Summer Of My Secret Angel

by Anna Katmore

  I caught my mother’s questioning glance. Julian cleared his throat. “I told her what the doctor said on Saturday. That you might not recover from the cold.”

  Wondering whether the doctor had really said this, or if Julian made it up to cover the truth, I rose from the bed and crossed to him on slow steps. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pressed me tenderly against him.

  “It would be unfair not to give your aunt a chance to say goodbye to her sister,” he whispered. “She doesn’t have to know everything, just this much.”

  I agreed silently, his calming scent comforting me.

  While Marie and her husband talked to my mom, encouraging her that everything was going to be fine and the doctor must have been mistaken, Julian ushered me into the kitchen to have breakfast. But apart from a few sips of tea, nothing would go down. My stomach churned.

  With the warm cups in our hands, we just stared at each other across the table. It was a hard fight against the tears wanting to spill over, but I remained strong. And so did Julian. His blank face revealed nothing, but his heavy sighs cut the silence. He rubbed his hands over his face, then reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. Warm breaths coming through his nose caressed my fingers.

  “Will you remember me?” I said with a hardly audible whisper.

  Instead of answering, he furrowed his brows in a puzzled way.

  I forced a hard swallow before I could speak again. “You said you will make me forget everything about you. So I wondered if you would remember me once you’ve returned to Heaven.”

  Julian coughed. His throat must have hurt him as much as mine did. “Of course, I will remember you. I’ll treasure our moments together. Forever.”

  Each breath I took filled my chest with rocks. A small part of me anticipated the time when I would forget, for the pain wouldn’t be so excruciating anymore. But it was easy to silence and bury that part of me under more heavy stones.

  Marie came in a few minutes later, her eyes glistening and her nose red. “Henri just called and said one of the modules of the sprinkler broke. Water is flooding the vines. I will go with Albert to help them fix it. It won’t take long.” She waited for us to nod then scurried to the door with her gaze focused on the floor. In the threshold, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “If anything happens, if your mother’s condition gets worse, call me in immediately.”

  We both nodded again and returned to my mother’s room.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” I asked her. A wet cloth lay on the nightstand, and I patted her burning forehead with it.

  “No, dear. Just stay with me while I rest for a moment.” Her eyes had already closed, so I remained silent and kept caressing her hot face.

  Julian knelt on the floor, his chin supported on his bent arm that rested on my lap. There was no way to say whether losing him or my mother would hurt more. But the aching coupled together was too much for one person to bear. I yearned to close my eyes like my mother and escape the pain.

  After a half hour in which my legs went numb and my back started to ache, Julian stood and steered me to the wide chair in front of the window. He slumped down first, pulled me onto his lap, and cradled me against him.

  “You know, as an angel,” he said softly, with the weight of honesty in his voice, “I’ve seen many beautiful things and experienced thousands of wonders. But the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen is you. And with you I’ve had the best moments of my life.”

  Knowing he spoke of sixty-odd thousand years, his words filled me with warmth. “You certainly are the best thing in my life, too.”

  His breathing stopped, his body tensed. Almost as if he expected something important to happen.

  “What?” I demanded.

  He relaxed—on the surface. But his hollow eyes and his tight grip on my hand told me he struggled to hide deep disappointment. He buried his face in my hair. “Nothing, love. It’s nothing.”

  With my cheek nestled against his chest, minutes ticked by like seconds. The rhythmical skimming of his fingers on my neck lulled me to a state of half sleep. The warm scent of wild wind was all I noticed as his chest rose and fell steadily. I would have fallen asleep if my mother hadn’t woken with a gurgling cough.

  Before I knew what had happened, I sprang to her side and grabbed her hand. “Mom, I’m here.” Unfortunately, the worry I tried to hide from her echoed clearly in my voice.

  The strong squeeze of her hand gave me some confidence. “I need a sip of water. Can you get me a fresh glass?”

