by Laura Sweat
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
The words leap out at me with clarity. My mind falls back to the moments just before Adrian called me. I look up at Stephen with memories of him rolling through my mind like slides on a movie projector. I begin to remember the calming effect he always had on me, regardless of my mood. I recall the familiar sense that there was something different about Stephen that I couldn’t put my finger on.
I look into his eyes full of new questions.
“What do you remember?” He asks.
“I read. When we hung up the phone, I dug out Grandma’s old Bible and opened it up to read. I didn’t know where to start, so I started where it opened. It said something about angels. I didn’t know what it meant.” I look around the room, taking everything in once again before resting my eyes finally on Stephen.
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
I look at him, trying desperately to understand what all this means and he smiles at me.
“What does it mean, Stephen?” I have to ask.
“It means that there are angels among you. It means that sometimes you may see or talk to someone who is an angel and you may not be aware of it.”
My mind goes back to the conversations we have shared. Some of them had caused me to consider things I had never considered before. I recall with crystal clarity, the day at the park. I was playing with the sand between my fingertips.
I nod my head and look down at the sand between us. I begin to play in it, picking up the grains and letting them fall from between my forefinger and thumb as I move them back and forth. I lift my hand to look at the few grains that are stuck to my fingertips. They are so tiny. Each one seems so insignificant. Collectively, though, they all matter.
“Innumerable,” he says quietly.
I look from my finger to Stephen with an expression of confusion.
“The grains of sand. They’re innumerable. They can’t be counted.” He pinches the sand between his fingers just as I had.
Is he a mind reader or something? I don’t say anything while I consider the number of grains I can see.
“I have never thought of the sand that way. It seems so unimportant when you see one or two pieces stuck to your finger this way.” I hold a finger up and turn it towards him.
“Nothing is insignificant,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.
“No?”
“No. Everything has a purpose.”
“So, what about randomness?” I am curious about his answer to this question.
“Nothing is random.” He seems so serious.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hmm.” I pause briefly wanting to discuss this further, but I find myself hesitating. I take in a breath as I prepare to speak again and stop short.
“What?” he asks with a slight tilt of his head to get a better look at my face.
“It’s just strange that I pondered this subject the other night, before… well the other night and now we’re discussing it like a neat little coincidence. Oh, but wait, if nothing is random, there are no coincidences are there?”
“That’s right.”
“So, if nothing is random, everything has a purpose? Good things, bad things, big and little things?” I could go on categorizing, but I leave my question at that because I’m pretty certain what his answer will be.
“Yes.” He is looking at me intently. He isn’t staring or making me feel uncomfortable in any way. He merely appears to be very certain of his opinion and seems to want me to understand.
“I’m not sure if that is a good thing,” I admit.
“Why not?”
“If there is a purpose, then whose purpose is it? I mean, for a purpose to exist, doesn’t it have to belong to someone or something?”
“Why do you say that?” His question is not presented in a doubting manner. It is more like an encouragement to think about it further.
“Well, a purpose would indicate that there is a reason for the action or whatever. If there is a reason, I don’t know, I guess maybe reason indicates intent, which would have to be owned. Does that make sense or is it crazy?”
“Not at all. I think you understand better than you realize.”
“Understand what?”
“Just the idea that nothing is random. If you really think it out, as you have just done, it makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“I guess it does. I mean, if some things were random and they just happened for no apparent reason—”
“Apparent is the key word there,” he interrupts.
“Apparent.” I consider the word.
He sits quietly allowing me to ponder for a moment. I close my eyes and shake my head slightly bringing myself back to the shore seated beside this familiar stranger. As I gaze up at him, he grins at me.
I look at Stephen then turn to look at myself lying in the bed. Questions begin to fill my mind until I am overwhelmed. I can’t sort through them.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” Stephen’s question brings my thoughts back into focus.
“I was in the car with Adrian about to tell him what I read. I turned towards him.” I look blankly at Stephen. “I don’t. I can’t remember anything. It’s all blank.”
“There was a collision. Adrian’s car was hit by a drunk driver.”
This couldn’t have happened. There must be some mistake. What is really going on? I squeeze Stephen’s hand now, desperate and afraid.
“Adrian?”
“He is fine,” Stephen answers, but there is something in his tone. Something is off. I look deeper into Stephen’s eyes, but I can’t put my finger on it. My mind fills with questions again. I look at myself in the bed and the seemingly lifeless body is scary this time. Could this really be me? Am I okay?
The room seems to drift off until it appears to be a great distance away and we are left in a vast openness. I barely notice the change in our surroundings. Stephen is holding both of my hands firmly in his as if to hold on to me and my attention. There is no sound, not even breathing. There is nothing around us except light. It is a pale, soft light like there is a candle between us or around us. If I were paying attention, the source of this light would puzzle me to no end. The angles are all wrong for there to be only one source, but the area that the light covers is too small for there to be more than one origin.
