A mix of rain and snow fell. The slush soaked into my clothes and I was instantly drenched, cold to the bone. My breath blew out as steam in the night. I ran barefoot across the back yard. I trampled through the pooled water, slipping once but catching myself. I hit the gravel driveway at a full sprint oblivious to the numbing pain of tiny pebbles digging into the bottoms of my feet. I jumped over partially frozen pot holes, clearing some and missing others.
I glanced back. Steve was up and headed down the back steps. I pushed harder. Part of me wanted to keep an eye on his every move, but that was silliness I knew. It was unlikely that his intentions had changed. He was surely headed my way, and as scared as I was my steps were solid. Endorphins rushed through my veins like a drug. I could have run until dawn, but vast acres of forestland stood between me and help.
For a moment I considered if I shouldn’t just run into the dense woods. I no doubt knew this area better than he, but if I was wrong and he caught me, I feared my father would never know what happened to me. I couldn’t put him through the never ending pain of not knowing and hoping I would one day return. There was only one place to go.
I reached Steve’s truck, praying that he had left his keys in the ignition, ready for a quick exit. My hands were so cold, I could barely grip the slippery door handle on the driver’s side. Using both hands, I yanked the door open and immediately felt around for the ignition. My heart sank. I flipped down visors and yanked open compartments. My pulse pounded with the knowledge that Steve had to be drawing near. I couldn’t look. I shoved my hands under the seat, my fingers fumbling around. When I skimmed over something cold, I gripped it as best I could and quickly brought it out into the dim light. A key!
I came back up just in time to see a flash of movement at my side.
Instantly, I lunged over the console. He was swiping at my legs while I was kicking at his grasp. It was hopeless, and before I could get out the other side he had his hand wrapped around my ankle. With incredible strength he flipped me flat to my back. I landed, head first to the passenger side door and the impact rattled my senses. My vision blurred. I was seeing two of everything. I screamed and when I did the back drop of night rippled just over Steve’s shoulder. Convinced a greater evil had just arrived, I screamed louder. Like a time warp in space, the atmosphere flexed and elongated. I held my shriek in a long, agonizing note. Steve smiled with satisfaction. He was completely oblivious to what throbbed like an invisible life force just behind him. “It” hovered while he paused to enjoy the power he had over me. Doing so would be his downfall.
The space around him furrowed, and a flash of lightening sparked. I wordlessly pointed behind Steve, but he paid me no mind. In the blink of an eye, Steve’s weight was lifted off of me. His face quickly changed from intense anger to wide-eyed shock as his six-foot frame was sucked backward out of the truck and flung to the ground. He hit so hard I felt the reverberation.
Curled up in a fetal position, I was too scared to move. My eyes were locked to the spot I had last seen the ripple. Whatever just happened was powerful and invisible, a force that I couldn’t identify as friend of foe. I feared I’d be next. Without having to move, I could just see Steve. He was face-down in the mud and not moving. I could clearly hear him moaning and groaning. Just the distance and impact of his fall should have kept him down for good, but it didn’t. The sight of Steve pressing his hands into the mud and pushing himself upward sent me into complete hysterics. I was sobbing, my body quaking as he struggled to get up. He had made it to his knees when the air ripple again and picked him right up off his feet.
Suspended in the air, he fought for his life, fists slicing the air but connecting with nothing. It was as if he fought a ghost, each attempt only provoked another strike. It was all happening so fast and was so unbelievable, that my only reaction was to keep screaming. I was completely unable to collect a rational thought or take command of my terror when, too my horror, Steve’s body was hurled in my direction. He landed in front of me, face down in a disheveled heap on the vehicle’s hood. The truck rocked from the impact.
All went quiet. Even the sleet had stopped. I lay as still as a statue for a full two minutes, barely able to breathe. The storm passed and clouds began to split. Only a partial moon dared to peek through a less disturbing sky. As I held my breath, my senses were sharpened by my desire to survive. We were not alone. The air around me pulsated with a life, a tangible energy. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. And I didn’t know when the next flutter was coming, or if it would come after me, I only knew that “it” was still here.
