Wings of an Angel

by Shanna Hatfield

Without being told what needed to be done, Nick followed her to the laundry room where they both pulled on old coats and muddy boots then headed outside through the door in the side of the garage. While Angela fed the sheep, Nick made sure the cats and dog had food and water.

  Angela had installed a little doggie door in the garage so the cats and dog could come and go as they pleased.

  “Be nice to the kitties, Brutus,” Nick said, petting their three-legged mutt. The dog had been found on the road with a broken leg. Angela had to remove part of it to save the canine, but no one ever showed up to claim him, so she let Nick keep him. The two half-grown cats had been dumped at her clinic one morning and she didn’t have the heart to tell Nick he couldn’t keep them when he promised to take care of them. He had done a good job keeping Oscar and Grover fed, watered, and lavished with attention, although Angela insisted they could not become house cats.

  Their house sat on ten acres behind the vet clinic. The previous vet had built the house about fifteen years ago. The home offered three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a master suite that had become Angela’s haven at the end of a long day, and a comfortable, safe place for them to live. When Doc Johnson agreed to sell her the vet clinic, he included the house and acreage in the sale. The man had moved to a small house in town and seemed to be enjoying his retirement.

  The location of the house was convenient for Angela to be close to work, and gave Nick plenty of room to run and play in the summer, where she could keep an eye on him from the clinic. A garden shed, three corrals, and two barns sat on the property between the house and the clinic. Angela kept the smaller barn free from clinic patients since it was home to Nick’s sheep, Shep.

  She’d acquired the curly-horned pet when she’d gone out to a farm to doctor a sheep a coyote had attacked. While she was there, the farmer mentioned a little runt triplet he didn’t have time to care for. Angela couldn’t bear to see anything happen to the little lamb, so she brought it home and she and Nick raised Shep on a bottle. Half the time, the crazy ram thought he was a dog, following Nick around and obeying his commands.

  The rest of the time? Well, she wasn’t quite sure what went through Shep’s head. Twice in the last few weeks he’d escaped his confines and headed for the road. She had no idea where he planned to go, but wherever it was, he was in a hurry to get there.

  While Nick lavished attention on the dog and cats, she stepped inside the house and picked up the shoebox, carrying it outside.

  “What are you gonna do with the bird, Mom?” Nick asked, jogging over.

  His breath made frosty puffs in the chilly night air and Angela shivered, ready to go inside, flick on the gas fireplace, and cozy up next to it while she helped Nick with his homework.

  “I’m going to take off the lid and see if Mr. Dove wants to fly. If so, he can be on his way. If not, then I’ll get a cage for him to stay in until he feels better.” Angela removed the lid from the box and handed it to Nick.

  The bird lifted his head and watched her, but showed no fear or apprehension. He blinked twice and cooed.

  Gently, Angela lifted him from the box and felt along his wings and legs, checking him for any injuries that might prevent him from flying. She couldn’t find anything, but the bird didn’t seem interested in taking flight. Not at all.

  “Why don’t you go inside, baby? I’ll run over to the clinic and get a cage for Mr. Dove and be right back.” Angela tipped her head toward the back door.

  “Can I hold him while you get the cage, Mom?” Nick asked, eying the bird.

  Angela glanced down at the bird and back to Nick. “Okay, in the laundry room.”

  They stepped inside and she transferred the bird into Nick’s arms. Her son carefully held the dove as he trailed his fingers over its head and down its back.

  “If he tries to fly and acts scared, set him down, go in the kitchen and close the laundry room door. Okay?”

  “We’ll be fine, Mom.” Nick gave her a confident look as he continued to tenderly stroke the bird. “Jasper likes it here.”

  “Jasper?” Angela asked as she opened the back door.

  “Mr. Dove said his name is Jasper.” Nick tipped his head and bent closer to the dove. “And he said he likes it here.”

