As she lay their waiting for sleep, she confessed, “You know what? I was actually a little scared, but it was weird. I had this déjà vu feeling of having sex when I didn’t want it. I was afraid he’d hit me, hurt the baby. Was that…was that Victor?”
Elizabeth shuddered at the memory. “Yes, he was not good to you.”
“Well, hopefully they’ll put this other guy behind bars for a long time. Good night, Elizabeth.”
“Good night, darling.”
* * *
“Hey, hey, Miss. Is this you?” A man wearing mismatched boots and a red skull cap shook Floramaria awake and shoved a crinkled newspaper in her face. A picture from a grainy security camera clearly showed Flora holding a knife to the would-be rapist’s neck while the woman clenched Flora’s jacket around her shoulders.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and snatched the paper for a closer look. “Do-gooder hobo saves hotel heiress from crime,” she read aloud.
“Yeah, that’s me,” she said to the man who still lingered, a huge smile upon his dirty face. “Mind if I borrow this?”
He bobbed his head and then crossed the room back to his own bunk.
“The do-gooder hobo,” Flora read again, then chuckled. “It’s like my very own superhero name. I like it!”
“Well, I’m glad you’re amused,” Elizabeth said. “Because you put yourself in real danger last night.”
“No, I was never in any danger. Not with you there to protect me. And, look, we saved that woman from whatever that guy’s filthy intentions were. We could save more women, more people, live up to my new name. What do you think?”
“Frankly,” Elizabeth paused, “I think you’re nuts.”
“Well, that makes you and everyone else. C’mon, Elizabeth. We have the chance to do real good here. We can make a difference in people’s lives. I can be a protector, just like you. Remember what I said last night? This feels like my purpose. I finally found something to live for. Don’t take that away from me, Elizabeth, please.”
The angel sighed in resignation. “Seems you’ve already made up your mind.”
Flora nodded and smiled. She knew Elizabeth would ultimately support Flora in whatever decisions she made, whether or not they seemed entirely rational.
“When did you become so stubborn?” Although she was definitely annoyed, Elizabeth also swelled with pride. Perhaps she hadn’t ruined things for her charge after all.
Before Flora could answer, a couple wearing sleek expensive-looking suits marched into the shelter. They scanned the large room filled with mismatched furniture before spotting Flora and striding over to say hello.
“It’s you,” the woman said—the same woman from last night. “You saved me. How can I ever thank you enough?”
Flora stood and allowed the woman to wrap her in a hug. She didn’t seem to mind that Flora hadn’t showered for nearly a week, nor that her dark hair was completely overwhelmed by tangles.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Floramaria said.
“I’m more than okay, thanks to you. And, look.” She gestured to the newspaper. “The city is finally taking street crime more seriously now that this has happened. There’s even a new bill starting its rounds over at city hall. It would make things so much safer for all of us.”
“That’s good,” Flora said with a laugh. “Seeing as the streets are where I live.”
The woman frowned. “They don’t have to be. Come home with me. Let me give you a warm meal, a hot shower, and a clean pair of clothes. I could take care of you, help you get back on your feet.”
Flora shook her head. “That’s okay. I’m happy right where I am.”
“But how could you possibly—?”
“I have everything I need, and now I have the opportunity to help protect others too.”
They both fell silent.
“Actually there is one thing you could do for me,” Flora said at last.
“Anything. Name your price.” The woman reached into her pocketbook and extracted a wad of cash.
“Keep your money. But that new legislation you mentioned that would help keep people safe? Please make sure it passes.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the woman said, gave Flora another quick hug and a business card with her number on it, then left.
“So what next?” Elizabeth asked once the couple had gone.
“Isn’t that obvious? Next we make a difference in people’s lives. We do what we were put here to do. It’s not just my purpose. It’s ours.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, at least it’s a start. Let’s see what happens after that.”
Elizabeth hoped Peter would forgive her interference in Flora’s life when he heard of this latest development. He’d mentioned consequences, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t seen the last of them… nor had Floramaria.
Part IX
Elizabeth suspected that maybe—just maybe—all the others had been right about Floramaria. Maybe she was crazy, at least just a little bit. After all, who else would choose to remain homeless when given any other option? Still, the angel couldn’t deny the happiness this unique “work” brought to her charge.
As each thank you spilled forth from yet another pair of lips, Flora’s own smile became wider and wider. As did Elizabeth’s.
“I’m just happy I was here to help,” she’d say. “God isn’t done with you yet. You have a purpose.”
Flora’s goodness and profession of God’s plan led some to label her a prophet. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, even Wiccans, would seek the girl out, hoping to snag a little bit of her other-worldly wisdom. They asked her to lay hands upon them, to bless them, even to heal them of impossible wounds and illness.
“I’m nobody special,” Flora would say, shaking her head. “I’m just doing the best I can while I’m here. I hope that you’ll find your peace.”
And even though she couldn’t exercise powers she didn’t have nor would she pledge herself to any organized faith, her visitors left happy, relaxed, changed.
