When Angels Cry

by Marylu Tyndall

  The dragon roared so loud, the ground shook beneath Angelica. He swept his tail across the skies and a thousand flaming meteors fell to the earth.

  Fire, fire, everywhere! Flames devoured everything in sight, red-hot fingers reaching for the sky. Heat seared her skin. Angelica was in the middle of a large city. Which one, she could not tell. Buildings collapsed around her. People darted this way and that, screaming and wailing. A loud boom in the distance stopped everyone to stare. A mushroom cloud the size of a mountain rose above the glowing horizon.

  The blast hit.

  Angelica gasped for air. Sea air filled her lungs. And, oddly, the scent of lavender. She tried to lift her hand, but it felt like lead. Someone was pounding her brain with a sledgehammer. Stop it! She tried to speak but nothing came out.

  “I love you, Mom,” she heard Isaac say, but his voice sounded so sad. Desperate, she tried to respond, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t even open her eyes.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Daniel said.

  Someone kissed her on the cheek. She smelled Aqua Velva.

  Minutes passed, maybe hours or even days, she didn’t know. A familiar voice awakened her. Robert. It had to be Robert. And there was Anna’s voice too. And Scottie’s. Was she at church? Had she fallen asleep? How embarrassing.

  Hands touched her. Someone spoke in a foreign language. The name of Jesus filled the air. What a sweet, sweet name!

  Was she dead? If so, where was the light? Wasn’t there supposed to be a light and her angel to lead her to heaven?

  What would happen to Isaac? Terror squeezed her heart.

  She tried to move, but everything collapsed into darkness again.

  ♦♦♦

  The sweet sound of birds singing dangled joy before Angelica’s ears as a breeze caressed her face. She moved her hand. Silk sheets met her touch. Silk? Whoever had been jackhammering her head had stopped. Her skin no longer felt like a frying pan, and her lungs no longer rumbled with fluid.

  She must be in heaven.

  Isaac’s laughter floated on the wind. Had they died together?

  Prying her eyes open, the blurry vision before her slowly cleared to reveal a mahogany four-poster bed, matching carved dresser, gold-gilded mirror, dressing table, and Tiffany lamps. Definitely not the hospital. Or her apartment. Which left heaven still on the table.

  But then she heard Daniel’s voice, and knew that could not be the case. Drat.

  It took several tries for her to rise to a sitting position. The room spun, and she leaned back on the bed for what seemed an eternity. Finally able to swing her legs over the side, she noticed the IV in her hand and cringed. Definitely not heaven. She hated IVs! Closing her eyes, she grabbed the tube and tore it from her arm then tossed it aside. Good heavens, how sick had she been? And more importantly, where was she?

  But, of course, it had to be Daniel’s house. She didn’t know anyone else who lived in such luxury. But how she got here and why was another question. The last thing she remembered was being in jail, worried to death for Isaac.

  No, she remembered other things. Strange visions and dreams. And voices, some familiar, some not—worried voices, then voices of praise. Ah yes, she had woken up before, briefly, but everything had been a blur. Someone had helped her to sit and given her ice chips, then later she remembered warm broth sliding down her throat.

  Fear returned to taunt her. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she glanced down at a large T-shirt that fell to her knees. Daniel’s no doubt. Who had dressed her? Or rather, who had undressed her? Mortified, she attempted to stand, but her legs gave out and sent her dropping back down to the bed.

  “Father, I need your strength,” she whispered a prayer, and after two more tries, she managed to stumble out of the room and make her way—very slowly and gripping the banister—down a spiraling staircase. The sound of laughter and water splashing lured her through the kitchen and living room.

  She rounded a corner and halted at the sight. Isaac stood atop Daniel’s shoulders in the pool. They both laughed as Daniel grabbed his legs and flung him into the air. Her son formed a perfect cannonball in the deep end. If not for the smile on his face when he surfaced, she would have rushed forward and chastised Daniel for performing such a dangerous stunt.

