The Angel's Daughter

by Jody Sharpe

  “Thank you so much.” I rise and give them each big hugs telling them I love them. They seem so pleased and I know I’m blessed to have them.

  Meredith, Tony, Hattie and Taylor bought me two tickets to see a play I wanted to see in San Francisco next month with them. I’d have asked Andy but now of course I’ll ask Josh. Jack, the owner comes over with the special dessert of the restaurant, an apple torte; my favorite. Dad starts singing Happy Birthday. I really hate being the center of attention and want to shrink into the chair. I look at the red roses Josh handed me as he came in tonight. How sweet.

  Meredith nudges me. “We have an announcement.” Meredith and Tony stand with their drinks held high.

  Tony’s face lights with glee, “A toast to Hannah Angel D’Amato….our baby is a girl to be named after you, our wonderful Hannah! We have read her chart and we know she’ll be lucky to have your tender heart as well.”

  Everyone toasts and so do I, although I’m crying again and those white strange tears soak right into the awaiting napkin. I cried more today than in a very long time. It’s amazing… a baby girl named after me? I thank and hug them both.

  There is enough merriment to light a tree as we finish coffee and torte and the conversation dies down and yawns become contagious. Josh asks, “Want to go for a stroll on the beach?” I nod.

  As we say goodnight to all, Dad’s eyes shine like candles on the torte. We walk out in the damp night, get Homer out of Josh’s truck and head down the steps to the sand. Filtered moonlight shimmers on the lapping waves. Homer romps through them as happy as a dog on Christmas.

  We walk for a while listening to the sounds around us. Josh breaks the silence. “It was a great dinner. Your Dad and Helen are terrific and I really like your friends.”

  “Thanks, they like you too. You have an easy way with people.”

  “And dogs and cats,” he says with a laugh.

  “Of course and Dawn the fawn!” I can see in the night he’s smiling ear to ear.

  I feel at ease with him now that the shock of seeing him again has worn off. The mist is coming in and the moon dims looking like a painter used a brush to make swirls of clouds covering it. The beauty of the sacred night turns the clouds just a hint of red. We walk on with our thoughts to ourselves. The perfect scene is added by the soothing sound of the water, a distant car or two on Beach Road and the dog running like the wind. Then Josh speaks. This time his voice is low.

  “I was so sorry to hear about your mother.”

  My heart always drops when someone gives their condolences. But tonight I feel different being with him. Josh is easy to be with. His very presence brings comfort. I take in a breath of the night sea air……

  “I was in shock for a long time. Dad and Aunt Helen’s love helped me through. Just Mom and I were driving to San Francisco and a thought crossed my mind before the accident that she should be wearing a seat belt. Then it passed. I didn’t say anything. It’s hard to live with the what-ifs. Yet, here I am still a pretty happy soul most of the time.”

  I turn looking up at him and see the shadow of his face in the night and realize I’ve never spoken such deep words to anyone about it, except Dad. I even kept the thoughts from my aunt and the psychologist I saw a few times.

  Josh takes my hand. His hand is warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know till recently. I thought about writing you before I moved here. I wish I’d kept in touch all these years.”

  “We were just kids then. I just wish I’d listened to my inner voice.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault. We can’t heed our every thought. I’m sure she’s always near you.”

  His kind words lift my heart a bit and I so hope he’s right but still the heartache persists. He squeezes my hand and we stroll on in silence in the iridescent night. I contemplate the frustration Dad must always feel. I feel it now. If I’m half angel, then why couldn’t I have stopped it? Why couldn’t Dad have stopped it from happening; asked for a favor? He stopped her from walking into traffic once. I know he said those angel abilities stopped the moment he stayed here for the human experience but why could he still fly? Somehow I knew I mustn’t ever ask for fear of hurting him. I wish I could tell Josh about his words, “a nano second in time and we’ll be together” but I can’t. The secret is meant to be just that, a secret to keep.

  When we get back to the house, Dad is sitting in his big plaid chair in the living room fast asleep. He is still wearing his red Santa bathrobe. Dawn is curled in his lap with eyes closed, Louie at his feet. Bubbles sits on his head looking at us dreamily with those little dark eyes. Duke looks up sleepily from his place next to old Louie. He almost smiles.

