Wingman: Alien Castaways (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Cara Bristol

  “Oh, yeah. He’s old.”

  Don’t panic. “Tell me more about him.”

  “He has wings out to here!” Her daughter spread her arms wide. “He has feathers, but they’re sharp. And he can fly fast. He wears a cape, too. He’s like Super Angel!”

  Not real. She exhaled her relief in a whoosh that Izzy hadn’t been approached by a pedophile, but that still left her concerned about the imaginary friends. Had her daughter lost the ability to distinguish between make-believe and reality? Maybe it had been a mistake to humor her fantasy life.

  “That means not real, Isabella. You scared me half to death. Your angel is pretend like Emma and Emily.”

  “No, he’s real, Mom! He’s coming to my party, you’ll see.”

  She rubbed her eyes, gritty from lack of sleep. For the hundredth time, she second-guessed her decision to pull up stakes in Pittsburgh and move to a town she’d visited only once. She’d believed she’d been doing the right thing to keep Izzy safe, but back home her outgoing daughter had been happy and thriving. Having just finished kindergarten, she read at a third-grade level. She’d had many friends. Live, real kids.

  They had to have a serious talk.

  But not on her birthday. She couldn’t ruin this day for her. She would proceed with the tea party for Izzy, her dolls, and the imaginary friends. But after today, Izzy’s “friends” might not be invited over anymore.

  * * * *

  “Can I come out now?” Izzy yelled from the bedroom.

  “Not yet! Couple more minutes!” Delia swatted at a helium-filled balloon that floated into her way, pushed the thumbtack into the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner, and climbed off the stepladder. The sign was a little lower on the right than the left, but Izzy wouldn’t notice.

  She stowed the ladder in the garage then dashed to the kitchen to bring out the food: tiny peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches—mostly for her—some raisin scones, and pretty pink petit fours. She filled a teapot with fruit punch and then arranged the food on the tiny table set for six with delicate china teacups and dessert plates she’d picked up at the antique store in Argent for cheap.

  “Now? Can I come out now?” Izzy called again.

  “Two minutes!”

  “That’s what you said the last two times.”

  Darn kid remembers everything. “Just a little longer!” Delia grabbed Bubbles the bear, snapped a tiny party hat on him, and plunked him in one of the kid-sized chairs. She put Jessica the doll next to him and stuck a hat on her, too. She set two more pint-size hats by the places set for the invisible Emma and Emily, a big hat where she would sit, and the biggest, fanciest hat at Izzy’s place.

  She stepped back and surveyed the living room. Wrapped presents on the side table, check. Guests present and accounted for, check. Food, cake, balloons, birthday banner—check, check, check, and check. One task remained—retrieve the surprise present.

  “Okay! You can come out now!” she yelled.

  Izzy ran into the living room and skidded to a stop. Her eyes danced at the sight of the decorations, the table setting, the presents. “It’s beautiful!” She threw her arms around Delia. “I love you, Mom!”

  “I love you more. Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She kissed her. I promise next year you’ll have a real party with real kids. I’ll make it up to you. “Let’s sit down and have some lunch.”

  “Tea,” Izzy corrected.

  “Right. Tea.” Technically, it should have been served later in the day, but it fit in better with their meal schedule to have it at lunchtime.

  Izzy started to sit but then froze. “There aren’t enough seats.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There are only six chairs. Where is Angel going to sit?”

  “Can’t he sit there?” She pointed at a vacant seat.

  “Emily is sitting there.”

  “We don’t have extra chairs. Your play table only came with six.”

  “Then he can sit here.” She grabbed Bubbles, removed his hat, and tossed him on the sofa.

  Apparently her daughter had established a pecking order among her toys and invisible friends. A pretend angel ranked above a teddy bear.

  Izzy took her seat and donned her hat.

  Taking care not to bump the table with her knees, Delia sat and put on her hat.

  Her daughter picked up the teapot and said in a formal tone, “Would you care for tea, Delia?”

