Few Are Angels

by Inger Iversen

  After staring at the shed for a few more minutes, I felt tired and decided that in the morning, after everyone had left for work, I would check to make sure he was truly gone, or I would call the police—well, maybe. I got in bed and thought back to his dark eyes and creamy skin; his features were sharp and sexy, his skin flawless, and his body lean. I sighed at how beautiful he was and wondered why he’d been so rude to me. That should have been a turnoff, but it wasn’t. When he’d first looked at me, it seemed like he recognized me, but I would have known if he and I had met before Someone that beautiful would have become a tattoo on my brain, effectively dominating my thoughts until I saw them again . Though he’d treated me like crap, I fell asleep thinking of how his bottom lip was slightly plumper than the top—perfect for kissing—and how those onyx eyes glittered when he first glanced at me. I knew he wouldn’t be there in the morning, but I still hoped that I’d see him again.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment. —Buddha

  * * *

  I awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. The bedroom door was open, though had I closed it last night. My eyes were dry and scratchy, and my hands and feet had seen better days. I limped my way to the bathroom and showered in scalding water. I had only slept for two hours. My body felt as though I’d had a hallucination and was recovering from it, but the aches and grogginess were only from lack of sleep. Out of the shower, I combed my damp hair. I’d used globs of conditioner, but the unruly jet-black waves refused to be tamed. Dark brown roots burst from my white scalp. I needed to buy hair dye and razors. I hadn’t worn makeup since before my hospital stay, and my once-bright green eyes seemed dull and lifeless. I added mascara to my list of purchases.

  I pulled on some jeans, a tee shirt, and a black wool sweater and headed downstairs. The clock in the hallway read seven thirty. Everyone would be gone soon, and I could check the shed. I hoped that the mysterious boy would still be there. It wasn’t likely, but I couldn’t overcome my desire to see him again.

  “Hey, I’m glad you’re up. I want to talk to you before I leave for work today,” Sarah said, as she prepared a plate of food for me.

  I poured myself a glass of orange juice. Lea sat at the table, smiling at me between bites of scrambled eggs. Sarah didn’t start talking again until after I’d finished a full glass of juice and a piece of bacon. I worried that she knew I had been outside alone, so I just sat there and waited for the tongue-lashing.

  “Lea will be going over to my sister’s house after school today. Eric or I will pick her up when we get off work.”

  “Okay,” I said and ate my eggs. We had discussed Lea’s afterschool plans a week ago.

  “If you need anything, our numbers are on the fridge. We’ll be in class all day, and after that I have a meeting with one of my students, so Eric will probably be home before me.” Sarah stuffed her papers and cell phone into her briefcase, which made me think of my laptop and phone.

  “Sarah, do you know which box my cell and laptop are packed in?” Other than some clothes, I hadn’t unpacked anything in the weeks I’d been staying with the Carltons.

  Sarah looked at me and smiled as she put Lea’s plate in the dishwasher. “Lea, go get your coat and hat so we can go.”

  She waited for Lea to leave the kitchen and turned to me. “I was thinking that maybe you could unpack all your things now. We aren’t going to send you back, you know? I think you’re starting to adjust, and soon you can enroll in some online college classes.”

  I was worried that I’d get sent back to Ocean Trace. I hadn’t told Sarah that the voice and visions had returned and were getting worse. They’d send me back to the facility if I did. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

  “Good!” Her eyes lit up, and she pulled me in close for a hug. I was glad we hadn’t talked about my parents. I didn’t want to share my pain with her. Sarah let go once Lea entered the room. Lea announced that she was ready to go to school. I wondered how long I could hide the visions from the Carltons, and how much longer I could get away with not unpacking. I didn’t plan to stay, but I had nowhere else to go yet. I was old enough to get my own place and money wasn’t a big issue. My parents had left me some money and they’d also had insurance.

  When I finally got dressed in my snow gear and headed toward the door, it was eight thirty. The sun was blinding white as it reflected off of the snow. I headed toward the shed full of hope and apprehension. I wanted him to be there, but if he was, he’d probably be missing fingers from the cold. Even if I didn’t see him now, it occurred to me that in a small town like Cedar, I would probably run into him in the Town Center—if I ever left the house. My heart raced at the idea of seeing him somewhere other than in the shed. Maybe he wouldn’t be so rude to me if I ran into him somewhere he wasn’t trespassing or fighting. The shed door was shut tight and the lock still lay in shambles on the icy ground. My heart skipped several beats as I went to open the door.

  I opened the door, and my heart plummeted into my stomach. I stifled a scream. On the floor were two small, bloody, mangled squirrels, and the boy from the previous night was pale and still as a corpse. He lay in a dark corner where no light reached him and as I opened the door more to get light inside the room, his eyes flew open.

  “Don’t! Do not open that door any further.”

  I jumped back, startled. “What the hell is going on in here?”

  I tried to remain calm, but my nerves were getting the best of me. I should have called an ambulance last night. He just lay there looking up at me, and all I could see was his pale skin and the silver streaks that glistened in his eyes.

  “Seriously, seriously, what do I do?” I asked, panicked.