  Angela rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he does. Remember, if he starts to do anything…”

  Nick sighed. “I know, Mom. I can do this.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Quickly shutting the door, Angela ran to the clinic, unlocked the back door and found a bird cage that would work for Jasper in the storage room. She grabbed a small bag of feed and hurried home.

  When she opened the laundry room door, Nick stood where she’d left him, holding the dove while it cooed softly. The bird’s behavior struck her as odd, but she worked quickly to make a place for him to stay. She set the cage on a newspaper-covered card table, lined the bottom of the cage with newspapers, added food and water, then took the bird from Nick.

  “Okay, Jasper,” Angela said quietly as she set the bird inside the cage. “You just make yourself at home.”

  The bird hopped onto a perch, tipped his head toward them, and cooed.

  “Look, Mom! I think Jasper likes it here.” Nick leaned against Angela and she wrapped an arm around him.

  “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of these old chore coats and see about doing your homework, then we’ll play with that yo-yo you brought home.” Angela removed her coat and boots, surprised by how swiftly the temperature had dropped outside. If she believed the old timers she’d heard talking around town, they were in for a long, cold, snowy winter. She sure hoped it waited a while before it arrived. Growing up in Colorado, she was used to snow, but it didn’t mean she enjoyed working in it or driving on slick roads.

  Nick hastily yanked off his boots and set them on a rubber-lined tray by the door then hung his coat up and raced into the kitchen. After washing his hands, he carried his backpack into the living room.

  Angela washed up, made a cup of tea, and joined Nick on the couch after she flicked the switch to turn on the gas fireplace. “Okay, baby. What homework did Mr. Miller give you to work on tonight?”

  “I just need to finish reading the story we started yesterday and do five math problems.” Nick got out a sheet of paper with math equations printed on it and set it on the coffee table. After he retrieved a pencil from his backpack, he plopped down on the floor and started working on the first problem.

  Angela sat back and watched him work, letting him figure out the answers without her assistance. Pride swelled in her chest when Nick answered all five of them correctly.

  “You did great, Nick,” she said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close enough she could kiss the top of his head when he hopped up on the couch. “Let’s finish reading the book.”

  Nick picked up where they left off the previous evening. The book was fun for a child his age, full of rhyming words that made her son giggle with each turn of the page. When he finished, he snapped the book closed and grinned at her. “That’s a good book, isn’t it?”

  “If it makes you giggle,” she poked a finger in his side, drawing out more chortles, “then it must be good.”

  “Mr. Miller has the best books in his classroom. And he sorts them so it’s easy to find ones I like,” Nick said, stowing the storybook and his homework back in his bag.

  “How does he sort them?” Angela asked as she set down her mug of tea and looked through Nick’s bag to make sure there weren’t any notes she needed to be aware of.

  “He puts all the books with farm animals together and ones with dinosaurs, and books that rhyme, that sort of thing,” Nick said, as he jumped off the couch and landed on his feet. He grabbed his bag and took it back to the laundry room so he wouldn’t forget it in the morning, then returned to the living room with the yo-yo.

  “Teach me, Mom? Please?” He stared up at her with a pleading, rascally grin that she was powerless to deny.

  With a feign
ed beleaguered sigh, she rose to her feet and took Nick’s hand in hers, slipping the string of the yo-yo over his middle finger. “The first thing you need to know…”

  Chapter Three

  Drake parked his SUV in the nearly empty parking lot at the school, grabbed his messenger bag, and headed across the frost-slicked pavement.

  He’d been surprised by the thick coat of frost on his windshield that morning. If Sam Stafford’s arthritis could be trusted as a predictor of the weather, the old rancher was convinced they were in for an early snow.

  As cold air snaked down Drake’s neck, he thought Sam might be right. If he’d been fully awake when he left the apartment, he would have grabbed a scarf or at least worn something warmer than a fleece sweatshirt with the school’s falcon mascot emblazoned on the chest.

  Fingers slightly numb from the cold, he fumbled with his keys and finally inserted the correct one in the lock in a side door and hurried inside. He made sure the door locked behind him before he made his way to the wide hallway of Faraday School.