  “Delia?” She arched her eyebrows.

  “Mom?”

  “That’s better. And, yes, I would. Thank you.”

  She poured punch in all the cups.

  Delia’s stomach growled. She’d been so busy getting ready for the party, she hadn’t eaten anything. She reached for an egg salad sandwich.

  Izzy cleared her throat.

  “What?”

  “Angel isn’t here. It’s polite to wait for all the guests before starting to eat. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

  Delia glanced pointedly at the vacant seat once occupied by Bubbles. “How do you know he’s not here?”

  Izzy rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t do that. It’s rude.”

  “Sorry!” She hunched her shoulders. “Angel promised to be here at twelve o’clock. Is it twelve o’clock yet?”

  “Five minutes ’til.”

  “Then we have to wait five more minutes.”

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Maybe both. Tomorrow they would talk, but for now, maybe the big present would help. She removed her hat. “Tell you what. You wait here for your angel. Mrs. Beckman has been keeping one of your presents. I’m going to get it. Stay here. Don’t leave the house.”

  She had planned to bring in the puppy at the end so it didn’t upstage the party, but her daughter needed a real friend now. Maybe, hopefully, with a dog she’d forget about Emily, Emma, and the angel.

  Chapter Three

  As Wingman strode toward Izzy’s house, a woman exited and hurried up the street. An older version of the little girl, he recognized her as the child’s mother. But while Izzy was cute, her nose like a button and her hair contained into ponytails, the mother was stunning. Smooth complexion, large eyes, a full bow of a mouth. Straight, shiny brunette hair swung against her shoulders as she charged up the street, her graceful, but hurried movement causing her breasts to bounce and her dress to swirl around her legs.

  She wouldn’t have any problem getting attention at the Whitetail, he suspected. Taverns were the same all over the galaxy. Lonely, unhappy people sought a temporary mood boost while horny males hunted for female companionship for a night.

  He watched as the mother knocked at another house. The door opened, and she disappeared inside. First, the mother slept half the day, and now, she ran off and left her child alone?

  He’d almost not come today, concluding he had no business inserting himself into the lives of this human family. He’d shared the details of the near-abduction and his concerns about the little girl’s lack of supervision with the other castaways. They’d concurred he’d done the right thing in saving her but advised him not to get further involved. How the mother reared her child had nothing to do with him.

  “On what world would a mother welcome unasked-for child-rearing advice from an unmated, childless stranger from another planet?” his friend Inferno had said.

  “Not getting involved can be the hardest thing, but you have to allow people to make their own decisions—and mistakes,” said Psy, a Verital. “I deal with that all the time. It’s no joy to know what people are thinking. I block them as much as I can, but snippets still get through the barricade. If I intervened into every bad decision…” He shook his head.

  “The mother’s negligence almost led to kidnapping,” Wingman had argued.

  “You assume negligence,” Psy said. “Perhaps there’s another explanation.”

  They were probably right, but in the end, the memory of Izzy’s happy face when he’d told her he would attend her bir
thday celebration settled the matter. He’d promised. Many people disliked him, viewing him as harsh, judgmental, unforgiving. He couldn’t in good conscience dismiss their assessments, but if he had any virtue, it was that he kept his word. He’d drop in for a brief visit to fulfill his promise and then do as his friends suggested and walk away.

  He’d been prepared to give the mother a belated benefit of a doubt, but now she’d left the child alone again. He could wait and talk to her when she emerged from the neighboring house, but she wouldn’t like what he had to say, so maybe it would be better to pop in and say hi to Izzy first.

  He rapped on the front door as Chameleon had advised him to do.

  “Who is it?” Izzy called out.

  “It’s…Wynn.” He remembered to use his alias.

  The door was flung open. “Angel! I knew you’d come!” Grabbing his hand, she tugged him into the house.

  He remembered to duck at the last moment before his head connected with the top of the doorframe. Humans were shorter than ’Topians.