  Blood streaked his face, and I did all I could not to throw my up breakfast. I could feel my face had heated up and my hands had begun to shake. “What should I do? Are you hurt?” I was so nervous I was blabbering and didn't give him time to answer. “I don’t have a cell. I’ll have to go back to the house to call an ambulance.”

  “Wait! No.”

  His voice was so fierce that I stopped shaking.

  “Are you crazy? You’re bleeding from the mouth too. I didn't see that last night when I looked at your lips.” I wanted to get to the house and get help. I didn't want to talk anymore. I just wanted to act.

  “It’s not my blood. Calm down. I’m fine. Do not let that light in here.” He tried to scoot further into the dark corner.

  His attitude shocked me out of my panic-induced haze. I was still worried about how he had stayed in the shed overnight in the freezing cold, bleeding. I could make a career of being confused.

  “Not your blood? What do you mean, not your blood?” I felt as if I’d missed something. The blood on his face was not there when I left him last night, so where’d it come from? Anger simmered inside me, further quelling my shock and fear. I steadied myself against the door and looked him in the eyes. Those dark captivating eyes threatened to hypnotize me.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded. Panic subsided, and anger and confusion took its place. He glared at me, annoyance plain on his face.

  “I’m just trying to help you, and you’re acting as if I’m the one who kicked your ass last night.” I crossed my arms and returned his annoyed glower. My tantrum did nothing to make me feel better, but it seemed to have a small effect on him.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” I questioned, surprised at his sudden surrender.

  “Yes, fine. If you want to help me, go into your home and get the largest blanket you can find. Then, dress for a trek through snow that will come past your ankles and meet me back out here.”

  His voice was deep and warm despite his icy demeanor. His accent sounded French and somehow familiar. I stood there for a moment, relieved and shocked that he wanted my help, yet nervous at the same time. Where were we going? I uncrossed my arms, wary of his abrupt capitulation.
/>   “Ok.”

  I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

  “Oh and Ella,” he said, “don’t call anyone.”

  How did he know my name? He wore an arrogant look of contentment. I should’ve feared him, but I didn’t.

  My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I walked back to the house and grabbed an old quilt from the linen closet in the hallway. I went to my room and dressed in my snow pants. Nervousness tugged at my belly, along with an odd feeling of excitement. That didn’t seem right. I was leaving with a guy I didn’t know. It was the part in the movie where the unsuspecting, brainless protagonist made a stupid mistake that started a series of actions that would change her life forever. I guffawed at the thought. My life had already changed, and it had changed for the worse. What more could possibly happen?

  I returned to the shed and entered, trying not to let any of the light in. He was in the same spot I’d left him. As I entered the shed, I placed the quilt on the windowsill and sat crossed-legged on the floor a few feet in front of him. I should have been afraid or suspicious, either of those would have made sense, but I felt none of those feelings. Emotions and logic were at war within me, a ceasefire nowhere in sight. I wanted to ask him a million questions, but I held my tongue. I asked myself repeatedly why I was there. What was I thinking? I didn't have any answers for those questions, but that didn't seem to bother me.

  Finally, he moved and looked out of the window where the clouds had moved in front of the sun. The light inside was dim, and dust motes floated around us. He sat there and I watched him. He moved away from the window, eyeing me warily.

  “You want to help?” he asked.

  I started, so engrossed in thought that I had zoned out for a minute. He moved closer to me. The wound in his side was obviously still bothering him, but he moved a little better than he had yesterday.

  He noticed me inspecting his wound and turned away. “Don’t worry about that. It will heal as soon as l get my strength back. I asked you a question—are you going to answer?”

  I’d heard his question, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to help. Curiosity and a strange twisting in my stomach made the decision for me.

  “I’ll help, but you can keep your attitude to yourself.” I couldn’t stand the way he treated me, and I didn’t know why I felt the need to help him. Instead of being angry, I was intrigued. He was a total stranger, but I felt some sort of emotional pull toward him.

  “Fine,” he said. “Help me get to Elmwood Cemetery.” He rose, wavering a bit on his feet.

  I stood up, holding out my hands. Could I really catch him if he fell, or would we both tumble to the ground? He moved away as if my touch would burn him, and I couldn’t hide my embarrassment fast enough. It seemed more and more like a mistake with each minute that I stood there with him, but something inside me still wouldn’t let him go alone.

  “Why Elmwood?” Elmwood Forest surrounded Thaxinburg and ran through Cedar Grove County and Elmwood City, acting as a border between the neighboring cities. Elmwood was about forty minutes away by car, and I didn't even want to think of how far it was by foot. We wouldn’t make it before I froze or passed out.

  “I don’t know how to get there,” I admitted. “I guess if we take the main road all the way to Elmwood City, I could find it, but that will probably take an hour.”

  “I can’t be out in the sun for an hour. Besides, Elmwood Cemetery is not located in Elmwood City. It’s about fifteen minutes into the Elmwoods.”

  “Okay, but how will I find my way home? I don’t know those woods very well.” The thought of being lost in the woods made me shiver. I was sure that I saw a look of pity in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash.

