by S S Bazinet
Arel did look like he was slowly disappearing. Standing in front of Michael, barely maintaining his balance, his slender, five-foot-eleven body was hardly more than bones and skin.
“That’s not what’s wanted,” Michael insisted more forcefully. “If you look in your heart, you’ll know I’m telling you the truth.”
Arel stumbled forward. “My heart? Do you know what’s in my heart? It’s the place where I keep that small part of myself that’s endured, that’s still alive after everything that’s happened to me. But you’re after that part too. I can feel it. I can feel your blood hating me, trying to get rid of the little piece of me that I’ve been able to hold on to. But I won’t let you, even if it kills me, I’ll hold on to it!” He screamed out the words, but his breath caught. He grabbed his chest. “Dammit.”
Michael rushed over. “Stop it. Stop fighting or you will kill yourself.”
Arel crumpled backwards and onto the sofa. He sat in a heap, taking gasping breaths and trying to deal with the pain that had hold of his chest. Half of the time he ranted and raved like a madman when Michael was around. As he calmed himself, he had a moment of clarity. “I’m so scared, Michael. I’m so afraid that you’ve deceived me too.”
“Never, deep down you must know that I would never do that.”
Arel shook his head. “After all these years, I must be a terrible disappointment.”
“No, it’s not true, and the blood isn’t trying to destroy you. It’s clearing away the lies, the things that have made you think there’s something wrong with you.”
“I’ve always felt like there’s something dark and horrible inside of me. Why else would my parents hate me like they did?” Arel hesitated, but when he looked at Michael, his golden eyes were pleading, petitioning Michael for absolution. “I don’t want to think about—” He tightened his jaw and forced himself to say the name that festered and burned in some deep, inner chamber. “I try, but I can’t forget Justina and the mistake she made, loving me.”
“That’s all in the past.”
“Am I totally wrong to want some small portion of happiness again?”
Michael clasped Arel’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Love is what we all need.”
“No, I’m not talking about love. If I could just connect to someone—”
“I know what you want. But this isn’t a good time for that kind of connection. Give yourself a chance to stabilize first.”
Arel's fists instantly closed on themselves. His need for forgiveness was replaced by a fresh storm of anger. “I need a break, Michael! Is that asking too much? All I’m talking about is a few minutes with someone so that I can forget this god-awful mess that I’m in.”
“I understand, and I’m trying to help—”
“Forget it! I don’t want your help! You’ve helped enough.”
Six
ABRIGAIL STOOD IN the middle of the spring garden, smiling and feeling very proud of herself. As an angel, it was an accomplishment to take on a physical body. “Michael,” she called out. “Look at me.”
She directed her greeting to a tall, broad shouldered man a few feet away. When he turned, his blond hair framed his handsome face, but it was the light coming from his pale blue eyes that made her smile broaden into a delighted grin. “Michael, I did it!”
Michael put down his pruning shears and walked over to her. “Welcome.”
Abrigail held her arms out from her sides and did a little pirouette, showing off her lithe, graceful body. Her silky, white dress flared out as she turned. “Is my form correct?”
“Yes, of course it is.”
“I forgot how much energy it takes for one of us to create such a dense expression.” Abrigail’s gaze traveled over Michael’s strong body. “How do you do it? How do you have the energy to sustain a human body over the years?”
Michael paused and scanned their surroundings. “It’s easy when I spend time seeing to all the wondrous expressions of the Creator.”
“The physical viewpoint is always a thrill for me.” Abrigail reached down and cupped a daffodil, giving the delicate golden-yellow bloom her full attention. She let out a giggle of delight. “This little flower knows how beautiful it is. And everywhere I look, there are so many flowers blooming, so many other vibrant colors and shapes to admire.” She put her hand over her heart and looked at Michael. “Seeing your garden like this almost takes the breath from my body.”
Michael walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. “In spring, I also enjoy the newly leafed out trees. They exude a powerful desire, an eagerness after their long winter sleep.”
Abrigail approached the bench and sat down too. “You’ve brought a touch of paradise to Arel’s back yard. Your energy is part of every living thing in this garden.”
“I’m hoping that Arel can enjoy it someday.”
“I know he has an issue with the sun, but does he visit here in the evenings?”
A sigh of disappointment was Michael’s answer. “I don’t think he cares very much about what I do at this point.”
“He’s missing so much.” Abrigail’s focus went from a bed of tulips to another that was full of crocuses. In every bed, the flowers were crowded close to each other like showy sardines. “How did you manage to put so many into this space?”
Michael’s eyes turned playful. “I might have been over zealous when I planted last fall.”
“You’re always a bit over zealous with everything that you care about.”
Michael sat back with a sigh. “You’re referring to Arel.”
“Especially with Arel. He’s so fortunate to have you.”
“He wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Michael, you have to remember that he’s a very challenging soul.”
“This life’s been extremely difficult for him. From the very beginning, he had to deal with his mother’s resentment and neglect. As he got older, life became increasingly painful.”