“Stephen, where am I? Am I—”
“You have been given a very special opportunity, Jeriley.” His answer draws my attention back to him, fully.
“What do you mean?”
“Remember the scripture you read.” This isn’t a question. He wants me to focus.
I think back and see the words on the page, reading them over in my mind.
“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”
“Strangers?” I try to work through the words to find the meaning.
“Yes?” Stephen encourages me to go on.
I follow the rest of the scripture. It becomes so clear to me as if it were written in front of me.
“Angels.” The word feels foreign on my tongue. “Angels?” I look at Stephen for confirmation of what I am thinking. He is looking intently at me as if he is trying to tell me without actually saying it. I wait for an answer while my mind tries to wrap around what I am realizing.
“Yes,” he prods.
Once more, memories of Stephen bounce around in my mind as I attempt to process what I am learning. I slow my thoughts to concentrate on the central idea of it all. Then it comes to me. Stephen is an angel.
CHAPTER 15
The room is dark, darker than an occupied room should be. It doesn’t seem right somehow s
o he searches for a light switch. The light on the wall over the head of the bed has a chain hanging down the right side. He pulls it once and soft light fills the room. It isn’t overbearing. Just enough. He sits in the chair beside her bed and looks over at her. She does not look well at all. He wasn’t expecting this. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. He knew it was bad, but seeing her this way is harder than he imagined it would be.
He looks at her face. She is pale and fragile looking. Her eyes have dark circles around them. He watches her, waiting for a flinch or twitch, anything to indicate that she is not just lying there. Nothing. She really is just lying there. He looks away from her face to the rest of her body lying under the covers. Her hands and arms are beside her, uncovered. She has no rings or jewelry of any kind on. Her nails are neat and just the right length. She’s not a nail biter. He knew that. She’s not the nervous type. He looks back at her face and notices her hair. It is long and frames her face on both sides. It flows down almost touching her elbows. It is the color of coffee just the way he likes it. With just a touch of cream. He looks back at her face and begins to wonder what it would be like to really get to know her. He decides that he wants her to know he is there. He leans over, placing his elbows on his knees and folding his hands just below his chin, bringing himself closer to her.
“Jeriley. It’s me, Alex.” He keeps his voice quiet and steady. He wants her to hear him, but he doesn’t want to alarm her. He’s still not sure she can hear anything. Can she feel? Will she know he came by? She doesn’t stir at the sound of his voice, but he’s heard stories of people who heard visitors while they were under. Maybe she can hear. If so, what should he say? Does she remember anything? He wouldn’t want to upset her.
“I just wanted to come by and tell you what a great job you’re doing. We are all really excited to have you at Donovan.” Nothing. Her eyes are still. Her breathing pattern doesn’t alter in the least. He sits quietly for a few moments, watching her.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you to lunch. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you much since you came on board. I was wondering how you’re settling in.” Still nothing. No movement. No change.
The door opens slightly and he sits up, gently releasing Jeriley’s hand, expecting a nurse. Lydia walks in slowly and smiles when she sees Alex. He returns the smile, relieved to see another familiar face.
“Hey you.” Alex stands to greet her with his usual, easy manner.
“Hey. When did you get here?”
“Oh, I’ve only been here for few minutes, I guess. You doing okay?”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep very well. The accommodations aren’t exactly like home.”
“I understand.”
Lydia walks around the foot of the bed to stand by the chair that Alex was sitting in. She looks at all of the equipment, checking the monitors and the medicine in the IV bags. She reaches out to hold Jeriley’s hand.
“She looks like she’s barely hanging on, doesn’t she?” Lydia turns and speaks ever so softly to Alex. She doesn’t want to take a chance on Jeriley hearing this.
“It does look that way.” He steps closer to Lydia so that they can speak quietly.
“She has to pull through this, Alex.”
“She will. I believe she will.” He realizes that he may be trying to reassure himself as much as Lydia. They stand together watching Jeriley for a while. The silence between them grows until it becomes overbearing.
“You want some coffee or something to eat?” Alex offers as a way of escaping it for just a little while. He finds himself surprised at the effect it’s having on him to see Jeriley this way.
“Some coffee would be good. I don’t think I’m hungry just yet.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Thanks. I’ll be right here.”
As Alex leaves the room, Lydia sits down in the chair and squeezes Jeriley’s had lightly.
“Jeriley, I’m here. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m planning to stay with you for a while. Everything is going to be alright. Alex says that I can take as much time as I need away from the office. I would be crazy without you there anyway.”
Lydia watches Jeriley’s face for any change in expression. There is none. She notices no visible sign that she can hear her at all. Maybe it’s the medicine. It is a medically induced coma. Could that make the difference?
