Unexpected Angel

by Patrick McGhee

  “Now, now,” said Sam as he softly stroked Tony’s face. “We can’t have any more of those. There is no sorrow here.”

  Tony managed a smile.“I guess I’ll get used to it.”

  Sam chuckled, “Of course, of course. Come now, we must be on our way to the assembly, the Assembly of Believers. We have one every day. You haven’t learned to will yourself to another place, yet, so we are going to do it the old, earthly way. You know, we’ll hoof it.”

  Tony giggled. He was enjoying Sam’s company. Sam was hardly like any angel he had heard about.

  Sam retorted, “I am not an honest-to-goodness angel all the time–only when they deputize me to go on a special mission–like when I pulled you away from the parcel delivery truck. . . .Uh, oh, I blew that one! Another thingamajiggle for eternity. I am still in training. If they need an extra angel, once in a while, they will give me a temporary commission. You know, like angel-for-a-day, or however long it takes.” Sam giggled.

  “How did you know what I was thinking?” quizzed Tony. “The thought passed through my mind for only an instant.”

  “I told you. We just know those things. You will learn it too.” Sam went on, “You like motorcycles, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!” replied Tony. “I was riding one of those just before I came here.”

  “Well, surprise, surprise. We have them here.”

  “Huh, you’ve got motorcycles here?”

  “Yes, the Apostle Peter became fascinated with them on one of his trips back to Rome, in the country you call Italy. When he returned, he got our engineers to design one. It doesn’t use a gasoline engine. We don’t allow things to burn here, of course. It has a magnetic propulsion system. Our motorcycles don’t roar like the ones on Earth. They make a whooshing sound, sort of like the wind through a forest. You need to ride one. It’s an exhilarating experience. Everybody does it. Even sweet little ladies, who were ninety-something when they came here, will zoom and whoosh across the fields like teenagers.”

  “Speaking of teens,” Sam continued, “they are thrilled with the magnetocycles, or motorcycles, as you call them. It’s quite comical, but a few of them tried to skip assembly, one day, to go riding. Jesus, himself, had to come and have a little talk with them. Teenagers have minds and wills of their own. Anyway, the teens ended up going to the assembly, and Jesus went riding with them afterwards. Now, can you imagine that sight–the Savior of the world riding around on a motorcycle, enjoying the company of a bunch of screaming teens! I’ll tell you, it provoked some wide eyes up here. But they got over it. I guess the Lord loves teenagers, even if they are difficult. He knows what it’s like to be strong-willed. You know the story of Jesus wandering away from his parents at the temple, don’t you?”

  Tony nodded. “Yes, that’s a story I remember from Sunday school. My grandmother always took me there until she died . . . ”

  Sam interrupted. “You don’t have to ask me what you are wondering about. You will find your grandmother here. I am certain of that.”

  As Tony and Sam walked, Tony noticed an ivory brightness in the distance--then towers, skyscrapers, and domes. “What’s that?” asked Tony, his voice filled with awe.

  “That happens to be one of our cities. They have color schemes, like everything in the rainbow and more. This is The Ivory City. We will be going to our assembly in The Ivory Palace Convention Center, right up ahead. You see that building with the huge dome?”

  Tony saw the magnificent building, but something else caught his attention even more. It was the sound, the incredible sound, of a gigantic pipe organ, playing music which Tony thought he recognized. All at once, the side of the building turned from stone to velvet. It opened like the curtains in a theater before the main feature begins.

  Tony’s mouth flew open in awe. He dropped to his knees at the sight of tens of thousands of believers in ivory robes. The organ gave a powerful introduction. The believers began to sing:

  Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;

  Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, Opening to the sun above;

  Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, Drive the dark of doubt away;

  Giver of immortal gladness, Fill us with the light of day.