“And you were there, trying to help him. He would have never survived if you hadn’t tempered the abuse with your support. But there’s only so much you can do. A human’s fear and anger create almost impossible barriers.”
Michael laughed. “Arel is an expert at barriers. Of course, he’s had a long time to perfect the walls he uses to keep out life.”
“He’s fighting everything, including you.”
“He thinks that I don’t understand what he’s going through.”
“How did humans get the idea that we’re . . . that we’re—”
“Stoic?” Michael paused, smiling again. “Arel equates feelings with emotional tirades. Maybe if I had a fit of anger, he’d think that I can relate to him.”
“Perhaps if he knew the truth.”
Michael looked away again, but he didn’t comment.
Abrigail studied him carefully. “I know you’ve been living in the physical for quite a while. You’re not getting caught up—”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“It was my decision to give him my blood.”
She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. “Your technique is original, very innovative. You’ve caused quite a stir among the angelic forces.”
“I doubt that any would want to follow my example.”
Abrigail sat up straighter, her eyes more direct. “Arel was losing all hope. You were trying to keep the vow you made to his soul.”
“Only his soul is aware of that promise.”
“Arel was deep in despair. You’ve tried to give him a chance to find his way back to himself, to that place where he can shine again.”
“But there are big risks in this process. I don’t know if he can survive all the pain that’s coming up.”
“There’s a particularly difficult issue, isn’t there?”
“Yes, as a young man, he found his one and only true love. Yet, their relationship ended tragically. He won’t stop blaming himself.”
“Was he responsible?�
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“Not directly, but he loved Justina with all his heart. Shouldering the responsibility for what happened is his way of protecting her and himself from the truth. He’s terrified of what really happened.”
“You can explain—”
“He won’t let me.”
“Give him time. He’s strong. You know that. How else would he be able to isolate himself for this long?”
Michael stood up, picked up a watering can and tended to a newly planted rose bush. “He’s not completely isolated. There is someone.”
Abrigail came to attention. “What? I didn’t think he ever left the house.”
Michael let out a hearty laugh as if the idea was absurd. “He doesn’t. He’s chatting with a woman online.”
“Are you saying that Arel wants a relationship?”
“No, not a relationship. That would imply change. Arel has another approach. He’s losing himself in a romantic, fantasy world.”
“In other words, he’s trying to control everything. But how is he going to maintain his fantasy if this woman wants more than Arel is prepared to give?”
Michael put the watering can down and returned to the bench. “If his fantasy backfires and he gets hurt, it could destroy any progress that he’s making. He could end up in worse shape than when we started this process.”
“So what can I do? Why did you want me involved?”
Michael sat down again. “Arel doesn’t like discussing Carol with me, but he might consider confiding in you. I’d like you to be there if he needs to talk to someone.”
Seven
THE MOOD IN the busy diner was cheerful. The jukebox played songs from the eighties, and people were enjoying their lunch. Carol barely noticed the music or her fellow patrons. She stared at her plate with its half-eaten veggie melt, twisting her napkin. Her friend, Peggy, was seated across from her, dreamily sucking up the last of her malt.
“I love these old tunes,” Peggy said, coming back from her contented fog.
Carol gave Peggy the briefest glance and went back to staring at her sandwich. “Yes, I guess so.”
“Are you alright?” Peggy’s red, silky hair fell forward as she leaned in. “It doesn’t look like you were very hungry.”
Carol sat up a little straighter. “You’re my best friend, Peggy, and I wanted . . . well I thought—”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
Carol offered a quick smile. “No, that’s just it. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
“Well, that’s good, but there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
“You’re going to think that I’m crazy when you hear what I’ve been doing.”
“Carol, really, you’re one of the most level-headed people I know. Why do you think that I’d criticize you?”
“Because I know that if you told me something like this, I’d think that you were losing touch with reality.”
Peggy’s dark brown eyes flared as she leaned in further. “So tell me everything.”
Carol sucked in a breath and met Peggy’s eyes straight on. “I’ve heard that we need to visualize what we want in life. Every night before I go to sleep, I picture myself with the most wonderful man. He’s handsome and charming. I see us having an amazing life together. Maybe we could even have a family someday.”
Peggy sighed, clearly disappointed. “Is that all? You’ve been visualizing a guy? I think the old term for that type of thing is daydreaming.”
“There’s more.”
“More?”
Carol blushed. “I think I’ve met the man of my dreams.”
“What! You’ve met a guy?” Peggy’s excited question came out in an overly loud voice. A number of other patrons gave her and Carol lengthy stares.
Carol’s blush deepened. “Yes,” she whispered back. “I met someone who’s the nicest person, a really sweet man.”
“Give me the details. What’s he like? Is he tall, good looking?”
Carol grabbed her napkin again. “I don’t know. I’ve only talked to him online.”
“Online? Where online?”
“You know, in one of those chat rooms. For the past month, we’ve been talking for hours almost every night. His name is Mike, and I feel like I know him.”
