Walking on Air

by Catherine Anderson

  Clinging to Gabriel’s hand, Nan wept with joy and sent up silent prayers of thanks to a God she’d lost faith in for a short while. She would never make that mistake again. Wondrous things happened only through Him, and she’d been a complete goose.

  • • •

  Gabe jerked awake. He stared stupidly up at a cedar-plank ceiling. There was amber light, but he couldn’t tell where it came from. And, oh, man, his chest hurt like hell on a rampage. That sure hadn’t happened the first time around. He blinked to clear his vision. He was in a room, stretched out on his back on a hard, narrow bed. Definitely not in a shack this time, but he still saw no pearly gates.

  “So, you’re finally awake.”

  Gabe knew that voice, and it didn’t belong to any angel. “Doc?” he croaked. “What the hell . . . ? Are you . . . Where am I?”

  “Gabriel!” Suddenly Nan’s pale face appeared above him. She looked like death warmed over as she cupped a cool hand to his cheek. “Oh, Gabriel, I thought you’d never come around.”

  “What are you two doing here?” Gabe demanded. Despite the pain it caused him, he pushed up on his elbow. “Are you dead, too? Dammit. Those angels can’t get anything right! This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”

  Doc came over to push Gabe back down onto the bed. “Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Valance. This happens sometimes after a dose of chloroform. A patient awakens agitated and a bit confused.”

  “I’m not confu—” Gabe broke off. I’m not dead. He stared hard at Nan for a moment to be sure she was real. Then he shifted his gaze to Doc and looked past the physician at Mrs. Peterson. “Sorry, ma’am. I think I forgot myself and swore.”

  Mrs. Peterson smiled and pushed her spectacles back up the bridge of her nose. “No worries at all, Mr. Valance. I’m pleased as punch to see that you’re rallying, just as my husband predicted.”

  In a daze of disbelief, Gabe listened to a summary of what had happened a few hours ago on Main. He was particularly surprised to hear that Pete Raintree had survived and now occupied the other treatment table.

  “Only a flesh wound in his thigh. Luckily, I’m a fairly good shot. The missus and I used to live in California, where rattlesnakes were thick, so I got a goodly amount of practice with my pistol.”

  “You shot me?”

  That was Raintree’s voice, Gabe realized, and he sounded hale and hearty. Well, not hale and hearty, exactly, but definitely alive and unhappy. Maybe even insulted.

  “Ah, so you’re awake, too. I never time it exactly right with that blasted chloroform. I hoped you’d be out for a while longer.” Doc circled his wife to return to his other patient. “Yes, it was me who shot you, and you’d better be glad of it. My pistol holds small rounds, and I hit where I aim. The bullet did some damage, I confess, but you’d be dead if any of those men had taken you down with a rifle. Instead they just shot the ground all around you to make their point.”

  “First you shoot me, and then you patch me up? The people in this town are plumb crazy.” Raintree sat up, bunching the sheet over his groin. “Shit, I’m buck nekked and there’s females in here. Where are my pants? I’m gettin’ the hell out of here. It might be catchin’.”

  Doc gestured toward his wife. “My lovely assistant gave them a quick mend, but you’ll be needing a clean pair before you leave town.”

  “My stuff’s at the hotel.” Sheet now draped around his hips, the younger man slid off the table. “Ach! Jesus! That ain’t no little hole you put in me, Doc. I’m gonna be a gimp.”

  “No. But you will be sore for a few weeks. It’ll take some time for that thigh muscle to heal.”

  Raintree snatched his pants from Mrs. Peterson and hobbled into what Gabe presumed was a dressing closet. Gabe didn’t envy the other man the life he would have if he didn’t mend his ways, but he was jealous as hell that he wasn’t the one dressing to leave.

  “How long do I have to stay here?” he asked Doc.

  “As soon as your head feels clear, you can go on home. It’s Christmas, after all, and I think Mrs. Valance is perfectly capable of seeing to your needs, few as they will be.” The physician assumed his professional mien. “Lots of fluids, plenty of rest, and no lifting anything over ten pounds with the injured arm for at least six weeks. You got off very lucky. It’s mostly only a flesh wound, but your ribs took a hard hit, and your chest muscles were scored by the bullet. They need time to completely heal.”

