway, she said God would come for a visit today."

Neal almost choked on his donut. "What? God's coming here?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. I don't even know when He'll show up, or if it'll be here."

"So, you'd better behave yourselves." Mary admonished the quarrelers, making them smile.

Steve turned on the TV in the waiting area. While Mary was occupied, the musicians began rehearsal. Steve began to play the opening tune for "Hymn of Joy", when, suddenly, Mary ran to him.

"There's a stranger in there!" She announced, hiding her eyes against his shoulder.

"A stranger?" Steve stopped playing. They paused to listen. From the break room came a soft, rustling sound. Quickly, Steve rose from the piano bench. "Stay here," he instructed his grand daughter.

Cautiously, Steve approached the break room, and peered around the corner. A scrawny girl, in rags, was hungrily eating a donut. Beside her, on the table, was Jonathan's bag of jellybeans, half eaten. Not wanting to alarm the visitor, Steve retreated into the studio.

"Hey, Jon-boy, I think I know what happened to your candy. You and Neal come with me, and don't make any sudden movements."

The musicians approached the break room. The visitor was a girl of sixteen, her long, blond hair hung in strings, and she looked like she could use a bath. Her clothing was just as dirty. She wore a ragged, plaid shirt, and jeans. Dirt was the only thing that kept her worn out sneakers from falling apart.

"Excuse me," Steve called to her. Startled, the girl spun around. "Whoa!"

"How did you get in here?" Neal demanded, dryly.

"I was living in a box out back. I was cold. I saw you take out the trash, and ducked in," the scrawny girl explained.

Neal's mouth flexed, and he swallowed hard. As the girl had said it, he remembered that he hadn't shut the door! This time the intruder was a homeless, teenaged girl. The next time, the visitor may not be so pleasant. How could he have been so stupid!

"I'm sorry," the girl began to stammer. "I just . . . I . . . wanted to come in for a while."

"Do you know who we are?" Steve asked.

"Should I know?" It was obvious she neither knew, nor cared.

"We're Journey. I'm Steve Perry; this is Jon Cain, and Neal Schon. What's your name?"

"Katie Holmes!"

"Where's Tom Cruise?" Jonathan grinned.

"Sleeping on Oprah's couch! How would I know?!"

Neal noticed the candy bag, and snatched it from the table. "Here's your precious candy, Jon! Told you I didn't take it!"

Jonathan grabbed the bag. "So, you're the thief." Neal rolled his eyes in disgust. "You're worse than a two-year-old!"

"Knock it off, both of you!" Steve came to Katie's defense. "Poor kid's hungry."

"Yeah, I guess so," Jonathan's anger lessened with the knowledge that his candy had been eaten by someone who needed a meal.

"Are you going to call the cops on me?" Katie asked, timid. Fear mounted in her voice. "I'm not going back home! Do you hear?!"

"No, we won't call the cops," Steve promised. "But, you'll have to work off those jelly beans." Jonathan added. "How do you feel about baby-sitting?"

"I am not a baby!" Retorted Mary, who had been listening.

"Hey! No listening!" Neal shot back.

"If you won't go home, maybe there's another place." Steve had thought of something.

"Not foster care! And, not juvie, either!" Katie protested.

"Neither one. It's a place I've heard of, Covenant House. It's a shelter for kids like you, Katie."

"No!"

"They won't send you back home, if you don't want to go," Steve promised. "Just think about it."

Journey returned to work, while Katie kept Mary company in the waiting area. Steve could often hear the two girls giggling at something on the television.

"Do you watch "Sesame Street"?" Mary asked.

"Not hardly. TV was my old man's toy. When it was on, stay away from him if you know what's good for you."

"Are you a runaway?"

"Yeah, are you?"

"No!" Mary giggled. "My baby brother’s sick, so mommy asked Grandpa to take me so I won't get sick."

"Your grandpa seems ok," Katie commented. "And, that Cain-guy handled that jelly bean-thing better than my old man would have."

"Would you get a time out?"

"If I was lucky. But, he probably would have taken a strap to me."

"I'm four," Mary announced, not fully understanding what Katie had told her. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"No way! You're older than grandpa! He's fourteen!"

Katie glanced at the door, and grinned. "Not hardly, kid." Loud laughter was heard from the studio. Katie laughed, then ran a hand over her flat stomach.

"Are you going to throw up?"

"No. I think I'm getting hungry."