  The two began splashing each other, then dove beneath the water to wrestle. When both their heads surfaced, Daniel challenged Isaac to a cannonball contest, and off they went to the deep end of the pool.

  Only then did she remember her vision of the two of them playing in Daniel’s pool. Heaven help her, it had come true! Did that mean the rest of her visions would also come to pass? Her legs wobbled, and she leaned against the wall and watched, unable to take her eyes off the casual, fun way the two of them played. No man she’d ever met—including those at her church—had ever taken such an interest in Isaac. Or bonded with him so well and so quickly. Though Angelica had prayed over and over for a father for her son, God had not yet answered her prayer.

  But now as she watched the two of them together, tears burned behind her eyes. Not this man. Anyone but him.

  “Angel!” Gripping the edge of the pool, Daniel hoisted himself from the water and jumped to his feet—a Greek god rising from the sea and looking just as solid as one of those ancient statues. He shook water from his hair, ran a hand through it, and headed her way.

  Yup. She was definitely feeling better.

  “Mom!” Isaac was fast behind him, and she knelt, arms open to receive her slippery fish. He barreled into her, drenching her shirt and embracing her so hard she couldn’t breathe.

  “Careful, buddy.” Daniel loomed above them. “Your mother’s still weak.”

  Weak and embarrassed, now that her T-shirt was wet, Angelica released her son and allowed Daniel to help her up, but then quickly wrapped her arms across her chest.

  Daniel walked to the patio and returned with a towel. Ever the gentleman.

  “Come, sit. You shouldn’t be up yet.” He gently ushered her to one of the patio chairs as Isaac grabbed her hand to assist.

  “I’m all right,” Angelica said, taking a seat. “Just a little lightheaded is all.”

  “Get your mom some water, buddy, will you?” Daniel asked Isaac, sending the boy dashing to the kitchen.

  Buddy? When did that start? And more importantly, how long had she been sick? What about her job? She had so many questions she didn’t know where to start. Finally, she simply asked. “What happened?”

  “You died, Mom.” Isaac returned with a glass of water, his eyes sparkling. “You died and Jesus brought you back to life.”

  Chapter 17

  But you, brethren, are not in darkness, so that this Day should overtake you as a thief. You are all sons of light and sons of the day. We are not of the night nor of darkness. Therefore let us not sleep, as others do, but let us watch and be sober.

  1 Thessalonians 5:4-6 (NKJV)

  Daniel watched as Angel wrapped the towel around her shoulders and covered her chest. She worried her lip, and the tiniest of lines formed between her brows at the news that she had died. Certainly not the reaction he expected—no hysterics or terror, shock or dismay. Tangled spikes of golden hair surrounded her gaunt face, shadows rimmed her eyes, and she looked thin and frail. But at the moment, she was more alluring than he’d thought possible. She caught him staring at her and blushed, endearing her to him even more.

  “I don’t remember dying,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, you didn’t really stop breathing, Mom.” Isaac plopped in a chair beside her. “But the doc said you wouldn’t make it through the night.”

  Angel’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”

  “Yeah, you had Gecka.”

  She snapped her surprised gaze to Daniel and he nodded.

  Isaac continued, “Mr. Cain—I mean Daniel—hired the best doctor in all of Florida.”

  “He did, did he?” She smiled, and his heart swelled at the look of admiration in her eyes.

  �
�Isaac was so worried about you,” Daniel said. “He refused to leave your bedside. I had to keep dragging him away, worried he’d get sick too, but he would have none of it. Stubborn like his mom.”

  This gained him a smile.

  “But then Robert, Anna, and Scottie came,” Isaac announced proudly.

  Angel gasped and glanced at Daniel. “You called the cult?”

  “More like they called me. But hey, I was desperate.”

  She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes for a second. “I remember hearing their voices.”

  Isaac grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “They prayed over you, Mom. Then Scottie said you were healed and they left.”

