When Angels Cry

by Marylu Tyndall

  But something had happened. Someone had tried to kill him! Again.

  Angel grabbed her purse and her son and gazed up at him in disbelief. “You saved our lives.”

  He shook his head and glanced in the direction his bodyguard had run.

  “You covered us with your body,” she insisted.

  “Just a reflex.”

  “Not many people would risk themselves like that.” She drew her son close, her eyes moistening.

  Daniel smiled at the affection he saw there, suddenly glad he had played the hero. So unlike him. In all honesty, he’d always looked out first for number one. But in that split second, when he’d seen the gun, all he could think about was Angel and Isaac.

  “Why did that man shoot at us?” Isaac clung to his mother as Daniel hurried them away.

  “Dunno. Lots of crazies in the world.” Daniel put a hand on Angel’s back and glanced around just to make sure no more gunmen were about. The sooner they reached the limo, the better.

  Unfortunately, they were stopped by park security and then by the police, and Daniel and Angel had to give their statements before they left. An hour later, as they were climbing into the back of the limo, Daniel’s bodyguard ran up, shook his head as if to say he hadn’t found the shooter, and sat up front, frowning at the angry scowl Daniel gave him. And for good reason. Daniel would fire him as soon as they returned.

  The trip dragged on in silence as Angel embraced her son, calming him with whispers and kisses to his forehead. Finally, the boy drifted off to sleep, and Angel lovingly laid him down on the cushioned seat.

  “I’m sorry things turned out this way,” Daniel said, angry that their beautiful day had been ruined.

  She gazed at her son. “Don’t be. He had a great time.”

  “Until he almost got shot.” Daniel grunted and ran a hand through his hair.

  She faced him with concern. “Does that happen often? I assume whoever it was, was after you.”

  “No.” His voice came out a little too loud, and he quickly lowered it, glancing at Isaac. “Only once before. Just some crazy at a crusade at FAU stadium. Guess being famous has its price.” And he now wondered if that price would be losing the woman he loved. No mother in her right mind would put her child in danger by hanging out with a man who people wanted to kill.

  “God took care of us.” She smiled.

  Hope ignited in his heart. “He did. And He will continue.”

  Her green eyes lit with excitement. “Did you see the angels too?”

  “What angels?”

  “Never mind.” She hugged herself. “It’s been a long day.”

  Daniel glanced at Isaac again. “He was as brave as any man. What a great kid. His father doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

  For some reason, that seemed to upset her as she glanced out the window, her eyes moistening.

  Stupid, stupid, Daniel. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You must have loved him very much.”

  Still, she said nothing for several minutes until she shifted angry eyes his way. “It was a great day, Daniel, but you and I”—she pointed between them—“Whatever this is. It has got to stop.”

  ♦♦♦

  That night, Angelica didn’t dream of assassins or dolphins, as one would expect. No, her mind was full of strange scenes that made no sense. Random acts plucked from a play or a storybook, yet without rhyme or reason—Daniel and Isaac tossing a baseball back and forth, Angelica sitting in the grass, leaning her head on Daniel’s shoulder, Isaac and Daniel doing cannonballs into Daniel’s pool, the two of them fishing off a pier, Angel sitting in the front pew of Daniel’s church, watching him preach. And finally, a mystical scene of the three of them, walking hand in hand through a field of the most beautiful flowers she’d ever seen. The sky was a deep azure blue with crimson streaks, and butterflies flitted about the flowers, their wings dipped in shimmering gold filigree.

  Then they were at the beach and thick black clouds advanced on the horizon, growing larger and larger…rolling toward them. Pitchforks of silver lightning shot out from the darkness in all directions. A trumpet sounded. The ground shook. The sand shifted like water, a building crumbled to the earth in a cloud of dust, a mother wept over her dead child, and an otherworldly creature appeared—tall, scaly, powerful.