Slowly, I turned for the passenger side door. Placing both feet flat to the ground, I stepped out and my knee’s instantly buckled. I landed face first into an icy mud puddle. And for a moment, I was splashing around, until finally, I dug my bare feet in and pushed myself up. I told myself not to look back, just run, but then a moan from Steve stopped me.
Cautiously, I glanced back over my shoulder, in Steve's direction. I watched as he drew in a rattled breath, raising his head up from the dent he had made in the truck’s hood to look at me with his right eye — his left one had been pounded shut. When he opened his mouth to speak, he only managed a gurgling sound. Before he could even form a word, the air around him cracked with thunder. And in an instant, Steve’s head jerked back and he moaned even louder.
As horrible and surreal as this was, it wasn’t Steve I was watching. An image was forming behind him, a figure that faded in and out of visibility, but whose outline pulsated with energy. Though faint, the energy took the form of a man. It flickered slowly until the outline soon gave way to the entire person. He was tall and luminous. And though his face was dark with anger and his eyes sparked with fire, there was nothing demon-like about him. He had Steve suspended by the back of his jacket, and without warning, he dropped him onto the hood of the truck with a thud. Kneeling down, he pressed one knee hard into Steve’s back, and his body went limp as the man leaned down and hissed in his ear.
When the face of my hero flashed, it was only a side view, but that chiseled nose and iconic profile allowed me draw my first full breath. I wanted to run to him, but I couldn’t feel my feet. I wanted to scream out his name, but I had no voice. The adrenaline that had once sustained me had subsided. Thankfully, my knees were locked or else I would have surely crumbled to the ground.
I barely flinched when Elvis picked up Steve as if he weighed no more than a feather, and with a kick to the truck’s door, slammed him into the driver’s seat. It took only a moment for Steve to realize he was free. In a flash, he sprang to life, scrambling for the key’s I’d left dangling in the ignition. How he managed to move was amazing to me, but I understood the look of desperation in his eyes. No doubt he was functioning on survival instincts alone.
A moment later the truck roared to life. The engine surged and the tires spun before it grabbed solid ground, and shot forward like a canon down the drive. All I could see were its crimson tail lights blazing in the night.
With my arms wrapped protectively around my body, I gently rocked back and forth, swaying on legs that were both unsteady and numb.
“Samantha.” His voice sounded like a whisper to my ear.
And when I looked up to my angel, his face had softened back into that of the man I knew and loved. He was like a mirage, standing there with his hands firm on his hips, his weight shifted heavily to the right, and water from the storm glistening on his face. I saw a warrior of God, a guardian of human life. And when he extended his hands to me, palms up, I ran to him, broken and fragile.
“I gotcha, baby girl,” Elvis said as he swooped me up in his arms.
I don’t remember the journey back to the cabin. All I remember is the feel of strong arms around me as I sobbed with my head buried against his chest. Once inside, he used his shoulder to close the door behind us, and the warm air immediately began to revive me. But it wasn’t until Elvis began to peel me from his arms that I found my voice.
“No, no, no!” I clung on tighter.
“S-h-h-h, honey, take it easy,” he said tenderly while slowly unraveling me from his body, one limb at a time.
My every muscle was rigid from the cold. And the minute my legs touched the ground, my knees buckled, and Elvis quickly gathered me back into his arms.
“I’d put you in a hot shower, baby, if I thought you could tolerate the pain.” Elvis said while marching me down the hall.
Tapping the bedroom door with his boot tip, he gingerly laid me onto the bed.
“I’m sorry honey, but we need to get you out of these wet clothes.”