  “Hand me that quilt,” he demanded. “This would be easier if you had transportation.”

  I rolled my eyes as he stated the obvious and sat back down in a huff. Dust floated up in a small cloud and hovered in the sun’s light. I sneezed and it sounded like a miniature mouse squeak, shattering the tough-girl image I’d been trying unsuccessfully to cultivate.

  “Get up. We have to leave,” he ordered.

  I didn’t move. He needed me more than I needed him. He would do well to remember that. “I want to help, but I don’t want to get lost in the woods. We need to figure out how I’m getting home, or I’m not going anywhere.” I sat and pouted like a three-year old who didn’t get her way.

  He knelt beside me so that we were face to face. His dark eyes twinkled, and his breath smelled like the air after winter’s first snow. My skin tingled at his nearness, and stopped myself from leaning closer into him.

  “You will be fine. There’s a path that will take you back home in fifteen minutes. We aren’t going to Elmwood City, just to a place in the Elmwoods.” His voice was softer than it had been. “Now, come on.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hand me that quilt.”

  I had expected him to wrap it around himself for warmth, but he hadn’t once complained about being cold, despite the fact he’d slept in the freezing shed all night. I eyed him suspiciously as he gathered the quilt and started to cover his entire body in it, hiding his face and exposed skin. Before I was able to say anything, he uncovered his face.

  “Don't ask any questions about anything. That is the deal. If you want to help me, you will do so quietly, agreed?” He didn’t wait for my answer as he handed me a piece of the quilt and told me to direct him to tip of the woods.

  I wanted to ask a million questions. I decided to wait until we were well on our way so he couldn’t change his mind about allowing me to help, and he would be at mercy of my questions.

  “Where to next?” I asked. We stepped over dead brush and waded through the snow. I didn’t see a path, and I was getting nervous.

  “Look to your left. Do you see a tree that’s split in two?”

  I scanned the area and found the tree. I started to head in that direction, but stopped short when he didn’t move. “What?” I asked, wondering why he didn’t budge. “The tree’s right over there.” I pointed at it before remembering he couldn’t see.

  “I know it’s there. I asked you if you could see it.” He sighed and moved closer to me.

  My heart sped up as it registered his proximity.

  “That’s where you’ll come out when you come back through the woods. The trail will split off, and it will take you to that tree. I’m sure you can find your way back home from there.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go straight ahead, and through those dead trees is where the trail starts. The trail will be hard to see because of the snow fall, but not impossible.”

  We walked to the trail and I immediately understood what he meant about the snowfall and the trail, but the recent footsteps made it easier to navigate. We walked briskly and quietly for most of the way, and I thought of questions to ask once we were closer to Elmwood Cemetery. Why are we going to the cemetery? Why are you covered from head to toe in a quilt? I kept my questions to myself, fearing I would make him angry and he’d shut down even more. Though I tripped and stumbled, he walked as though he could see exactly where we were going. I opened my mouth to comment, but was immediately cut off.

  “Wait.” He turned around under the quilt, and I looked around.

  I wondered what he was doing because I knew he couldn’t see anything.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

  I could hear the lie in his voice. Something had alarmed him. I hoped it wasn’t an animal large enough to cause us any real trouble.

  I decided to keep my eyes and ears open for the rest of the way. His pace seemed to quicken, so I sped up to match him. It was a workout power walking through deep snow. My muscles protested, but I urged them on. Every so often he would stop and tell me to be quiet. My nerves couldn’t take much more of that.

  “Why are we power walking?” I huffed, trying to keep my balance in the snow and catch my breath.

  He ignored my question and
continued walking at our new pace. Suddenly, he was in front and I was in the rear, marveling at how he knew where he was going with his head covered.

  “Once we get to Elmwood Cemetery, I am going to leave your side. I want you to go to the mausoleum in the back past the white cross grave markers,” he instructed.

  I grew more nervous about our little trek, and I wondered if it had been a mistake. We kept stopping and it seemed as if he was listening to the woods. I couldn’t hear a thing, but he seemed to hear plenty and grew tenser by the minute. If there was something following us, would he leave me and run or would he fight? He didn't seem like the type to run from a fight, but he didn't seem to like me much. I was afraid to speak, and it took all of my strength to keep up with him and not trip over obstacles hidden in the snow.

  “Hey, I’m getting a little worried. What is going on?” I asked just as we came up to the cemetery.

  We were at the back and there was no entrance other than a hole in the fence. The cemetery was beautiful, blanketed in pure, untouched snow. It looked forgotten, and I wondered if they still had burials there. Most of the markers that faced us were worn and faded. Forgotten people buried in an ignored cemetery in an unnoticed small town. The thought saddened me, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to mourn my parents the strange boy stood under the quilt, still and silent.

  I assumed he was listening to something I couldn’t hear. “What is it? What do you hear?”

  Fear laced my skin like a thin veil, and I wanted something more to hold onto than the quilt—his hand, his arm, his solid body. I was tempted to reach for his hand under the quilt, but common sense stopped me. He treated me like a leper, and I was sure that taking his hand was against one of his many rules. If we made it out of the cemetery, I’d have to ask for a list of those rules.