  She woke with a start just before dawn. A muggy breeze stirred the curtains and cooled the sweat on her neck as she tossed off the covers and dropped to her knees.

  “Father, what does this mean? Why am I with Daniel in these visions?” She breathed out a sigh. “And what is coming on this earth? Please, please help us.” She leaned her head on her bed, arms stretched out, palms toward heaven, waiting to hear… “Father, I can’t see Daniel again. It hurts too much.” Tears slid down her cheek onto her sheet. “Please don’t ask me to see him. It isn’t good for Isaac. Please.”

  The gentle lap of waves rippled over her ears, joining the first chorus of birds as they welcomed a new day from their Creator. She felt His presence before she heard Him speak within her.

  I love you, daughter. All is well.

  “I love you, too. But things don’t seem well. What is coming on this earth?”

  Never fear, for I am with you. Time is short, precious one. You must warn him. I have chosen you.

  She pressed her forehead into the soft mattress and sobbed. “Why me? He doesn’t even listen to me.”

  But he had risked himself to save her and Isaac. She still couldn’t believe it. Yes, the old Daniel she knew might have done that. But this one? She wished he had seen the angels protecting them—three of them, armed with swords and shields, her angel and Isaac’s among them. Powerful beings. Protective.

  She leaned her head in her hands, staring at the damp circle of tears on her sheets. Maybe deep inside the narcissistic preacher there was still some of the man she’d once loved. Which only made her want to stay away from him all the more.

  Not to mention she wouldn’t put Isaac in danger. She couldn’t.

  “Surely, you don’t want me to risk my son?”

  But no answer came. There was none needed as a vision of Jesus on the cross blazed across her mind. God had risked His own Son—had piled the sins of the world on Him and watched Him suffer and die. For her…for Isaac.

  Rising, she sat on the bed and batted tears from her face.

  A breeze tossed a curl across her cheek and swept it behind her, as if God Himself were easing her hair aside. His comfort surrounded her, such love…such overwhelming love blanketed over her, filling her soul, body, and spirit, until she felt her heart would burst. Oh, if only the lost could feel this love, they’d give up everything to possess it. Finally, her tears of pain turned to joy, and she spent the next hour praising God and reading His Word. Nothing was impossible for her. She knew that now. As long as God was with her.

  ♦♦♦

  That night, the Mermaid Den was its usual hovel of havoc. As she traversed the many tables delivering drinks, she felt, rather than saw, a multitude of dark spirits that had entered with the patrons—Suicide, Alcoholism, Pornography, Lust, Greed, Insomnia, Addiction, Hopelessness, and Rejection, to name the worst of the bunch. On occasion, she could see them glaring at her with malicious eyes and evil intent. But she didn’t fear them. Instead, she kept in constant prayer and offered as much joy and hope as she could to each person she spoke with. A few responded with curious glances and smiles, and after ensuring Sal was nowhere around, she would simply tell them there was a God who loved them more than they could ever know, and He wanted to help them.

  Some within earshot laughed at her. Others cursed. But at least she got the truth out there. After all, Father said time was short, and she didn’t intend to waste a second of it.

  “One Margarita no salt, a White Russian, Mexican Coffee, Gin and Tonic, a Long Island Iced Tea, and a Cosmo,” she spouted off the list of orders to Greg, standing behind the bar.

  Without looking up, he sped off to work and returned quickly w
ith the first drink. Reaching over the bar she touched his arm. “Everything okay?”

  He finally looked up at her with eyes that seemed vacant and lost. “Yeah.” He flashed a fake smile and attempted to tug away from her.

  She held fast. “I mean it. Something’s up.”

  “Just don’t feel well. Tired of all this, I guess.”

  “I don’t pay you two to chat!” Sal’s angry voice blared above the music, sending Greg speeding off.

  “Give him a break, Sal.” Angelica set the drink on her tray. “He’s not feeling well.”

  “Really?” Sal sat on the stool and gave her his usual skin-crawling glance-over. “He looks fine to me. And so do you, I might add.”

