by Anne Conley
What did that mean? She's his? But she wasn't. She was her own person. Not someone else's possession.
She remembered the kiss they had shared, right before the tornado. It had been unlike any single experience she'd ever had. His words right before, about his intentions to be more than friends, his hands on her face, in her hair, on her shoulder. Was this a dream? It seemed so real…She could feel Rafe's breath on her shoulder now, deep even breaths, his legs wrapped around hers. But the green haze was still covering everything, so this had to be a dream. Besides, Rafe couldn't read minds, and just now, he had definitely reacted to the bathtub thing.
Grace snuggled deeper in Rafe's embrace, feeling his heart beat next to her chest, and soon went back to sleep.
Grace awoke to find the backpack pillow had been replaced with a muscular thigh, and someone was lazily stroking her hair back from her face. Keeping her eyes closed, she enjoyed the sensations that the large hands evoked. Smooth fingertips, running along her hairline, tickling across her scalp, tingling nerve endings, pooling warmth in her chest and belly…
She opened her eyes to see Rafe's head leaning back against the wall behind him, eyes closed, with a small smile gracing his lips. Without thinking, she raised her arm and stroked his strong jaw, making his head droop forward, and his eyes open. His green gaze made her stomach flip.
"Hey there. Did you sleep well?" His voice was low and husky, laden with…desire?
She looked around herself. She was still on the floor of the gymnasium, with her head in Rafe's lap. She looked down at his leg, neatly wrapped in bandages. Remembering how he'd passed out, she started to sit up, alarmed. His hand moved to her chest, to keep her down.
"Relax, I'm okay. And you're helping to stop the bleeding, by cutting off a little circulation." He chuckled to himself.
"Why aren't you laying in a bed?" Surely, one of these people would let an injured man have a bed.
"Because these people need a bed just as badly as I do. I'm alright."
Grace wasn't so sure. She mumbled something under her breath about machismo, and Rafe chuckled again.
"Besides, I like you here, laying your head in my lap." His eyes crinkled around the edges in a good-natured smile.
"Aren't you sleepy? Why don't you lie down for a little while?" She started to sit up again, but his hand on her chest kept her down. Again. She sighed, and gave up, settling back into his lap.
She watched his face. He looked tired, his skin had paled considerably, and there were dark smudges under his eyes. His long hair was unbrushed, and wild-looking. She shuddered, imagining what she looked like. Probably worse.
"You never answered my question. Did you sleep well?"
She nodded. "Surprisingly, yes. Considering I'm on a gym floor."
He nodded. "Good."
"You've got to be tired, Rafe. You look awful."
His bark of laughter turned heads in their vicinity, but people quickly looked away. "Thanks, Grace. I'll be sure and return the compliment, sometime."
"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."
"I guess I am tired. I feel pretty heavy, still."
That was an odd way to put it, Grace thought to herself. "You want to lie down next to me?"
He closed his eyes, considering it, and she watched a wave of longing cross his face, before he nodded. Grunting softly, he scooted himself down, so that he was completely on the floor, and Grace moved next to him. His arms came around hers in a protective gesture, and he sighed.
"Yes, this is nice, too."
Grace lied still, just enjoying the feel of his arms around her, his body pressed against her back, his legs tangled in hers, his breath on her neck. She marveled at the intimacy of their posture in this crowded gymnasium. Nobody seemed to notice, or care however. Everybody was lost in their own worlds.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, Grace was on the phone with the insurance company for hours, trying to sort through the mess that had become her living situation. Insurance would pay for a motel room, but there were none available, so she sat on hold with one adjuster after another, trying to reconcile her situation.
She listened to an awful Muzak rendition of a popular Guns and Roses song, as her thoughts turned towards her mother. She wished her mother could give her the comfort that she craved in times like these. An offer to stay with her, until the island was clean enough for her to return, even if she didn't accept it, would be welcome.