  “My head’s clear.” Actually it was anything but. Gabe didn’t feel woozy, just a little dizzy, but he felt an urgent need to be outside breathing fresh air. As for his head being clear, right now he was confused as hell. He was glad to see he still wore his britches, but his shirt and boots had vanished. “Where are my duds?”

  Nan helped Gabe put on his boots. Then she produced one of his black shirts. “Christopher brought it over. Your Christmas shirt is ruined, I’m afraid.”

  Gabe’s chest was wrapped, but his left arm hadn’t been anchored to his side. He winced as he slipped on the shirt, then stood still while Nan buttoned it for him. Moments later, they stood outside on a snow-covered boardwalk. Old footprints were already filling with fresh flakes, Gabe noticed. He dragged in a deep breath and looked incredulously toward Main, where he’d been destined to die a second time. He was so tired his legs felt wobbly, but from someplace deep within him, a desperate energy radiated up through his belly and into his chest. He yearned to shout and laugh. Only, what if this was only temporary, and the angels could show up at any moment to fetch him?

  “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said softly.

  Nan hugged his right arm and pressed her cheek against his sleeve. “Oh, yes, you are,” she murmured. She looked up at Gabe with those beautiful silver eyes that never failed to make his heart quicken. “In fact, you are precisely where you are supposed to be, Gabriel: here with me.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” She produced his Christmas harmonica from her cloak pocket. “There was a last-minute change of plan in heaven, I think. It was decided that you needed to remain here with all the people who need you. I wholeheartedly approve of that choice. Perhaps you are still only on loan to me, but the same holds true for everyone we love. We should take for granted not a single moment.”

  Gabe accepted the badly dented harmonica with his right hand, turning it this way and that. The story of what had occurred was forever chiseled in the beautiful ivory. Laney’s gift to him had stopped the bullet that should have killed him. A tingling sensation worked its way up his spine. He tipped his head back to stare up at the sky. Snowflakes drifted into his eyes and melted on his cheeks. The crisp air was laced with wonderful smells coming from kitchens all over town. It was Christmas Day, and he was still alive.

  Weak from blood loss and almighty sore in his chest and arm, Gabe had to walk slowly toward home and pause often. Second-story windows popped open along Main Street, and familiar faces grinned down at him and Nan.

  “Merry Christmas!” was the repeated refrain. “Good to see you on your feet, Valance!”

  Nan waved and returned the good wishes. Gabe had only enough strength to smile. When he felt better, he would visit every business owner to express his gratitude for their unfathomable support and loyalty during one of the darkest minutes of his life.

  Pausing to rest again just across the street from Nan’s shop, Gabe directed his gaze to the upstairs sitting room window. He wasn’t surprised to see Tyke, Laney, and Christopher pressed in next to the tree, all waving madly at him.

  “You know what just occurred to me?” Gabe whispered to Nan.

  She nuzzled his arm with her cheek. “No, what?”

  “I wasn’t sent back to save you—or Christopher—or Tyke.”

  Nan leaned back slightly to search his face. “Why, then? You definitely wrought wondrous changes in my life.”

  Gabe closed his eyes, enjoying
the fabulous sensations of the snowflakes landing on his skin and the warmth of his wife pressed to his side. “It was me. All along, I was supposed to save myself, Nan.” He turned to take in her sweet, precious face. “I was the lost soul.” The truth of that sank deep into Gabe’s heart. “They didn’t tell me that, because it was a lesson I needed to learn by myself. Those stupid mandates? No wonder I questioned the rightness of them. All along, the angels wanted me to break the rules and put myself at risk. It was a test, and I damned near failed it!”

  Ah, but you didn’t fail, a deep voice whispered in Gabe’s ear. You did well, Gabe. We are very pleased.

  Gabe jerked. Nan flashed him a startled look.

  “It’s a fine time for you to finally show up again!” Gabe said loudly.

  “What?” Nan cried.

  The angel Gabriel laughed softly. God be with you, Gabe. Enjoy your life, but live it well this time. I’ll give you only one last bit of advice: Always listen to your heart.