As if on cue, Steve appeared in the doorway, smiling. "Hey, does anyone want something to eat?"

"I'd like that. Thanks." A shy smile played on Katie's lips.

"Well, we've got sandwich stuff in the 'fridge. You two go, wash your hands, then have a bite."

The men fixed themselves sandwiches. Steve made two additional, one for Katie, and one for Mary. After she had eaten, Katie smiled. "Thanks for the sandwich, Mr. Perry."

"Just call me Steve, honey."

"You know, the more I think about it, the more I want to give the geeks a shot."

"You mean Covenant House?" Katie nodded. "Yeah, them."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Steve approved. "Let's see if there's a phone book around here, I'll let them know you're coming."

"You're doing the right thing, Kid," Jonathan also approved. "You can't live out of cardboard boxes forever."

Steve found the phone number for Covenant House, and phoned them to tell of the impending arrival. Glancing at his watch, he offered Katie a ride.

"What about your visitor?" Neal reminded him.

"I won't be gone long," Steve answered with a shrug.

"Why don't you leave the squirt here?" Jonathan suggested. "Uncle Neal, and I will watch her."

"Yeah, this way, God will know He's got the right place." Neal agreed.

"Do you mind, Mary?"

"No." Mary lifted Boots to her ear. "Boots said he doesn't mind."

"O.k., well, be a good girl for "uncle" Jon. And, don't let "uncle" Neal teach you any dirty words."

Neal's eyes arched in surprise as he affected and innocent, "Who? Me?"

On the drive over to the shelter, Katie began to open up to Steve about the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father. Her mother had died when she was Mary's age, and, in a way, it sent her father "off the deep-end." Every time Katie had gone into foster care, thinking she was finally free, the courts would send her back to her father. The cycle would begin again! Finally, Katie decided to take matters into her own hands, and ran away.

As she talked, anger filled the soft-spoken rock star. He remembered the paternal love he had felt when he met Shamira for the first time, and Mary's innocent helplessness when he had held the baby. He managed to keep his anger in check as he said, "Life on the streets ain’t much better."

They were met at Covenant House by Tess, an older black woman, whose hair was turning white in a patch on the forehead. She was dressed in an African print outfit, and matching hat. Steve accompanied Katie as Tess showed her around the facility.

"See, this ain’t so bad," the aging rock star prompted.

"Yeah, I think I might like it here." Katie turned to Steve, and gave him a firm hug of gratitude. "I wish you were my dad."

"Good luck, Katie," Steve gently returned her hug. He wiped the tears from her dirty face. "No looking back now. Only forward."

"Sounds like good advice to me," added another counselor, Andrew, who arrived to show Steve the way out. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some clean clothes," Tess suggested, herding Katie out of the room. The teen paused, momentarily. "Mr. Perry!" She called. He stopped, and looked back at her, questioningly. "Thanks." A grateful smile lit her face.

"Don't look back, baby," he gently reminded her as the two parted company.

Steve started his car, and pulled from the parking lot. A thought occurred to him. His mother would often bake a cake whenever she knew company was coming. He remembered the banana-spice cake she had often made for his birthday. Maybe, he could try his hand at one.

Steve bought cake mix, bananas, and Cool Whip at the market. Ahead of him, in the checkout line, was an old, Chinese woman, with a cartload of groceries. The check out girl explained to the woman that she had more groceries than money!

"What that you say? I not have enough?" The old woman turned a worried eye to Steve. "How I make such mistake?! I counted it twice!"

Steve fished his wallet from his pocket, and pulled out a credit card. "Put her bill with mine," he instructed. The clerk did as told.

"I need groceries for my husband," the woman explained, falling into step alongside the man who had come to her aid. "My husband isn't well. I make soup for him."

"Glad to help, Ma'am," Steve said, politely tipping his hat.

The two exited the store, and Steve scanned the parking lot. "Where's your car?"

"I ride bus. Looks like I must wait."

"Where do you live?" Steve heard himself ask. The address given was two blocks down from the recording studio! He offered his new friend a ride, she accepted. "I Mrs. Lee." She introduced herself.

"Steve Perry, ma'am."

Steve drove Mrs. Lee to her apartment, and helped her carry the groceries upstairs. "You stay for supper?" She invited.

"Thanks, but no. My recording studio's two blocks away. I have to get my grand daughter before "uncle" Neal teaches her words I'll have to teach out of her!"

"I understand. Thanks for help."

