New Wings

by Donna Stanley

  If I saw him again tomorrow I would walk right up to him and ask him. At least I hoped I’d be brave enough to do that, and that I could say it without sounding ungrateful for his help.

  I forced myself out of my stupor long enough to soap up and shampoo, then got out of the shower and dried off.

  If I did manage to talk to him tomorrow, I’d also ask him how he disappeared so fast. After all, people don’t just vanish into thin air.

  What if he really were an angel—maybe even the guardian angel I prayed God would somehow show me? Would he be offended that I questioned him coming to my rescue? Had he already told God about my lack of appreciation or my skepticism? Would lightning strike me dead while I slept?

  After changing into clean shorts and a T-shirt, I collapsed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. Lying there in the darkness I listened to the silence. I felt like a toddler wondering if the boogeyman might be under the bed.

  God, I don’t know what happened tonight. Or who that guy was. Please help me understand and know how to respond. Thanks for sending someone to rescue me—whoever or whatever he was.

  As my eyes fluttered closed as I drifted off to sleep, I felt someone brush the hair off my forehead. My dad hadn’t done that in years. It felt comforting.

  A few moments later, peace fell over me.

  As his charge finally fell asleep, Mike brushed his hand over Olivia’s hair as he’d done a thousand times before. This time she moved when he touched her. She felt his presence!

  Oh, how he hoped she would open her spiritual eyes. Few humans did. But that prayer she prayed last Sunday in church had activated his duty to a level that was seldom allowed. As a result, he’d been able to appear to her in human form.

  He didn’t want to scare her, so he’d chosen to look like an attractive young man—or at least what she perceived as attractive. He’d thought the red Camaro was a nice touch, but she still seemed afraid.

  Mike recalled the day she was born. He’d pressed his forehead against the glass of the hospital ward alongside her father. They’d both beamed with pride, peering in at the little bundle wriggling in her tiny plastic bed.

  Earlier that day her mother had prayed for angels to protect her. Mike was there before she even prayed. He’d been with her ever since—and would be with her till she took her final breath on Earth.

  This girl had already been a challenge. During her childhood years he’d saved her from falling out of trees, drowning in a pond, and various other near tragedies caused by her curious nature and wild imagination.

  The dangers she encountered changed slightly when she entered her teen years. Adolescent girls were complicated. He longed for her to get over this boy-crazy stage. If she knew what these young guys were thinking, she’d run away. But telling her that wasn’t part of Mike’s job description.

  She stirred again. He wanted to jump into her dreams to talk to her, but it wasn’t time yet.

  Olivia still had no idea how specifically God had answered her prayer to show her she had a guardian angel. Mike was always amazed at how humans asked for supernatural things yet were surprised when they happened. Most of the time when he appeared to humans, they passed out. He’d been given permission to be a little more subtle and creative this time.

  Olivia was one of the best things that had ever happened to Mike. Oh, he’d guarded many souls over the ages, but this one was special. She reminded him of Queen Esther and Mary—women in history chosen to change their world.

  Chapter 2

  ILET MYSELF IN the side door of my sister’s home, eager to get my mind off my weird experience with Mike by focusing on my niece. I hadn’t seen him in the parking lot after school today. I wished I’d gotten his address before we parted. Then again, if I had, I’d become the stalker.

  “Hey, Diane,” I called out as the screen door slammed behind me.

  Petey, the family beagle, bounded into the kitchen and greeted me with high-pitched barking and enthusiastic tail wagging. I reached down and petted his velvety soft ears. “Hello, boy.”

  My three-year-old niece came running into the kitchen, golden curls bouncing, and wrapped her arms around my legs. “I missed you, Livvy!”

  Tessa’s smile showed the gap between her two front teeth. With a slight lisp, she whined, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

  “It’s only been a week.” Every Thursday, while Diane and Brian went on a date night, I played with Tessa, then put her to bed and flopped on the couch to watch TV and eat junk food.

