When Angels Cry

by Melanie Nilles

  A knock on the door froze the tears before they could fill her eyes. The doctor from last night stepped in, tall and slender and wearing the same blue uniform she had worn last night. Creases in the corners of her eyes deepened when she smiled. "How're you doing this morning?"

  "Better."

  "Good." The medic's eyes darted to Scott, who abruptly stood and offered his hand over the bed.

  "Scott Dahlrich, Immigration and Naturalization Service."

  "Pleased to meet you, Mister Dahlrich." She briefly clasped his hand and the two parted. "Doctor Amber Letun."

  A moment later, the doctor reached down for the brace and unlaced it. "How's it feeling this morning?"

  "Better."

  "Can you move your fingers?"

  Padina wiggled her fingers, until the pain jolted through her hand and arm.

  "That's better than I expected after last night." She continued to unlace the brace and opened it. After a quick exam and a few questions about how comfortable Padina was, the medic secured the brace once again.

  "Doctor Nesbitt was already in, so as soon as the nurses bring the discharge papers for you to sign, you're free to go."

  "Where?"

  The doctor stopped mid-turn. "Hmm?"

  "Where go?"

  "Home."

  If only she could! After the medic finished tying the lace, Padina pulled her arm close and caressed it with her good hand. "I…not…can go."

  The woman's eyes shifted up. "Will you be accompanying her?"

  Padina looked up at Scott, whose bewilderment answered the medic's question.

  "Ah…I…um…I suppose." He looked down with a question in his eyes.

  Padina read that question as asking if she wanted his help. Wanting wasn't an option. She didn't have much choice.

  "I appre…ciate." Some of these words didn't make sense, but the Starfire gave them. She didn't have much choice but to trust them.

  He flashed a quick smile and nodded to the medic. "I guess I am."

  "I'll send the nurse in to take care of you. Good luck, Shar."

  A zing of irritation raced down her body as the medic left the room. Her name wasn't Shar! How could she make them understand?

  Scott sat down and scribbled something on his pad. "I'm sure at least one of the shelters has space for you."

  A shelter? "That is…good." That and food, and maybe some clothes, was all she needed, for a couple months.

  "They'll help you until you can afford to move out to a place of your own. And once we get this paperwork through, you'll be free to live and work in the U.S."

  Work? What kind of work? She had been born a Keeper and trained to use her abilities to serve. That was all she knew or wanted. Could she serve the humans without exposing herself?

  "Anyway, I…um…I'll be glad to help you find a place to stay for now."

  "Thank you."

  His eyes brightened with his smile, numbing her worries and pain. "You're welcome."

  They sat in awkward silence for a while. Too awkward. She changed channels on the television and both watched until a nurse came with papers and told her to sign her name. Afterwards, the nurse wished her well and left some papers on the wheeled tray with her clothes, which had been cleaned of the blood.

  Padina slid the papers towards Scott. "You read."

  "Oh. Sure." The first gave instructions for caring for her arm and the brace, which the medic had explained the night before. She listened closely to that. A second talked about animal bites and signs of diseases animals carried and how she would have to return for shots of some kind. It sounded awful. The other talked about rights and responsibilities and some other stuff she didn't understand.

  He finished and set the pages down. "That's it. I suppose you'll need to change clothes."

  "What change?"

  "Your clothes you had on when you checked in. You don't want to wear the hospital gown outside."

  They didn't supply new clothes? Hers were torn where the dog had sunk its teeth into her leg and pulled away.

  He rose with his case. "I'll just…wait outside for you."

  After he closed the door behind him, she pulled the covers off her bare legs. No, she didn't want to go anywhere in that flimsy gown. She'd have to change into her old clothes, for now.

  Padina gazed at the bandage taped over the bite wound on her right leg. The nurse had replaced it that morning, so she wouldn't need to change it until bedtime with one of the bandages in the packages the nurse had left. Padina hoped it wasn't infected. She never wanted to see another dog as long as she lived.

  3

  So much for the shelters. The two Scott tried were full, and he didn't feel like driving around town. The more he talked with Padina—difficult as English was for her—the more he couldn't leave her at one of those places, no matter how caring they seemed to be. There was something special about this one; he felt it in every fiber of his body. A woman like her didn't deserve whatever she had suffered.

  Her brown eyes studied him. Dear God! The idea brewing in his head was insane. When he got home, he'd have to check a mirror to be sure the word "sucker" wasn't written across his forehead.

  She was gorgeous and must have known it, but those tears and the injuries weren't an act. The tears in the hospital room were real, as were the ones Padina wiped away when lapses fell in their conversation in the car. She thought about him, about the man she loved, Jerantis. It must have been painful.

  "I…have a spare room at my house. No one's using it. It would just be temporary, until you're ready to move out. Does that sound all right? I mean, I'm not forcing you or anything." He was asking for trouble on too many fronts, but he had to do something for her.

  It was worth the risk that might come or might not. There was paperwork involved, but it could work. It had to. He wanted to be the one to help her.