Peggy frowned. “So that’s why you’re not doing all the fun stuff we usually do. You’ve been telling me you’re too busy with your workload, but that’s been a lie.”
“I’m sorry.” Carol looked down at her napkin. She’d nearly destroyed it earlier. Now she started to pick at what was left. “I guess I got so involved.”
“How involved?”
“I just mean that I love talking with this guy. I may not get to actually see him or hold his hand, but that doesn’t mean he’s not real.” She paused. “I hope I’ll get to meet him someday.”
Peggy let out a gasp. “Hold on. You don’t really know this guy. You’ve only communicated online. You can’t just rush off to meet him.”
“I guess.”
“And let’s back up for a moment. You’re beautiful and smart and a total catch for any man, but you’ve always resisted dating until now. Why is that?”
Carol’s green eyes lost some of their sparkle. “I never told anyone about some parts of my life. Please Peggy, if I tell you, this is our secret.”
“Of course.”
Carol pushed her plate aside and braced herself on the table, clasping her hands. “I was married when I was only seventeen. It was a terrible mistake for both of us, and it only lasted a few months. After that fiasco, I put my energy into my life, my work and my interests. I’ve kept men out of it.”
“Then why did you start doing these, these . . . visualizations?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been fine with being alone for a long time. But I’ve changed a lot in the past fourteen years. I’m successful, more self-confident now. I guess I want to give romance another go. Besides, when I visualize someone, he’s great. What’s wrong with a guy like that coming into my life?”
“Carol, think about it. You just told me that you have ignored the idea of relationships all this time. You can’t just jump into a love affair now and think everything will be perfect. Besides, chatting with someone is one thing, but being with someone for real is another matter.”
“But I’ve matured in the relationship area. At work, my graphic design team interacts with other departments all the time. I get along with all the guys I meet.”
“Trust me, it’s not the same thing.”
Carol sat up and crossed her arms. “But what if Mike is someone who has everything I want? Isn’t that possible? I know it sounds hard to believe, but maybe I just got lucky.”
“It seems that you have your mind made up.”
“I simply want to stay open, that’s all.”
Peggy reached out again. “Please be careful. I’m concerned about you. Promise me that you’ll check with me before you seriously consider meeting this guy?”
Carol sighed. “I promise.”
* * * * *
Carol stopped in front of her bedroom mirror, checked her makeup, and scowled.
I’m worrying about looking my best for an internet date. What would Peggy say about that?
She didn’t care what Peggy thought. The time she spent online was important, and looking her best made the situation all the more real. Besides, she was lucky to have met someone as wonderful as Mike. As she made her way from the bedroom to her office, she couldn’t stop thinking about all of his virtues. He was intelligent, funny, kind, insightful, and considerate. He was the most fascinating person Carol could imagine.
Peggy’s wrong to be so suspicious.
She put an unruly strand of blond hair behind her ear, adjusted her posture, and quickly sat down at her computer.
Wouldn’t it be something if Mike were the perfect guy for me?
It was a heady thought that sent waves of anticipation rippling through her body. When she realized the feelin
g of excitement was almost overwhelming, she pulled back and took a couple of deep breaths. Was she being too excited?
Of course not. Even Peggy admitted that I’m level-headed.
And she could certainly prove it to herself. She stared at the clock and waited. After two minutes passed the hour, she finally connected to the chat room. When she was satisfied that her body and mind were calm and collected, she logged in. Unfortunately, her excitement returned as soon as she saw that Mike was already waiting for her.
He must be as anxious as I am to talk.
Her stomach went queasy as she placed her hands on the keyboard again. She typed in her first message of the evening. “Hi Mike! How are you?”
* * * * *
Positioned in the corner of Carol’s office, Michael stood next to Grace. Grace was Carol’s angel. Both of them were observing the young woman as she sat at her computer.
“You seem particularly pleased,” Michael said quietly.
Grace smiled. “Of course I am. It’s been a long time since Carol has been this happy.”
Clothed in their wispy, ethereal bodies, they remained invisible. But even in their non-physical forms, they were careful about their appearance. If someone had a psychic gift and happened to glimpse them, they’d appear to have human forms. As angels, they did all that they could to keep from frightening people. There was also the matter of wings. Some of their kind added that touch too, since many humans expected it.
Michael was visiting Grace in his casual attire, jeans and a sweat shirt. No wings. “Was Carol ever aware of you?” he asked.
Grace nodded. “When she was very young, Carol talked to me all the time. After she saw the movie about Cinderella, she thought I was her fairy godmother. But that was a long time ago. As she got older, she labeled me as her make-believe friend.”
“You do look the part of a fairy godmother.”
If seen by human eyes, Grace could have been described as a perfect example of the matronly, church social type. She had silver-white hair and wore a plain-cut, flowered dress. But Grace’s grandmotherly look was simply window-dressing. Michael knew the truth about his formidable, fellow angel. She was very capable of carrying out her duties.