He did not wait for permission to undress me, he simply went to work. There was no shyness, no moment of hesitation. I tried to help but he shooed my hand away. The light from a bedside lamp cascaded a soft glow across his concentrated features. Had our situation been one of intimacy, I would have found that wisp of hair low across his brow erotic and sensual, but I only briefly considered it. He moved fast, fumbling in all the areas you’d expect a man too, but accomplishing the task on his own. Soon, I was completely naked.
He kept his gaze low and began to rub my legs with hands that felt hard on my skin. I bit back the tears.
“I’d heal you if I could, baby, but I’m no Jesus,” he’d say, and then exhale a heated breath onto my feet, messaging and encouraging circulation.
To say he had magic hands would be an understatement, but this was not the special attention I had always imagined. The process was torturous. I’d cringe, anticipating the pain as his long fingers wound around my calves. He’d knead my muscles, and just as the agony would start to subside, he’d shift to a new area and it would start all over again. As painful as this was, relief could not come fast enough. And though my toes tingled, and my knees were no longer locked, my core body felt like a block of ice.
“T-t-too slow,” I managed to speak through chattering teeth.
“Ok, baby girl, hold on,” he sighed deeply, and muttered something about having to do this the old fashion way.
Standing up, he jerked his wet shirt tails from his paints and unbuckled his belt. Before I could process what was about to happen, he was undressed. He joined me on the bed, and while supporting his own weight, gingerly laid his long naked frame over mine. Carefully, his body sank deeper until my petite frame virtually vanished and an all over heat seeped into my bones.
While I openly moaned from the reprieve, he looked down to me with a playful smile.
“I-I don’t know about you, but I imagined this moment differently.” He was teasing me, but the lines of worry were deep across his brow.
“A-a-are… y-you… cold?” I forced a smile.
His face softened. “No, baby, I’m fine,” he said in a caring tone that had my eyes flooding with emotion. There was no hesitancy, I let the tears flow.
“I-I’m so sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded small and weak.
“Shush, now,” His own voice cracked with emotion, and his eyes grew misty as he stroked the damp hair away from my face. “I’m sorry too, honey. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner.”
“Y-you were distracted?” A vision of him throwing darts at my photo popped in my head, and I chuckled but stopped when it hurt.
“Something-like-that, yes” he said, leaning down to place a tender kiss to the tip of my nose. “I just can’t take my eyes off of you for one minute without you getting yourself into trouble.”
“W-what a girl will do for your attention, huh?” I said and enjoyed that famous smile widening over me.
As we lay together, cocooned in each other’s arms, the stillness that enveloped us was like the calm after a storm, tranquil yet electric. I'd let out a shaky breath, and he'd draw me closer, purposely laying my head to rest over his heart. Nuzzling him, I was hypnotized by the rise and fall of his every breath. And when he stirred, attempting to become more comfortable, I startled inside his embrace.
“I’m here, honey, I’m here,” was the last thing I heard him say.
Chapter 22
A blanket of white covered the ground. Snow in Atlanta? It happens, but even I couldn’t remember when. And as I stood at the kitchen window that next morning, coffee in hand, I could see no sign of last night’s nightmare. Not one track, not even from the smallest animal was visible. Mother Nature had simply wiped the earth clean. And as I closed my eyes, attempting to gather my strength, I thanked God for at least the illusion of a new day.
I had fallen asleep in the arms of an angel, but I woke up alone, blurry eyed and groggy. Right away, I noticed a note pinned to my pillow and read it first thing. It started with, he had gone to make sure our “new friend” hadn’t mistaken last night for a bad dream, and ended with: You know where to find me.
He was right, I realized. I knew where to find him, and I couldn’t help but laugh mockingly at the knowledge that it never required a plane ride to Memphis. The solution lied in the simplicity of one question: Where would all good little angels go at the start of every day?
***
The drive back to the city always felt shorter. To this day I believe it's a holdover from my childhood, a time when I couldn’t get to the lake fast enough, and then sulked notoriously when it was time to leave. This time, I was ready. Real life had come crashing down around my childhood memories. Never again would I look back to the lake through the eyes of innocence. Steve had taken that from me.