  Daniel remembered the moment well. He had laughed at the man, at all of them, as he escorted them out. He had thought them fools. Angel was still feverish and having trouble breathing. She’d not been healed at all.

  But then…

  Less than an hour later, she began to improve. Slowly at first, but within four hours, her fever was gone, the rash disappeared, and she was breathing again. Daniel had called Doc Wilson, who had come over and immediately pronounced her completely recovered, much to their amazement. Even the nurse was astounded. Which reminded Daniel, he should call her and tell her there was no need to come by this afternoon.

  “I’ve never seen anyone recover so quickly. Or at all from Gecka,” the doctor had said.

  Daniel couldn’t believe it either. Sure, he believed in God, but this sort of thing just didn’t happen. There had to be another explanation. Perhaps it hadn’t been Gecka at all, but just the flu.

  “So.” She raised a brow in his direction. “You believe in supernatural healing now?”

  Daniel frowned. “I don’t know what I believe.” He shifted his gaze to Isaac. “Except that you, young man, have some homework to do.”

  Isaac moaned. “Do I have to? Mom just got up.”

  “Yup, and she’s going back to bed, too. She needs her rest.”

  Rising, Isaac slogged back into the living room, groaning along the way, where Daniel saw him sit on the floor by the coffee table and open a book.

  Angel sipped her water. “I should get home.”

  “I should get you back to bed,” Daniel said. Angel’s face turned a deep shade of maroon, and he shifted in his seat, adding, “I mean… you should get back to bed.”

  She lowered those incredibly long lashes of hers. “I can’t believe you brought me here…cared for me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You could have caught this Gecka. I hear there’s no cure.” She reached for his hand across the table. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  Happily, he threaded his fingers with hers. He wanted to say because he loved her, because he realized now that he had never stopped loving her. “I’m a pastor. I help people.”

  Pulling her hand back, she cocked her head and studied him in that cute way of hers, and he knew she wasn’t buying it. A breeze tossed her hair about her face as the sound of crashing waves serenaded them from the beach.

  “Oh, my goodness, my job! How long have I been sick?” She started to get up, but he gently nudged her down.

  “Four days. And I already called your boss and told him what happened.”

  She breathed out a sigh, rubbing her temples. “Leigh must be worried sick.”

  “Took care of that too. She sends her love and tells you to get well soon.”

  She studied him as if he were some strange anomaly.

  “I should get you something to eat. You need your strength back.” He rose, but she waved him back down.

  “I’m not hungry.” She glanced over her shoulder at Isaac. “You’ve been driving him back and forth to school and helping him with his homework too?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve actually enjoyed it.” He smiled toward the living room where the boy was hard at work. “He’s so smart and fun to be with. And after you were out of danger, he and I have been enjoying the pool and the beach. He’s actually good at ping pong too.”

  She smiled. “Yes, he is. What about your church, your work?”

  “Thomas is handling things.”

  She instantly frowned and shifted in her seat. “I really should go home. Get out of your hair.”

  “I like you in my hair,” he said, causing her to stare at him again in wonder. He leaned toward her. “Angel, you’ve got to stop preaching on the beach. Promise me you will.”

  She looked away and sipped her water, sunlight rippling off the glass. “Whatever God wills.”

  “Do you think He wills you and Isaac to spend the rest of your lives in prison?” He sat back with a huff. “Some believers have already been arrested and sent to FEMA camps around the country. For doing exactly what you and your friends are doing, preaching and praying publicly, meeting illegally, and using the banned Bible. For Pete’s sake, I understand your passion to do what you think is right, but this borders on insanity.”

  He watched her swallow hard and saw the struggle behind her eyes. Maybe he was finally getting somewhere. If he could just convince her to give up these things, not only would she and Isaac be safe, but Daniel could pursue a relationship with her as he so desperately wanted to do.

  “They’re really stepping up their crusade against fanatics,” he continued. “Christian books are banned, blogs are being shut down. We have to work within the system and at least be grateful we can still preach the gospel.”