  Her lips were dry like sandpaper, and it didn’t help that she licked them with a tongue just as parched. I made it to the kitchen and back in less than ten seconds, although I left a trail of water after me. My hand placed behind my mother’s head, I helped her drink in slow sips.

  When she’d had enough, she opened her arms for me. Happily, I dived into her embrace.

  “Thank you so much, baby.”

  Fear gripped me as I realized she wasn’t speaking about me getting her a drink. My head on her shoulder, she asked me to summon my aunt.

  Fear changed to panic. I shot up. “Why? Are you feeling worse?”

  “No, dear.” She gave me a strong and confident smile. “I forgot to tell her where my life insurance is, and now would be a good moment to talk to her. I’m feeling just fine.”

  Did she really, or was this Julian’s angel powers giving her strength? Her hand on my cheek felt warmer than before. But with the color returning to her cheeks, she looked a whole lot better.

  “I would send Julian,” she said, “but I’m afraid I need his help in here. So could you get Marie for me?”

  To my questioning glance, Julian replied with a nod and walked toward me. I stood, uncertain if I really should leave my mother.

  Strands of my hair ran through his fingers. He pulled my head against his chest and planted a gentle kiss on my brow. “It’s okay,” he promised.

  So I slipped into my boots and hurried toward the vineyard. A few hundred feet ahead, I spotted Marie and Albert, both bent over the small sprinkler that stuck out from the ground. They were too far to shout, so I scurried on, my thoughts lingering in my mother’s room.

  What were she and Julian talking about now that I was outside? Mom didn’t seem scared at all today, although we both felt it was going to be over soon. Maybe she was asking Julian about life on the other side. Getting prepared.

  I stopped dead, and with my feet, my heart stopped, too. The world spun around me in an endless carousel. Eerie underwater noises bubbled in my ears.

  How could I have been so stupid? My mom wanted me out of the room so I wouldn’t have to see what was going to happen. She could have sent Julian, but she needed him with her. To escort her to the other side.

  God, no!

  “Jona?” Marie blurted. “Is your mother feeling worse?”

  But I had no time to reply. I whirled around, needing to get back inside as quickly as possible. But invisible cords slowed my movements. The first few steps seemed to take an eternity while my breaths erupted in painful spasms.

  “Julian, don’t!” I croaked, although I wasn’t sure if I even said it out loud. In my mind I yelled his name over and over. He had to hear me! Please. God couldn’t take my mother today. Not now, when I wasn’t with her. When I hadn’t said goodbye.

  “Jona! What is it?” The shouts from behind me couldn’t make me wait.

  The house suddenly appeared as if it was a mile away. It would take me hours to get there at this rate.

  And then I broke into a run. My loose boots pounded on the path, kicking pebbles to all sides. Marie’s cry grew fainter.

  My heart pounded a frantic beat in my ears when I finally reached the house. It was a long way through the hallway to my mother’s room. The door stood ajar, and I slammed against it.

  “Don’t! Please, don’t!” I choked. My mind swarmed with panic. I gasped for air, stumbling farther into the room.

  Caught by strong hands
, I glanced up at Julian. I sucked in a breath at the sight of him. His eyes were the only thing I recognized about him. His casual clothes gone, he was dressed in white light, a long cloak swaying around his legs. The pair of wings sprouting from his shoulder blades hovered two feet above the ground, spreading so wide they almost brushed opposite walls.

  The angel took me into his arms and leaned his forehead against mine. His wings enclosed our embrace into a ball of white light.

  My nose dripped. The first rush of tears burned like hellfire. Salty streams ran over my lips. “Please wait!” My voice hoarse and shaky, I clutched the front of his cloak as I begged. Stopping him from taking my mother was all I could think of. “Let her stay with me. Let her live. I don’t want to lose both of you. Give me a few more hours. A few more days. Don’t leave me, Julian!”