  Gabe looked down at Nan, who frowned up at him. “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  “Did I hear what?”

  Gabe sighed. “I figured you’d say that.” He listened for a moment to be sure nothing more would be whispered; the angel Gabriel tended to be something of a chatterbox. When he heard nothing, he encircled his wife’s shoulders with his uninjured arm and stepped off the boardwalk. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve got a family waiting and the rest of Christmas to celebrate.”

  “You’re going to go straight to bed, Gabriel Valance. Don’t bother to argue. Burke Redmond will tell you I’m a woman to be reckoned with when I make up my mind.”

  “Huh? Redmond? What did you do to him?” He remembered seeing Redmond on the street just before Raintree shot him. “Hell’s blazes, Nan, you didn’t accidentally shoot him, did you?”

  She giggled. “No, but I think he wishes I had. He tried to keep me from entering Doc’s treatment room.” She giggled again, louder this time. “He didn’t succeed.”

  “So what happened?”

  She told him. Gabe felt his eyes bulge.

  “You actually kneed him? You?”

  “Once during a poker game, you told me and Laney how to take a man down, and I followed your advice. At the time, I wore only my nightgown and wrapper, which had come untied, so all my usual concerns about ladylike behavior flew out the window. I must say, I found it rather liberating. So I suggest you obey orders. Bed rest. At least for several hours.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Gabe grinned, deciding on the spot that he absolutely would not miss out on what remained of his first real Christmas. “Would it be possible for me to rest on the settee, propped up with pillows, so I can visit with everyone?”

  “Champion idea!”

  And as they walked together toward home, Gabe smiled. No heavenly mistake had been made. God had guided Gabe’s hand to slip that ivory harmonica into his shirt pocket.

  As they stepped onto the boardwalk in front of Nan’s shop, Gabe remembered something important. “Did you ever go out back to find your Santa present?”

  Nan looked blank for a moment. Then she laughed. “Good grief, no. I finally had the presence of mind to have Laney bring my clothing and shoes to the doctor’s office, but the last thing I thought of was Christmas gifts.”

  “We can’t have that. I have it on good authority that Santa left you something extraordinarily special.”

  Gabe drew her into the narrow alley that led to the back dooryard. As they closed in on the woodpile, Nan cried, “Oh!” Then she broke away from Gabriel to fetch the bouquet of hothouse red roses from atop a fence post, where he’d left them for her that morning. A huge pink bow with trailing ribbon held the stems together. “How on earth did you slip these past me?”

  He chuckled. “I hid them in the alleyway.” Gabe glanced at the long, slender box resting on a lower rung of the woodpile. There was no reason for Nan to read the letter inside now. Gabe would ask Christopher to fetch the container later and toss it on their sitting room fire. “The instructions say to keep them cool until they’re in water. They’ve held up well. I’m surprised they aren’t ruined from being out in the open for so many hours.”

  “It’s thirty-eight degrees, a perfect temperature for snow, and flowers as well, I’m guessing.” Nan held the blossoms to her nose and breathed in deeply of their scent. “Oh, Gabriel, roses in December. I can’t believe it.” She fixed him with a bedazzled gaze. “You’ve gone and done it now. I think Santa truly exists, and I shall expect him to bring me roses for Christmas every year for the rest of my life. They’re magical.”

  “You’ll have them, and anything else I can get for you, sweetheart.”

  Gabe walked closer to smell the unfurling blossoms. He started to bend down to kiss the woman who’d so completely stolen his heart. She saw him wince and stepped up on the pile of logs until their faces were level. He leaned forward, and their lips met in a featherlight kiss that went all through him.

  If he could live out the rest of his days trying his damnedest to make her smile, he’d die the second time a very happy man.

  Epilogue

  Two and a half years later

  Gabe glanced sideways at his eighteen-month-old son, who was helping to sandpaper the church’s porch railing. The child, named Gabriel after his dad, was far too young to do chores, but he insisted on being Gabe’s assistant nevertheless. Gabe tried to show him the correct way to do things, whether he understood yet or not.