But the truth was, her mother didn't watch the news, and probably had no idea a hurricane and its destruction had just visited her daughter. Jeannie was too wrapped up in Carl, and Grace knew that it would take a larger act of God than a hurricane to uncoil Carl's grasp around Jeannie's heart.
Grace sighed, as she listened to the music switch to an automated voice tell her to be sure to ask an agent how much money she could save if she bundled all of her insurance needs.
She wanted to know love. She couldn't deny that. And Rafe made her feel good. Real good. But Carl made Jeannie feel good, too. And Jeannie had sacrificed so much of herself to be with Carl that she couldn't remember which end was up half the time. Grace didn't want that from her relationships, ever. And Rafe wouldn't be a casual fling. Something told her that Rafe would want everything she had to give. And even that wouldn't be enough. His very persona was all-consuming. Being around him captured Grace's total attention, to the detriment of all else.
She was scared of what she felt around Rafe. That much was an absolute truth. She couldn't even think of him without intense feelings welling up inside her. She got dizzy, her heart would pound, butterflies in her stomach took flight. She needed to get out of this shelter and put some distance between them before, like a moth and a flame, she got too close and let him consume her.
Three days later, Rafe sat in a chair on a balcony of a hotel room that looked over a row of oil refineries on the ship channel running up to Houston from the Gulf. The hotel in Texas City was the closest place they could get that Grace's insurance would cover, and she graciously allowed him to stay with her.
In her room.
It was all innocent on her behalf, Rafe was sure. She hadn't gotten to the point that he had. He wanted her so badly it hurt. And not just in a sexual way, although the power of those feelings continued to shock him. But he wanted to protect her, to treasure her, to earn her esteem. And it seemed that she was afraid to feel that way about another person. Somebody had hurt her, and he needed to get past that before she would truly be his.
His mind continued to reel at the fact that his life had been in her hands. When the piece of metal had imbedded itself in his calf, Rafe had lost a large amount of blood, quickly. Some major artery running down that part of his leg had been knicked, and the remarkably skilled surgeon had to tie it off, with a little help of course. He didn't realize that his body would be so human, which meant that the process had started. And he knew exactly what that meant.
He had fallen for her already.
He knew he had a strong reaction to Grace, he always had. But after just a couple of days? Love didn't happen that fast, did it?
Was it the dancing? Had that been it? His memory replayed the night at the club, as he watched dark tendrils rise from smoke stacks of the oil refineries. She had been so sensual that night. Rafe hadn't seen that side of Grace, watching her bounce with the rhythm of the music, eyes closed, hands running up and down her thighs. Then he'd danced with her, and her hands had run up and down his thighs. He'd almost come apart at the seams with her touch, and he didn't understand it. His body had physically reacted to hers, in a primal way that was so animalistic. He'd never felt that towards anyone before.
His pulse had skyrocketed, his breath had gotten caught in his chest, and he'd gotten warm all over. Warmer than normal around Grace. He'd been burning up.
At the beach party, she'd talked about herself, her future, and he wanted to be a part of that future with her. He could see himself going out on a boat with Gr
ace to study shipwrecks, finding out what part of Man's hubris had sunk each vessel.
Then, when the storm was coming and she'd insisted on sitting in her lifeguard stand, he'd seen the side of Grace he was familiar with. The side that was duty bound to saving lives. He hadn't been surprised to find her there, although he'd thought she would see the inherent danger in swimming out for a save in those waters. But she wouldn't be talked out of it. She was determined.
He liked that about her.
Even now, after the storm, Grace had hitched a ride with some Red Cross volunteers who were staying at the same hotel. They were going back to Galveston to pass out clean water and food to the people who were still in the shelters, who didn't have a place to go, who didn't have insurance. She was compassionate.
He liked that, too. Even if he suspected that she did it in part to get away from him.
After that first wonderful night at the shelter, when he had embraced her while they slept, she had scrounged up a cot for him, insisting he sleep there. She had kept her distance from him, physically.