  A trail of vapor traced the movement of his hands as he reached up to brush back my hair. “It’s impossible.” His tone was soft, yet it left no room for negotiations. “Look at her. She’s ready. It’s time.”

  His wings lowered to grant me a glance at my mother, her eyes wide and happy. She gazed in our direction, but she only focused on Julian. The angel in white light.

  A part of my heart splintered and remained with him as I broke free from his hold and inched toward my mother.

  I was right beside her as she finally tilted her head toward me and smiled. “Jona, you came back?” She sounded far away and surprised.

  “Yes, Mom. I came to stop you.”

  The warmth of her hand seeped into my palm. “To stop me? From what?”

  “From leaving,” I sobbed, wiping my nose with the back of my free hand.

  “Why would you do that?” Her innocent, confused gaze matched her childlike tone.

  “Can’t you see the beautiful place over there?” she crooned. “They are calling me. It’s an invitation. I would be a fool not to go.”

  “She’s already glimpsing Heaven.” A shiver skittered along my arms at Julian’s announcement behind me. “It’s time to let go.”

  But I wasn’t ready. Unable to make myself speak, I cradled my mother’s defenseless body against my chest. Lungs tight, I shook with fear.

  Her gaze cleared, warmed even. “Let me go, dear child.”

  “No. No! Never!” Over the crook of my arm wrapped around my mother’s shoulders, I glowered at Julian who was coming closer. “You won’t take her anywhere!”

  One silver tear glistened in his eye, shining with the light of a star. He blinked, and it was gone. “I wish I didn’t have to, but it’s not up to me.”

  Half of the room glowed with his presence as he sank to my side. He pressed his palm to my brow. His touch dragged a storm of memories out of my mind. Each of them flashed before me then vaporized into a void.

  I fought against the pull, jerked my head from side to side. I screamed at him. “Please, Julian! Don’t do this. Leave me this one precious thing!”

  But just like my heart, my mind was left empty. And in the next instant, the spell was over. I slouched alone in the room, holding my dead mother.

  DELUSIONS

  THE BIRDS CHIRPED an unearthly happy song in the crown of the maple tree next to the patio. Between the new green leaves, the sun struggled to shine through. It played a befuddling game of light and shadow on my closed eyes. A fresh peachy smell emanated from the cushion of the deck chair. The fact that the patio furniture was out of winter storage and Marie had laundered the cushions gave further proof that spring was winning over the cold winter months.

  With the skirt of the dress tugged over my bent legs, I hugged my knees, pressing my cheek on them. Yellow. Marie had smiled and said the color would be good for my depression when she had seen me coming downstairs that Sunday morning.

  But I didn’t see how it changed anything. I might as well have worn my usual black cloths that went so well with my mental state.

  After my mother’s death, the world had not been the same vivid place for me. Like a vortex, sadness had drawn me under with no intention of setting me free. Her funeral seemed to have closed a chapter in my life. A very painful one, with many twists and an unexpected turn at the end. But I couldn’t find the will and strength to start a new one.

  Quinn had come to attend the sad ceremony. He’d just finished reading a passage from the bible for me when I had finally choked into sobs in the church.

  After a long conversation with Aunt Marie and Uncle Albert, Quinn had offered to take me back to England with him when all the formalities of the death were settled. Albert even promised that he and Marie would pay the rent of a flat and the tuition should I choose to study at the University of London.

  But I’d declined their generous offer.

  Under tears, I’d begged them to let me stay in their house instead. How else would I be able to bring fresh lilies and roses to my mother at her grave every few days?

  There was no discussion necessary, no further pleading. Marie had folded me into her loving arms and welcomed me as the member of their family that I had been in their hearts from the very day of my arrival.

  So I stayed.

  From the window in my room, I’d watched the summer give way to a colorful fall and snow cover the vineyards with a thick white blanket. Permanently red from crying too much, my nose burned at the slightest touch. And when my eyes finally dried and not a single tear would come anymore, my mind seemed to shut down, too.