And after a quick shower and a change, I went straight to packing. Set to leave, I loaded up the car, pausing only briefly before sealing up the cabin for what I knew would be another long absence.
The ride home was clear, and the smooth journey allowed me the time to think. My mind worked on what I would say when I saw my father. I was aware he’d want to know where I’d been, and what had inspired this early morning visit. I decided not to tell him about Steve. The details were too horrible, the outcome too hard to explain. Besides when it came to my angel, my father only knew pieces of this amazing tale. He was aware of the dreams I’d had while lying in the hospital. I had told him the story myself. And in his religious convictions, he had rationalized that God had provided me with a distraction, a reprieve from the pain, while my body healed. It was a simplistic idea to a complicated reality. One, I was willing to let him believe, for now.
All around me, the rolling hills were sprinkled with a snowy powder. Sadly, and just like the day before, I didn’t bother to admire them. Once out of the mountains, the soft beauty of woodland nature slowly gave way to the harshness of steel and skyrocketing buildings. All around me, the city buzzed like a beehive. Car’s lined the roads and pedestrians packed the sidewalks. And when I exited the freeway, I immediately saw the white cross from the steeple up ahead. I was almost there, almost safe.
My heart was pounding as I pulled in, and parked near the administrative building. For awhile I just sat, edgy and easily overcome with emotion. This was not how I wanted my father to see me, shaken to my core, I thought, and then prayed for strength and protection. I half expected a rebuttal answer from the Devil himself, but soon a sense of peace rushed over me. And not wanting to waste the confidence this all-over good feeling gave me, I grabbed my purse and raced for my father’s office.
For the most part, the parking lot was empty but that didn’t surprise me. After all, it was the middle of the week. However, I was stunned when I entered the main office and Nancy, my father’s secretary, wasn't at her desk. It was 10:00 am. Maybe she was late?
I crossed the room, hesitated briefly, and then knocked on my father’s door. When nobody answered, I peeked and right off, noticed him fast asleep on the couch. For a moment, I felt as if I was the intruder. And I almost turned to leave, but then I couldn't help but wonder what lovely moment he might be sharing with my mother and decided to wait. Content, I sat down in an empty chair by his side, and settled in to enjoy an odd case of role reversal. For once, I’d watch “him” nap just as he used to watch me.
My father was quite the
sight, actually. At six foot three, and all curled up on his side, he all but swallowed up the average sized couch. And I couldn’t help but snicker at the way his black wing tip shoes dangled off the sides like a little boy dressed up in his father’s clothes. My soft laughter slipped into an internal sigh as I admired his pallid hair, giving him a touch of aged wisdom, and I silently commended my mother for her impeccable taste in men. He was stunning, in a fatherly sort of way.
The moments passed in the slow rise and fall of his every breath, and at some point he must have felt my presence because his eyes finally fluttered open and we smiled at each other.
“You’re napping earlier than normal today, daddy.” I felt a rush of love in the word “daddy”, and my tears quickly swelled.
“You caught me, baby girl.” He sat up, yawning and adjusting his tie.
“Can’t wait to get to those good dreams, I bet.” I muttered, and my father’s eyes narrowed.
Not waiting for his response, I moved to the couch and hugged him with all my might. My emotions quickly flooded forward, and I struggled to hold them back.
“Well, this is nice. What did I do to deserve this visit?” He chuckled.
“Can’t I just show up at church like all good daughters of pastors should?”
“Sure, if you’re not my Samantha.” My father joked as he drew me further in his arms.
“Well, starting today, your little girl is changing her ways,”
“You are?” Daddy gently pushed me out of his arms so that he could examine my face.
Smiling, I kept my gaze low so that he couldn't look me square in the eyes. He had a talent for knowing my secrets and I wanted to tell him at my own pace, on my own terms.
Dream Angel : Heaven Waits Page 18