She had stayed near him, but kept the touching to a minimum, as if she was uncomfortable with it. He couldn't understand why. He also couldn't understand why he hurt so badly. He couldn't find a specific body part that hurt, his leg was healed already, but something in his core twinged with an ache that made him uncomfortable. Constantly. He was ill at ease in his own skin unless Grace was around. It was if he body didn't fit him somehow unless she was close by. He wanted to be near her all the time.
He could definitely list the reasons he liked her, and he could inventory the feelings that he'd experienced since he'd met her, physically. And he was pretty sure she'd saved his life when he'd been impaled by that debris. So was this love? And did that mean that he wasn't immortal anymore? He hadn't totally fallen, he was sure of that. His leg was healed already, but if Grace hadn't been with him, would he have made it?
The rest of his time at the shelter had been spent with the charming pixie of a little girl, Abigail. She had taught him how to play go fish, and they'd played endless hours of the game, while he watched Grace. She managed to ingratiate herself with the volunteers, helping to cook, clean, and any other thing she could find to do. At night, she slept on the floor next to his cot.
He had tried to stay out of her head, when he'd realized how disturbed she'd been the few times he'd spoken aloud about her thoughts. That first night on the floor, she'd thought she'd been dreaming, when she realized he was inside her head. But it was hard not to react to the image of Grace in a bubble bath, especially when he was holding her in his arms like he'd been. But even before that when he'd been unconscious, it had been easy, almost uncontrollable, to slip inside her mind and reassure her. It was a concerted effort on his part to stay out of her head, as he wanted to know what she was thinking, always.
He was gazing out over the parking lot, lost in the thoughts of Grace, when he felt a familiar presence next to him.
"Hello, Father," he said, knowing instantly who it was.
"Rafael." Rafe turned to see a middle-aged man, wearing bright blue board shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, littered with pictures of beer bottles.
"You look like a beach bum," Rafe noticed.
"I like to play with fashion. It's amusing to me," He said.
Rafe didn't say anything. He could imagine why He was here, so Rafe sat quietly, waiting for instructions, or whatever was coming. At this point, he didn't really care. All he could concentrate on was Grace, and the way she made him feel.
He'd never felt anything before last week, with the possible exception of desire to feel. And now emotions were bombarding him so fast he couldn't process them all.
"You're doing it, aren't you?" If it was possible, He sounded smug.
"Yes, Father. I think I love her."
"Is it everything you've always thought it would be?"
Rafe turned to look at Him, again. There was a twinkle in His eye that irked him. "No. Why her? She doesn't want love. Not like I do."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you didn't like her." His voice sounded falsely contrite, and Rafe wasn't fooled for a minute.
"Sarcasm is a low form of humor. You know she’s not looking for love. And I do like her." His voice cracked. "A lot." Dark feelings encompassed Rafe, and he knew without having to ask that it was sadness.
"Do you believe her?"
Rafe thought a minute. He remembered how her words seemed to contradict her body language and expressions. "No."
"Then I suggest you just be patient. The process has already started, as you are noticing. Just enjoy it. Go see your brothers. Uriel is close. Gabriel isn't too much farther. You could track down Michael, if you wanted to…"
"Just wait?" Rafe scoffed at the idea. "I could get inside her head, like I do sometimes with the healers."
"No. You've already done enough of that." His voice was stern, fatherly, and Rafe could feel a sermon coming on. "You will not fiddle with her head. If you do, then you will never know if her feelings are real, and then where would you be in ten or fifteen years? Just older, and not any wiser. Questioning her every motivation. No, human emotion is too difficult without adding falsities into the mix. I will not allow you to make her feel anything for you." He sat silently for a moment.
"So I just wait? Really?"
The Boss leaned back in His chair, mimicking Rafe's earlier, more casual pose. A toothpick appeared in His fingers, and he chewed it thoughtfully.
