by Lori Wilde
“Aunt Ro, the nurse’s aide was telling me this is the most talkative you’ve been in weeks. You must be happy to see your nephew.”
Rowena took a sip from her cup and leaned toward Kimber. “He’s an angel,” she whispered.
Jerry smiled sheepishly and raised his shoulders.
“I don’t know about that,” Kimber countered with a teasing grin, “but he has been very sweet since the accident.”
Aunt Ro’s gnarled hand covered hers. “You don’t have to worry about accidents anymore. Jerry is going to watch out for you and keep you safe from all harm.”
Right, Kimber thought, and who would keep her safe from Jerry? Despite her firm resolve to the contrary, she found her heart going out to her former fiancé.
Seeing this new side of his personality had made her closer to him and more vulnerable than she’d ever been before.
And it frightened her. Who, she wondered, would protect her heart from being crushed when this new, sweet Jerry regained his memory and returned to being the Gerald she’d broken up with prior to the car crash?
Rowena drank the last of her juice and set the paper cup on the table beside her. The thin puffs of white hair that framed her face shone faintly blue in the afternoon sunlight filling the activity room.
She patted her pale lips with a napkin, then laid her hands in her lap and folded and refolded the lipstick-marked paper. When she was done with her little ritual, she turned back to Kimber.
“Are you still going to marry him, even though he’s not Gerald anymore?”
Kimber almost choked on her orange juice. She broke into a fit of coughing and couldn’t stop until her eyes filled with tears and her face felt red with heat and embarrassment. Creating even more of a spectacle, Jerry had leaped from his chair and proceeded to pound her on the back.
She raised her hand to wave him off. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Because I know first aid.”
“You do?”
He looked down at the floor. “Well, I’m sure I could fake it pretty well.”
“Isn’t it wonderful to have your own guardian angel?” Rowena declared, the pride evident in her voice.
Kimber gave a sigh and wiped the moisture from her eyes.
He sat beside her on the sofa, effectively sandwiching her between him and his aunt. His elbow propped on the sofa back, he stared intently at Kimber.
She tried to scoot away from his intensity but didn’t want to risk crushing the tiny lady on the other side of her. She took a fortifying breath to face her demon—er, her ex-fiancé—but the sight and closeness of him were overwhelming.
“You were going to marry Ger...er, me?” Jerry paused and appeared to absorb the impact of his own words. “When’s the big day? And why didn’t you tell me about it?”
Kimber felt trapped as both pairs of eyes bore down upon her. She hadn’t wanted to tell him about their relationship yet, and she certainly didn’t want to go into it in front of Rowena, who hadn’t yet heard about their breakup.
“We, um, broke up shortly before your accident.”
He seemed taken aback by all this new information, and Kimber could tell by the way the gears were turning in his head that he would be asking more questions about their former relationship—if not now, then certainly later.
“Gerald let you go?” Rowena demanded. “What an idiot.” She leaned across Kimber to speak to Jerry. “Comes from his father’s side of the family.”
Kimber stared in amazement at the elderly woman who was speaking of Gerald as if he wasn’t even in the room. True, he was going by a nickname now, and he had forgotten everything about his past, but he was still the same person.
Wasn’t he?
She chastised herself for allowing a disoriented woman to confuse her. Of course he was the same person. He just didn’t remember it yet.
And Kimber wanted to make sure that he recovered his memory and returned to his own apartment before he worked his way any deeper under her skin.
They stayed and visited a short while longer with Aunt Ro before she became tired and returned to her room for a nap. After a rousing game of gin with Mrs. Duffy, the woman Jerry had first thought was his aunt, they drove back home.
Kimber had just taken the key out of the ignition when they heard a commotion from the lake behind her house. Jerry maneuvered himself out of the car and leaned against his crutches.
“It sounds like the Neidermeyers’ dog got loose again, and he’s after the geese.”
She started toward the noise, but Jerry stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“No, it’s too dangerous.” Then, ignoring his own advice, he hobbled toward the back of the house. “Go inside where it’s safe,” he called over his shoulder.
“Jerry, don’t get in the middle of it. You’ll only get hurt.”
Although the geese were wild, they stuck around for the grain and vegetable scraps she scattered for them each day and bedded down in the relative safety of the barn. She knew from experience that a nip from a powerful beak could be quite painful. A dog’s fangs could certainly inflict much more damage.
Heedless of her warning, Jerry continued down the hill. It was clear he intended to break up the fracas barehanded. After all he’d gone through to survive the car crash, she couldn’t let him endanger himself unnecessarily.
Remembering the handgun Gerald had given her for protection out here in rural Bliss, which he referred to as “the boondocks,” she opened the side door to go in the house and returned a moment later with the heavy weapon.
By the time she made it down to the lake, there were feathers everywhere. The stout-chested dog—inappropriately named Muffin by the Neidermeyers who had bought him to guard their home—clung to a wildly flapping brown goose. The bird’s terrified shrieks pierced Kimber’s heart.
Lifting the pistol, she fired a shot into the air, but the noise only seemed to intensify the dog’s attack on the hapless goose.
