Earthbound Bones

by ReGina Welling

  Looking at her reflection in the beveled glass hanging above old porcelain, she saw the face she had ended up with. This, at least, was one of her favorites. A fall of auburn hair, a sprinkling of freckles dotting creamy smooth skin, and lips the color of good red wine. Eyes the blue of a winter cloud, rimmed with red from crying gazed back at her from smudged hollows. She reached out one hand toward the mirror, the other touching her chin just to make sure the vision before her was real. A pinch just below the apple of her cheek pulled up a stain of angry red. And it hurt. Yes. Totally real.

  She did what she had come in here to do. This human body’s plumbing require a lot more maintenance than she expected. Next, Adriel decided to explore the bedroom hiding somewhere behind the wall of boxes. A circuitous path skirted the stacks blocking the way between the bathroom and bedroom. Out of necessity, clearing that route would become her first priority. The physical labor should help take her mind off other things.

  Moving the first stack of bins and boxes out onto the porch—the only other place where they would fit—took longer than expected when she discovered the only way to navigate the maze was to lift each box over her head.

  “I didn’t sign on for this.” All the activity had wakened the cat who blinked back at her. “Well, I didn’t.” Adriel flexed sore muscles.

  The sound of footsteps on the porch warned of Pam’s knock. Adriel opened the door to find her new landlord burdened with plastic sacks. Cleaning supplies and food disappeared into cabinets and the fridge with Pam’s usual efficiency.

  “You’ve been busy,” she nodded her approval. “Okay, walk down to the shop in the morning and we’ll get started on your training. The phone should be on; here’s my number.” Pam jotted something on a small pad. “Call if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Adriel wasn’t convinced, but wanted to put a good face on things. “Oh, what’s the cat’s name?”

  “Winston’s back? I’ve been trying to catch him for weeks. I was afraid he’d gone feral.”

  Adriel gestured to where the black body once again sprawled atop a pile of boxes. “He seems quite tame to me. The name suits him.”

  “Uncle Craig will be pleased.” A shadow of strong emotion crossed Pam’s face and then was gone. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your way—you look like you could do with some sleep. See you in the morning.”

  Sleep sounded like a great plan, but Adriel’s stomach had other ideas. Thoughtfully, Pam had included a couple pre-made sandwiches in the items now filling the refrigerator. Stomach blissfully full, Adriel made her way to the bedroom.

  A tubular metal headboard arched over a twin bed bared to the striped mattress. A single bulb with a pull chain threaded through a plastic clip-on shade illuminated the room. From the end of the chain switch, a length of heavy string traced a path to the headboard, where it was tied around the top of the frame. Pam’s uncle liked his conveniences. Once in bed, he could pull the string to turn off the light without having to fumble in the dark. Right where Pam had said they would be, pillows, sheets, and blankets rested, neatly folded, in a hand hewn wooden box at the foot of the bed. Bright patterns worked into the soft bed coverings would loan some warmth to the otherwise austere room. When she opened the single window, sunflower-patterned curtains fluttered in the cool night breeze.

  Picking through the contents of the chest, Adriel chose a pair of nearly matching floral sheets. Getting them spread onto the bed turned out to be a chore when the cat, hearing the first snap of sheets being flipped, decided a game of ‘romp the bed’ was in order. Paws splayed out for balance and eyes bulging, he leaped and pounced to hinder Adriel’s every effort until she couldn’t help laughing at his antics.

  “Go on you crazy beastie.”

  ***

  Chapter 2

  An unfamiliar feeling crept along Adriel’s shoulders until it settled into her neck and winched the muscles into a taut mass of pulsing fiber. Sometime after midnight, Adriel nudged the cat aside, and collapsed onto the narrow bed to let the soft purring lull her toward sleep. Fatigue lay over her like a blanket. How did these frail humans ever manage to build cities, when just moving a dozen or so boxes from one place to another could cause such an ache?

  At least the path between bedroom and bathroom was clear.

