New Wings

by Donna Stanley

  I shuffled to my Honda, turned the key in the lock, and opened the door, all the while staring at the dull red car beside mine, still half expecting it to transform into a shiny Camaro.

  I slung my purse and backpack onto the floor on the passenger side and slumped into the driver’s seat.

  Why hadn’t Mike shown up today? Apparently, whether he was an angel or a human, he enjoyed watching me from a distance for a few days, but after talking to me once, he stopped coming around. Was I that boring? If so, I’d probably never see him again.

  Eden and I spent all Saturday night talking about boys and volleyball, then watched The Princess Bride like we’d done during every sleepover since grade school.

  I kept waiting for Eden to mention her dad’s notebook about angels, not wanting to push it. Besides, after thinking about the subject some more, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to read about angels. I didn’t want to be convinced this was all real.

  But then I thought about Mike. The image of him, seared into my memory, was enough to make me want to know more.

  When I woke up on Sunday morning, Eden stood over me, a thick spiral notebook in her hand. “This is it,” she whispered. “You can take it home, but bring it back as soon as you’re done. He’s really picky about loaning things out.”

  I stuffed it in my overnight bag. At home, I’d hide it in my closet in the box on the top shelf behind a stack of books, where I kept all my secret things. I’d keep it a week, then give it back to Eden—whether I got up the courage to read it or not.

  Soon after the organ began to play, the church choir came out of the doors on either side of the stage. But they weren’t the same people I was used to seeing, and instead of the usual burgundy choir robes, theirs were a brilliant white. It must be a guest group.

  They sat in the choir loft during the service and sang hymns along with the congregation, but they didn’t sing a special number. I wondered why. They stayed on the platform the whole service, even during the sermon Eden’s dad gave.

  As my family was leaving the sanctuary, I said, “I really liked the choir’s gowns. But how come they didn’t sing anything by themselves?”

  “What are you talking about?” Mom asked. “The choir had this week off.”

  I shivered. “Dad—?”

  My dad wrinkled his forehead. “Olivia, there was no choir this morning.”

  They really hadn’t seen the choir!

  “I gotta go.” I rushed to the restroom, my stomach churning.

  “Olivia?” I heard my dad call out. I dashed across the foyer and burst into the bathroom, racing past the first person in line, and grabbed the first stall that came open. I closed the door and leaned against it, nearly hyperventilating.

  What would I say to my parents on the way home? Should I tell them I had a guardian angel—and that he was good looking?

  They’d never believe me. Dad was pretty open-minded, but Mom would think I was even crazier than usual.

  God, help me!

  After opening the stall door I smoothed my hair in the mirror, then fled the restroom, avoiding the curious glances of the women in line.

  I managed to slip out the front of the church without Eden’s dad noticing me. I didn’t feel like entering into the usual Sunday morning pleasantries with the pastor.

  As I crossed the parking lot, my Sunday school teacher, Miss Beverly, cornered me. “Olivia, honey, how are you doing?” I was relieved to see her. At seventy years old, she had spunk unlike any other elderly person I knew. She gave me her usual wink.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  “Blessed, as always. How’s school?”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s wonderful. You’ve been in my prayers, dear.” She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze as she always did when she greeted me. I squeezed it back.

  This woman knew the Bible really well. And she would give me an honest answer. “Could I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you believe in angels?”

  Bev laughed.

  Oh, no. She thinks I’m crazy.

  Her countenance became serious. “I absolutely believe in angels. The Bible says angels attend worship services. In fact, they may have been here this morning during church to worship with us.”

  Had Beverly seen the angels in the choir loft too?

  She elbowed me in the side, and her cheeks dimpled. “Why do you ask, dear?”

  “I have a writing assignment for English class, and I thought angels might be a good topic.”

  Miss Beverly came closer and put her hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask anyone around here.” She chuckled. “It’s not that they don’t believe in angels, mind you. They just don’t think they have any effect on our lives. But just because someone doesn’t believe in something, that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “I want to be really accurate in my research. Do you know how I can find out more about angels?”

  “Oh, there’s a lot of information about angels in the Bible. And I bet you can get on that computer of yours and find plenty of interesting things on the Internet.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”

  Feeling I could trust Bev, and hoping she’d believe me, I asked, “What would you say if I told you I’d seen an angel?”

  “I’d say you are a very special young lady. But I already know that.” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like to talk more about this?”

  “Oh, yes, please.”

  “Why don’t we have lunch next Saturday? Come over to my place. I’ll make you my special French onion soup. And you can meet my new dog.

  She’s a chocolate Lab named Caramel.”

  “I love dogs. I can’t wait!”

  Bev hugged me again, so tight that I had to stifle a squeak. “I’ll see you Saturday, sweetie.”

  Since Bev was willing to talk with me, I decided to cancel my get-together with Christina. She’d just want to talk about Tommy anyway, and that would be annoying.

  After texting Christina I crossed the parking lot toward my parents’ car.

  Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Mike leaning against his car across the church parking lot. His arms were folded, and he flashed me a grin. I sheepishly waved at him. He nodded back at me. Seeing him again gave me a feeling of reassurance. It had been at least four days since I’d seen him last.