  “Hey, Sis.” Diane entered the kitchen, putting in her left earring. “We’ll be home by ten, as usual. Tessa’s already had dinner.” She glanced in the mirror by the back door, smoothing her shoulder-length brown hair.

  I always felt like a buffalo next to a gazelle in her presence. Diane had a petite frame and was poised and feminine, always knowing the right thing to say in any situation. I was five inches taller, twenty pounds heavier, and a borderline tomboy who felt awkward around strangers. Side by side you’d hardly know we were sisters, except we shared our father’s sharp jawline and slightly slanted nose.

  Brian walked in tying his tie, his tailored short-sleeved shirt straining against his large muscles.

  “Fancy restaurant tonight?”

  “I’m taking your sister to the country club.” He put his arm around his wife. “You ready, sweetheart?”

  I loved my romantic brother-in-law. He was the typical tall, dark, and handsome type. The two made a stunning couple.

  Diane grabbed her jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. “I’m all yours.”

  “Have fun.” I watched them leave, hoping I’d have a marriage like theirs someday.

  After a fun evening of games and cartoons, then taking Petey for a short walk, it was time to tuck Tessa into bed.

  “Will you pray with me this time, Livvy?”

  The one thing I dreaded about Tessa’s bedtime was being asked to join in prayers. I didn’t like praying out loud. It wasn’t something my family did much. “Why don’t you start?”

  Tessa closed her eyes tight. “God bless Mommy, Daddy, Gee Gee and Geepa, and Olivia. Oh, and help Petey to stop eating Mommy’s slippers. Amen.” She looked up at me with her big blue eyes. “Your turn.”

  I spotted a little winged statue on Tessa’s dresser. “Do you ever think about angels?”

  “Yep. There’s one right over there.” Tessa pointed to a corner of the room behind me.

  Goose bumps returned to my arms, and I resisted the urge to turn around and look. “What do you see?”

  “My guardian angel. I always see him after I pray. He smiles a lot. That makes me feel good and helps me fall asleep.”

  “Are you scared of him?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “Have you told your Mommy and Daddy about him?” I could only imagine what my parents would say if I told them I’d seen an angel.

  “Yep. They say it’s a nice thing for me to pretend.”

  “But you’re not pretending, are you?”

  “No.” Tessa’s eyes opened wide. “Do you believe me, Livvy?”

  “I do. And I don’t think angels are anything to be afraid of either.” I said it more for myself than for Tessa.

  I tucked the covers around her shoulders. “I’ll see you next Thursday.”

  As I headed for the door, I glanced at the corner but saw nothing. I felt both relieved and disappointed. “Tell your angel I said hello.” I flicked off the light switch. “Good night, sweetie.”

  “Night, Livvy. I love you.” “Love you too.”

  Instead of turning on the TV I sat on the sofa in silent contemplation with Petey curled up beside my feet. Three-year-old Tessa knew more about angels than I did.

  I bowed my head and closed my eyes. If I was going to figure out the mystery of Mike, I’d need God’s help. I also had to figure out how to keep a calm head and not panic.

  I walked into the school cafeteria, ignoring the line of students picking u
p the usual Friday special: greasy pizza. Grasping my sack lunch, I scanned the room to find my friend Christina. She was at a table with Tommy and one of his friends. Christina giggled over something Tommy had just whispered in her ear. Probably one of the crude jokes he was famous for.

  I slipped into the seat beside her. “We have to talk.”

  “What’s up?” Christina turned to me, flipping her curly red hair with her hand. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Actually, I think I might have. But it’s too long a story to tell here.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it.” Christina’s dark green eyes opened wide. “But I’m slammed with so many tests next week I have to study all day Saturday. Can you come to my house on Sunday after you get home from church?”

  “Definitely.” I felt better about going to Christina’s house than Christina coming to mine. Her parents didn’t hover like mine did, so we could talk more freely.

