The Smile of an Angel

by Peggy Webb

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  How can you describe heaven?

  That was what Emily was thinking as she lay on her bed with Jake finally inside her. At long last. Back where he belonged. Where they both belonged.

  “Stay,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”

  And then she wrapped her arms and legs around him and held him so close they felt like one person with one heart and one soul and one body suspended in this beautiful space, which could only be called home.

  She remembered what her father used to say about it. Home is not a place, it’s a person, the one person in the world who feels exactly right to us and who makes us feel exactly right about ourselves.

  Emily and her siblings would be sitting on the rug around Michael’s feet after he’d returned from one of his high-altitude filming expeditions, and she’d wondered what he meant by that.

  Now she knew.

  She was lying on top of a quilt with the sunshine pouring through the windows while she held the one person in the world she could call home. The place inside her that always quivered when something wasn’t right, was at peace. And filled with exultation. Yes, that was the word for it. She wasn’t merely happy inside and out, she was in a state of bliss that could only be called exultation.

  Weaving her hands through Jake’s hair, she held him close and whispered, “I love you, Jake. So very, very much.”

  And though he didn’t say it back, she knew, anyhow. She knew. Love was in his eyes and in the way he touched her cheek, the way he kissed her. With a tenderness and passion that filled her heart.

  Love was in the way he held on to her as if he would never let her go, and in the way he caressed her, his fingers skimming lightly over her skin, sending shivers of pleasure that went all the way to her soul.

  “Ahh,” she said, for how could she keep quiet when he was showing her paradise over and over again. And then quite suddenly she was screaming, “Yes, yes, yes!” for in that quicksilver way that thrilled her to the bone, Jake had gone from exquisitely tender to extraordinarily passionate, and she was a comet streaking across the sky, falling, falling in a trail of fire only to be reborn and rocketing toward the heavens once more.

  Chapter Thirty

  August 15, 2001

  Last night I dreamed Michael and I were on a beach in Honolulu and he was bending over me, removing the top of my swimsuit and saying, “You are the most exquisite creature,” in that wonderfully tender and intimate way he has. The way that makes me melt. Every time. Not just occasionally, but every single time.

  And I was wondering in my dream how I got to be so lucky to find a man like him, a once-in-a-lifetime man I would love forever. One who would love me right back. Even when I’m gray and my belly is sagging and my legs look like cottage cheese. Even when I lose my teeth.

  Then I woke up crying, and I realized I’d been crying all along, and that now I can’t escape the truth even in my dreams. Michael’s not here anymore. Not just here in Belle Rose in my bed, but here, period. Even though I see his skin growing paler by the day and his eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his feet getting dry and cracked in spite of my efforts with lotion, he’s still not here.

  I was so furious I got out of bed and went outside in my gown and stomped the prize daylilies Michael had given me on my fortieth birthday. Stomped every bloom till they were all lying in the dirt bruised and broken. The way I feel.

  “There now!” I yelled, and then I wiped my feet on the doormat and went upstairs and climbed back into bed. Shaking all over.

  It was two o’clock in the morning. I felt like a crazy woman.

  I still do, a little bit. I’m just glad the children aren’t here to see me.

  Daniel would understand, of course. Hannah would be taking steps to help me, calling psychiatrists, that kind of thing, and Emily would be plying me with popcorn and holding cool washcloths to my forehead and telling me everything was going to be all right.

  Well…this is not something I will tell Michael, though I try to recount every small detail of my day to him in the hope that he hears and will respond. Who knows how much he hears?

  This morning I stopped by the bakery on the corner by the hospital and bought his favorite cinnamon buns. Then when I got to his room, I held them under his nose and said, “Hi, darling, I brought you some breakfast. It’s time now to get up and eat.”

  His eyelashes fluttered. I could swear it. Almost.

  Oh, I don’t know what to believe anymore. Maybe I’m seeing signs where there are none. Maybe my own desire for his recovery is so great I’ve become a master of invention.

  Yesterday I said to the nurse’s aid, “I do believe Michael’s feet moved when I was massaging them. Don’t you think that’s a very good sign?” And she said… Oh, I don’t even like to think about what she said. It was too cruel. But then the truth often is.

  She said, “Honey, this man has been in a coma for so long if he ever moves, it will be a pure dee miracle.”

  I won’t tell Daniel what she said. He’s got his whole congregation praying for a miracle. A prayer vigil, he calls it.

  I just wish I had the kind of faith he has. Where did he get it? Maybe from something Mother said or did. Heaven knows, I’ve been so wrapped up in Michael all my life I pretty much let the children raise themselves. I listened to them and gave them some guidance—I don’t mean that I didn’t nurture them. But I gave them a freedom that few children have, and I guess that’s why they all turned out the way they did. That, plus the fact that Michael and I both adored them, not only for themselves but for the fact that they were a product of our great love.

  Our love of the century. Our romance that was never going to end. NEVER.

  I’m doing my part to keep it going. I really am. Here is how I’ve tried to bring Michael back: Tuesday I read Steinbeck to him all day long—Of Mice and Men—his favorite. He always cries at the end, and I was hoping to move him to tears. But of course, I was the only one crying when Lennie looked out over the river for his rabbits and George shot him in the head.