Lydia puts her head down in her hands and begins to pray. She starts with thanking God for the opportunity to be with Jeriley and thanking him for leading her to pray for her the day before. She realizes that it may have been her prayer that spared her life. She isn’t at all sure that there is anyone else in the world who prays for her. Besides her grandmother, Jeriley has never mentioned any other family members.
She continues to pray, asking God to strengthen Jeriley’s body and heal her. She has come a long way, but from the looks of things, she still has a long way to go. As she prays, Lydia remembers that things are not always as they seem.
“We walk by faith, not by sight, and I believe,” Lydia speaks the words she feels in her heart. She sits up and listens as the silence fills the room. She finds it odd that despite the noise of the machines, there is still an eerie silence present.
The walk to the coffee shop is just what Alex needs. He is feeling overwhelmed and that, in itself, takes him by surprise. He is always in control and a step ahead. He has never found himself unable to handle a situation, even when caught off guard. Not that he is one to brag, but he knows how to keep it together. He considers it a skill.
He takes this opportunity to sort it all out. What could be happening to him? First, he finds himself feeling completely helpless by Jeriley’s side and not liking that at all. He wants nothing more than to fix her. She has to be okay. Then there’s that. Why has she become so terribly important to him overnight? Sure she is a valuable asset to the company, but it’s more than that. It’s personal. This is not like him at all. He can’t put his finger on what it is about her that has intrigued him so. Why didn’t he have this attraction to her before? At the office, he noticed her, but he was busy with work and all that comes with it.
“That’s a lie,” he tells himself. He thought about her often. He just didn’t pay it any attention. He assumed or pretended it was business related, but was it really? Maybe it wasn’t. So now what? Can he really go on ignoring whatever this is?
He lets the smell of the coffee shop distract him as he walks in. He orders two coffees, pays with cash, and looks around at the few patrons sitting with their cups. One is reading the paper. One is on her phone. Another is reading a book and eating a muffin. The last one is in a corner with his head in his hands. He has no cup. No book or phone is on his table. He is just sitting there.
Two more customers walk in behind him chatting cheerfully. He slides by, granting them access to the counter, offering them his charming smile, but this morning he doesn’t feel so charming. He feels a little out of place.
He is called for his order and he takes it to the other counter to get sugar and cream. He should have asked Lydia what she wanted in her coffee. Maybe he did. Strangely, he doesn’t remember. Gathering his things, he leaves the coffee shop and heads back up the hall to the elevator. He is in no hurry to get back. This is hard and Alex is not accustomed to situations being “hard”.
CHAPTER 16
Adrian approaches the southernmost part of Australia on his quest to find Zain. He started out on a rabbit trail, being misled by some rather untrustworthy peers. Apparently, Zain had coerced them into misdirecting Adrian in order to buy himself some time. He finally contacted someone he could trust and was quickly on the right path.
Melbourne is a bustling place. Perhaps that is why he chose to hide here. It really doesn’t matter where he goes. He will eventually be found and dealt with, just as Adrian wants. This will serve as a nice example to any others who mig
ht be entertaining similar ideas of interfering with his work.
Adrian hangs around for a few hours in natural time, listening and watching for signs of Zain’s style and stench of activity. He finds him in a bar, leaving with a heartbroken young lady. She doesn’t know he is with her. He shadows her, whispering miserable thoughts and hopeless scenarios that roll around in her mind. Adrian keeps his distance and watches. He doesn’t want to be blamed for losing a soul to the master even if it will be an added credit to Zain.
They walk down to the bridge and before long it is all over. He has to hand it to him. Zain is one of the best in his class of mischief by misery. He has quite a few suicides under his belt.
Before he knows what hits him, Adrian advances on Zain and has him bound.
In a moment, they are in their master’s lair and he is all too calm. Zain knows this is not going to end well for him, but he doesn’t have it in him to give up, even when he knows he is caught.
“Do you have something to say to me?” Their leader has his hands down by his side as he circles the two of them. At his question, Adrian eases away from Zain. He does not want to be anywhere near him in case their master loses his temper. It is a common occurrence and it is always quite extreme.
“Do you?” Zain’s answer is arrogant and puffed up. This is his true personality, but in his current situation, it is not his smartest response.
Satan stays surprisingly calm as he steps up to Zain. If there was a breath in him, Zain would have felt it on his face. His stare is intense and steady. Zain waits patiently. He is not afraid. He is too angry at Adrian and too determined to take him down for his own fear to get in the way.
“I have been made aware of your disobedience concerning a matter you were entrusted with.”
“Is that so?” Zain cuts his eyes in Adrian’s direction.
“Unfortunately for you, yes.”
Zain does not flinch. He appears to be unaffected by the intended intimidation. He does not bother to answer.