  Her eyes fell to the brace on her arm, her free hand tracing along the crossing laces. The strange tattoos on her hands caught his attention; like some octopus drawing with twice as many tentacles writhing out to tapering ends along her fingers and wrists or a blue-green sun with long, winding rays.

  "Yes," she said.

  Yes, as in she accepted, or yes, as in she would move out? Did it matter? Yes was positive. Yes meant she accepted something he said. That's all he needed. He might as well take her home since it was almost five and he'd never make it back to the office in time to finish anything that day anyway. Besides, he didn't feel like arguing with his supervisor about the repercussions of his decision then.

  That was settled easily. She'd stay in the spare bedroom where his sisters or his parents usually slept when they visited, which was rare. Most of the time, it was just an empty room.

  Now, what about clothes? All Padina had were the ones she wore. He had some shirts she could borrow, and maybe some sweats, but that wouldn't suffice. She'd need something until she could make it on her own.

  "I suppose you'll need some clothes." And he knew just who to call. "I'll bet Debbie could help. She likes shopping. It would give her an excuse to visit too, not that visiting her brother is enough of a reason." He mumbled the last, recalling the last time any of his family had bothered to visit since he moved to the cities four years ago.

  "Debbie?"

  "Oh. My little sister. She lives in Bismarck. You'd like her, I think. I don't know, I guess. I don't really know you, but you seem nice." The car sizzled with heat suddenly. He adjusted the fan to blow cold air from outside and drove in silence the rest of the way home, considering what he could say without sounding lame.

  By the time they reached the house on the quiet street and parked in the garage, Padina pulled his coat tight around her.

  "Were you cold? I'm sorry, Paddy. I mean, Padina." Bad move. Maybe she didn't like the nickname.

  "Cold, yes…" A quizzical look overtook the gentle features momentarily, then lifted with an almost smile. "Like Paddy."

  "Paddy?"

  "Yes." Her smile splas
hed through his insides like a burst of refreshing water on a hot day. It was the first time he'd seen her smile.

  "Good…um...We're home, Paddy." His brains scattered when he tried to talk. Only the fact that he had come to help her transition into living in the U.S. made it possible to speak to her. She was attractive, too attractive for him, but this wasn't supposed to be a relationship. She was just a temporary house guest, or so he kept telling himself.

  He led her into the house and showed her the spare bedroom. After handing her a pair of his old sweats and a gray tee shirt, he closed the door of the bedroom.

  "So, I'll just be in the living room. Take your time." He was such a dork! Why did his brain take a walk every time he tried to talk to her that wasn't related to his job? As if he needed to psychoanalyze that.

  Maybe he'd find it again wandering the house.

  Or not. It was no use even trying.

  Scott walked out to the sofa in the front room and collapsed on it. What was he thinking? He wasn't. he let his emotions get the best of him, but, for all he knew, this was all a pity game.

  So what? If that was the case, he deserved to get rolled.

  If Padina was playing a game, Debbie would know. Speaking of which—

  The door of the bedroom clicked with the turn of the knob. She stepped through the shadow of the hallway, and into the light of the sun from the picture window of the front room. The sun seemed brighter on her, adding a glow of beauty to the sadness sagging her shoulders.

  She flashed a quick smile on her way to the bathroom next to his bedroom and closed the door on herself without a word. Uh, oh. That could not be good.

  Concern pulled him off the sofa and to the bathroom door. "So, you want me to throw your clothes in the wash or the garbage?"

  A faint sniff reached him through the door. Stupid! That was the worst thing he could have said. He should just cut out his tongue and be done with it. "Are you all right in there?"

  "Yes." Her voice wavered.

  That didn't sound all right, but he wouldn't press it. The last twenty-four hours must have been hell for her.

  "Um…How about I go make us some dinner?"

  "Yes."

  Hearing her whimpering gutted his heart. He didn't want to imagine what horrors she'd endured getting there. What if she'd been raped by whoever brought her there?

  Scott winced and forced the thoughts from his head. Still, it was a possibility, and one that required greater tact than any.

  He found the remote and clicked on the television and cable box and changed channels. As he expected, time for the news. That would distract him from her crying in the bathroom.

  He listened to the news while rummaging the cupboards for food.

  What food? He didn't keep much on hand except ramen noodles and frozen dinners. Not exactly the way to impress a lady with one's cooking. Then again, he never claimed to be a chef. He'd pick up some groceries after work tomorrow. For now, he'd make do.

  In the middle of microwaving two bowls of water, he wandered out to the television.

  "And local authorities have no other clues about the angels' whereabouts. Their purpose is unclear, although witnesses stated they disappeared separately somewhere in the distance. No one has come forward to report anything more."

  Angels. Right.

  Soft footsteps stopped next to him.

  He looked up and his tongue tied again. "Oh, ah…"

  She stared at the television with that distant look that people had when thinking about something, except Padina's brow pinched in a worried look. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

  The microwave dinged from the kitchen, breaking the spell that made speaking difficult. "Dinner'll be ready in a few minutes."