  Maybe he really was my guardian angel. I sure wouldn’t mind having someone like him close by all the time. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes.

  Reaching my parents’ car, I got in. Glancing back at Mike, I noticed he’d done his disappearing act again.

  Dad drove out of the parking lot. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence he asked, “What was all that about the choir this morning, Liv?”

  “Nothing.” I stared out the car window, pretending to look at something interesting.

  Mom stopped fixing her lipstick in the mirror and turned to look at me. “Really, honey, you have to stop with this crazy imagination of yours.”

  “It’s not my imagination, Mom. Bev said—”

  “Don’t believe everything that woman says.” Mom put the lipstick tube back in her purse. “She’s a religious zealot.”

  “Mom—”

  “I hope you don’t end up like your cousin Kathryn.” My mother adjusted the lace collar of her dress. “Her condition makes her think she sees all kinds of things.”

  “I don’t have a multiple-personality disorder.” I hoped.

  Dad stretched his hands as he held the steering wheel. “Now, honey, maybe we should give Olivia the benefit of the doubt.”

  Mom crossed her arms over her chest and kept her freshly painted lips shut.

  I appreciated Dad coming to my defense, although I sometimes wondered if he did it just to take the opposite side of Mom.

  He peeked at me in his rearview mirror. “I think you should talk to Bev. She’s a good woman.”

  “She invited me to have lunch wi
th her next Saturday. Can I go?”

  “Sure. She’s a much better person for you to hang around with than some of those boy-crazy friends of yours.” Dad shot a smile over his shoulder.

  Mom’s posture stiffened. I knew she wouldn’t go against whatever decision Dad voiced. They may argue about it later between the two of them. But my father won almost every time.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  As I glanced at my reflection in the car window beside me, I could see Mike’s reflection behind my shoulder. I shot around to look. Nothing there.

  First chance I got, I’d get out that angel notebook Eden had given me and read it. I needed answers. If nothing else, I had to convince myself I wasn’t crazy.

  Chapter 3

  WHILE MY PARENTS took their usual Sunday evening walk, I finally had the opportunity to check out the notebook Eden had given me. I grabbed it from its secret hiding place in my closet and curled up on the bed with a bowl of popcorn.

  As I scanned the pages, certain phrases jumped out at me.

  “Angels are God’s messengers.”

  “Angels have free will.”

  “Angels are neither male nor female, but seem to appear as men most times. They can take on other forms.”

  I had to squint to decipher my pastor’s scribbled handwriting.

  “There are three types of angels: cherubim, seraphim, and archangels.”

  “One-third of the angels rebelled against God and were kicked out of heaven with Lucifer.”

  “Angels and demons war amongst themselves. In the end, the fallen angels will be sent to hell, along with Lucifer.”

  “For we do not war against flesh and blood.”

  I stopped reading. That meant that there were other supernatural beings we wrestled with.

  I turned on the computer and did a search for angels.

  After wading through links to the California baseball team’s web pages, I came to a site that confirmed the same things I’d just read in the notebook. I looked at the Scripture passages used to back up the claims.

  Why hadn’t I ever seen or heard anything like this in church? All I knew about angels was what Hollywood depicted on TV shows and movies. I could hardly believe people actually studied this stuff.

  One topic on the website caught my eye: “Angels as guardians.” Matthew 18:10 said that children had guardian angels. Tessa certainly has one. I’m sure I do too.

  My eyes started burning from staring at the computer screen. When I closed them, I felt drowsy. I shut down the computer, put the notebook on my nightstand, and lay down on my bed. Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, I started dreaming.

  I was floating over the baseball field at my school. Just outside my field of vision, I saw a shadow. It danced out of sight as soon as I looked toward it.

  I’d had this dream before. But this time, I spoke aloud. “Who’s there?”

  I heard only wind.

  In an instant, I was hovering over horse farms and stone houses that filled our little town of Rising Sun. I saw my home in a little neighborhood right in the middle of horse country. A stream ran behind the house.

  I descended and sat beside the gurgling water. I felt the wet grass beneath me.

  Then the dream changed. A yellow Labrador retriever galloped down the hill toward me. It reminded me of the many stray dogs I’d found while growing up. Since I was an only child, and we moved a lot, I didn’t have many close friends. But whenever I felt lonely, a stray pup appeared. I’d hug it, play with it, and talk to it for a few days and not feel so alone.

  Then it would leave.

  The Lab stopped and leaned against my leg.

  “I’m the one you’ve always wondered about.”

  The male voice seemed to come from the dog, but its mouth wasn’t moving.

  “If I appear to you again, will you be afraid?”

  “It depends on what you look like.”

  The dog ran behind a bush. A beam of light flashed behind the hedge.

  “Are you ready?” the voice said.

  “Yes,” I replied with a calmness that surprised me after realizing the voice sounded just like Mike’s.

  Mike walked out from behind the bush, stood about a foot away from me, and smiled. He crouched down, his forearms resting on his knees. He looked exactly as he did that night when he filled my gas tank, only this time he wore a red cotton long-sleeved shirt, jeans, and white sneakers.