  “Mom wanted to start, but I told her we had to wait for you.” Izzy wore a dress in the same fabric and pattern as the mother’s pink one dotted with white flowers. However, where the mother’s fit sleeker, highlighting her curves, Izzy’s was frilly and poufy. “Do you like my dress?” She twirled. “Mom sewed us matching outfits for my birthday.”

  “Very nice.” Bemused, he glanced around the room. A banner spanned the width of one wall. A dozen pink, white, and purple latex spheres floated around the small room. Pink-wrapped cubes were piled on a table, which also held a white-and-pink confection of some sort. Six thin, waxy objects had been stuck into the top.

  “Come on! Sit down! I already poured the tea,” she said.

  Surrounding a mini table were six of the smallest chairs he’d ever seen. One of them held a human replica wearing a dress in the same fabric as Izzy and her mother. He eyed the tiny chairs with consternation. He pulled one out, and, tightening his wings under the cape, he started to sit.

  “No, not there. You’ll squish Emily.” She giggled.

  Emily?

  “Here, next to me.” Like a little queen, her spine ramrod straight, she arranged her poufy skirt and patted the seat next to her.

  He pulled the chair away from the table, hunched to make himself smaller, and sat. Wings, legs, knees, elbows—all were cramping now. “Do you have any idea when your mother will return?”

  “Soon. She’s getting my puppy,” she whispered. “I’m not supposed to know, but I found the dog food and toys Mom had hidden in the cupboard.”

  “The evidence sounds pretty conclusive,” he agreed.

  “What?”

  “I think you’re getting a puppy.”

  “I don’t want Mom to know that I know, so I’ll have to act surprised.” Widening her eyes, she emitted a stilted squeal. “A puppy! I never guessed!” She looked at him. “How was that?”

  He laughed. The mother had her hands full with this one. He may have been hasty in his judgment. “What’s your mother’s name?” he asked.

  “Delia Mason.”

  “Delia,” he repeated. “Did you tell her what happened the other day?”

  “No.” Her shoulders hunched.

  “Why not?”

  “She’d get mad at me because I left the house when she told me not to. She’d take away the TV.”

  “Maybe she gets mad because she worries about you.”

  “Well, yeah. But I wouldn’t be able to watch my shows.”

  “You need to tell her—or I will.”

  “That’s not fair!” She folded her arms and scowled.

  He held his silence.

  She huffed. “All right. I’ll tell her after my birthday party.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

  “No! You’re an angel. You’d know right away if I was lying.”

  Now he felt guilty for lying. “About this angel thing—”

  The front door squeaked open. “I’m back. I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

  The light, teasing voice caused an unexpected heat to flare in his groin.

  Izzy grinned before closing her eyes dramatically tight.

  “Are your eyes closed?” the mother called.

  “Yes!”

  He stood up.

  Cradling a small, fluffy white dog to her chest, the mother entered.

  Her jaw dropped. “Who the hell are you? What you doing in my house! Get away from my daughter!”

  “Mom!” Izzy jumped up. “This is Angel!”

  The mother set the dog down and grabbed her phone. “I’m calling the police!”

  “Mom, no! Angel’s my friend.”

  “He’s your angel? This man is no angel.”

  “Yes, he is!” Izzy cried. “Show her your wings!”

  The puppy ran around the room.

  “Get out of my house! Now!” The mother scooted away from the door and gestured to Izzy, who obediently went to her. She wrapped her arms around her daughter.

  He raised his hands in what he hoped was a nonthreatening gesture. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.” He glanced at Izzy. “Be sure you tell her what happened. You promised.”

  “I will.”

  “Tell me what?”

  Moving toward the door, he tripped over the puppy as it ran under his feet. He fell into the table of wrapped packages. His cape slipped from his shoulders, and his cramping wings unfurled, sweeping aside everything in range. The little table and chairs toppled. Wrapped packages, food, dishes went flying. The big confection with the wax sticks splattered on the floor.

  “Oh my god!” The mother gasped. “What are you?”

  He snatched up his cape, folded his wings so he could squeeze through the door, and fled.