  And then on Wednesday, I made orange spice cookies because he could never resist the smell and would always eat five right off the bat, then sneak back to the cookie jar till they were all gone, though he knew darned good and well that I’d made them all especially for him. Anyway, I ended up sitting by his bed eating the whole batch myself and then sitting up the rest of the night trying to relieve myself with Tums.

  Well…I blush to think about Thursday. Thursday night, actually. I’d told the hospital staff I was going to spend the night with Michael again, and I’d call them if we needed anything. They’re used to that now. Even sanction it. At this point I think they’d welcome anything that would bring him out of his coma, no matter how unorthodox.

  Anyhow, I rented a movie called “Giselle’s Candy Stick” which just about says it all. Then I put on this little red see-through outfit that Michael bought for me two years ago on Valentine’s Day. As a joke, he said, though by the time we finished romping like sixteen-year-olds, neither of us thought of it as a joke.

  As I said, I decked myself out like a call girl, then propped a chair against the door just in case and crawled in bed with my husband. Michael, I told him, I brought a little something to jog your memory.

  I turned the volume down low so no sound would drift out into the hallway. If anybody heard what was going on in here, they’d think it was a miracle for sure.

  I rolled Michael onto his side, being very careful of his tube, and held him close so he could feel my heart beating against his. I wore his favorite perfume so he could smell my skin and my hair. He always loved that.

  “Listen, darling,” I told him. “This is what I want.”

  And then I whispered the most outrageous things in his ear. Shocking things, really. Things I’d never even said to him when he was really with me.

  I don’t know what got into me. Desperation, I guess.

  Needless to say, none of it did any good.
Michael never moved a muscle, even when I…well, I’m not even going to write that part down. As a matter of fact, I’m trying to forget it.

  When I returned the movie, the woman behind the cash register (Mabel is her name, she’s been there for years) said, “I hope it worked, Hon,” and I said, “Oh, yes.” Then I went home and took the scissors to the red outfit and buried the remains in the backyard.

  I’m obviously losing my mind.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The morning after Jake arrived, Emily decided the most wonderful thing about being in love was how it cast a rosy glow over every single aspect of your life. She woke up feeling so good about herself and the world in general that she was absolutely certain she’d hear good news when she called her mother.

  She left Jake in the kitchen in his bare feet, wearing nothing but his underwear and a big apron she’d insisted on lest he scorch all that glorious hair on his chest. Then she went into the den and picked up the phone.

  “Hi, Mom. How’s everything?” Meaning mostly, How is Dad, but also, How are you?

  “I think we’re making some progress here, darling. I really do.”

  Her mother always tried to sound optimistic, which was fine by Emily. She’d always been a big proponent of positive thinking. Unlike Hannah, who was a realist to the bone and Daniel who was something of a dreamer.

  “How’s that, Mom?

  “Well, I’ve asked the doctors to step up the physical therapy, you know, to prevent atrophy. There’s definitely some improved muscle tone and flexibility.”

  “That’s great, Mom.”

  “Michael’s always been such a fit man. He’s going to hate it when he wakes up and finds that his body is not in tiptop shape.”

  “Yes. He will.”

  They both acted as if Michael Westmoreland would wake up within the next few minutes. And maybe that was the best way to think. Maybe that was better than all the gloom and doom Emily had seen people so often display in situations like this.

  “Tell me about you, Emily. What’s going on up there in the woods…besides animal rescue?”

  Emily laughed, and it felt so good. “I’ve got bigger things to rescue. Jake’s here.”

  “Wonderful! Oh, Emily, you don’t know how relieved that makes me feel. I was afraid you’d let everything that was happening here ruin things for you.”

  “No, I won’t do that.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.”

  “Good. Life goes on, Em. We can’t afford to stop living just because Michael’s in a coma.”

  “What about you, Mom? I don’t want to see you cooped up there all the time. It’s not good for you.”

  “I’m not. I go home nearly every night. Sometimes during the day. Just to take a little walk in the woods or sit in the sunshine with a cup of tea.”

  “What about friends? I’ll bet you haven’t gone to a single movie or out to a single lunch since Dad’s accident.”

  “Well, no. But I talk to Jane nearly every day, and she comes by the hospital. Clarice stops by every now and then. And Linda.”

  “That’s good. Still—”

  “Listen, Emily, I’m okay. I’m just living my life a bit differently now, that’s all. But I don’t want you to, nor Hannah and Daniel. I want things to be as normal as possible for all of you, and I want you to feel free to follow your heart. No matter what. You hear me, Em?”

  “I hear you, Mom. And I am. Truly, I am.”

  “All right, then. Get off the phone and go back to Jake. That’s what counts.”

  “Mom? Tell Dad I love him. Okay?”

  “I will, sweetheart. I always do.”

  When Emily hung up, Jake was standing in the doorway watching her with this look on his face. She closed her eyes, praying, she supposed, for guidance. Praying too for selfish reasons. Don’t let anything else come between us, was what she was praying.