  My pulse sped up a bit. I was excited to see him again.

  “Hello, Olivia.” He held out his hand, offering to help me to my feet. I grasped it and rose.

  I wondered who decided what form an angel took on. Was it the angel or God?

  “We do,” he said, obviously reading my mind. “But God has to approve of it.”

  “Have you ever appeared to me as a stray dog?”

  “Yes.” His lips curled into that same grin Mike had given me on the roadside when I ran out of gas.

  “Thank you. You have no idea what that meant to me. Sometimes you were the only one I had to talk to.”

  “That’s one of my favorite forms. It never scares anyone. And I like wagging my tail.”

  I giggled.

  “I really enjoyed the times you hugged me.” Mike dipped his head.

  “Why are you letting me see you again?”

  “Because I want you to believe that we’re real.” He gazed directly into my eyes.

  Without blinking I asked, “Do other people see angels?”

  “Those who have the gift do. Like Tessa.” A slight grin tugged at one corner of his lips.

  I wonder why I was chosen to see angels.

  “Do people ever see the other angels? The dark ones?”

  His lips hardened into a straight line. “Sometimes.”

  “I don’t want to see them.”

  “You’re not ready for that yet. For now, I’m here to teach you, prepare you, and protect you.” He stretched out his right hand toward me. “Come. I want to show you something.” He dropped his hand to his side after gesturing for me to follow him.

  In the blink of an eye we were at Eden’s house, looking in her window.

  Eden sat on the floor, leaning against her bed, crying. She held a butcher knife in her hand. She sliced her upper arm near her inner elbow.

  Blood dripped down her skin.

  I tried to cry out, but my voice didn’t make a sound.

  Now I understood why Eden always wore long sleeves, even at the hottest times of the year.

  I remembered finding out about cutting in a book we had to read in health class at school. Was Eden trying to relieve some inner pain by causing outer pain?

  Mike laid his hand on my arm. “Eden needs you. God wants you to help her.”

  How in the world was I supposed to help Eden? I couldn’t tell her that I’d seen her cutting herself from outside her window.

  Instantly, I was sitting on the grass by the creek again. The ground felt cold. I wondered how much time had passed.

  “Is Eden really cutting herself right now? Or was that just a dream?”

  “God can reveal things to you in many ways. Including dreams.”

  I recalled a dream I’d had last year about my friend Katie. When I woke up, I knew something bad was going to happen to her, but I didn’t do anything. After all, it was just a dream. And I couldn’t remember any specific details. But later that day, when I learned that Katie had committed suicide, I wished I would have talked to her.

  “That was the voice of God,” Mike said, reading my thoughts again.

  “How can I know for sure when He’s speaking to me and when something is just my own thoughts?”

  “It takes time to recognize His voice.”

  I tucked my hair behind my ears, a habit my mother was always correcting me about. “Does everyone have their own guardian angel?”

  “Yes. The number of angels outnumbers the stars. There are enough of us for everyone. Some of us are fortunate enough to be able to protect, guide,
and comfort our charges. Some individuals are so influenced by the dark angels that we never get through.” Mike shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and gazed at the ground as if reflecting on a past charge who’d been difficult to assist.

  “For some reason I always thought you only had a guardian angel if you believed in God.”

  His head snapped up. “Do you find anything in the Bible that says that?”

  I paused. I couldn’t think of any way to dispute his rhetorical question.

  “I hope I’ve not been too much trouble for you.” I smiled meekly.

  “Let’s just say you kept me very busy when you were a child. That tomboy streak of yours had you climbing every tree you could and jumping off of things all the time. Did you ever wonder why you never had a broken bone?” He crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting my reply.

  “You?”

  “You bet.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t believe it. You were there all the time.” I paused for emphasis before I said the next couple of words. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. And my purpose.”

  Anxious to know more, I asked, “Does the guardian angel stay with the person forever?”

  “Until he or she dies. Then we’re reassigned to a new person or task.

  I’ve had many charges since God created humans.”

  I picked at the blades of grass in front of me, sitting cross-legged. “Well, I assume some of them died before you could do anything to help them.”

  Mike halted, turned, and his brow wrinkled. “Unfortunately, yes. Not every charge has been as pleasant as you.”

  I felt bad for him when I saw him cast another faraway look, perhaps recalling an unpleasant memory of some distant tragedy he’d witnessed.

  “I’m sorry.” The way he looked into my eyes after I spoke those words told me I was right.

  He straightened his shoulders and sighed as if he’d just erased the image in his mind.

  My obsession with world history leapt into my consciousness. It was a preoccupation that kept my nose in historical novels since I was twelve. The realization of who I was talking to made me giddy. Before me stood a being who’d been a literal fly-on-the wall witness to perhaps millions of historical happenings. What if he’d been a guardian to some historical character such as Abraham Lincoln? Before I blurted out some ridiculous question like that, I stuffed my enthusiasm and decided get to know what kind of information Mike could appropriately offer.