“Aren’t you tired? Sore? Hungry?” Elizabeth would often ask as she and Flora took yet another long trip through the city, moving along from sunup to sundown with hardly a scrap to eat.
“Mind over matter.” Flora tapped her head in response. “I don’t have to be any of those things if I choose not to acknowledge them.”
This was all part of the reason, Elizabeth supposed, that Flora’s nickname had evolved from the Do-Gooder Hobo to the Homeless Prophet. Some even suspected that she was the latest incarnation of history’s famous Wandering Jew.
That made Flora laugh. “Why can’t people just let me be me? Why does everything have to mean so much to them? You see it, don’t you? That’s the whole problem with the world these days. That everything needs to be important. Nothing can just be.”
“How did you get so smart?” Elizabeth asked her charge. Wasn’t it she who should be imparting such wisdom rather than the other way around?
“I think…” Daisy stopped walking and tapped her chin pensively. “Well, I think we are all born with everything we already need to know. Most people grow up, get distracted, and stop listening to the voice of their heart.” She smiled. “That voice is you, Elizabeth.”
If her visitors thought anything of Flora holding regular conversations with her invisible angel, they didn’t let on. Probably assumed she was speaking with the heavenly father rather than her celestial mother.
Elizabeth still felt like a woman although she hadn’t occupied a body in almost sixty years. She wondered if it was the same for God. Was God truly a man? Had he ever been, or was it just easier to assign human traits to the divine in a desperate attempt to understand the unknowable?
Flora’s apostles—as the frequent visitors called themselves—had learned her daily route and often stopped in to offer fresh bottles of juice and leftovers from their kitchens. Whenever they brought money, Flora would decline it, telling them instead to find a cause they believed in
and give their money there.
“Don’t depend on me to make a difference,” she’d say. “Go and make it yourself.”
Scholars came to study her, journalists came to interview her, and seekers came to know her. Flora enjoyed the constant stream of company even though she refused to acknowledge their assertions that she was something more than mortal. In fact, she listened far more than she spoke, meaning—if anything—she was closer to a therapist than a spiritual leader.
She listened to Elizabeth, too. Well, she heard her words at least.
Over the years, Elizabeth felt more and more loved by her charge, though less and less needed. Flora’s reflexes were quick, her body lithe, her heart pure. Elizabeth so rarely got to use her abilities that it sometimes took her a moment to remember that she still could help in those special moments when Flora still needed her.
Like today.
They were weaving their second loop through the city that day when Flora’s threadbare boot snagged the curb and sent her hurtling out into traffic.
Elizabeth leaped forward into Flora’s body and dodged with all her might. The move saved her from an oncoming bus, but also threw her hard into the concrete.
“That was way too close a call!” Elizabeth shouted as she hovered over her charge.
Normally, when the unexpected happened, Flora would smile, brush herself off, and continue on her path, but today she lingered on the pavement. She lay flat on her back as she took short, ragged breaths, her eyes closed to the sun.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, but it would have hurt a lot more if you’d gotten hit by that bus.” Elizabeth laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but Flora did not join her.
Worry began to sink in.
“Flora? Flora? Is everything okay?”
The girl—now a middle-aged woman—opened her eyes and spoke softly to her angel. “Everything is fine. But I’m not sure I can get up.”
“Oh, no! Did something break?”
“No.” Gasp. “I’m just…” Pant. “Really tired.”
Elizabeth searched Flora’s head for bumps, but couldn’t see any beneath her matted hair and did not have the luxury of touch.
“Flora, I think you may have a concussion. I’m sorry I threw you so hard. I should have been more gentle.”
“It’s not your fault.” She smiled weakly. “Do you think you can use your dodge again to help me get back on my feet? We still have another few miles to go before sundown.”
“I’ll help, but only if you promise to go to the free clinic and get your head checked out.”
“Elizabeth, I—”
“Promise me.”
She let out a slow laugh and rolled her eyes. “Okay, I promise.”
* * *
They sat in the clinic waiting room for what felt like forever—and Elizabeth knew all too well what that felt like—until finally the doctor ushered them back into one of the glaringly bright exam rooms.
“I’ve heard about you,” she said while checking Flora’s eyes with her light. “You’re the Homeless Prophet, right?”
Flora shrugged. “That’s what they call me.”
“I’ve been following the stories about you for years. Big fan here.” The doctor grinned, revealing a perfect, white smile, then lifted her stethoscope to her ears. “Look, your medical records are pretty sparse. Take a deep breath. I’d feel a lot better if you let me run a full physical. Would you mind humoring me a bit? Okay, let it out.”
Flora looked uncomfortable, but agreed nonetheless. “Well, since I’m already here...”
“Another breath in… And out. Perfect. I’m going to send you down to the lab for a blood test. I’m guessing you don’t have a phone, so can you swing back in a couple days for the results?”
“I can do that.”
“Great. No concussion by the way, but still take it easy over the next few days. Can you do that for me?”
“No problem.”
