“DADDY!” A little voice from inside. “Who is it?”
Madison appeared. Seven years old. Blonde pigtails. Missing front teeth. She saw my leather vest and her eyes went wide.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you find Daisy? I prayed for a motorcycle angel to find her!”
Her father started crying. “Madison, honey…”
“She’s at my house,” I said. “She had surgery. The tumor’s gone. She’s recovering.”
Madison screamed. Pure joy. Jumped up and down. “I knew it! I knew angels rode motorcycles! Mommy was right!”
Her father pulled me aside. “I can’t pay you back.”
“Didn’t ask you to.”
“Why would you do this?Continue reading…