  As the organ played an interlude before the next verse, Tony got up and walked toward the believers. A lady on the front row motioned for him to join them. He looked closely. He smiled. It was his grandmother. Her face was radiant, not a wrinkle anywhere. She was standing tall, not stooped and drawn with pain as he remembered. All at once, Tony saw his own clothing transformed into an ivory robe. His face took on the same glow as his grandmother’s. They choir began to sing:

  Thou art giving and forgiving, Ever blessing, ever blest;

  Wellspring of the joy of living, Ocean depth of happy rest;

  Thou our Father, Christ our Brother—All who live in love are thine;

  Teach us how to love each other, Lift us to the joy divine.

  Chapter 26

  Sheriff Silas Camden was the chief law enforcement officer at the scene of Tony’s accident. The County Coroner arrived soon after the ambulance. He figured there was no use to run people’s bodies, here and there, all over the county. Gas was expensive, these days, so the coroner followed emergency personnel whenever it was mentioned on 911-radio that there had been an accident involving death. The coroner pronounced Tony dead at the scene and filled out an official document.

  In the front pocket of Tony’s jeans was a small plastic folder containing the registration and insurance information for the motorcycle. This coincided with the results obtained from running the tags through the state’s computer system. In Tony’s back pocket was his wallet. Its contents proved interesting--an expired West Virginia driver’s license; an emergency notification card typed neatly with Wally Jackson’s name, address, and home phone; Wally’s cell phone number written by hand on the back of the card; a page from a note pad showing the cell phone number for Mercedes Brubaker; a wallet-sized photo of Kirby Camden; and a twenty-dollar bill.

  As the Sheriff examined these items, his blood pressure began to rise. This must be the young man Isabel had told him about, the one staying at Kirby’s cabin. And I bet he slept with Mercedes, too? Merciful God, didn’t this man have any shame at all?

  The sheriff decided to deliver the news, in person, to Mercedes and Kirby. In Westfield, Sheriff Camden found Mercedes at home. She shed only few tears after learning of Tony’s death. She did not sob or scream. There was no emotional tailspin. Tony was only one of a number of men who had come and gone in her life since the divorce. Even the current boyfriend, Gianni, though he had stayed longer than most, was more of an accoutrement. Did she love him? It was doubtful. She was impressed by his money. And, he did use the money to keep her. It was an arrangement they both understood–a necessary adaptation they both wanted.

  Gianni arrived back at the apartment before the sheriff left. His response to hearing about Tony was to excuse himself to the bathroom where he wept for a few minutes. He turned on the bathroom fan and flushed the toilet to cover up the sound of grief. When Gianni came out, Mercedes could see that he had been crying. She made no remarks about it. She figured that his emotional involvement with Tony might be more intense than with her. She would not try to dissect it. As long as Gianni kept the dollars coming, she would be fine.

  Lake Nansemond was the next stop on the sheriff’s mission to deliver the news of Tony’s death. When the sheriff was on the way to Saxon Bridge, he used his cell phone to call Isabel. He told her what had happened. He said he would like to spend the night at her cabin. He would come over there after he had finished talking to Kirby. She was delighted. She had no other plans. The sheriff was relieved.

  Telling Kirby would be difficult. The sheriff had no idea how his son would react. The father-son relationship had been strained since the divorce.

  Kirby was surprised to see his father. And, in uniform? That was even more surprising. Silas Camden w
as the sheriff over near Lexington, way on the other side of Lake Nansemond. Kirby suspected, at first, that something had happened to his mother. When Silas mentioned something about a motorcycle accident, Kirby figured it might have something to do with Tony.

  The sheriff said that Tony had been traveling east from Jeffersonville. Lake Nansemond was east of Jeffersonville, so Tony was on his way to Kirby’s cabin to get his car. A deep sorrow came over Kirby. A sinking feeling invaded his inner parts--a longing hurt, something that wrenched his guts. It was a helplessness that tied his stomach like a rope wrapped around it. Kirby wondered if he might pass out or throw up. If Tony had lived just two hours longer, they would be holding on to each other, their lips pressing close, their bodies entwined.