  The main hall, cafeteria, and gymnasium had been built in 1931. A wing was added in 1952 and a second wing in 1964, giving them ample room to educate kindergartners through seniors in high school. The fifth through eighth grades and the school offices were in the wing to the left of the main hall with the high school classrooms in the wing on the right. The main hall was where Drake spent his days, along with the rest of the elementary school teachers.

  Overhead lights shone on the polished hardwood floors. Drake wasn’t sure, but he thought the floors throughout the building were all original. They’d had excellent care throughout the years.

  The aroma of coffee lured him to the cafeteria where three cooks were already busy with the day’s preparations. They always made a big pot of coffee for the teachers to enjoy when they arrived in the morning.

  “Good morning, lovely ladies,” Drake said as he helped himself to a cup of the strong black brew.

  He took a sip and dramatically sighed in appreciation. “Now that’s good coffee.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere, Drake.” An older woman with a snowy white bun on her head and the perfect body shape to play Mrs. Claus smiled at him. “Keep talking and you might even earn a cinnamon roll.”

  Drake grinned and kissed her rosy cheek. “You really do make the best coffee, Bobbi. And Martha makes the absolute best cinnamon rolls on the planet.”

  Martha, a tall, wiry-headed woman gave him a dubious look as she kneaded a huge lump of bread dough. “I bet you say that to all the girls who ply you with pastries.”

  A laugh rolled out of him. “Just the pretty ones.”

  He turned to the third cook and winked. “Like Jo.” Joanne, who preferred to be called Jo, sliced a mountain of carrots and celery into sticks and tossed them in a pan filled with ice water. The woman looked like she was capable of handling just about anything the students tossed her way and had in the thirty years she’d worked at the school.

  “Okay, take your cinnamon roll and get out of our hair, Drake. We’ve got better things to do than stand around all day and listen to compliments roll off your silvery tongue,” Bobbi said, handing him a plate with a warm cinnamon roll.

  Jo fisted her hands on her ample hips and shook a finger at Bobbi. “Speak for yourself! If Drake wants to hang around and wax poetic about how he can’t live without us, I’ll put him to work peeling spuds. He can at least be useful while he spouts nonsense.”

  Drake grinned. “I’ll take that as my cue to go. Thanks for the coffee and the roll.” The three older women told him to have a good day and returned to their work. He hurried down the hall to his classroom and balanced the plate on his mug of coffee as he unlocked the door.

  He flicked on the light and inhaled a deep breath, as he did every morning. Some of the classrooms smelled musty and stale, but Drake took pride in making sure his classroom offered a welcoming aroma. Before he left each evening, he sprayed an odor neutralizer. This morning, the air in his classroom held just a hint of citrus from the neutralizer. Underlying tones of crayons, glue, old books, and new notebooks made him smile.

  Honestly, he loved his job. Although he was disappointed when his hopes for a pro basketball career came to a screeching halt one blustery February day when he sustained a broken leg and a torn ACL in a massive injury on the court, he couldn’t imagine doing anything other than teaching.

  Many people wondered why he chose to teach primary grades when he would have made an excellent high school teacher and coach. But Drake’s favorite teacher had always been his first grade teacher. When Drake had been recuperating from his injury, Mrs. Edwards had come to visit him. At that time, she’d shared about her plans to retire in a few years and how the school would need a good first-grade teacher, one who could keep up with the students. It was in that moment Drake decided to become an elementary school teacher. By good fortune or luck, he was never sure which, he landed the job and happily moved back to his hometown of Faraday.

  The small town wasn’t for everyone, but Drake loved it. He loved the community and the people who lived there. He loved his students and the opportunity to do something that brought him such joy. He loved living close to his family.

  Sometimes too close, since he shared an apartment with his brother. The two of them got along well, but the apartment was so tiny, they were constantly bumping into each other. They’d talked about finding a bigger place to rent, but the options in Faraday were limited. Since they both were trying to save their money to invest in a future home of their choosing, they decided to stick with the apartment for a while longer.

