Falling From Grace (Grace Series)

by S. L. Naeole

  I watched him, his face serene, his smile satisfied. He was content. In his arms, I felt more than that. I felt—no, I knew without an ounce of doubt in my soul—there was no one who had ever been closer to heaven than I was right then.

  I knew it by the way my blood warmed when he pressed his lips against my hair in a reassuring way. I knew it by the way my skin sang when he pressed his mouth against my ear and whispered in French how glad he was that he had been able to steal away sooner than he had originally thought. I knew it by the way it felt as though I would simply float higher if he were to let me go.

  When I saw his liquid eyes rippling like a disturbed pool of molten metal, I knew that he could hear my thoughts and it pleased him. He pulled me closer to him, I held on tighter, and neither of us felt satisfied, my human frailty and his divine strength finding no compromise in such an awkward and unyielding position. I finally asked him where we were headed when he started his descent. The gray wisps around us slowly dissipated, and then we were on the ground, his landing so smooth I only realized it when my sock-covered feet curled over cold gravel.

  I looked around at the familiar surroundings and knew we were at his family’s retreat; a large white tent had been set up on the greens while the gazebo had been decorated with flowers and gauze. There had been a wedding here recently, I surmised, but the guests had long gone, and the bride and groom were off celebrating their first night as husband and wife together somewhere.

  The remnants of the celebrations were chaotic, but recorded completely the quick progression and celebration of two individual lives joining together and starting out as one all in the happenings of a single day. The gazebo was calm and serene, where the vows till forever were given. The table where bride and groom had been central figures still contained two champagne flutes; both still half full of the now flat golden liquid, lipstick smeared on the lip of one of them.

  All of it was symbolic, in a way, of how things were now with Robert and I. In one day, we’d gone from virtual strangers to tied for life. His secret, which he had shared so willingly, was now mine, and would be until the day I died.

  There had been no cake and no gauze, no band playing big band standards, no flower girls asleep on someone’s lap, and definitely no champagne.

  But there was chili.

  I laughed. Yes. There had been chili.

  “Why did you bring me here, Robert?” I asked finally, feeling suddenly melancholy as I acknowledged that the circumstances would not allow for any more similarities.

  He sensed my mood before he’d heard my thoughts. He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the center of the tent. “I brought you here because I wanted you to meet my family.”

  I jerked my head around quickly, wondering if I had missed something. There was no one here but us. I looked up at him, puzzled. “Are they going to show up? Are we meeting them here so late?”

  He laughed. “They’re already here. Watch. Pay attention. Do. Not. Blink.”

  I frowned. I had been paying attention. When he pointed towards the bride and groom’s table, I took in the glasses of champagne once again, the flowers that had been scattered on the tablecloth in a rush to start dancing, and the tiny stains of food and drink that made for a marvelous harlequin overlay on the bright white linen. I blinked as suddenly, instantly, magically there were no glasses. As if they had disappeared. The only evidence that they had even been there were the rings of moisture they had left on the tablecloth.

  I walked awkwardly over to touch the two circles, to reassure myself that those, at least, were real. I was an inch away from feeling the cool moisture on my fingertips when a light, sweetly fragranced breeze rushed around me, touching me gracefully as though someone were hugging me, causing me to jerk back; and then the damask cloth was gone, leaving a bare table in its place.

  I whipped around to stare at Robert. He was laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. I must have looked pretty funny as a partially immobilized, soon-to-be heart attack victim because all around me, the tables that had once been covered in dishes and cloths, flowers and napkins, were all bare, and my eyes kept growing wider, my jaw dropped lower, my heartbeat growing far more irregular.

  “Oh.” I turned around and saw no movement, just things disappearing. “How…?”

  I watched, dumbstruck, as one by one, the tables were removed in the blink of an eye. No. Faster! In the time it takes most people to blink in astonishment, the entire floor had been cleared of tables, linens, and service. I tried to see if anything had been missed, but nothing had. Not even a grain of rice lay on the portable flooring beneath my feet. It was as if nothing had been here, and the wedding had never taken place.