  When a little furry head nudged against her hand, she absently stroked the softness and slipped into deep slumber. It felt as though only minutes had passed when she was startled awake by a noise so insidiously annoying Adriel could not believe her ears.

  Boop, boop, boop.

  “Oh, what is that?” She asked the cat, who declined to answer.

  The noise increased. A series of crashing and banging sounds punctuated the cacophony of whistling beeps cutting through her brain like a knife. Slapping hands over her ears, Adriel stumbled to the window and peered out to see a group of large vehicles lining the road.

  Painted a deceivingly cheerful yellow, the fleet of machines worked busily. Oddly shaped trucks inched along behind a machine that moved forward using a type of oval track where the wheels should have been. A mechanical arm tipped by a clawed bucket reached down to scoop a great load of dirt and rocks from the shallow ditch running alongside the road. Without rhyme or reason, the load of dirt and rocks was then dumped out a short distance away. What was the point of moving scoops of earth only to dump them a few feet away?

  Humans certainly found some odd ways to occupy their time.

  With the chance of falling asleep amid the racket nothing more than a distant wish, Adriel poured a generous amount of kibble into a bowl for the cat, and made her way to the bathroom to take stock of her appearance.

  Wrinkled clothes looking like they’d been slept in—because they had—hair a mussed up tangle, and pillow creases lined her face: not pretty. She quirked an eyebrow at her reflection, and did the best she could to right the damage to her hair. The clothes were another thing entirely. In her angelic past, taking on human form came complete with the appropriate outfit as part of the energy signature. There wasn’t time right now to mourn the loss of that ability. She had to attend a training session with Pam today.

  Not feeling her absolute best, Adriel began the short walk to the bakery, where she hoped for some blessed quiet.

  Even the dinging of the little bell on the door jangled against sleep-deprived nerves, and for whatever reason, the sight of Pam’s cheerful face flared annoyance like a match to a flame.

  “You’re early.” Pam raised an eyebrow at Adriel’s scowling face and hunched over posture. “Not a morning person?”

  “Apparently not. Noise. So much noise.” Adriel lifted a hand to rub at eyes gritty from lack of sleep.

  “You can thank your neighbor for that. Lydia Keough decided the ditches in front of her house needed work. Never mind that all the runoff travels on the other side of the road. Waste of taxpayer’s money, digging ditches for no reason.”

  During her diatribe, Pam had been busy breaking eggs into a pan on top of a six-burner commercial-grade stove. She snagged a couple slices of bacon from the pile waiting to be candied, crumbled them into a topping for maple glazed donuts, and added those to the plates before gesturing for Adriel to join her.

  The food smelled wonderful until Pam upended a bottle of ketchup onto her eggs and the sharp, tangy odor of the condiment assailed Adriel’s nose. She shook her head with a grimace when Pam offered the container, then scooped a small portion of the fluffy eggs onto her fork to take a tentative bite.

  Pam watched with eyes full of questions. From what she could tell, this was Adriel’s first time eating scrambled eggs. How could that be? The woman was in her thirties, at least. Had she been locked in a basement somewhere for all that time? There was a story, and Pam wanted to hear it.

  Instead, she made small talk while she plied her newest employee with food and then offered “Coffee?”

  Ah, stimulants.

  “Please.” The taste was off-putting, but if it burned away the f
og in Adriel’s brain, she could deal with it. The first sip scalded her tongue, which was probably not the worst thing since it deadened the taste buds to the bitterness. She took another.

  Grinning at the distaste on Adriel’s face, Pam poured a dollop of cream to lighten the brew. Better, but still too strong. Without being asked, she stirred in a spoonful of sugar.

  Now that was more like it. The sweetness teased a more pleasing flavor from the steaming liquid, and Adriel began to enjoy the flavor of the drink almost as much as the way it cleared her head.