  Ignoring him, she started loading up the drinks Greg was delivering, praying the man would stop undressing her with his eyes.

  “Oh my God!” an elderly man sitting at the bar pointed at the flat-screen hanging over the rows of alcohol. “Turn that up!”

  Greg picked up the remote as some of the patrons drew closer. A raging fire took up most of the screen. People ran back and forth, looking terrified, bewildered, shocked, and unsure of what was happening.

  “The Chicago O’Hare airport has been attacked!” the newscaster said. “Multiple explosions have been reported throughout the airport. There was at least one suicide bomber, according to an eyewitness.”

  Angelica’s heart nearly imploded as scenes of injured people passed across the screen, including some screaming for their lost loved ones. Closing her eyes, she began praying for the injured, for law enforcement, and for the emergency medical teams.

  “Hey, where’s my drink?” a drunken man yelled from one of her tables.

  “Get to work, Angelica.” Sal ordered, staring at the screen with a scowl. “It’s horrible, but these things happen every couple of months. Nothing we can do.”

  In fact, after hearing the initial report, most of the people went back to their tables and their drinks, continuing to party as if hundreds of people, maybe even thousands, had not just died.

  Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold. Angelica remembered a verse from Matthew. “Father, forgive them,” she whispered as she delivered her tray of drinks.

  During the next few hours, Angelica did her best to do her job while keeping an ear to the TV for additional information. Of course, no one knew very much at this point. They were still searching for survivors and trying to get statements out of traumatized witnesses. Sal was right about one thing. These attacks were coming so frequently across the world that people were becoming immune to them. Another day, another terrorist attack, and another hundred or so people cast into eternity.

  Between drink deliveries, she tried to talk with Greg, but he seemed to retreat even further into a shell after the bad news. Instead, she merely told him she was praying for him, which at least gained her a smile. She hoped he would join her in the break room as he had before, but instead, she spent her half hour alone, rubbing her feet and eating a tuna fish sandwich. And of course, praying. Returning to the floor, she nearly bumped into Melody as the woman hurried to the bar, empty tray in hand.

  “Hey, Mels, haven’t had a chance to say hi tonight.”

  “Yeah, it’s been crazy busy.” She blew a black curl from her forehead and hurried along.

  “How’s Jackson doing?” Angelica followed her to the bar to get a tray.

  Halting, Melody stared at her as if she’d asked if her son were from outer space. “You remembered he was sick?”

  “Of course. I’ve been praying for him.”

  Melody smiled. “He’s good. No more fever or throwing up. Back to school today, actually.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Slamming down her tray on the bar, Melody handed Greg her drink order, giving Angelica a moment to study the single mother, asking the Father if there was anything else she could pray about, or anything she could say to lead the woman closer to Him. But something wasn’t right. Angelica felt it in her spirit, a sense of dismay, sorrow, and loss. But from what? She sought God’s spirit within her and instantly, the vision appeared—as it usually did, in the form of a small TV screen hanging in the air. As Angelica watched the scenes unfold, her heart turned to stone, and it took everything within her to keep her emotions from her face. Finally, the vision disappeared, and she drew a deep breath and faced Melody.

  “You normally drive down East Broward to get home, right?”

  Melody placed drinks on her tray. “Yeah, why?”

  “Don’t go that way tonight.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sighing, she picked up her tray as Greg wiped down the counter, listening.

  “Something bad is going to happen. Just don’t go that way. Promise me, ’kay?”

  Melody shook her head and laughed. “Okay, Twilight Zone. But just for you.” She winked and headed out. Greg shook his head and walked away.

  “That’s me, Lord. Making friends and influencing people.” With a sigh, Angelica headed to a table of thirsty-looking college kids, wondering if she was doing any good at all.