  Once, Marie had tried to talk me into seeing a psychotherapist. You are walking around the house like a zombie. But I wouldn’t go see the shrink. Not for the grief inside me. Nor for the delusions when those set in.

  It had started with dreams. Dreams of a face I couldn’t get a clear view of. Night after night, I saw the same shining blue eyes, and each morning when I woke, I yearned to find them, searching the crowded market like a lost child each time we went to town.

  Over the weeks, the fine features of a boyish face formed around the eyes and became clearer. But I couldn’t recall the face from my memories. So why would I keep dreaming of a man I didn’t know?

  Unfortunately, my artistic skills were nonexistent, or else I would have captured the face in a drawing. In fact, I had tried, but what came out was more like a cartoon Garfield than the fine lines of a gorgeous man. Not someone Marie or Albert could help me identify when I showed them the messy sketch.

  Thinking of their perplexed gazes as they doubtlessly questioned my sanity, I winced and shifted in the deck chair. Marie came over with a glass of lemonade and placed the drink on the table.

  “Here, chérie,” she said to me in French. “If you don’t want to eat breakfast again, then you should at least drink some juice.”

  During the last half year I’d made good progress in learning the language. And how could I not, when my aunt and uncle refused to talk to me in English? They’d decided the best way for me to learn was to hear French frequently, more often than just once a week in the course they had signed me up for.

  “Merci,” I replied, accepting the drink.

  She sat down on my lounge chair in front of my legs and touched the seam of the three layers of my skirt. “That dress suits you so well. You should wear it more often.”

  “I don’t feel good in it,” I said. The dress placed on a hanger outside my wardrobe had really startled me this morning. Especially since Marie never walked into my room uninvited. A habit of both my aunt and uncle that I appreciated. “You shouldn’t have picked it out for me today,” I added.

  A confused smile tugged on her lips, and she glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “What are you talking about? I never pick outfits for you to wear, you know that.”

  “But you placed the hanger on my wardrobe door,” I replied, suddenly not so sure. “How else could it have gotten there?”

  How indeed?

  “Maybe you put it there before you went to bed last night?”

  “When have I ever chosen to wear a color like this?” I arched a brow and lifted the top la
yer of the skirt demonstratively. “I don’t even know why this is still in my wardrobe. I thought I’d given all the fancy clothes back to you ages ago.”

  Marie cupped my chin, searching my face with compassionate eyes. For the flash of a second her mind was transparent. I dreaded her next words.

  “Is this like the piano playing in the middle of the night?”

  Hell yeah, it was. And just because none of them had heard the music at night, it didn’t mean that no one had played the damn piano. My song. “Hallelujah.” The melody that had been stuck in my head since I was a child.

  After I found the parlor empty that first night and screamed my head off, Marie had made me a cup of warm milk with honey and tucked me back into bed. “So soon after your mother’s death, it’s only natural that your mind plays tricks on you sometimes. Everything will get better in time,” she’d assured me.

  If only.

  The music kept playing in my mind. And I knew it could only be there—in my mind—because I started to lock the lid over the piano keys in the evening and took the small brass key up to my room. The metal felt hot in my palm when I lay in bed, tense and anxious that something was seriously wrong with my brain, while the softest melody played downstairs.

  But as so many things in life, I got used to it over the months.

  I lowered my gaze from Marie’s questioning eyes, but snuggled deeper into her soft hands, soaking in the tender feeling of being held. In all the months I had been living with her and Uncle Albert, she had grown to be like a second mother. At times, I found it hard to return her love with the sadness eating away at me, but I was still grateful beyond words.

  Pressing a kiss onto her palm, I cleared my throat. “I’ll go pay a visit to my mom. Do you want me to bring something from the baker?”

  “Thank you, dear, but I’ve already been there this morning.” She rose from the lounge chair and went to break a red rose from the bush next to the patio. “But you may want to bring your mother this.”