  “This is a photo op for sure,” Josh whispers. “He looks like Santa with the animals”.

  With the twinkling pink lit Christmas tree in the background; we take a photo with my cell phone. I find the camera in the kitchen and take another few photos. All that’s missing is the Coke bottle and the scene could be on a Highway billboard or Christmas card. I snap a few more and Dad still doesn’t wake up. In fact he’s snoring.

  Josh and I stifle our laughs as I wake Dad up as gently as I can. I take Dawn from his arms and Dad wishes us a tired “Merry Christmas” and goes off to bed with Bubbles cradled in his arms like a new born. Josh and I take Dawn and the dogs outside. The sky is still swirling and wind has picked up, a California Christmas chill now. We go back in the house and put Dawn in the dog beds. With Louie on one side of her and Duke on the other, Dawn gets a lick goodnight. Now this is another quaint fairytale scene. I take another photo then walk Josh outside. After he puts Homer in his truck and walks me to the stairs to my apartment, I get the nerve to stand on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.

  “Do you want to see my little bungalow? I’ll make you a cup of Bubble’s hot chocolate.” I’d love for him to come up and see my place because I’m finding I don’t want the night to ever end.

  “No to Bubbles hot chocolate,” he laughs taking my hand climbing the stairs, “but I do want to see where you live.” I open the door and he walks in after me. The soft light in the little kitchen and the white Christmas lights around the big window make it homey. They shine through my tin angel like a soft candle behind her. My antique brass bed, pastel flowered chintz loveseat, flea market dresser, and tiny kitchenette are my private sanctuary. The windows are so tall I can see the sky at night. Aunt Helen insists I have a flair for cottage design and that it shows in the way I decorated the small apartment and our store.

  “This is great and I love this window looking out to Main Street,” he says peering out at the street. He picks up the tin angel and sets it down again. Jess, who’s sprawling on my aunt’s handmade quilt, lifts her weary head then puts it back down. He sits on the bed and pets Jess.

  “I saw you this morning sitting in the store window tormenting dogs.”

  Jess yawns.

  He turns to me with the crooked little smile. He looks like he just stepped out of one of Aunt Helen’s modern romance novels; the hero, gorgeous and love struck sitting on the bed. As if he hears my thoughts he stands up and walks over to me. My feet seem stuck to the wood floor and my heart is pumping big time.

  “I really need to go but I want you to know that I’m glad I came back and found you again. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow for Christmas dinner. It was kind of you all to invite me. You are a sweet memory come true, Han, and well if I had one wish, I’d wish I’d never left Mystic Bay.” His blue eyes dance like fire.

  I stutter, stunned and manage to say, “I was sad when you left.” I know I’m tearing up but Josh can’t see it in the pale light.

  “Me too, but I’m here now. Happy birthday to you, Hannah Angel O’Ryan.” He takes me gently and kisses me, this time a grown-up kiss. I don’t want the moment to end but he pulls away and looks at me with his arms outstretched on my shoulders.

  “Goodnight,” his kind voice whispers.

  “Goodnight,” I say gulping in what’s just happened;
watching him leave down the stairs to his truck, off to Doc Lindley’s big place just outside town. I wish he would run back to me and take me in his arms again. My love clock is definitely chiming. I haven’t been kissed like that in three stifling years. Then just like in the movies he turns and waves. I wave back with a smile and as if he read my mind, he runs back up the stairs and gives me another kiss. This time our kiss is longer and I feel I’m flying up to those swirling clouds. He releases saying nothing and runs back down the stairs. I almost lose my balance but I wave touching the lips he just kissed. I get ready for bed still in a daze for this beautiful night. In my well worn journal I write:

  CHRISTMAS EVE….my 24th birthday

  I met my childhood love again

  Tall and kind, his eyes are bluer still

  A sweet kiss, a memory returning

  “Josh really moved back to Mystic Bay. You just met him again, calm down.” I put my journal on the nightstand, pick up Jesse and take her down the stairs across the alley and over to the main house. Sleeping without Duke and Dawn nearby is not an option. I spread two blankets on the couch, put Jesse down, turn the light out and lie down wrapping the blanket around us. The Christmas tree lights cast a pink glow on the animals. Duke raises his head and wags his tail at me.