  All that remained were the tent and the floor because in that moment, the lights under the tent and those in the gravel parking lot went out.

  It was nearly black as pitch and I felt the slight trembling of fear creep up in me as the realization hit that I was very alone. Robert had disappeared when the lights went out and now, abandoned in the darkness, I was more afraid than I had ever been in my life.

  “Robert?” my shaky voice called out, the cold of the September night becoming more apparent in my loneliness.

  “Look up,” he said softly from behind me, but rather than obey, I turned towards the direction of his voice. He wasn’t there.

  He chuckled. “Look up, Gee. Trust me.”

  So I did.

  And the sky suddenly appeared, the starlight bursting out from nothing, like someone had just thrown diamonds across the black velvet night. “Oh!” I gasped, in awe of something so simple, yet so beautiful. It felt as though he, himself, had given me the sky for my keeping.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I sighed. “You never see the stars like that at home; the street lights kind of turn everything yellow. I think I could look at this all night…” Awestruck, I just stared upwards, completely content in the quiet magic of a starlit sky.

  I could say the same thing.

  I blinked, and looked around again. He was standing by a small table that had been set up near the gazebo. I hadn’t noticed it before, but as he had in the visions he had shared with me that first day, Robert was now giving off a very visible…glow. It was a pale golden light, soft and comforting.

  “You’re a glow-in-the-dark Robert,” I mused.

  “I’m also a mood glow-in-the-dark Robert. Our colors change with how we’re feeling.”

  I hobbled towards him and saw with my own eyes that he was right. Whatever his mood was before, it had changed, and the once golden glow was now a brilliant white. “So what are you feeling now?”

  He reached out his hand to me, and pulled me very quickly into his arms. “I’m feeling blissfully happy.”

  “Why?” I asked, my tone hesitant but hopeful as I landed squarely against his rock solid chest, my cast making a solid thunking sound as it hit him.

  “I’m happy because you know my secrets, you know what I am, and you have not once asked me to do something that goes beyond the human limits. Quite honestly, you haven’t asked me for anything.

  “You’re perfectly content to stare at the stars, happy with me showing you the sky, as if I had just gifted you with jewels. Like I said, you’re very different from the other girls. It’s an amazing thing, and that makes me happy,” he said, pushing back a lock of hair from my face.

  “Oh.” I tried to mask my disappointment. He was happy because I was different? That did nothing for my ego. Or, it would have done nothing for my ego, had I had one to begin with.

  He sighed, a little exasperated. “I thought we’d been through this already. Different doesn’t mean bad, Grace.”

  I looked at him. Could he really be so obtuse? His glow changed from white to green, and his arms loosened around me. “Are you annoyed now?”

  How did you guess?

  “Because if I had to pick a color that would personify annoyance to me, it’d be green.” I replied

  Why do you think I’m
obtuse?

  I cocked my head to the side. “Now I know you’re obtuse.” I straightened my head out and then shook it, amazed that he could read my mind, yet could not figure out what I was feeling.

  Well, enlighten me. Be my Yoda.

  I stepped out from the circle of his arms and held my own out, my right arm stiff in its cast. “I was hoping that this—what I am, who I am, the fact that I’m here—would be what made your glow…white. Instead, it’s because I’m ‘different’. Whether different is a good or bad thing isn’t the problem. I know I’m different. It’s a fact that’s been pointed out to me every single day of my life. But when you say that you’re happy right now because I’m different, well…that doesn’t make me feel all that great about myself. Especially when the last thing I ever wanted to be was different.”

  Robert reached for me again and slowly pulled me back into the circle of his embrace. “Silly girl. You’re so much more than different. And there is much more that I’m happy about than just your differences.