This time, she held the weapon with both hands and drew a bead. Jerry moved to stand squarely in the middle of her sights.
“Get out of the way,” Kimber cried.
She wasn’t the best shot, she knew, but even if she only grazed the dog, maybe it would be enough to frighten him away. And if she missed and hit the goose, a quick death would still be preferable to the painful one Muffin surely had in store for it.
The problem was, Jerry refused to move out of the line of fire. Ignoring her request, he hobbled closer to the action.
Kimber squeezed her eyes shut. Helpless to stop him and certain that the rampaging dog would turn on him next, she could not bring herself to watch what was sure to follow. She could go call the emergency number for help, she realized, but they wouldn’t get here in time to prevent the disaster that was imminent.
They could, however, rescue what was left of him.
When she opened her eyes a mere second later, Jerry was threading his belt through the dog’s collar. Muffin sat obediently at his feet, tail thumping apologetically on the ground. The goose had broken free and taken refuge under the forsythia bush by the barn.
Easing closer—cautiously, for fear of agitating the dog again—she picked up Jerry’s crutches and handed them to him. In return, he passed the makeshift leash to her.
“If you’ll take him next door, I’ll have a look at the bird’s wing to see how badly it’s injured.”
Stunned, Kimber stared down at the complacent dog at her feet, then back up at her former fiancé.
“It’s okay,” Jerry assured her. “He won’t hurt you.”
“How did you do that?”
Adjusting the crutches under his arms, Jerry gave her a smile that looked almost beatific. “I have a way with animals.”
“You didn’t like animals before. You said they were a nuisance.”
Forgoing a reply, he merely shrugged.
He was right, Kimber realized as she led Muffin back to his yard. In many ways, Jerry wasn’t the man she used to kno
w. She paused and turned to watch him limp toward the trusting goose.
It wasn’t natural, she decided. Even though she’d been feeding the wild birds since she moved here two years ago, she’d never been able to get closer than five or six feet from them. And now here was Jerry, fetching the docile creature out from under the bush and examining its wing.
The goose must be in shock. Yes, that was it. In its dazed condition, the bird was too foggy-brained to remember its fear of man.
That might explain the bird, she thought, but what of the dog? They passed the gate that led to the neighbor’s backyard and noticed the loosened fence rail that had been pushed aside, allowing Muffin to squeeze through to freedom. How had Jerry managed to calm the animal that, only seconds before, had been thirsty for blood?
By the time she spoke to Mrs. Neidermeyer— who graciously offered to pay any veterinary fees—and returned home, Jerry was coming back from the barn.
He shook his head. “The wing isn’t broken,” he said as he entered the house behind her, “but it’s going to take some time to heal. I’ll check on him later tonight and again in the morning.”
His suit pants were muddy, and flecks of blood dotted his shirt, but he was otherwise unscathed by the incident.
He wiped his shoes on the mat by the kitchen door, and Kimber was hit by the realization that it could have been his blood on the shirt.
And much more than she would have liked, the thought that he could have been seriously hurt unsettled her.
Oddly, her fear for his well-being was different from the feeling she’d had when he was in the hospital.
Then, she’d been responding out of a universal love for a fellow man. But this unease in the pit of her being told her that her reaction was out of a specific love for this particular man.
Kimber crossed the kitchen to the sink and ran some water into a glass. Her hand was shaking as she lifted it to her lips.
She couldn’t allow herself to feel this type of concern for him or indulge in the warm, sensual dreams that came to her at night. He’d already hurt her once, far more than she’d ever been hurt by anyone before, and she could not stand there like a bowling pin waiting to be knocked down again.
She had to get him out of the house. It wasn’t a conscious choice. Rather, it was a decision made of instinct, much as a mouse instinctively fears a hawk. Only, in her case, it was a matter of survival of the heart.
Setting her glass in the sink, Kimber knew what she had to do. If Jerry was well enough to go chasing down to the lake to break up a fight between dog and goose, then he was well enough to stay by himself while she went back to work.
Hopefully, not long after that he’d be well enough to return to his own apartment. She placed her hands on the sink’s edge to steady herself. If only she could calm her shaking nerves.
Chapter Seven
Thumping across the vinyl-covered floor, Jerry stopped behind the woman he’d been assigned to protect. She stood with her back to him, and though it appeared that she tried to hide it, he could tell she was trembling.
Reaching out, he touched her small shoulder. She flinched but did not move away.
“Are you all right?”
She turned to face him, her eyes red and misty and her mouth tight with tension. “Just scared,” she said, trying to shrug away the incident.
He propped himself on his crutches and opened his arms to her.
After a second’s hesitation, she came to him and pressed her cheek against his chest.
Of course. He should have known. She had been frightened by the attack on the goose...perhaps even frightened for her own safety.
Then it occurred to him. If he hadn’t been there to break up the fight, she could have been seriously injured. He may have even saved her life. Jerry wondered if he should stand away from her in case he was suddenly called home to collect his reward of a brand-new pair of wings. He stroked her hair and thought how, even though he’d only known her a short time, he would miss her.
