Noah (Angel Institute #7)

Chapter 9

Nine

WILL

I am down for a sing-along. I love this stuff. I wanted to be in the choir, but my voice is too distinctive. It’s not bad; it’s just bold. I’ve never been one to hold back a song. “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” was fantastic. It was all I could do not to throw my arms wide and sing a big finish, complete with jazz hands.

I watch Noah as we start the next song. He doesn’t see me because he’s so focused on Paige. I really like that woman for him. She gets him out of the house and participates in life.

He’s good for her, too. I can sense their emotions, everyone’s really, but I try to stay focused on the two of them. She feels more like herself when he’s around. He validates her and values her for who she is without trying to change her.

I looked her up last week after their snowshoeing date. Paige’s YouTube channel wasn’t her first attempt at being an influencer. She and an ex-boyfriend started a channel three months before she went solo. He was awful. He talked over her. He hogged camera time. And, when given the chance, he’d cut her out of the scene. I think he just kept her around to hold the camera.

Which explains why she talks so much—she has words built up inside.

The first notes of the next carol rise into the night air, and I notice something change in Noah’s posture. He straightens slightly and begins to sing, his voice soft but clear.

I move closer, intrigued by this small shift. Noah’s never struck me as the type to participate willingly in group activities like this. Yet here he is, singing along.

Paige notices, too. I see her glance at Noah, a soft smile playing on her lips. She leans in closer to him, their shoulders touching as they harmonize on the chorus. It’s a small gesture, but I can see the way it affects Noah.

As I observe this interaction, something begins to stir in my mind. I can’t quite put my finger on what I’m seeing. It’s like …. Gah! I can’t grab it.

The caroling continues, the group moving from one song to the next. With each carol, I notice more of these small, seemingly insignificant moments. The way Noah’s fingers brush against Paige’s as they turn a page in the song booklet. The shared laugh when they both stumble over a particularly tricky lyric. The soft smile that lingers on Noah’s face as he watches Paige enthusiastically lead a round of “Jingle Bells.”

It’s during “O Holy Night” that the realization fully hits me. It’s not the big, dramatic moments that are changing Noah. It’s these small, everyday interactions. These tiny sparks of joy, connection, and peace.

Real change, I now realize, doesn’t always come from a big event. It’s a slow, subtle process built on a foundation of small moments and minor shifts.

As the caroling winds down, I watch Noah and Paige walk together toward the hot chocolate stand. They talk softly, their words indistinct, but their body language speaks volumes. Noah is relaxed and open in a way I’ve rarely seen him.

They find a quiet spot near one of the decorated trees, sipping their cocoa and continuing their conversation.

“You have a nice voice,” Paige says, her tone gently teasing. “You’ve been holding out on me, Bennett.”

Noah ducks his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing special,” he mumbles.

“I disagree,” Paige replies firmly. “It’s part of what makes you, you. And that’s pretty special in my book.”

I watch as Noah processes this compliment. It’s a small thing, just a few kind words, but I can almost see the impact it has on him.

I think about my role in all this and feel lost. I’m not over there. I’m not talking to Noah and encouraging him to take the next step in his journey. Paige is.

Who made her a guardian angel-in-training?

I grunt. Jealousy is not an emotion I want to grab hold of, and I quickly shoo it from my mind.

The night grows colder, and I notice Noah instinctively move closer to Paige, offering her warmth. She leans into him, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. Neither acknowledges this shift explicitly, but I can see the contentment on both their faces.

Noah is changing, growing, and opening up to life’s possibilities. And it’s happening not through grand epiphanies or dramatic turning points but through these small, precious moments of connection and joy. My mind is whirling with this new understanding. My role as a guardian angel is different in practice than it was in theory. I always leaned towards the case studies with big moments, reveals, and epiphanies because they seemed better somehow.

I’m not sure how I fit into the picture here. If I can’t help Noah learn the things he needs to learn, what is my purpose? I need to get to work and find a way to be of service to him instead of sitting on the sidelines. He’s my assignment—not Paige’s. Which means it’s up to me to help him move along.