  Wait a minute! How did Josh know my middle name was Angel? I always sign my name Hannah A. O’Ryan. I remember now, he heard Tony and Meredith say they’d name their baby, Hannah Angel. I envision the little girl sitting on my knee and then think about the last time I saw Josh. It was a perfect Sunday, when Mom was still alive and life was sublime. He smiled at me with that little crooked smile then kissed me goodbye. We said we’d write but never did. We were so young then. If we’d kept in touch, maybe I wouldn’t have fallen for Sam and let my father’s secret out. It’s my secret too though isn’t it? Am I really a freak of nature or an incredible miracle, human and angel? I close my eyes knowing dreams will come and there are no secrets in dreams.

  To: Hannah’s email@…..

  From: Sblakley’s email@…..

  Subject: The Angel

  A+ Hannah, I love the way you write with such charm and whimsy. You intrigue me. Expand on the idea, perhaps a short story is forming! See me after class again if possible.

  Sam

  Sam Blakley…..Brooklyn New York, Valentines Eve

  I pack my new navy blazer and best ties in the suitcase. I’m so ready for my first big interview. My book, “My California Angel”, will be in book stores Monday and I’ll have an interview with that gorgeous blonde TV reporter, Tiffany Gould. Plus the famous July North! “Pretty damn amazing!”

  I pick up the one writing award I’ve ever received, The Golden Pen Award for the short story I wrote in grad school, “The Paper Boy’s Diaries”. It sits proudly on my desk. My life is changing now and it’s about time. I’m really due. My book tour holds interviews on different networks and twenty book signings.

  I look out the window of my crummy Flatbush apartment, a six-floor walk up in the seedy Brooklyn neighborhood. The streets are lined with signs of a cold snowy yesterday. But I just signed a new lease for a nice apartment in Williamsburg. I glance in the mirror and stretch. Working out really paid off. My looks always reel women in, like lazy fish in a river.

  Now I’ll have enough money to join Mag’s Gym, maybe even take a sabbatical from NYU next year. My life is starting over all thanks to that daddy’s girl, Hannah O’Ryan.

  A lump forms in my throat wondering what she’ll think when she sees it. Will she know that I still can’t get her out of my damn mind?

  “Stop it.” I’m going to cash in on her ideas. She owes me. I’ve been pretty clever piecing it all together like that. “I’d love to see the look on Hannah’s angelic face when she sees the book. Maybe I’ll move back to that nice little Mystic Bay and throw it in that holier than thou Gabe O’Ryan’s psychic face. Her Dad an angel? What a crock! She’s got to be crazy.”

  Picking up the book, I admire the shiny royal blue background with an unsmiling drawing of Hannah’s profile on the cover. The artist drew the likeness pretty darn close from the photograph I gave him, adding only giant wings behind her. Oh, God, I yearn for her.

  I zip up the worn roller suitcase held at the seam with some duct tape, put the book under my arm and look once more at the ugly, drafty apartment I’ve loathed for three claustrophobic years.

  “Next time I see you I’ll have launched my career as a novelist. My life is gonna change big time.” I plant a smile on my face and slam the door hard. No more of these creaky unswept stairs to use. I step carefully over the homeless man asleep in the doorway so he doesn’t touch me. Hey, I grew up poor but look at me now.

  To: Hannah’s emaiI@…..

  From: Sblakley’s email@…..

  Hannah, congratulations. A + again! You have the highest grade in my class. I want to read more! See you as planned for a discussion at the Coffee House after class. Looking forward to seeing you,

  Sam

  It’s after nine on Valentine’s Eve and Josh and I’ve been seeing each other a lot since Christmas. We’re on Lake Louisa an hour west of town in the San Raphael State Park. Josh stirs the embers of the fire though a misty light rain falls and the fire is almost out. The animals sleep snug in the little camper we hitched to the truck. The moon is gone, hidden by gray blue rain clouds. Josh takes my hand as rain falls harder and we climb into the close quarters of the camper. We leave the door open so we can look out at the rainy night and breathe in the lovely smell. Sounds of the soothing rain lull us towards sleep.