  As Kirby’s father continued telling about the events of the day, Kirby’s chin quivered. Tears didn’t come, yet. Kirby was determined not to break down in front of his father. Silas used to think he was a sissy. Kirby didn’t want that now. Though he tried, Kirby could not keep up the appearance he wanted to project. The tears began to flow freely. He broke down. He sobbed.

  “Dad,” Kirby managed to say as he continued to weep. “Tony and I loved each other. He made me feel important. I don’t know what I will do without him.”

  Silas moved close to his son, placed his arms around him, and let Kirby cry the feelings of loss out of his system. Silas admitted to himself that he had not been the perfect father before the divorce. Now was his chance to prove that he loved his son dearly.

  “Son,” said the sheriff, “loss and setbacks are part of living. You have to go on. Tony would want that.”

  Kirby’s sobbing began to ease after a while. He looked at his father, but didn’t speak.

  Silas said softly, “I know your heart is broken, son. In spite of what you’ve heard, grown men do cry. It cleanses the soul and makes it easier to cope with tragedy. As for Tony’s accident, he went into a panic stop and lost control of the bike. There was no sign that drugs or alcohol were involved.” Silas changed the subject, “Did you know my girlfriend, Isabel, has a cabin just down the road?”

  Kirby nodded yes. “I just met her last week.”

  “Well,” continued Silas, “I will be staying down there tonight. If you need me, call me, or come down.” Silas quickly wrote something on a small piece of paper, then handed it to Kirby. “This is my private cell phone number. I love you, son. I can’t bring Tony back. But, I sure as heck can try to help you deal with it.”

  Chapter 27

  Wally received the news about Tony while he was at work. The sheriff’s department in Lexington had obtained his name and cell phone number from the emergency notification card in Tony’s wallet. Before telling Wally the reason for the call, they asked if he was the next of kin.

  In a flash, all sorts of questions went through Wally’s head. Had Tony been arrested? Was he hurt and in the hospital? Was he dead? He told the caller that he was only a close friend. The response was that they must notify the closest relative, first. Wally told them the name of Tony’s mother and where she lived. He didn’t know the telephone number. The caller from Lexington thanked him and was about to hang up. Wally figured he had the right to know what was going on. He spoke to the caller, “He’s closer to me than he is to his mom. Why do you think my name was on the card in his wallet? Good grief. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

  It was obvious, by Wally’s tone of voice on the last question, that he was near tears. From the person in Lexington came the words Wally had feared, “Your friend, Tony Danforth, has been killed in a motor vehicle accident. We cannot give you more details until we have contacted the next of kin. Good-bye, Mr. Jackson.”

  Wally placed the cell phone back in his pocket and gazed out the window. In a monotone voice, he said, “Dorinda. Mileah. Norman. Tony is dead. He was killed in an accident.” Wally lay his head on his desk and began to cry.

  “Oh,” wailed Mileah. “I can’t stand to see a grown man cry. I am helpless when that happens.”

  Dorinda ushered Mileah out of the office. Norman went to Wally’s desk and pulled up a chair beside him. He placed his hand on Wally’s shoulder.

  Norman didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. No words in any language would have been adequate to interpret the message of comfort and acceptance that originated in Norman’s soul, traveled through his hand, and was processed by Wally’s mind. Norman had developed an attachment to Wally. He admired him. He accepted him. At a time when Wally was grieving over the loss of someone he loved, Norman assumed the role of protector. He would walk through this whole grieving business with Wally and make sure no one took advantage.

  When Wally had stopped crying, Norman handed him a tissue. Wally wiped his eyes and blew his nose. Norman looked intently at Wally, “I suppose you’ll go to the services. Let me go along and be your driver. I don’t want you to be alone.”

  Wally managed a smile and nodded his head yes.

  Norman said, “Let me know if there is anything you need. I mean it.”