Steve walked back to the studio, and learned that there had been no sign of the Almighty. "Maybe He'll be at the house," Steve decided. "Want to help grandpa bake a cake, Mary?"

Neal and Jonathan barely concealed their laughter. "I think I smell smoke!" Jonathan teased. "Shall I call the fire department?" Neal laughed. Steve's eyes twinkled. "Shut up!" The lead singer retorted. "I'd like to see you two do better."

As they drove back to the house, Mary reported that she had helped with rehearsal. "They let me play the drums on "Little Drummer Girl"." Steve thought for a minute. "That's "Little Drummer Boy", honey."

"I'm not a boy, silly! I'm a girl!"

"Oh, I get it." Steve chuckled at the idea. Neal and Jonathan played the tune, while the little girl banged away on the drums. "Maybe Herbie will let me put that on the album." Little Mary beamed with childish pride.

There was a message from Shamira on the answering machine when Steve entered the house. She had been to the doctors, and the baby had been diagnosed with a severe case of the flu, and colic. He had been given medicine, but Mary would need to stay with her grandfather a few more days. Steve glanced down at Little Mary. "What's wrong with my brother, Grandpa?" She asked, concerned.

"He's very sick, little one. You'll need to stay with me a little longer."

"Will he die?" Mary asked, wide-eyed. The seriousness of her little face made the singer smile. He hugged the child close. "No, baby. He won't die. The doctor gave him medicine to make him feel better. It'll take time to work, is all."

In the house, Steve had set up a playroom for whenever the grandchildren came for a visit. For Christmas, he had bought Mary a Barbie doll's kitchen, complete with plastic food. Steve went to change out of his work clothes, while Mary set her backpack in the playroom. Her grandfather laughed when she emerged with her frilly, Barbie apron, and matching chef's hat.

"What are you dressed up for?"

"You're going to bake a cake, aren't you?"

"So I am. I guess you want to help," Steve teased.

Down in the kitchen, Steve let Mary crack eggs into the mix. While Steve stirred the batter, Mary prepared the cake pans. Under her grandfather's watchful eye, she greased and floured the pans, but managed to get as much flour on herself as was in the pans!

Steve slid the cake pans into the oven, and dusted the flour from his grand daughter's face. "Say, Mary, how would you like to go for a swim in the pool?"

"Can I, Grandpa?"

"Sure. Run along, and get changed. I think I have a pair of swim trunks around here. We'll leave the window open so we can hear the timer when the cakes are done."

Mary hurried up to the playroom. Steve searched his bureau drawers for the swim trunks. The trunks were black, with a white streak down the side. They reached to his knees. Mary wore a blue-green swimsuit with the picture of a mermaid on it. Steve slathered on the sunscreen. Trying to follow her grandfather's example, Mary took the bottle. Steve stopped her before she dumped out too much.

He fitted the floaters onto his grand daughter's little arms, then led her outside. Steve dove into the pool, and beckoned for Mary to join him. She jumped in with an un-impressive splash, and dog-paddled the short distance to her grandfather's waiting arms.

The two laughed and splashed each other until a beeping sound was heard from the kitchen. The cakes were done, and needed time to cool. It was time to get out of the pool. Steve dried Mary, and sent her inside to get a shower. Steve got a shower in his own room.

In his jeans and tee shirt once more, Steve returned from the kitchen, and took the cakes from the oven. What to make for dinner? Surely God would come at dinnertime. Maybe some barbecues chicken. That was always a crowd favorite.

Mary entered in her shorts and tee shirt. Steve informed her that she could help slice bananas into the Cool Whip. The cakes were still too warm to be frosted, but this way the whipped cream would be ready.

Mary ate a few slices of banana, but carefully folded the pieces into the cream. Steve said he was going to cook on the grill, outside by the pool.

"So you can see God when he comes?" Mary guessed. Steve nodded, "Exactly."

Mary fetched another toy her grandfather had bought her. This one was a toy piano, with brightly colored keys. In the corresponding book, were color-coded notes. Mary played with her toy while Steve cooked dinner.

He looked up in time to see movement in the backyard, by the fence. Was this it? The moment for which he had been waiting?

"Looks like God's here, Mary." Steve announced. "Put the toy down, and say hello."

Mary looked up, anxiously, but this proved to be a false alarm. The visitors were two, young Latino men. "Buenos notches, Senior," said the first. "I'm Raphael, and this is Luis-Jose. He's come from Mexico, and has been walking for days. We smelled what you're cooking. Could you spare us a bite, por favor?"