  By the end of the night, she wanted to crawl in a hole for a year. She’d been insulted, lusted after, propositioned, had made zero headway with Greg, laughed at by Melody, and been hit on by Sal. Twice. All for a lousy one hundred NWOs in tips. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to buy food for next week.

  Hiking her purse on her shoulder, she exited the back door into the balmy Florida air and headed for her car. Father, I know You’ll provide for my needs as You promised. One good thing Sal did was keep the parking lot well-lit so she wouldn’t be surprised by criminals lurking around. Except…there was a man standing against her car. Stopping, she kept her distance and studied him. Despite looking familiar, he didn’t appear threatening. Nor was he Daniel. His hair was too light and his body too thin.

  “Can I help you?” she said from where she stood, ready to bolt back into the club if need be.

  “It’s me, Smokes.” He pushed from the car.

  “Thomas?” No one else ever called her Smokes. She slowly approached him, noting his fancy suit and Italian shoes. “You know you can get robbed out here looking like that.”

  He snorted, his eyes shifting to the club. “Really done well for yourself, Smokes.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Apparently, you didn’t get my last warning.”

  “I got it.” She waited, fingering the mace in her purse. “The problem is I don’t take orders from you.”

  “You did the last time.”

  She sighed and stormed toward her car. “Yes. I stayed away just like you said. Just like he wanted. And you were right. He became someone important.”

  “Then why are you intent on ruining him? Especially now that he’s successful.”

  She frowned. If she wasn’t a Christian, she’d slap his face. “You know I never cared about that stuff.”

  “Fame? Money? A comfortable house? Who wouldn’t want all that?”

  “Are you done?”

  “Stay away from him.” His tone sent a shiver down her back.

  “As I told you before, that’s what I’m trying to do. He is the one who keeps coming after me.”

  “You could have said no to SeaWorld.”

  Yes, she could have. Should have. But she hated this man’s arrogance. Twelve years ago, he was nothing but a scared boy with big dreams who lived in Daniel’s shadow. Now, just because he wore an expensive suit and probably had a mansion like Daniel’s, he thought he could tell her what to do. But he was just the same scared little boy. She lifted her chin. “I answer to a higher authority than you.”

  He laughed and gave her a spiteful look. “In your pathetic little world, there is no higher authority.”

  She clicked her lock and opened her car door. “Good night, Thomas.”

  “This is your last warning,” he said.

  “Or what?”

  “Well, let’s just say, it would sur
e be a tragedy to leave your son an orphan.” Grinning, he turned and sauntered away, whistling as if he owned the world.

  Terror robbed Angelica of every last ounce of her breath.

  Chapter 14

  But before all these things, they will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the synagogues and prisons. You will be brought before kings and rulers for My name’s sake.

  Luke 21:12 (NKJV)

  The next week passed in a haze of mundane activities—and terror, if Angelica admitted it. Thomas had threatened her life…hadn’t he? She still couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. He was definitely no saint, but she had a hard time believing he’d stoop to murder. He was probably just trying to scare her away from Daniel. It was working. Now, more than ever, she never wanted to see him again.

  Surely God would find someone else to help Daniel—someone who posed no threat to Thomas. Wouldn’t that be for the best? Maybe even Thomas could be helped as well. Yet when she had made her case before God, heaven remained silent. Or maybe she just didn’t want to hear the answer. Regardless, she would not risk her son’s life—for anything or anyone. Isaac was everything to her, her reason for getting up in the morning, for wanting to survive each day. The thought of leaving him alone to face this crazy world terrified her more than him dying. At least in death, he would be with the Lord.

  Daniel, of course, had not honored her last request to leave her and Isaac alone. He had called, texted, sent cards and flowers, but so far, she had managed to successfully avoid him in person.

  “Father, if you want me to see Daniel again, You’re going to have to set it up. There’s too many reasons not to see him and none I can think of to continue.” She stared into her empty fridge, continuing to pray silently that the illustrious preacher would give up on her soon and move onto his next conquest.