  When she made no move, he retreated to the kitchen to finish the simple soup. Through the arched doorway, he saw her still standing and staring at the television.

  After mixing the water and soup, he set the bowls aside to cook the noodles and turned.

  "Is there—" He stepped through the arch into the sitting room and swore his heart stopped. Padina had moved to the window and stared at the sun sinking to the horizon.

  She tipped her head with a smile that glowed in the sunlight. His mother had said many times that entertaining strangers in need was entertaining angels. If he wasn't entertaining an angel, he had no idea what could top that image.

  He cleared the knot tangled in his throat. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

  "You are…good." Her eyes dropped and her jaw trembled. A tear slid down her cheek. "I being…sorry." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Not good. Not…" She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself. "Not…say right."

  "No. No. I understand." Man, he wanted to hold her, to make everything better; but she couldn't even tell him what she needed, and something about her didn't invite him that close. It could have been the cloud over her, but that wasn't all of it. He was just a stranger in a strange land to her, and it put up an invisible barrier between them.

  "I wish I could do more. Really. I—I don't know what you want or need, but—"

  "It being…enough? Yes. I appreciate." Her eyes glazed with unshed tears, but the distant look in her eyes hinted of unimaginable horrors.

  Pity clogged his throat, but he swallowed it away. "Why don't you come and eat. It might make you feel better."

  She followed him to the kitchen and dining room.

  Tomorrow would come too soon with him having to go to his job and explain what happened. Dealing with Mike was going to be like being dipped in acid.

  Worse, he'd be leaving her alone in the house, but they could relax tonight and he could get to know her better and decide how stupid he was. And maybe he could help her through this, whatever she went through. If she could speak better English, maybe she would tell him what happened. Or maybe it was too horrible for any words in any language.

  He wanted her to trust him, but that would take time.

  4

  After Scott left the next morning, Padina ventured through the house. He had warned her to stay in and not answer the door for anyone. He didn't have to explain the dangers; she'd seen it when she arrived—there were dogs outside. That was enough to keep her locked up indoors all day and never want to go out, at least not alone.

  But since he would be gone, she could spread her wings.

  Alone in the bedroom, she sat on the patchwork quilt he said his grandmother had made and lifted her shirt off her back. She shivered in the cool of the house, but the resonance warmed her and ached through her back with the rapid growth of bones and tissues. Her wings stretched as far as they could in the room, which was less than half the width to allow her to extend them fully. Brown and white feathers surrounded her.

  Being herself again brought some contentment to her troubled mind, until she gave her wings a good look. Quite a few feathers were bent or split from the fight last night. She pulled the damaged feathers and piled them on the bed. Each one pinched as she plucked it from its root, but it had to be done.

  Replacement feathers would grow back within a week. Shrinking them did nothing to heal, but she would do worse not removing them. And she wanted to be ready when she faced the Shirukan again, hopefully not until she was fully recovered.

  That he disappeared in the same city bothered her. It was a large city, and she might never see him again. Chances of it were slim, especially on such a primitive world where, she assumed, they couldn't scan for the unique radiation of the Starfire.

  He could hide his wings too, though. She might never know him by sight, especially since he didn't have the aquamarine Starburst marks on his hands. He could blend in with the humans perfectly and she would never know who he was. She hadn't exactly studied each of the Shirukan in the bright sky of Inar'Ahben, and, last night, the sky was too dark to get a clear picture of his face. Not even the Starfire could have caught it in the waning light of dusk.

  If she was foreign, though, so was he. And this land had
rules about its citizens, something she had learned from Scott. She could monitor his activities through Scott, if the Shirukan bothered to obey the human laws. She doubted it, but she had the advantage and it was worth using.

  For now, she would have to be careful when she was out. That's all she could do, unless she told Scott the truth.

  Could he accept the truth? Were any humans ready? The news report last night had indicated humans still considered their kind as something supernatural and might not be ready for the truth. But they weren't naïve either.

  She hardly knew Scott, but he seemed kind and trusting; still, he worked for their government. That set off nagging doubts in her mind after what happened with Marin's governorship of Naviketan being manipulated into a dictatorship.

  Not yet. Until she knew she could trust him, or any human, she had no one in which to confide her secret.

  By the time she finished with her wings, a pile of various feathers, including a few flight feathers the length of her arms, covered the center of the bed. Now, what to do with them. She couldn't leave them there—she'd sleep in that bed—but she couldn't leave them for Scott to find either. A pile of white-speckled brown feathers was likely to draw at least modest curiosity.

  And humans didn't have the waste units Inari homes had. Of course, at home, the feathers would be dropped into the ocean or left out on an island for other creatures to use in their burrows or nests.

  There was something. He'd shown her around the house yesterday, so she'd know where to find anything she needed, including waste receptacles, or what he called "garbages". The feathers would be too obvious filling up the small bathroom bin; she'd checked last night. Unless she threw something heavy on top to press them down and hide them.

  That might work.

  She shrank her wings again and dropped his old shirt back on.