Almost an Angel

by Katherine Greyle

  He stepped back.

  "Wh—what did you say?" she whispered.

  He cleared his throat, then decided to return to his seat. "The bruises. How did you get them?" He made his voice impersonal again.

  "Oh." She looked down at her wrist, running her hand along a fading dark patch that had been vivid purple just that afternoon. He was surprised how quickly it had faded. "Uh, I wasn't stoned by your villagers or anyone around here," the woman said. "The stoning happened years ago." She released a short laugh. "Both literally and in my life." She looked up at James, chagrin twisting her face. "I know this doesn't make any sense. I don't know why I'm telling you."

  He didn't know, either. "Perhaps you need someone to talk to, and a stranger is often better than a friend."

  She looked at him again, her eyes bright spots of light even in shadow. "No, James. A friend is always better. Perhaps that's what you need to learn."

  He felt suddenly vulnerable under her strange gaze, and went over and gripped his chair as he sought to regain control of the conversation. "Shall we talk more about you? What can you tell me about you?" He was fishing for information in the crudest manner possible, but he did not want to let her focus on him.

  "I told you," she said in exasperation. "I just showed up in this time. Yesterday I was in 2025 ordering burgers and fries on these touch panels at Mc—" She cut off her words abruptly, her eyes downcast in confusion. "McDon . . . I can't remember the name."

  James felt completely thrown. He understood the words individually. At least most of them. But she hadn't mentioned any of this before, and altogether her words made no sense. Perhaps she was speaking a new dialect of Scottish? McDon was maybe a relative or a friend. She did not speak with an accent, though.

  "Tell me about McDon," he tried.

  "He's a clown with big red feet that panders to kids while secretly hardening their arteries."

  "I beg your pardon ?"

  "Never mind." Carolly turned away, her eyes suddenly bleak. Then, to James's complete surprise, she climbed back into bed.

  "Are you feeling ill?" he asked, concerned.

  "No. Just discouraged. This angel business isn't all it's cracked up to be."

  "No, I don't suppose it would be," he said.

  He knew in his heart that words were not enough. He had seen Mrs. Potherby comfort girls on his staff. The woman was warm and motherly, putting her arms around the maids and plying them with biscuits and honey. For a moment, James had an irresistible urge to do just that to Carolly. He wanted to hold her in his arms and soothe away the confusion in her mind. But he dared not. The sexual attraction he felt for her was nearly overwhelming. He had no explanation for it, only knew that it existed and he could not give in.

  "Shall we talk more about your supposed divinity?" he said instead.

  She leaned forward on the covers, and her sudden grin took him by surprise. "I'd rather talk about your marital status. Are you married?”

  James frowned. The woman's mood shifted with lightning speed. Yet James felt an excitement he had not experienced in years. He felt intoxicated with the challenge and found himself relaxing into his chair, crossing one booted foot over the other with casual disdain.

  "No. I have not yet had that—"

  "Dubious honor?" She was clearly mocking him.

  He let his foot drop heavily to the floor. "Madame, if you are applying for the position, let me assure you that I have no intention..

  He ground to a halt as she laughed. The sound was as clear as before, but this time it held true tones of warmth and maybe the slightest touch of sadness. "Me? James, how delightful a proposal! Except, I don't do that. I can't do that if I want to earn my wings. No, I'm more interested in the local women. Anyone you have a particular fondness for?"

  James rose stiffly to his feet. As much as he wanted to help this poor woman, he had to draw the line somewhere. That line stood black and bold, right in front of his personal life. "I believe you have had enough excitement for one evening, madame. If you need anything further, the staff can assist you. I bid you good-night."

  He gave her another formal bow, for which he was again surrounded by her sweet laughter. "All right, James," she said when she finally regained control of herself. "I suppose I've harassed you enough for one night. But, believe me,"—she shook her head—"in all my lives, I've never met a man who needed a good woman more than you do."

  Her laughter followed him through the door as he departed, its echo haunting him even as he sauntered to the library and his nightly brandy. It was only later, as he opened his favorite volume of Horace, that he realized he was grinning.