  I look up at the clouds again and without thinking it through I whisper, “Do you ever wish you could fly up high above those rain clouds?” I immediately regret saying it…I’m playing with fire.

  “Sure I do,” he says softly. “Everyone does.”

  I’m unable to stop myself broaching the subject again, wanting to know…needing to know his perspective. “Why do you think we can’t fly?”

  He turns to me yet I can’t see his expression. His arms wrap around me tighter. “I think if man had wings, well, what would he have to dream about?”

  “That’s such a beautiful thought. You sound like a poet.”

  “Ah, but you’re the writer, your Dad tells me. I’d like to read some of your work sometime.”

  “It was my major in college but I don’t write anymore, just in my journal sometimes.” I don’t want to explain that my stupid relationship with Sam ruined the creative part of my life. I loved writing those angel stories but no more.

  “Why did you stop writing?”

  “It’s a long story. My business head took over and I love running the store now. It’s so beautiful here, I’d rather you tell me more of your poetic thoughts on life.” In the dark I imagine a shadow of his smile.

  “I’m no poet but I want you to know I feel lucky being with you again. When I was sixteen I must have known somehow that the amazing girl I knew would grow up to be the kind and beautiful woman you’ve become. My intuition must have sent me back.”

  My words say what is in my heart. “Josh, I’m glad you did come back.”

  “So I see Andy Walin hanging around a bit and so I wondered if I should be worried.”

  “Not to worry Josh, we’re only friends.”

  He takes me in his arms and we fall on the sleeping bags. We fall asleep to the pitter-pat of the rain and the slow breaths of the animals dreaming their animal dreams. I awaken feeling blissful with Josh sleeping peacefully next to me. I sit up and pull the door of the camper wide. The grey and pinkish purple hues of sunrise turn Lake Louisa into a National Geographic photo. Light glitters through the passing rain clouds on the lake like the angel dust on Dad’s and Uriel’s wings. A fish jumps, a flock of birds fly overhead.

  Josh pulls me to him but the animals are stirring, ready for breakfast so we get out of our camper looking like real barn inhabitants. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sleepyhead,” he smiles reaching into the pocket of
his jacket. He pulls out a little box and hands it to me. In it is a gold necklace with a little deer pendant. “For you because we met again the day you found Dawn.”

  “Oh Josh you shouldn’t have but its darling. I can wear it with the two I got for Christmas….it’s beautiful, thank you.” Josh helps me put it on.

  “You’re so thoughtful.” I kiss him. “I have a little something for you too.” I take a box from the pocket of my jacket. I watch him open it, hoping he’ll like the waterproof watch. “You said you broke yours.”

  “I love it. Thank you.” He picks me up kisses me and twirls me around and we laugh how we both thought to hide the little gifts in our pockets. We feed the animals and take out more wood for a fire but the campsite is too wet from the rain and the animals feet are getting muddy. Dawn thinks she’s a dog and their game of tag is funny to watch. She’s still small and has an ever so slight limp but runs around anyway with her pack. We decide to head home and go to the Next Door Café for breakfast. We get the animals wiped off and head down the hills. As we drive out of the campsite entrance, Josh stops. There, in a clearing at the side of the road is a doe and her fawn.

  “They’re black-tailed deer,” Josh whispers. Duke and Homer don’t bark even though their heads are almost out the window. I turn to look at Dawn. Her gaze is riveted on her fellow deer. She doesn’t move a muscle. The doe and her baby move back into the woods.

  “I wonder what she’s thinking,” I say to him.

  “I bet somewhere deep in her instincts she knows that she’s their kind.”

  “Look how they all keep staring where the deer were. Wouldn’t it be great to see inside their thoughts?”

  “You’d find only love in there, that’s what I think.” Josh smiles his smile. I marvel at the way he expresses himself, this man with the gentle spirit.