  I opened my bag lunch and pulled out a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a bottle of water. Christina returned to chatting with the boys. She laughed again at something Tommy said, and the high-pitched sound grated on my nerves. But at least she wasn’t laughing at me. Not yet, anyway.

  Greg Monahan sat down beside me, tucking his jaw-length auburn hair behind his ears. Greg was close friends with Christina. Their relationship was totally platonic, but I wondered if he’d been feeling left out since she started dating Tommy two months ago. I hardly got a chance to talk to her much anymore either.

  “Hey, Christina,” Greg said. “I was wondering if you—”

  “Just a second.” After a quick glance at Greg, she turned back to Tommy.

  Greg slouched, looking crushed.

  Maybe I needed to talk to someone more empathetic. I noticed Eden sitting a few tables away, her nose in a book, as usual. Eden was more grounded and focused than Christina. Plus her father was the pastor of my church.

  I tapped Christina on the shoulder. “I have to talk to Eden. Catch you later.”

  She didn’t seem to notice that I’d said anything. She was too focused on giggling at whatever the boys were saying.

  I squeezed Greg’s arm as I got up to leave. Then I leaned in close and said, “Hopefully this Tommy craze will wear off soon and we can all hang out together like we used to.”

  He looked up at me. “That’d be nice.” He rolled his eyes.

  I grabbed my sandwich and my drink and headed toward Eden. The book in her hands was from one of the vampire trilogies. I’d long since tired of such books, but other girls couldn’t get enough.

  I didn’t see any food in front of Eden. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember ever seeing Eden eat. Maybe she was a vampire and didn’t need human food. I chuckled to myself.

  “Eden?” I tapped my finger on the edge of her book.

  She looked up. “Hey, Liv!” She inserted her bookmark and closed the cover.

  I sat opposite her and set my sandwich and drink on the table. “Have you ever read anything about angels?”

  Her face brightened. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’m thinking of writing about them for our English composition paper.” Not entirely untrue.

  “Actually, I’ve read some really interesting things about angels.” Eden leaned in and whispered, “I’ve also read about fallen angels and demons.

  It creeps me out.” She ran her fingers through her spiky dark brown hair.

  “Do you think all that stuff is real?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s fun to think about. It sure would explain a lot of the strange happenings you always read about, like ghosts and”—she glanced at her novel—“all that paranormal stuff.” Her fair complexion seemed to pale further.

  I took a sip of my water. Talking to Eden had definitely been a good choice.

  Eden took off her reading glasses and set them on the table. “My mom took a class in anthropology at college, and she says every culture in the world has stories about spirits. Some cultures interact with the spirit world as if it’s as normal as you and me talking right now.”

  “I wish I knew more about them.”

  Eden looked around, then said, “My grandmother claims she saw my dad’s guardian angel once.”

  “Really?”

  “He had a fever that was causing seizures. While Granny was praying for him, a light appeared near the top of the bed, about two feet behind him. The glowing orb touched my dad while he was sleeping, and then it disappeared. His body temperature dropped almost immediately. Just that morning, Granny had asked God to show her His angel, and she believes He answered her prayer.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “My grandmother is pretty normal. I don’t think she made that up.”

  I stared at my half-eaten sandwich. A glob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth. If Tessa and Eden’s grandma had both seen angels, was it really possible that I’d seen one too?

  “My dad took a course in seminary that had a section on angelology. I looked through his notebook one time. There’s some pretty cool stuff in there.”

  “I’d love to see his notes. It’d make great research for my paper. Could I come over tomorrow?”

  “Sure. We could do a sleepover and you can ride to church with us on Sunday.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Just then Ty Hudson passed close to where we sat. He was the star quarterback of the football team, gorgeous and very popular. Eden fell to pieces whenever he was near.

  “There’s Ty!” she squeaked, fanning her face with a small spiral notebook. She turned her body away from him but glanced sideways, watching his every move.

  “Why don’t you talk to him?”