  Chapter Three

  Carolly woke to a beautiful morning and a body well on its way back to complete health. Not that she would be able to convince anyone else of that. People saw and believed what they wanted, no matter the facts. She'd figured that out during her first reincarnation.

  She folded her hands over her stomach and began her morning recitations: "Carolly . . . Carolly H . . . Carolly Ha . . ." She sighed and decided to skip that part. "Born 1978. Died 2000. Sister named Janice. I died in a car crash that was my own stupid fault. I was selfish and arrogant. Next came 1902, New York. Everyone thought I was a sickly Karen somebody . . ."

  She went on, carefully cataloguing everything she could recall about her different lives. She did it in the mornings when she was most likely to remember. It was her way of recollecting who and what she was—and most especially, why she was here: to help people, to be selfless and good and to atone for her sins. When she had done enough, she would become an angel and this whole nightmare would be over. She hoped.

  Twisting her head, she looked out the window. It was a little after dawn and she was already awake—something unheard of in her original life. Still, it felt good to greet the new day, and she scrambled out of bed to throw open the window.

  James was up, too. She saw him below, standing in the stable yard next to a magnificent jet stallion who snorted in the slightly chilled air. He looked resplendent in dark riding clothes, and he faced a smaller person while a groomsman held his horse.

  Carolly narrowed her eyes, trying to distinguish his companion. It was a child—a red-faced girl in a light brown dress. She was probably the child of some servant. Carolly thought the girl was speaking to James, but perhaps she was mistaken because James walked away without even a nod. He swung onto his stallion and rode away, chasing the dawn.

  Carolly followed the magnificent sight with her eyes, watching hungrily as man and beast thundered across the open fields. She longed to go with them. She'd taken some riding lessons as a child, and though not a great horsewoman, she wouldn't disgrace herself. Then her eyes drifted back to the stable, and Carolly saw the little girl kick unhappily at the dirt and slink away. Poor kid. Like Carolly, she'd probably wanted to go riding.

  Well, they couldn't. Carolly had promised to stay in bed another day, and the kid apparently wasn't of a status to enjoy the privileges of James's estate. Heck, he hadn't even answered her request, if Carolly interpreted correctly what had happened. Poor kid, she thought again.

  With a dispirited sigh, Carolly pretended she was James, mentally riding with him, feeling his magnificent stallion beneath her, the wind streaming through her hair, the sun bright and warm on her face. What a glorious morning! A wonderful day to be alive!

  Her fantasy ended abruptly. She wasn't outside; she wasn't having a great morning ride, and she most certainly wasn't alive. Taking herself to task, she turned toward the bed, but couldn't stomach getting back under the sheets. At last she dragged the chair to the window and perched there, wrapping one of the bedcovers around herself for warmth. Then she stared out the window like a caged bird.

  James found her there two hours later, still staring.

  "Good morning, Miss Carolly."

  "Morning, James." She turned her back on the delightful day to greet the more tempting sight of a man in tight-fitting trousers. "You have a beautiful h
orse. And the way the two of you ride . . . " She stopped, searching for a way to express her thoughts. "It's like you're one creature, like you read each other's thoughts."

  "Shadow and I have been together a long time," he explained.

  "I can tell. I watched you all morning."

  "I know." He sounded annoyed. "I felt you. Even after I topped the rise, I could feel your thoughts following me, like a falcon giving chase."

  Carolly felt her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Why, James, you have the heart of a poet!"

  "I do not."

  Carolly blinked.

  "Is this one of your 'angel talents'?" he asked finally. "Following me wherever I go?"

  His question was serious, and Carolly didn't know how to answer. Finally, she just shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps you're especially sensitive to the divine."

  He snorted and turned to leave, but Carolly scrambled off her chair and across the room. "Don't go. Not yet. I'm bored to tears, and we have so much more to discuss."

  "Discuss?” He held himself stiff. "I was unaware we had anything to discuss."