  And Drake loved Angela Carol, loved her with his whole heart. Afraid she would never see him as anything other than a friend, he tried to set aside his all-consuming feelings for her, but he couldn’t. His heart was determined to love Angela Carol. Drake felt helpless to do anything about it, other than silently love her and treasure any little scrap of affection she unwittingly tossed his direction.

  He wasn’t sure if his plight to spend his life loving a woman who just wanted to be friends was better or worse than his brother’s dateless existence. Drew had always been shy and reserved and that hadn’t improved with age. His brother had a steady girlfriend in college, but that, too, had ended and Drew hadn’t seemed bothered in the least by the split.

  The last time Drew had a date was when Drake had talked two women into going out with them when they’d taken a trip to the coast during the summer. Drake had no interest in dating anyone other than Angela, but he’d insisted on taking the two strangers out so Drew could have a good time, except the women were annoying and clingy. Drew declared it was the last date he’d go out on that Drake set up.

  Through the years, he’d meddled in his brother’s life, teased and tormented him, and forced him into situations that made Drew uncomfortable. Drake had finally concluded it was time to let Drew be Drew. His brother was one of the kindest, biggest-hearted people he’d ever encountered, even if he sometimes came off as gruff or standoffish because of his shyness.

  The woman who could draw his sibling out of his shell would win a place of admiration in Drake’s heart. He just hoped Drew met someone sooner rather than later. Life was too short to spend it pining away for something… or someone.

  Drake sat down at his desk and ate the cinnamon roll then drank his coffee. He took the plate back to the kitchen, refilled the coffee cup and returned to his classroom. After writing the day’s lessons on the white board that filled the wall behind his desk, he retrieved the supplies he needed for a science experiment he planned to conduct later that morning and set them on the shelf above the sink at the back of the room. He glanced out the long bank of windows along the side of his room and observed the students playing outside.

  With interest, he watched as Angela pulled up and dropped off Nick. She leaned across the seat and said something to Nick before the boy closed the door. By the smiles on both their faces, he assumed she must have said somet
hing that humored Nick. That kid had an infectious laugh, one that made everyone around him happy.

  Drake wondered, again, about Angela’s past. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never once said anything about her husband other than he’d died before Nick was born. He knew she’d grown up in Colorado, an only child, and she frequently mentioned a grandmother in Tennessee. When she spoke of her Granny Carol, though, tears would well in her eyes and she’d quickly change the subject. Someday, he hoped she’d tell him her whole story, if for no other reason than releasing whatever it was that seemed to weigh so heavily on her slim shoulders.

  If she’d give him the chance, Drake would gladly bear her burdens, but he couldn’t see the capable, independent woman every willingly sharing that much of herself with anyone. Drake doubted Nick even knew the story of Angela’s past because he’d heard the boy mention several times that he didn’t know anything about his dad except his name was Allen. It was no secret to anyone that Nick desperately wanted a father. But since that required Angela opening her heart and home to someone, Drake feared Nick would never get his wish.

  Determined to shake off his melancholy thoughts, Drake pasted on a bright smile as students began trickling into his classroom. Some of the children hung up coats and bags then rushed over to his desk to show him something they’d brought from home or excitedly chatter about what they’d done the previous evening.

  Nick was one of the last students to race inside, cheeks rosy from the cold as he and his two friends, Evan and Sean, jostled each other as they hung up their things and made their way to their desks.

  As soon as the bell rang, signaling the start of the school day, Drake stood in front of his desk and greeted his class. “Good morning! What kind of day is this going to be?”

  “A great day!” the students cheered.

  “Awesome!” Drake said, grinning at them. He led the students who wished to participate in the pledge of allegiance. It always filled him with pride to see the students standing so still and respectfully as they gazed up at the flag hanging up in the corner near his desk and recited the familiar words.