"Uh, well, I have my grand daughter with me," Steve began, hesitant. Luis-Jose looked at Raphael questioningly. Raphael knew more English than his friend, and served as translator.

"We won't be her for very long, Senior. We will leave after dinner."

Steve looked the pair over; they didn't look like a threat. Both were thin. They looked hungry, and tired. "You're welcome to stay here for the night." Steve invited. "Maybe I can set you up with some new clothes, and a fresh pair of shoes."

Luis-Jose's eyes lit up as Raphael told him what Steve had said. Steve could understand a little Spanish, but was more fluent in Portuguese, his native tongue. Luis-Jose shook his hand warmly. "Senior, muchas gracias!"

"I have a shower inside if you two would like to get washed before dinner."

Grateful, the immigrants accepted. While they showered, their host prepared supper. Steve found them new clothes, and shoes. When he returned to the kitchen, Steve blinked and stared. The cake had been assembled, and gloriously frosted. It stood waiting to be eaten. Steve scratched his head. He didn't remember frosting it. Oh, well! Anything's possible.

"Where are you boys headed?" Steve asked over dinner.

Luis-Jose explained that he had lost his job in Mexico. Times grew tight for his family, and he came to America looking for work. A local farmer had been in the village recruiting workers to come to his orange grove. It was good money, and just what Luis-Jose needed to feed his family.

"I think I know this place," Steve said. "If you'd like, I can give you a ride over there in the morning." Raphael translated, and his companions’ eyes lit up. "Si, senior! Muchas gracias!"

"Si means yes," Mary piped up, " and gracias means thank you." She had learned that much from television.

Luis-Jose spoke, and Raphael nodded in agreement. "Si, muchacho. La Nina bonita."

"This is my grand daughter, Mary," Steve introduced them.

"She reminds him of his own daughter," Raphael translated. "You're a beautiful girl, Marita."

"What do you say, Mary?" He grandfather prompted. She thought for a minute, then said, shyly, "Gracias." Luis-Jose's eyes lit up in amusement. He and Raphael chuckled.

The visitors were given the guest rooms, while Mary would sleep on the day bed in the playroom. After she had washed for bed, her grandfather read her a bedtime story. But, Mary was not yet ready to go to sleep.

"Tell me another story, Grandpa," She requested.

"Another?"

"Tell me about being out on the road with groupies!" She urged.

"But, you've heard them all a million times before!" Steve protested with a smile.

"Please!" Mary practically begged.

"All right. Now, let's see," Steve thought for a minute, then began to tell the child about his glory days, on the road with Journey. Mary liked tales about groupies the best. They seemed so unbelievable that the child had to laugh.

"Grandpa, are you rich?" Mary asked.

"I thought I was. But, sometime, life on the road can get lonely."

"Even with all the groupies?"

Steve chuckled, softly. "Yeah, even with all the groupies. They go home, eventually. When their taste in music changes, or if I stop making records, they're gone."

"I'm glad you're here now, Grandpa," Mary commented. She threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Steve returned her affections. "I love you, Grandpa."

"And, I'm all the richer for it," Steve answered. "I love you too, Mary. That's something that'll never go away."

In lullaby tones, Steve sang "Faithfully." Then, he laid Mary and Boots on the day bed, and tucked the blanket around them. "Grandpa, are there monsters under the bed?"

"I already chased them away," Steve answered with a smile. "They won't come back if they know what's good for them."

Satisfied by that, Mary snuggled under the covers. "Good night, Grandpa."

"Good night, love. Sleep tight." Steve gently kissed his grand daughter, then crept from the room, and turned off the lights. He waited outside the door for Mary's breathing to steady into sleep-mode. Then, he headed down the hallway to his own room.

"What a wash out today was!" Steve ventured to himself as he shut the door. "Waiting for a visitor that never showed!"

"He wishes to thank you, Steve," Monica's voice sounded. Steve turned to the angel. "Thank me for what? I waited for God all day, and he never showed up!"

"God did come to you, Steve, and you responded to him with kindness."

"When?" The rock star look puzzled.

"You came to the aid of a young mother with a sick child, and eased her burden."

"Shami called, and asked me to take Mary for the day." Steve protested.

"A wee girl's baby brother was ill. You took her, and cared for her so her mother could see to the baby. You brought peace between two friends who were quarreling."