  “Come on back,” Pam called over her shoulder, her step jaunty. How did the woman manage to be that energetic this early in the morning? Moving quickly, Pam selected items from around the office: an apron, a hat with Just Desserts emblazoned across the front, and a name tag joined the pile on the small desk while she provided a running commentary on the inner workings of the bakery.

  Centuries of watching humans, Adriel was beginning to realize, did not nearly give one enough experience to understand the intricacies of their lives.

  She had watched civilizations rise and fall for reasons she found completely frivolous. She had watched over kings and paupers. Now, her biggest concern was remembering how many donuts were in a baker’s dozen. What choice did she have? She followed Pam into the kitchen, where the sweet smell of sugar combined with the yeasty scent of freshly baking bread into a heavenly aroma.

  Hearing voices coming toward him, Hamlin Paine turned around with a welcoming smile. Without thinking, he let loose a low whistle that carried his thoughts to Adriel, who stopped walking in surprise when she heard them clearly.

  Hot. And that hair. I’d like to bury my hands in it to see if the strands are as alive as they look. Porcelain skin, eyes of burning blue, and tall enough to nearly look me in the eye.

  Not that Adriel did. Face flaming in embarrassment, she turned away to hide jumbled emotions. It must have been a fluke—a random pulse of residual angel ability. It probably wouldn’t happen again. Best to put all thoughts of the past behind her and adjust to this new life. Adriel concentrated on observing the room around her.

  Compact but well fitted out, the kitchen had been designed with economy of effort and efficiency in mind. Dry ingredients lined shelves on the right hand side of the mixing station; containers and utensils were stored above and beneath the stainless steel surface. The baker needed only to turn around to pull wet ingredients from the double coolers.

  At the other end of the space, enormous commercial ovens took up the end wall, while a six burner cook top backed the short wall overlooking the sales area of the bakery. Golden-brown bits of dough bobbed and bubbled in the commercial frying station—their scent whispered of sugary sin.

  As she watched, a rack rose from the oily depths to convey the puffs of cooked dough to a draining tray.

  Talking rapidly, Hamlin explained how Pam had given him carte blanch to design the space so that the work followed a natural progression. A narrow doorway between a large metal cabinet he called a proofer and a section of counter dominated by two commercial mixers led to another room containing an industrial type dishwasher and a deep, triple sink.

  Everything was scrupulously clean. Everything except for Hamlin himself. Dabs of icing clung to his apron, and most of his lanky, six-foot-five frame looked like it had been dipped in a vat of dry ingredients. Both hands were covered in the sticky, sweet substance he had just turned out onto a floured board.

  Still talking and with no regard for his unkempt state, he reached a hand toward Adriel. What did he want? Then she remembered humans touched hands as a form of greeting. She was just about to make contact when he yanked his hand back. Now, what?. Had she hesitated too long? Hurt his feelings?

  “Er, sorry,” Hamlin returned to his kneading. “Sticky fingers are a hazard around here.” Cheerful eyes sparkled while he worked steadily at developing gluten, and the dough slowly turned elastic.

  “So I see.”

  “Hamlin’s a genius with pastry, and so is Wiletta—you’ll meet her next time. They went to culinary school together.” Pam skirted the table to grab a tray containing two dozen cinnamon rolls, which she quickly and expertly glazed with a sticky, white coating. Despite the eggs Adriel had just eaten, her mouth watered.

  She could get to like this eating thing.

  ***

  The sun was just starting to burn through the thinner places of a low-lying fog shadowing parts of the town of Longbrook under a cool, damp shroud. A million sparkling mirrored drops turned every sunlight-touched surface into a fairyland that faded back to normal in a matter of minutes as the heated sunshine drank away the moisture.

  For the second day in a row, Adriel shot awake when the incessant whistle of heavy equipment reversing outside the cabin penetrated her dreams. Closer to her bedroom window today, the noises were louder than ever.

  Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she gave in to the temptation to utter a word forbidden to angels. “Shasta daisy.” Nope, not even close to what she had intended to say. Why was the naughty filter still in place if she wasn’t an angel anymore?