  Her brother would be appalled.

  “Any new developments, Em?”

  “His muscle tone’s improving, Mom said, due to therapy.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Jake—” Emily went to him and put her hands on his face “—this is not going to come between us again. I won’t let it. Promise you won’t, either.”

  He studied her for the longest while before answering, and that scared her. But only a little. After the love they’d shared last night and this morning, there was no way she would ever believe that Jake was not going to be in her life forever.

  “It won’t,” he finally said. “I’ve come to terms with what happened to Michael.”

  “Good. Then it need not ever be anything between us except a normal conversation. You’ll want to know about Dad and I’ll want to tell you. From now on it will be that simple.”

  “How did I ever find such a wise woman?”

  “You just got lucky, I guess.”

  Jake swatted her playfully with a dish towel. When she screeched in mock horror, he picked her up and kissed her until she was breathless, then carried her into the kitchen where they sat on chairs pulled close and he fed her bites of pancake dripping with melted butter and real maple syrup. She felt pampered. And secure. And very well loved.

  She thought, This is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. And she vowed she was going to be in love with Jake Bean forever. No matter what.

  Jake had always enjoyed puttering around a house, fixing things, and he especially enjoyed it at Emily’s. There were so many things that needed fixing, and making repairs for her gave him the sense of being indispensable, heroic even. Mainly, he guessed, because she was so appreciative of every little thing. For instance, the lightbulb he’d changed in her closet because she couldn’t reach the fixture even standing on a three-step ladder.

  “That’s wonderful,” she’d said, clapping her hands. Then she’d kissed him to show him exactly how wonderful she thought it was, and they’d ended up making love on the floor, scrunched between her rain boots and her luggage.

  The day before, he’d done a simple repair job on her bedside lamp, which she admitted hadn’t worked for three months. She’d been too busy to take it to a repair shop, and besides, it was so far away and she used the lamp so seldom, why bother?

  Then when it was working, she’d cheered like a little kid. Her often childlike approach to life was a quality Jake found endearing, and the more he saw of her the harder it was for him not to say all the things that were on his heart.

  Not yet, all his instincts told him, and he listened. That was the way he was. Though why they had deserted him the day of Michael’s accident still remained a mystery to him.

  A mystery now, not a thorn that prodded his flesh.

  Jake was in the kitchen sharpening all her knives when Emily came into the room fresh from her bath, one towel wrapped around her wet hair and another wrapped around her waist, sarong-style.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” he said.

  She posed in the doorway, smiling.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s working.”

  “Good.”

  She was still in the doorway, her eyes turning that dark and sparkly green they always did when she was aroused. Jake put the knives back in the kitchen drawer one by one, never taking his eyes off Emily. And then he went to her and unwrapped her hair.

  It fell to her shoulders in wet dark waves. He lifted it off her neck and kissed away the drops of water that still clung to her warm, scented skin.

  “You taste good.”

  “There’s more.”

  He leaned against the doorjamb, feigning nonchalance.

  “Want to give me a hint?”

  Her eyes on his, she unknotted the towel at her waist and it fell to the floor.

  “So I see.”

  Jake studied her for a small eternity, memorizing every line. And in fact, that was what he was doing, for tomorrow he would leave to lead an expedition to Dapsang.

  “What?” Emily whispered. />
  “This…and this…and this.”

  He was touching her everywhere, and then kneeling before her, and the taste of her was like no other, a heady blend of floral scents and the exotic musk of warm slick skin that Jake could sometimes taste even in his dreams, even when he was in Georgia and she was in Mississippi.

  Standing, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, and when she lay down, smiling, and he was over her, inside her looking down, he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. It was not merely physical beauty but an indescribable something that shone from her eyes. And for a moment he lost his breath.

  He had a sudden vision of himself on a mountain and Emily far away, beyond his reach. Forever.

  An unutterable sadness overtook him, and when she reached up and touched his face and asked him what was wrong, he said, “Nothing.” Hoping it was true. Praying it was true.

  “Well…then…good.”

  She pulled him down to her and kissed his eyelids and his cheeks and then ever so softly claimed his lips. Jake forgot everything except the moment.

  And ecstasy.

  As Emily watched Jake pack for his return to Georgia she couldn’t help but think of the many times she’d witnessed her mother seeing her father off on yet another journey to a faraway place.

  This is all right, she kept telling herself. Everything is fine between us now, and he will come home safe and sound, and maybe, just maybe he’ll say, I love you, Em. And then we’ll be together forever.

  “Emily. I don’t want you to walk me to the car. Okay?”

  “Well…okay.”

  “I’m superstitious, I guess.”

  “I understand, really I do. Dad had his rituals, too.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes. One of them was to always leave a gift for Mom. Something that would surprise her after he’d gone.”

  “Such as?”

  “Sometimes she’d find a box of candy under the bed-covers, or flowers would be delivered not fifteen minutes after he walked out the door. Once he had a parrot delivered that kept saying, ‘I love you, Anne.’ It nearly drove us all crazy.”