  Instead of answering, she merely stared at the wind dancing among the palm fronds.

  He took that as a sign to continue. “We can save more people, do more good, if we abide by the rules, don’t rock the boat, and present the gospel in the allowed form in sanctioned churches.”

  He knew he’d crossed the line when she faced him, her jaw tight and her eyes hard as the patio stones beneath their feet. “Really? Is that what Jesus did? Seems to me he rocked quite a few boats when He was here. And I don’t remember Him serving up a watered-down, politically-acceptable message either.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?” he shot back.

  “Why are you so dense?”

  He smiled. He couldn’t help it. He’d missed their banter. No woman could match him wit for wit like Angel could.

  “I insult you and you smile,” she said with a grin of her own.

  “Only for you, Angel.”

  She looked down. “We really should go. You’ve done quite enough, and I can regain my strength just as well in my own home.”

  He had so hoped she’d stay another couple of days. “I’ll take you home on one condition.”

  She looked at him with suspicion.

  “When you’re well, you let me take you and Isaac for a picnic.”

  “You would keep me a hostage in your home just for a picnic?”

  He smiled. “Try me.”

  ♦♦♦

  It was the perfect day for a picnic. Certainly not Florida’s typical hot, muggy fall weather. A cool breeze blew in from the sea while occasional clouds drifted over the sun, shielding them from its heat. The sound of children’s laughter eased over Angelica from a playground not far away. In the distance, two Little League teams were playing an exciting game from the sound of the cheers from their parents, while joggers and mothers pushing strollers circled the path that framed one of Pompano Beach’s favorite parks. A dog barked and she glanced at a man tossing a Frisbee to his pet.

  How odd that life went on as if the world weren’t falling apart, as if war drums weren’t beating in the Middle East and China, as if food was plenty and disease wasn’t rampant, and the earth wasn’t shaking and spewing forth ash in a spoiled fit of anticipation for the next age.

  As if people who followed Jesus weren’t being tossed in prison.

  But isn’t that what the Bible said? In the days before Noah’s flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day he entered the ark. Jesus said it would be the same way before His return. She fingered a blade of grass, glancin
g at the empty plates and cups from their lunch. Daniel had packed a gourmet lunch—well, if you called kale-and-raisin salad, tofu burgers and quinoa French fries “gourmet.” Despite the odd taste, she had devoured every speck. Just a week past her near-death experience, she was still regaining her strength. And continually thanking God for healing her. Apparently the Almighty still had work for her to do on earth. Part of that work, she believed, involved warning others of His soon return.

  Angelica sat beneath a tree on the cool grass watching Daniel and her son toss a baseball back and forth—watching her son laugh and joke with a man who had once torn her heart into shreds. And it occurred to her that she’d seen this exact scene before in a vision a few weeks ago—the second one that had come true. The thought made her shiver.

  A distant sound reverberated in the sky, almost like thunder, but it wasn’t. No, it was one of those trumpet-like sounds again, low and deep and so strange that nearly everyone at the park stopped for a second to listen and look up. But then it was gone as quickly as it had come and people went back to their activities as if nothing had happened.

  “What is that, Father?” Angelica murmured, but no answer came.

  Daniel called Isaac over and showed him the proper way to hold a baseball mitt, something Angelica could never do. They separated again and Daniel tossed the baseball harder this time. Isaac caught it smack in his mitt, and a huge grin lit up his face.

  She could not deny her burst of joy at the sight. If the way to a man’s heart was his stomach, the way to a woman’s heart was through her children.

  A group of boys came up and spoke with Isaac, sending him darting her way to ask if he could play baseball with them. Daniel came and sat beside her as she examined the boys and the proximity of the field, unsure…fear tightening her heart yet again.

  “Ah, let him go,” Daniel said. “We are only yards away.”

  She frowned at him, wanting to tell him to butt out, but instead, she gave her permission and watched her son speed away.