  Norman and Wally stood up. Norman took a long look at Wally’s eyes, like he could read right through the redness and swelling. Then, he stretched out his arms, wrapped them around Wally, and hugged him. At first, Norman was holding Wally as one man who comforts another man in grief. But, as the hug went on, Norman became aware of the warmth of Wally’s body, the scent of Wally’s after-shave lotion, the lingering fragrance of Wally’s shampoo, the newfound excitement of having another man in his arms. Norman did not want to let go, but he began to think that the hug had lasted longer than a respectable amount of time. Maybe he should pull away. Maybe another hug later? He would not mention his feelings to Wally. What had caused him to do this anyway? Oh, my! That was incredible, he thought. What is happening to me?

  Wally looked at Norman. “Thank you for all you’ve done.

  Norman smiled and patted Wally on the shoulder.

  By that time, Dorinda had brought Mileah back into the office. She said, “Wally, please let us know whatever we can do to help.”

  Mileah added. “Sure thing, honey. I am going to bake you a cake, and bring over some paper towels, toilet paper, and toothbrushes. They say that’s good for a grieving household.”

  Wally looked at Norman with a facial expression that said, God, doesn’t she ever think before her tongue gets going?

  Chapter 28

  Deputy Sheriff Gilbert Lane rang the bell at the house in Jeffersonville where Juliana Méndez lived. This was the address that showed on the motorcycle registration. The owner of the bike had to be notified.

  Juliana answered the door. A bit overwhelmed that she stood face to face with a deputy in uniform, she politely asked the reason for his visit.

  “I need to see Pablo Méndez. Is he at home?” asked the deputy.

  “By all means,” replied Juliana. “Would you come in and have a seat? I believe he is out in the back yard with my little boy, Miguel.”

  Juliana called for Pablo. He came into the house with Miguel following close behind. Pablo, too, was overwhelmed to have a deputy asking to see him. Miguel was not overwhelmed. He was curious. He had never seen a law enforcement officer close up.

  Pablo asked the deputy if there was anything wrong.

  “Yes,” said the deputy. “The Honda motorcycle registered in your name was in an accident earlier today. A man was killed.”

  Juliana tried to suppress a sigh of distress. She asked the deputy, “May I please take my son into the other room? He doesn’t need to hear this, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly,” replied the deputy. He waited until Juliana had taken Miguel into the kitchen. Then he went on. “A man, by the name of Tony Danforth, was operating the cycle. He lost control of it and slammed into a truck. He died shortly thereafter.”

  Juliana was listening from the kitchen. Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  Miguel came up to Juliana with a cookie in his hand. “Mommy crying?”

  Juliana took him back to the kit
chen table.

  The deputy went on, “Did Danforth have permission to be riding your Honda?”

  “Yes,” replied Pablo. “His car is over at Lake Nansemond, where he was staying with a friend. We let him borrow the Honda to go back over there. We were going after it this weekend.”

  “Is Danforth a relative or close friend of yours?” questioned the deputy.

  “He was one of my sister’s former boyfriends.” Pablo leaned closer to the deputy. “He is the child’s father.”

  “Oh, my. I am very sorry.”

  Pablo asked the deputy, “Is there paperwork I need to complete?”

  “Yes, you can do that sometime next week. I must be going now. Please express my condolences to your sister.”

  “I’ll do that officer. You have been very kind.”

  “One more question,” said the deputy. “Were you aware that Tony Danforth’s license had expired?”

  Pablo looked surprised. “No. He never mentioned it. And . . .we didn’t ask. I guess we should have.”

  “Probably,” said the deputy. “But it’s very common for people to assume things when a loved one is involved.”

  After the deputy left, Juliana brought Miguel back into the room. “Will you and Aunt María look after Miguel?” she asked Pablo. “I am going over to the church.”

  **********

  Fifteen minutes later, Juliana drove up in front of the Church of Our Lady of Fatima. It was a beautiful old church, made of native Carolina stone quarried in the hills nearby. She slipped quietly inside. Sunlight, coming through the stained glass windows, illuminated the cloths on the altar, transforming them into rainbow tapestries. She lit a candle for Tony. She knelt to pray. She wept.

  After a while, Juliana got up and walked slowly toward the back of the sanctuary. She took a seat. She would allow the atmosphere of this place to comfort her as she thought about Tony.