"Neal and Jon, those two knuckle heads!" Steve grinned. He gasped when Tess appeared, adding her light to Monica's. "You welcomed a homeless teen at the studio, and helped her to find shelter."

Andrew appeared, and the light grew brighter. Steve's eyes widened. "You came to the aid of an old woman who needed groceries." Steve sank to his knees as Raphael appeared. "Don't tell me . . .." Steve hardly knew what to say!

"You gave shelter and a warm meal to a migrant."

Steve's hands flew to cover his mouth, and hide the tears of joy that threatened. "You are never alone, Steve," Monica continued. "God loves you, He is always with you. Your talent has been His gift to you."

The singer lowered his head. "God, thank you! Thank you for coming to me today! Forgive me for not knowing you, or your gifts in my life. I want your love in my life." Steve felt a warmth radiating from within, and wash over him. Tears of joy spilled down his face.

Presently, a little hand touched his shoulder. "Grandpa?"

He looked up; the angels were gone, as was their light. Only Little Mary was at his side. Curious, she touched the tears. "Why are you crying?"

"These are tears of joy, little one." Steve recovered his footing, and lifted Mary in a joyful bear hug. "God has been here! He has! Only, we didn't know it! He loves us all!" Steve swung Mary around.

"Do you love God, Grandpa?"

"Yes, Child. I do!" Steve answered with certainty.

"So do I," Mary added.

"Hey! What are you doing up?" Steve asked, realizing his grand daughter was awake past her bedtime. She held up the monkey doll. "Boots is afraid of the dark."

"He is, is he?" Steve chuckled. "Well, then, Mr. Boots is welcome to come in here, with me."

"Can I come too, in case he gets scared?"

"Very well," Steve chuckled.

Mary and Boots snuggled warmly against him that night. The next morning, Raphael departed before Steve left to drive Luis-Jose to the orange grove. The cake was packed into a cooler to take to the studio, and share among the band mates.

After leaving his houseguest off at the grove, Steve and Mary made a brief stop at the candy store to buy jellybeans for Jonathan. The delicious smell of chicken soup met Steve and Mary as they entered the studio. In addition to Neal and Jonathan, Ross, Smithy, and manager Herbert were in the break room.

At the center of the table was a crock-pot full of wonton soup. There was also some fried rice. The band members were helping themselves when their lead singer entered with his grand daughter.

"What's going on?" He asked, cheerfully. Manager Herbert set down his bowl.

"Perry, what did you do yesterday? Not five minutes ago, a little, old Chinese lady showed up on our doorstep with this. She said she was returning a kindness."

"Oh, that was Mrs. Lee," Steve said. As he dished up soup for Mary, Steve explained to the others about the events of yesterday. He tossed Jonathan the bag of jellybeans. "Mary helped pick them out."

"She did a good job," the keyboardist approved. To Neal's surprise, Jonathan dumped the candy into a paper cup, to be shared.

"Looks like quite a spread," Smithy commented. "Soup, rice, candy."

"And cake," Mary volunteered, as Steve removed it from the cooler.

"That looks good enough to eat," Ross approved.

"Grandpa talks to angels," Mary added. Steve's eyes twinkled at her as he helped himself to the soup.

"What were you drinking?" Smithy teased.

"Nothing," Steve answered. "An angel named Monica appeared to me."

"Did you get her number?" Ross grinned.

"No, but she had mine. She was the real thing, straight from God."

"Speaking of God, Steve, did you ever get your visit?" Neal wanted to know.

"What?" Herbie looked puzzled.

"That's what Monica came to tell me. That God was going to visit," Steve explained.

"Did He?" Ross urged.

Steve nodded. "Yeah, He's been here. And, He'll never leave. You guys had better sit down, it's a long story."





---THE END---
This was written by a fan named sheila. she has a website called Sheila's story shack with which I googled today. You see, I was merely looking for a biography on Steve Perry when I came across her site. I read through her story and loved it. I too, write fan fiction. My two books The Michael Pearce Story and Michael Pearce:Meeting Millie are celebrity based. These books are not published,however, but I will write them in my blog soon. Your task is to figure out who I'm writing about. It will become simple as you read through the books. Another thing I wanted to add is that on the back burner I was planning to write a fan fiction novel on Steve Perry. However, this was before I was introduced to Sheila's work of literature. Sheila has also let me realize that we authors aren't alone. We share the same feelings. All we have to do is look for people like us to relate to.