‘Come and see what Dad brought!’ her brother Brad’s excited voice filtered through her open window.
‘Come on!’ he urged her.
Grumbling to herself, for she did not want the leave her copy of ‘Flowers in the Attic’ right at this critical stage, she got up and trudged outside into the blinding heat of the afternoon.
Her mother, father and brother were standing in the driveway, admiring a car she had never seen before.
Her mother was tilting her head this way and that, marveling at the way the paint looked blue in one light and purple in another.
Her brother was sitting in the drivers seat, pretending to race the Supercross while her father rambled incessantly to whoever was listening, (which, coincidentally was no one) about the power of the engine and miles per gallon of gas.
Wide eyed, she ran down the front steps and up to the car to run her hands along the body.
‘Dad! Were the heck’d you get this?’
‘Ain’t she a beaut? Thought we needed a new car, for our trip east and all.’ He continued to ramble on while she thoroughly inspected the car, inside and out.
Through all the rambling, she managed to figure out that this car was her dad’s present to their mother for a very belated Mother’s day.
Over dinner that night, the car was the favorite topic of conversation.
The ‘Blue Haze’ as their father had nicknamed it.
The brand new BMW that would take them from their home in the San Fernando Valley north of Los Angeles to Raleigh, North Carolina the home of their grandparents.
All 3612 miles of it.
After dinner was cleared, her and her brother pleaded relentlessly for just one spin in the car before bed that night.
Finally, their father relented, but their mother could not be budged.
Laughing gleefully, she raced her brother out to the car, unfortunately, her brother won and called shotgun.
With only a little annoyance, she climbed into the backseat and buckled her seat belt.
Her father joined them and asked, ‘Are we ready to burn some rubber?’
Her brother whooped for joy and she waved cheerfully to her mother who was watching them from the front porch, camera in hand.

As the memory unfolded in her mind, the girl squirmed further under her covers and covered her face in her hands.
The worst was yet to come but she could not stop remembering until it was all over.

They flew down their street and out onto the expressway that led away from LA.
‘Wanna see how fast she can really go?’ her father called from the behind the wheel.
They both screamed in agreement.
She watched as her father floored the accelerator and she felt the car surge forward in response.
Roaring down Interstate 5, she threw back her head and squealed in glee.
This car was awesome.
As they cleared the suburbs of LA and entered open road, the car seemed to glide along, not on the road but a few inches above it.
It was like they were flying.
Then something made her look out the window.
She saw a red Cadillac racing up beside them, the driver sneering, trying to pass them.
‘Dad! There’s a car that’s trying to beat us!’ she informed her father.
Big mistake.
‘Cool! Let’s drag ‘em!’ her brother suggested.
Fatal mistake.
Gunning the engine again, their father was not one to pass up the chance for a challenge.
‘Woo hoo! Let’s show this nobody what this little car can do!’
For about five miles, the cars sped along next to each other, sometimes their car would hold the lead, sometimes the other car would be a nose in front.
Faster and faster.
Then came the corner.
‘Devil’s Bend’ as locals would call it.
She watched as the other car slowed down to take the corner safely, just a little in front.
‘Ha! Sucker! He slowed down! We’ve got him now!’
And her father managed to find a little more oomph in the car and sped into the corner.
The next few minutes seemed to pass in slow motion, the actual four minutes that it took seemed like about twenty.
The car spun, this way, that, out of control.
She screamed, her voice mingling with her brothers and the car tires.
The road was slippery. She didn’t know why.
The barrier on the left-hand shoulder loomed closer, closer.
She screamed.

A strangled cry rose from her lips as she thrashed at her sheets.
Why?
Why?
Was all she could scream.

The days after that went by without her even realizing.
One day, two days, a week.
She attended her fathers funeral in body but somehow not in spirit.
She was still back there, in the car, in the ravine by the side of Interstate 5.

Struggling to return to the present, she dragged herself out of the bed and sat down at her desk.
The poems were there.
The pages and pages of heart-wrenching words that filled her days now.
But not even these poems could help her regain the faith that she had once had in life.
The faith that she had lost that sunny day.
Suddenly, she became aware that her radio was playing and the beginning notes to a song managed to float into her head.
Soft, haunting music, notes on a piano.
Then, a voice, a soft, lilting voice, the emotion all too clear.
The words he was singing, the words by which his voice betrayed all his emotions.
Then another voice, and another.
There were three.
Three angels, singing.
The girl stared wide eyed at the radio and listened to the words coming from those voices.