The doctor shocked them both by giving Flora a tight hug while they were on their way out. “I’m so glad I got to meet you,” she gushed. “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. But I’ll see you in a couple days, okay?”
As they left, Elizabeth noticed the doctor had the hint of a tear at the corner of each eye.
* * *
When they returned to the clinic a couple days later, there was no waiting. The doctor immediately led them back to an exam room and sat Flora down.
Elizabeth’s chest clenched when she noticed the faraway look in the woman’s eyes.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” the doctor said, frowning at her chart. “Your results came back, and you have c-cancer.” She choked on the word, though it must be one she’d said many times in the course of her work. Her eyes swept over Flora’s body as if searching for an answer she couldn’t find herself.
If Elizabeth had possessed a physical heart, it surely would have ached just then—to see the doctor so torn up about the diagnosis, to see no visible reaction from the woman who had just quite possibly been handed a death sentence.
There are so, so many ways to die, Elizabeth mused, wondering how many of them she’d experienced in her time as a mortal, how many of them she’d have to guide her charge through before her time was finally up.
After a moment, the doctor took a deep breath and continued. “Unfortunately, it’s pretty advanced. We could start chemo right away, but…”
Flora nodded. “I understand. Thank you, doctor.”
When the doctor left, Flora looked up toward the ceiling as she often did when talking with Elizabeth. “So I’m going to die. Huh.”
Elizabeth ran over all the things she could say. She could promise Flora that, no, she wouldn’t, that they would fight this thing, that everything would be fine, but her charge didn’t seem to need any reassurance. I’m going to die—the words held no sadness, no anger, only a declaration of what was to be.
“I don’t remember the last time I died, not anymore. What was it like? Does it hurt?”
The angel still well remembered Daisy’s horrific death—the violent showdown with Victor, the slow drain of blood from the teen’s womb until she’d lost too much to go on… And now she also saw the image of the little girl she’d always loved converge with the middle-aged woman before her—as Daisy, as Flora—so curious, so innocent, so vulnerable.
She’d miss being such an active part of her charge’s life, but Elizabeth also knew that she’d need to stay in the background of Flora’s next life for the girl’s own good. How she would miss her.
“Elizabeth?” Flora asked when the angel failed to answer her. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, everything will be fine, baby. Nothing to worry about.” She shook her head like an etch-a-sketch, trying uselessly to wipe away the indelible images she so often found herself looking upon.
Pop! Peter appeared in the far corner of the room and motioned toward Elizabeth.
The angel sighed. Once again, Peter’s timing was not the best, but she knew better than to argue with him. She turned to Flora and whispered, “You have a lot to think about. Let me give you a few moments to yourself. I’ll be back soon, and then we can talk everything through.”
Peter nodded, came forward, laid a hand upon her shoulder, and took them both away into a far-off place. Everything was white, though he hadn’t brought her to the Gates. Snow, endless snow surrounded them.
Elizabeth shivered at the memory of how the frigid air had once pricked at her flesh.
The other angel studied her. “Do you know why I brought you here?” he asked.
“To talk about Flora, I’m guessing.”
His gaze darted toward the earth, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “Yes.”
“She’s going to die, right? The plan…” She didn’t know how to finish that thought, but luckily Peter didn’t need her to.
His eyes locked on hers. “Yes.”
“Will it be any easier this time?”
“No. It never gets eas
ier watching the one you love die. Never.”
“Then what are we doing here? I should be with her.”
Peter drew closer to her, so close she could almost feel him, though neither of them possessed a physical body. Then, as if he’d realized some mistake, he backed away even farther than before. “Patience. I’m trying to help.”
“So then help.”
Why did he always have to make her so angry? Why couldn’t he just be direct from the get-go, save them both this annoying rigmarole?
He drew close again, excitement dancing in his eyes. “Flora has a real chance at becoming a Pearl after this life. It’s so rare for it to happen with this few attempts, but as you know, she’s lived quite the extraordinary existence.”
Elizabeth chuckled softly, remembering all the times she’d shared with both Daisy and Floramaria. Would that be it? She felt excited for the possibility of passing through the Gates with her charge, but also terrified, as if she’d be losing something vital in the process.
Peter continued, “When you return, urge her to make all things right. As quickly as possible. She doesn’t have much time.”
“How do I do that?”
“Talk to her about her regrets, about anything she’d change if given the chance.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “But Flora loves her life. She often says she wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Death has a funny way of bringing hidden sadness to light. Ask her again. You’ll see.”
Determination surged through the angel. She could do this, she would. Flora deserved it, and Elizabeth owed it to her. She shook her head.
“I will, but Peter?”
“Yes?” He hovered a few inches off the ground and a whirling blizzard of fresh snow passed through his form, creating a beautiful show of speckled light and shadows. And she realized then that she would miss him, that he’d been just as constant a companion as Flora. That he had become an important part of who she was, that she needed him in a way.
“If Flora does become a Pearl, she and I will both get to go to Heaven, right?”
Diving for Pearls: The Complete Collection (The Pearl Makers) Page 8