  "Oh, but we do. I've told you why I'm here. We've got to talk about the best way to find you love. It doesn't have to be a woman, you know—although I'm a great believer in that." He made a strangled sound in his throat, and she rushed on before he regained power of speech. "It could be a dog for all I care. Just a little crack, a tiny opening in your heart. That's all we need."

  “A dog! You wish me to love a dog?"

  She giggled. "Not that way! My word, for a stuffed shirt, you certainly have a perverse turn of mind."

  "I beg your pardon!" His jaw nearly dropped to his chest.

  "Oh, don't get so huffy. I'm only teasing. I know you didn't mean it that way. What I'm saying is, a little shift in your heart will open the whole world for you."

  If possible, James drew himself up even taller. He spoke softly. "I will say this once, madame, and I expect you to listen. I do not need you to find me a woman, or a dog, or anyone. I am an earl with everything I need. Your interest in my personal life is not only unnecessary, it is entirely and unequivocally unwanted!"

  He clearly expected her to bow her head and mumble some sort of apology, but, true to her perverse nature, she couldn't resist provoking him a little further. Carolly dropped onto her bed, crossed her legs beneath the coverlet, and smiled up happily at him. "They always say that, you know. Without fail, every soul I've tried to help has always said it's none of my business."

  He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Perhaps you should listen."

  "But then who would teach you to love?” she asked. She stretched out her legs until her bare toes showed. "Look, it's probably my task to get you to love someone. After you experience love—and real love, not just sex—then I'm outta here. So, if you want to get rid of me, you'll have to help me do my job."

  "Your job?" he asked.

  "Yes." She looked up at him, her expression slowly changing to uncertainty. "Well, that's my best bet. You look like you need it. Please, James, let me help you learn how to love, then

  I swear I won't bother you ever again. With any luck, I'll be in Heaven learning how to play the harp," she added happily.

  He sighed. "Learn to love? Very well, Carolly, you may get dressed and be on your way, because I have a young niece whom I love very much."

  She'd been fussing with her nightgown, but she stopped dead at his words. "A niece? A little girl? You have a little girl?" Her mind flashed to the little girl by the stable, but she quickly dismissed the thought. Even if James were cold enough to treat his niece so abysmally, she couldn't believe he would dress her so shabbily.

  "One would think an angel," he said quietly, "would be better informed."

  "Don't I wish," Carolly muttered.

  James stepped forward suddenly, dropping to one knee before her, and Carolly was startled by the earnestness in his blue-gray eyes. "Listen, Carolly, what if you are actually a normal human? What if you are lonely and confused, and you wish to feel special?" She shivered at his words and tried to draw away, but he wouldn't let her. He rose, put his hands on her shoulders and held her still, forcing her to listen. "Maybe you wish to feel special, so you pretend to be divine."

  "And dead? Would I want to feel dead, too?"

  He shook his head, dismissing her question. "Try to think logically."

  She pushed him away. Wrapping herself in the coverlet, she turned her back on him. "You think too logically, James. Sometimes you've got to look in your heart." That was where she'd found all of her own answers. Or most of them.

  His response was cold. "The heart is a remarkably contradictory organ. I find life only makes sense when you use your head."

  She rounded on him. "You're wrong, James. Now I'm sure you have to find love." She grinned up at him. "And I won't leave until you find some way to open your heart."

  He regained his feet, brushing nonexistent lint off his trousers. “Then perhaps you should meet my niece and be on your way."

  "Very well," she said with a sigh. It was a place to start. "Let's go see your niece."

  James walked to the door. Turning, he said, "If you're going to stay, I took the liberty of acquiring you some new clothing. I believe it arrived this morning. I shall send Mrs. Potherby to assist you in dressing."

  Thank you," Carolly responded. Looking down, she was reminded of how inappropriately she was garbed, and she was genuinely warmed by his unexpected thoughfulness. That was quite nice of you."

  "Nothing of the kind, Miss Carolly. As you seem insistent upon walking about my house, it is my obligation to see you appropriately attired."