  Gabriel had pudgy little hands with dimples over each first knuckle. He also took his sanding assignment very seriously, bending his dark head close to the wood and frowning. It was clear to Gabe that his boy was trying to emulate him, which he found flattering. He just hoped he didn’t scowl quite that fiercely while he worked.

  Crouching beside the child, Gabe demonstrated with his piece of sandpaper. “Not real hard, just slowly, lightly, back and forth, back and forth. There you go. That’s a fine job, Gabriel.”

  The child grinned up at Gabe, flashing Nan’s dimple in his cheek. He was definitely a kid Gabe could never deny, with pitch-black hair, coffee brown eyes, and a complexion that loved the sun. But there was a lot of his mother in him, too. He had her perfectly bowed upper lip, and though his eyes were dark, they were shaped exactly like Nan’s. Gabe was fond of telling his wife that their boy was a miraculous blend of them both, in possession of all their fine points and none of the bad. Nan always arched her fair brows and said, “Perhaps you have bad points to pass on to our children, Mr. Valance, but they shall get nary a one from me.”

  Nan was only teasing, of course, but Gabe completely agreed with the statement; she was as close to perfect as a woman could get. He loved her more than he ever would have believed possible.

  As if his thoughts had conjured her up, he heard her calling his name. He glanced around to see her walking toward him from the house, which lay about two hundred yards away, built well back from the road where Tyke Baden’s home had stood before Gabe tore it down. As it had turned out, the old man had owned an entire section of land, which stretched from Second Street, at the edge of town, into an immense acreage of rolling grassland. Pop—even Gabe called Tyke that now—had signed over the deed to Gabe and Nan two years ago, enabling Gabe to build the house he’d dreamed of during the first month of his marriage. Pop still lived with them and loved being a grandfather to Laney, Christopher, and little Gabriel. In another three months, he’d have a fourth grandchild to fuss over. Gabe had grown to think of the older man as the only father he’d ever had, and he felt certain Nan felt the same way.

  Gabe swung off the porch. He didn’t know how Nan pulled it off, but even large with child, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever clapped eyes on. Since marrying him, she’d taken to wearing dresses with modestly scooped necklines. Today she was a picture in a gown with a blue-and-white-checked bodice and sleeves trimme
d with white lace, and solid blue skirts that started just below her breasts and sported a split top layer that swept gracefully back over her hips to form a stylish bustle. The garment didn’t hide her pregnancy, but lent her elegance in spite of it.

  “Sweetheart, why didn’t you just bang on the tripod? In your condition, you shouldn’t walk all the way to the church on a hot afternoon.”

  Glancing at the porch, Nan laid a protective hand over her swollen belly. “Gabriel, don’t leave him alone up there. He may fall down the steps.”

  Gabe leaned back around the railing to collect little Gabriel and set him safely on the grass before walking out to meet his wife. She smiled up at him. Not for the first time, Gabe thought that he could live on Nan’s smiles alone. Fortunately, she was such a fabulous cook that he’d never had to put it to a test.

  “Why did you walk out here in the midday heat?” July in Colorado didn’t bring on scorchers like Gabe had experienced in other parts of the country, but to those who’d grown accustomed to the climate, summer afternoons felt hot. He touched his hand to her moist forehead. “What was so important it couldn’t wait?”

  “I missed you,” she said simply. “Pop is having a nap, and that big house feels empty with the kids gone.”

  Laney and Christopher had taken the wagon, stopped to pick up friends, and were picnicking along Random Creek, which ran through the west forty of their land. Jasper, who always shadowed the kids, was also gone and probably feasting on the fried-chicken lunch that Nan had fixed and stowed in a basket. “Let me get little Gabe, and we’ll go back with you. I can’t have you feeling lonely.”

  Nan reached up to wipe wood dust from the silver star Gabe now wore pinned to his shirt. During the last election, the townspeople had written his name in on the ballot, and Gabe had become the marshal even though he hadn’t wanted the job. So far, it had worked out well. Gabe had so many people watching his back that he no longer needed to worry about upstart gunslingers calling him out into the street for a shooting contest. Pete Raintree had blabbed far and wide that Gabriel Valance now had the equivalent of an armed battalion under his command, and only a fool would dare to challenge him.