  Chapter Four

  “This is as close as we can get. We have to walk from here.” Delia pulled onto the shoulder and parked. “I had no idea the festival was such a big event.”

  Cars already lined the road when they arrived midmorning at Lavender Bliss Farm for the Summer Daze Lavender Fest. The farm’s owner, Kevanne Gerardi, had dropped off an event flyer at the Whitetail. The festival had looked like a fun family event, so she’d decided to bring Izzy to compensate for the debacle of a birthday party last week.

  Her daughter had loved the puppy, naming the Maltese-poodle mix Charlie, but she’d been distraught that “Angel” had been chased out of the house.

  The man was no angel.

  She might have thought she’d imagined the wings, except he’d left a wake of destruction. There’d been no major damage, but presents and broken china had been strewn everywhere. Food, cake, and punch had splattered.

  Delia had grilled Izzy on where and how she’d met him, but she only could recall he’d swooped in and chased off the bad ice cream man who had tried to kidnap her. Kidnap? Her blood had run cold as her daughter told her about leaving the house and trying to buy a push-up from a man who then tried to abduct her.

  “What did the man look like? Do you remember Mom’s old boss Mr. Colson? Was it him?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Uh-huh. The ice cream man had a beard and sunglasses.”

  According to Izzy, the winged man had flown in and rescued her.

  If she hadn’t seen the wings for herself, she wouldn’t have believed it. She still didn’t. Men did not have wings. Angels did not exist. Izzy’s savior had to be wearing a costume. She didn’t recall seeing straps or a harness, but she’d been so stunned by the wings themselves, and everything had happened so fast, she hadn’t noticed anything else. Only one kind of man would run around wearing wings—one whose elevator didn’t go all the way to the top floor.

  She had gone straight to the authorities. “I think my ex-boss tried to kidnap my daughter,” she explained. “I have a restraining order against him.” The officer’s professionalism had vanished when she got to the part about the rescuer having wings. He’d stopped
writing. “Did he have a halo and a harp?”

  “I didn’t say the wings were real!” she’d snapped, but she couldn’t blame him. She’d expected that kind of a response—she hardly believed her own story. Maybe the winged man hadn’t rescued Izzy at all. A six-year-old with a fanciful imagination, she’d created Emma and Emily. How much was wishful thinking? “It sounds crazy, but could you please check on what ice cream truck companies might have been in the area?”

  “Yeah, we’ll get right on it.”

  She knew he wouldn’t, so she’d called around herself. None of the ice cream truck vendors from nearby towns served Argent.

  In hindsight, she realized booting the stranger out had been hasty. He might have been able to fill in the details. But of course, Izzy hadn’t mentioned the attempted abduction until after the winged man had left. They’d had a long talk about keeping secrets and inviting strangers into the house.

  “I was afraid you’d be mad at me for leaving the house when you told me not to!”

  Yeah, Delia was mad. Scared. Grateful. She wanted to ground Izzy until she turned twenty-one—and hug her and never let her go.

  How did she keep her daughter mindful of the dangers while not turning her into a young woman afraid of her own shadow? How did she protect her when she couldn’t be with her every second? She’d been gone five minutes to get Charlie—maybe less—and a stranger had entered the house.

  She might have expected this in Pittsburgh, but Argent? Weren’t small towns supposed to be safer than big cities? She scrutinized the ordinary families headed to an ordinary outing strolling down the wooded lane.

  “Come on, Mom! Hurry!” Izzy jittered with excitement and energy.

  A gift shop selling lavender products marked the farm’s entrance, but event tickets—$5 for adults, $3 for children—could be purchased at an outside booth from a man with blue-painted skin. “Welcome to Lavender Bliss Farm and the first annual Summer Daze Lavender Festival!” His realistic-appearing tail swished as he handed her two tickets. “Your admission includes a tour of the lavender farm on horseback, all booths, shows, and carnival rides.”

  “How do you move your tail like that?” Izzy asked.