  “Yes, I’m happy that you are here. More than mere human words—in any language—can express. And yes, I’m exceptionally grateful that you are who you are, and that you are a part of my life. But, when I said that I’m happy you’re different than those other girls, a great deal of that has to do with my family who can, and will, appreciate you so much because of it.” He kissed my forehead then and turned me around.

  I choked on whatever it was I was going to say. Then, I gasped.

  Standing before me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. And she was also eerily familiar. Her face was pure porcelain, smooth and perfect. Her long, black hair was braided and pulled over her shoulder, the end unencumbered by any type of hairband, and yet the braid held. Her thin, graceful hands reached forward, an offering of welcome. “Hello, Grace.” Her voice was soft, melodic. “My name is Ameila. I am N’Uriel—excuse me—I am Robert’s mother.”

  I placed my hand in hers, lulled, almost enchanted by her voice and beauty. And as it had with Robert, the instant my skin touched hers, my mind was flooded with her thoughts.

  Though she had been intrigued to see me, she had also been unsure of what type of person I would be. She had no faith in human girls, no faith in their honesty or their hearts. Time had only made them worse, more self-centered and superficial. She had tolerated so many previous indiscretions by her son, so many faithless, useless girls. She had expected me to be the same: Beautiful and empty, like an expertly wrapped gift box. She was surprised to truly see that my features were plain, and my affections were sincere.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bellegarde.” I told her, my voice squeaky and nervous. I meant the words, but still felt fearful that she’d think I was lying.

  “Please, call me Ameila. I am no more a married woman than you are, my dear,” she laughed, her voice sounding like notes plucked off a harp in rising and falling harmonies and melodies.

  She stepped aside then so that I could meet the other member of this trio of Bellegardes. But we had already met. And her face was still cold.

  “H-h-hello, Lark,” I stumbled, unable to contain the shakiness in my voice.

  “I’m not going to kill you, so quit acting like it,” came her biting reply.

  Robert’s body stiffened behind me and I almost choked when she smiled and I saw fangs.

  Ameila released a deep growl of admonishment, her daughter’s name sounding sharp and dangerous when tossed out so angrily.

  The fangs quickly retreated, and I blinked, as if to wipe away the vision from my eyes.

  Scared, are you? You should be.

  Her voice echoed through my head and I knew that Robert had heard it too because I was soon stumbling back, no longer supported by him; he was in front of me, hissing at his sister like some deranged cobra, one hand braced against my front, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

  “Oh come off it, Rob. I was just playing with the girl. Really, if she’s going to be your girlfriend, she’s going to have to develop a spine. Far better she grow one from dealing with me than discover she has none when the time comes,” she said out loud, a smirk teasing the corner of her beautiful mouth.

  I wanted to pay attention to the part where she said I needed to develop a spine but the necessity of one was the furthest thing from my mind because when Lark said “your girlfriend”, my ears began to buzz with such intensity, I nearly took off floating all on my own. But, in an instant, self-consciousness took a firm hold of me and tied me down. Robert was responding.

  “Who or what I date is none of your concern, Lark. She’s in no more danger than any of the others were, and I trust you’ll do nothing to prove me wrong.”

  In that moment, I remembered something from the thoughts his mother passed into my mind: All of his “previous indiscretions” and “so many useless girls”. How many had there been? And if I was so different, why would I be in the same boat as all of the “others”?

  The familiar feeling of complete and utter inadequacy rolled over me as I realized that I wasn’t different at all. Despite my claims of wanting just that, it hurt to know that I truly was exactly the same, and I’d end up exactly the same. And what did that mean exactly? He wasn’t with them, so that could only mean one thing…

  Impossible, improbable, irrational. It truly was.

  Lark snorted. “I don’t have to do anything, brother, for your reputation precedes you.” She nodded towards me, and Robert turned to look at me.

  He could see the hurt and confusion written on my face, but made no move to comfort me—he knew there was nothing he could say to make me feel any differently at the moment. His mother’s words had condemned him and his own had been the writ that made it official.