  Denied the release to be found in yelling obscenities, she clutched the pillow to her head in a desperate attempt to block out the racket. Another hour. That’s all she needed, just one more hour of sleep. Okay, maybe two.

  When the noise cut off abruptly, Adriel sighed with relief before relaxing back into a light slumber that only lasted until the unmistakable sound of an argument forced her fully awake again.

  She threw off the covers and stomped over to the window to twitch aside the curtain. Even with her excellent hearing, the glass muted enough of the sound that she couldn’t make out what they were saying. One little nudge on the sash let in the raised voices and heated words flying thick and fast between two people standing at the edge of the trench. Adriel never got a clear look at the woman with the sharp voice, but the burly man dressed in blue jeans, a white tee, and a yellow hard hat pulled low on his forehead seemed to be in charge of the work.

  “It’s not deep enough,” insisted the woman.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job. You may have persuaded the town to sign off on this ridiculous waste of time and money, but that doesn’t make you a construction engineer. This is plenty deep enough for a ditch that will never get any use.”

  She ignored this piece of truth. “Fine, then at least line it with stones so the grass won’t grow back.”

  “Get back inside and let me handle the heavy lifting; or do you think your big mouth qualifies you to run a loader, too?”

  “I don’t care for your tone.”

  “And I don’t care for your meddling. I didn’t ask for this job, and getting stuck with it cost me a lucrative contract. Look around, do my guys seem happy to be here? Holding the winter road maintenance contract over my head if I didn’t drop everything for this is nothing more than blackmail. Go home, Lydia. Before I give in to the temptation to toss you in that hole.”

  All Adriel could see of the woman was a fleeting profile: a petite, tight-postured body, chin length hair, and a longish nose firmly pointed up as she retreated into the rapidly dissolving mist. There was something eerie about the way the sun fell through the thinning shroud to illuminate her body.

  Just as Adriel made ready to turn away, the sun glinted off of a shiny object across the way. A gully etched by time and water already lined the far side of the narrow road. Beyond the natural ditch, a moss-covered rock wall bordered several acres of mature evergreen trees.

  Another flare of sun off metal helped Adriel pinpoint the exact spot where a bicycle leaned up against the trunk of a massive pine with branches spaced for easy climbing. Following the trunk upward with her eyes, she caught the motion when one branch rustled a bit harder than the wind would allow. Adriel had to squint to see the boy who perched there, watching the workers with a happy grin on his face.

  The charming sight wasn’t enough, though, to improve her mood. Adriel slammed the pane down in disg
ust, and stomped into the kitchen to measure ground coffee and water into the odd-looking appliance on the counter. She thought she had watched Pam closely enough to know what to do. Put the funny paper filter into the basket, add eight scoops of grounds, and pour a potful of water into the reservoir.

  It didn’t make sense to make a full pot of the brew for just one person, so she filled the coffeemaker only halfway before placing the carafe in its cradle and punching the button. In her opinion, the beverage really was an acquired taste. It smelled wonderful, and always provided a burst of energy, so the benefits outweighed the slightly bitter flavor.

  Funny, this potful looked different from the coffee at the bakery. Even with a generous dollop of creamer, it only lightened slightly. Adriel added a little sweetener, stirred, and took a sip. When the dark tang of it hit her tongue like a sledgehammer, she raced to spit it into the sink. UGH, what happened? If looks could scorch plastic and metal, the coffeemaker would have been nothing but a smoking ruin spread over the kitchen counter.

  Snatching up the bag of grounds, she read the directions and quickly learned her mistake. Less water means less coffee. Simple logic.

  The second attempt looked, smelled, and tasted more palatable as she cradled the mug in both hands. She wasn’t scheduled to work for several more hours yet, and with nothing else to do, she fed Winston before looking around at the mess still left to wade through. Clearing one small area hardly made a dent in the project.

  At this rate, she would still be unpacking and sorting whatever was in all these boxes come snowfall.