  “Are you kidding? Anything I said would end up sounding like some clumsy stutter. Oh—he’s looking this way!” She quickly opened her novel and hid her face behind it.

  “That was stupid. He looked right at you.”

  “Yeah, sure. He doesn’t even know I exist. He was probably just looking at the clock behind me.”

  “I doubt that.”

  The bell rang. I had to get to math class. “Talk to you later.”

  I left the cafeteria, dropping my empty lunch bag in the trash can by the exit. Two doors down was my classroom. I took a seat next to the window, which was opened a crack, providing me a slight break from the stuffy air in the room. Nate Ryan slid into the seat beside me and let out a loud belch.

  “Gross!”

  “Better for it to come out the attic than the basement!”

  I grimaced. “Keep both doors closed, would you?”

  I shuffled my desk and chair a little closer to the window and stared at the oak tree in the lawn outside while Mrs. Gleason copied equations onto the blackboard.

  Is Mike really an angel? When will I see him again?

  “Miss Stanton?”

  I jerked to attention when I realized Mrs. Gleason had called on me.

  “Is there something interesting outside the window that you’d like to share with the class?”

  I dropped my pencil, which I’d been frantically tapping on my desk while in my fog. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

  Several students stifled giggles.

  I retrieved my pencil, then sat up and looked at my teacher.

  Oh gosh, I hope she isn’t going to ask me a question I don’t know the answer to.

  “Welcome back.” Mrs. Gleason gave me a mocking smile, then returned to her scribbling.

  Whew. No one is looking anymore. How embarrassing to be caught dreaming. But I can’t help it. Mike intrigues me. I have to know more.

  While listening to the tap, tap, tap of the chalk, I gazed at my textbook, hoping it would look like I was studying the information on the page. The words and numbers blurred as I checked out again.

  Would Mike be in the parking lot again today? I hoped he would be. If he were, I had to ask him how he pulled off that disappearing act and why he was standing around in the parking lot. Part of me hoped he was
a guy who’d heard about me and went out of his way to meet me. But what if he really were an angel? How cool would it be to have a real live guardian angel taking care of me, even when I did something stupid?

  At volleyball practice my distraction made me miss several easy passes. I fumbled almost every serve, sending the ball straight into the net.

  “You OK, Liv?” Coach asked.

  I faked a limp. “My ankle is feeling a little stiff today.”

  “Maybe you should rest a bit.”

  “No, no. I’m sure if I keep moving it’ll loosen up.” If I sat out, our backup setter, Vicki Beecham, would fill in, and she always gloated when Coach put her in to replace me. I decided to drop the bad-ankle act. If Coach told me to rest the next couple of days, I could lose my position at the next game.

  Coach waved his arm in the air. “Carry on!”

  I did my best to keep my mind focused on my performance. The rest of the drills went much better. I almost forgot about my good-looking stranger.

  But as soon as Coach blew his whistle to end the practice, I dashed to the locker room, grabbed my things, and raced down the hall. I pressed the metal crossbar on the door so hard a tiny shock of pain shot up my arm.

  When I got outside I scanned the parking lot for a red Camaro.

  I froze when I spotted a red bumper just past where my car was parked.

  It’s him! And he wasn’t clear across the parking lot this time.

  My breathing quickened as I walked toward my Honda. Was he sitting in his car this time instead of leaning against it? Would he get out when I reached my vehicle? I tried to remember the lines I’d come up with to say to him, but none of the words I recalled congealed into any kind of intelligent sentences.

  As I drew closer I noticed a few small spots of rust on the front bumper. My heart sank. It couldn’t be Mike’s car. His had a new paint job.

  Then again, if Mike were an angel, maybe the rusty car would suddenly turn glossy, the rust spots would vanish, and he would magically appear.

  No such luck. As more of the rusty red car came into my view, I saw it was a ’66 Mustang. Vicki Beecham’s car. She and her dad had begun restoring it.