  Ameila came to stand between us, knowing what both of us were thinking, and knowing that she had been the catalyst to the growing canyon between her son and I.

  “Robert, I have a gift for Grace in the gazebo. Could you please go and get it?” she asked, more a suggestion than a request. It seemed ridiculous, this semblance of privacy knowing that he would still be able to hear us, hear our thoughts, but the gesture comforted me somehow.

  “Grace, I know that what I said has upset you. It wasn’t mea—no. It was meant to upset you. I’m concerned for you and though I adore my son with as much love as a mother can give, I cannot deny his faults,” she said as she watched him leave while taking my hand and leading me to a familiar bench.

  I sat down next to her, trying to grasp what she was saying to me while also trying to understand what had already been said that could not be taken back. I looked at Ameila and felt immediately awkward. It was easy to do so when someone so beautiful was looking at you the way she was looking at me.

  “Ameila, I know you’re concerned for your son, that you’re worried that I’ll expose him…that I’ll take advantage of his secret. I won’t. I can’t. There’s not much that I can guarantee about anything, especially to an angel, but I can do that. You don’t have to pretend to be concerned for me,” I said carefully, trying very hard to not think about anything but the fact that I meant those words.

  She brought my hand to her heart. “Oh dear. You poor, poor child. I forget how much you don’t know.” She shook her head as if the thought that I was so woefully ignorant was a tragedy in and of itself. She looked at me, her eyes full of both amusement and sadness. How incredible to be able to feel both without any confliction.

  “Grace, you don’t understand. I cannot be dishonest with you. No angel can. With a few exceptions, we are bound by our laws to be honest. When I said that I was concerned about you, I meant it,” Ameila said, smiling sadly and patting my cheek.

  “Why would you be concerned about me? You don’t even know me. Robert doesn’t even know me.” That statement couldn’t be any more truthful, I told myself, leaning my head into my free hand, my elbow resting on my knee. It all seemed so crazy.

  The beautiful woman sitting next to me patted my hand still enclos
ed within her own. “You sweet girl. You seem to be under the misconception that angels are bound to the same rules and laws as you humans. We are not. Robert knows more about you than you could dream; we all do. Our minds are open to each other, and what he sees in you, we do as well, just as what we see, so, too does he.

  “He’s so hungry for information about you that he has delved unbelievably deep into your mind; he knows your entire life, from beginning to present; even the memories your mind isn’t capable of recalling due to age, time, and…trauma are known to him. You intrigue him, Grace, and after seeing your life in his eyes, I admit you intrigue me, too. It is because of this that I cannot accept him wanting to be with you; it would hurt you too greatly when the time came where he’d find himself bored with you, as he has with so many others.

  “I have seen the broken hearts that he has left behind, Grace, and while I have understood all of them, and have even hoped for them on occasion, I cannot say that I would feel unmoved if the same thing were to happen to you. You are different, as my son says, and in the ways that truly matter. It gives me hope, but it also causes me to fear greatly for your welfare. You’ve already suffered tragic losses in your life—the depth of emotions I feel and see in you that you possess for my son; to lose him would be like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and I fear that you would no longer be the same person when that time came.”

  Listening to her speak, I felt the sadness within me seep out, like a stain on my heart. She did not want me to be with her son because she was certain that he’d hurt me in some devastatingly painful way. That she would care enough about me to want to prevent that, that maternal sense of protection that she displayed was enough to cause me to lose my hold on my emotions.

  Oh great, now you’re going to use the waterworks? Please. Like he hasn’t seen that a thousand times. Lark’s voice was in my head, icy in its mocking.

  The great part about losing control over your emotions is that when someone angers you, even if they are an angel, you can no longer be held responsible for your words and actions. And the moment I had heard Lark’s voice intruding into my head, I knew that if I did not say something, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.