  She stared at him, suddenly overcome by the ridiculousness of it all. Here she was, a dead woman who thought she was an angel. She was going to meet his niece and show him how to love, and he was worried about keeping her appropriately attired.

  Chapter Four

  "You want me to wear that?" Carolly eyed the corset with distaste. A long tank top with bone slats, it seemed perfectly designed to torture the female body. "I'll never be able to sit!"

  "You will sit like a lady," came Mrs. Potherby's firm response.

  Carolly shook her head. "I'm not a lady, Mrs. Potherby. Never have been, never will be. Look, can't I just stand up tall and pretend? Without actually having . . ." Her voice trailed off. She could see by the older woman's face that she was getting nowhere. If she wanted to leave her room and meet James's niece, she'd have to wear the instrument of torture. "Oh, all right. Show me how to put it on."

  She was wrong about it being uncomfortable—excruciatingly annoying described it better. Carolly felt like she'd just put on a tight barrel. Her breasts pushed up almost to her chin and as for breathing, her only choice was a delicate pant. On the up side, panties apparently hadn't yet been invented. She felt deliciously naughty walking around without them.

  Carolly grimaced as Mrs. Potherby tied her tights, just under her knees. She would have done it herself, but she hadn't figured out how to bend. She'd never thought she'd miss elastic, but here she was, wondering how on earth she would keep her stockings tied, especially when she couldn't reach them.

  "All right," she said with a groan. "What's next?" Carolly had hoped they were done with the underclothing. No such luck. Mrs. Potherby brought out a dove-gray petticoat.

  "It's a beautiful day," Carolly began. "A hot day. Surely I don't need—"

  "Please raise your arms."

  So much for avoiding the petticoat.

  "It's like the layered look, only in reverse, right?"

  Mrs. Potherby didn't answer. Instead, she dropped the rough fabric over Carolly's head.

  "Ugh! It's stiff." Some sort of paste had been applied to the skin to keep it full. "I'm going to have to practice walking so I won't knock over tables or beat some poor dog senseless."

  "I am sure you will remember soon enough."

  Carolly lifted her head, fixing Mrs. Potherby with a pointed stare. "How can I remember somethi
ng I've never done?”

  The older woman refused to answer. She turned away and shook out a light gray dress with a high neckline and a lace collar. Carolly stopped the woman, taking her arm and not letting go until the housekeeper looked directly at her, but the woman said simply, "His lordship is waiting. Come. I still have to fix your hair."

  She buttoned Carolly into the gray gown, tied her into the flimsiest slippers Carolly had ever seen, then pushed her onto a stool and began brushing out her hair with a vengeance.

  "Ow! Go easy, will you?” Carolly gasped.

  "Hush. Hand me that ribbon."

  Carolly did as she was bid, wincing.

  "It is beyond me," commented Mrs. Potherby, "why a woman with such beautiful hair would want to have it cropped almost to her ears."

  "I like it short. It's easier to ignore that way." But even as she spoke, Carolly watched the mirror in fascination. The housekeeper tied the ribbon deftly, neatly pulling the hair up and away from Carolly's face.

  "Add a few more inches and think of what we could do with it," coaxed Mrs. Potherby.

  Carolly shook her head. "Short and sassy. That's me."

  "Aye," agreed Mrs. Potherby sadly.

  Carolly frowned. "Why do you say it like that?"

  The older woman shook her head, then abruptly pushed Carolly off the stool. "His lordship awaits."

  Carolly dug in her heels. "Let him wait. I want to know what you mean."

  Mrs. Potherby only shook her head. "You are arrogant through and through, Miss Carolly. But you must remember, you reside in an earl's house, are here by his leave. He could toss you out this afternoon if he had a mind. Then where would you go?"

  "I . . . " Carolly shut her mouth. She'd wanted to laugh and say she would find a way. But she had spent her first life doing just that: shrugging off others' concerns, allowing problems to get worse because she was too lazy to change. Now she was working toward becoming an angel. She had to be good and responsible.