Looking heavenward, he waited for a sign that he had successfully completed his mission. Instead, all he saw was that a spider had recently spun a web in the corner of the ceiling.
No lightning bolt struck, and he didn’t vaporize and drift upward out of Gerald’s body.
Bummer.
Kimber straightened and pulled away from him, breaking the pleasant human experience of having their bodies touch.
Double bummer.
“I’m going back to work tomorrow.” She turned toward the refrigerator and started pulling out ground beef, tomatoes, green peppers, and onions.
Jared took the moment to admire the way she moved, lithe and graceful.
“Judging by the way you handled Muffin and the goose, I think you’re capable of staying by yourself for a few hours during the day. I’ll make plenty of spaghetti tonight so you can reheat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
All afternoon he’d been wanting to ask her more about the subject Aunt Rowena had inadvertently opened. But he could tell Kimber must have anticipated his curiosity about her engagement to Gerald and was steering the conversation to safer territory.
He backed out of her way as she headed to the pantry for spices. Kimber didn’t look at him as she moved methodically around the kitchen, and he got the feeling her brusqueness was intended to put emotional distance between them.
THAT FEELING WAS STILL there the following morning as she prepared to go to work.
When he heard her moving around, he got up and joined her for breakfast. This morning they had frozen waffles, but they didn’t get a chance to repeat yesterday’s kisses.
At the speed she was moving, it was impossible even to carry on a conversation with her. All Jerry could do was sit and feel the breeze she created as she ran around gathering briefcase, purse, and keys.
Kimber called goodbye and ran out the front door. A moment later, the door opened again, and she left a slip of paper on the coffee table. “Here’s my number at work. Call me if you need anything.”
And then she was gone.
It was the longest day Jerry had experienced since he’d taken on this assignment.
First he busied himself by washing the breakfast dishes in the liquid detergent he’d seen advertised on television. When he was done, he examined his hands to see if they were any softer than when he’d started.
He rubbed the fingers of his left hand over the back of his right but couldn’t discern any difference. Compared to Kimber’s skin, they seemed rough. Hmm, maybe it would take more than one dishwashing session for the improvement to be noticed.
After all that time, he decided it must surely be lunchtime. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. Eight-seventeen a.m. He tried to recall the hour when they usually had their midday meal, but he knew eight was wrong.
Let’s see. It was a holy number, if he remembered correctly. Three, maybe? For the Holy Trinity? No, that didn’t seem right. How about seven, for the number of days it took to create the earth and to rest afterward? No, that would have been an hour ago.
Then it must be twelve, for the number of disciples. Yes, that was it! Jerry smiled, immensely pleased with himself for getting it right. Then he sat down to wait for the microwave to change to the numbers that would indicate it was finally lunch o’clock.
While he was watching, he wondered why he had received no sign from Nahum since saving Kimber’s life yesterday. Hadn’t he done his job by putting her safety first?
He was extremely proud of himself for staying alert to his protectee’s needs. So why hadn’t his superior acknowledged his success?
Jerry puzzled over Nahum’s silence on the matter, watching the clock until 8:21. Lunchtime was taking too long this way.
Perhaps he could do something else while the electronic numerals blinked their way toward noon and, ultimately, Kimber’s return home.
Remembering his promise to check on the goose’s recovery, he made his way out to the barn, picking up feathers and
stuffing them down his shirt as he went. Inside the barn, the goose had bedded down on a shelf near the tin of grain.
Jerry opened the can and offered the bird a handful of kernels. The goose’s healthy appetite was a good indicator that he would make it through the ordeal.
“I thought for sure you were a goner,” he told the trusting bird who let him inspect its bedraggled wing. “Lucky for you, Lazarus, you managed to defy death this time.”
If he wasn’t in this human body, he would be able to pass some of his energy to the bird to heal it. Deciding it was worth a try, he took a quick glance around him to see if anyone was watching before he moved his palms slowly over the wing. When he was done, he took another look.
Same as before.
Jerry sighed, frustrated by his inability to perform even to his former inadequate standards.
If he’d been lacking as a protectorate, how was he supposed to take care of a bird, much less Kimber, while in human form? It would be impossible to carry out his assignment if he had to work with such severe limitations.
Maybe that was part of his test. If he could—by wit or whatever—fulfill his obligation despite the flesh-and-blood equipment he’d been given to work with, perhaps he could bypass the starter-wing set and go straight to the intermediate pair.
As a protectorate, he’d often seen—and wondered why—humans overlook their best source of strength. With their ability to communicate directly with the Chairman of the Board, they could accomplish so much more if they would only tap into the power of prayer.
Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake. He bowed his head and said a quick one, asking for help in keeping Kimber safe. Not wishing to leave the goose out, he added, “And Lazarus, too.”
Then, leaving another handful of grain on the rough board in front of the bird, he went outside and scattered more for the ducks and geese at the edge of the lake.
Back inside, he dumped the loose feathers he’d collected into a pillowcase and set it beside his bed. He didn’t know what he would do with the feathers, but he hated to see them go to waste.