…….When you have no light to guide you
and no one to walk beside you
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you
When the night is dark and stormy
you won’t have to reach out for me
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you........... 

A strange feeling washed over her.
A strange feeling that she could actually feel the words that these young boys were singing.
As if they were singing them solely to her.

…….Sometimes when all your dreams
may have seen better days
when you don’t know how or why
but you’ve lost your way
have no fear when your tears are falling,
I will hear your spirit calling
and I swear that I’ll be there
come what may……….

…….When you have no light to guide you
and no one to walk beside you
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you
When the night is dark and stormy
you won’t have to reach out for me
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you…….

Wooah, na na na na na na, na na na na na,
I will come you ne na na na na,
na na na na na na
‘cause even if we can’t be together,
we’ll be friends now and forever
and I swear that I’ll be there
come what may……….

…….When the night is dark and stormy
you won’t have to reach out for me
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you…….

We all need somebody we can turn to
wooah oh,
someone who’ll always understand
so if you feel that your soul is dyin’
and you need the strength to keep tryin’
I’ll reach out and take you hand…….

Wooah, na na na na na na, na na na na na,
I’ll reach out or your hand na na na na na, na na
na na na na
wooah oh oh
I will come to you……..woah-oah

…….When you have no light to guide you
and no one to walk beside you
I will come to you, oh, I will come to you…….
When the night is dark and stormy
you won’t have to reach out for me
oh, I will come to you, oh, I will come to you
oh, I will come to you…...
oh, I will come to… you...
oh, oh, oh oh oh oh
oh, I will come to you…….
oh, I will come to you……………..

A strangled cry escaped her lips and then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over and she didn’t even know what it was called.
She didn’t even remember half the words.
She only remembered the voices.
And something the DJ had said about three blond haired boys.
Something made her glance down at the papers again on her desk again.
There was something that had not been there before.
A white piece of paper, actually that had been there before, a clean sheet she had put there before she had been lost in her memory, ready on which to spill more of her soul.
Only the page was not empty anymore.
There was something written in large flowing handwriting across the middle of it.
She picked it up with awe.
She read the words in silent amazement, for it was her hand that had written them, there was no doubt of that, but she could not honestly remember putting pen to paper in the last few minutes.
Yet the words told her differently.

When you have no light to guide you
and no one to walk beside you...........
I will come to you

Was printed neatly across the page.
At first she frowned at them, where had they come from?
Then she realized.
The song.
Those voices.
Those soft, soulful voices that had invaded her memory and filled her with the strangest feeling she had ever encountered before.
Hope.

The small piece of paper never left her.
Safely tucked in her purse, along with the photo of her family that had been taken in front of the ‘Blue Haze’ that day, it stayed, always.
She never heard the song again, but hearing it that one time had brought her a sense of peace that she had not experienced since before that day.
A sense of faith, hope and almost forgiveness, for that day.
And although she never heard it again, she knew she didn’t need to, for it played in her mind and in her heart constantly, softly, raising in volume when she needed it most.
Those three voices and that haunting melody was inscribed on her heart.
And whenever she had no light to guide her, and no one to walk beside her, it would play.
And she knew whoever it was would come to her, whenever she needed them.
Her days became brighter, she could now live her life without being shadowed, as she had been for so long.
She had the faith to go on.
That one song she would never forget had given her back the faith she had lost so long ago.
She had found faith in the form of three blond haired angels............

~*~*~ @}-}---- ~*~*~

I would like to dedicate this story to some people who I know will never read this, but I thank you for everything and hope you know you are my strength, Kristin, Nicki, all my friends, family and of course Hanson.
Without the strength and faith that these people, and the One have brought into my life....I don't know.....I just thank you.
The power of Hanson's music on my life is beyond words, the faith and reason to believe it has brought me.......I just wish there was someway to thank them....and all the people who help me.
All I can do is offer you the world of happiness and the light to follow your dreams.
thank you.....

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