"Yes, you wait. You can either be here for her while she decides what she wants, making yourself miserable, or you can go visit Uriel, get some brotherly advice. He's been through this, you know." The toothpick twirled from one side of His mouth to the other. "Either way, know that the process has started, and you can't reverse it. It's up to her, now."
"So, I'm becoming human, whether she falls for me, or not?"
"I said 'fall in love'…I didn't say it had to be requited." He paused again, a pose of thoughtfulness that Rafe saw through.
"What?"
Eyebrows raised, He looked at Rafe innocently.
"You're thinking something. Tell me what it is," Rafe pleaded.
"You've got to wait, and see for yourself how this plays out. You're losing your celestial privileges. Just like you've been wanting to for centuries. Enjoy it." Then, He was gone.
Rafe wasn't surprised at the disappearing act. That might have been one of his longest conversations with the Boss on record. Usually, He just let Rafe do his own thing, float around in the cosmic soup, listening to cries of the needy, calls for help, prayerful requests. And he'd always answered them on his own. He knew what his purpose was.
Rafe had spent eternity listening to people offer to sacrifice their most prized possessions, even their own lives for the health and life of people they'd loved. At first, he just healed people, without thinking about it. But the longer he did it, the more he wondered about love. What was it that made people want to give up their own life for somebody that they loved? What could that possibly feel like to want to sacrifice your own mortality for someone else?
Sitting in this dreary place, with nothing to do except wait for Grace to walk into the door and smile at him, he finally understood.
Even though he'd only been with her physically for a couple of weeks, he'd known her for years. Rafe would give up everything for her. Gladly. But she wasn't there yet. She didn't know about him, that he'd been with her for all of her saves, during her dreams, inside her head. She wasn't ready for that knowledge just yet. He had to wait a little while longer.
His leg was better. He'd healed quickly, but he couldn't let her know he was healed. He had been faking his limp for the last day or so, and before that, he'd changed the bandages when she wasn't around. He didn't want her to see that there was nothing there.
The process may have started, but he was still angel enough.
He knew the Boss was right. If he planted the thought in Grace's brain to fall in love with him, he w
ould question her for the rest of their existence together. He would never know if it was real.
In the meantime, being near her was killing him. Being away from her was worse.
He walked back into the room, just as he heard her keycard slip into the lock. He waited expectantly, as she opened the door, dropped her bag on the table near the door, and looked up at him, surprised.
"You shouldn't be on that leg."
Her voice was filled with concern for him, causing his heart to wrench. He felt guilty that he had to pretend to be hurt, causing her more worry.
"The bed was driving me crazy. I've been sitting near the window, enjoying the spectacular view." Rafe flashed her a charming smile, while he motioned with his chin toward the row of refineries, before hopping to the bed to lie down.
She rushed over to help him. "Do you need me to get you anything?" Her hands were busy over him, straightening the covers, holding his elbow while he laid down, smoothing them over his chest, as if her were a child. He reached up and grabbed her hand, stilling them.
"I have everything I need, Grace." His eyes searched hers, looking for anything. He saw compassion, guilt, and weariness. With his hand holding hers, she dropped her eyes to his chest. "How about you? How did today go?" Maybe if she talked to him, he could say something to make her think of him differently.
She sighed an exhausted exhale of breath that spoke volumes.
Standing straight, she turned away. "I've got to shower this filth off my body. I'll come back in a minute and tell you about it. Today wasn't…it wasn't a good day."
He watched her back, as she disappeared into the bathroom. He knew something was wrong, but until she told him, it would be a mystery. He wasn't going inside her head to find it. Twenty minutes later, she emerged, fresh and pink from the hot spray, dressed in a tank top and boxer shorts. She grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and sank onto the other bed.
"We found four bodies today. A family with kids, tied together, drowned in the flood."
"Oh, Jeez, Grace. I'm sorry." He sat up and started to go to her. The dejection radiating from her body was palpable. He could feel it in her mind, could see it in her body. The way her shoulders slumped, her breath caught, the cast of her eyes, all told him of the horrors she had seen.