Angel Song (31 page)
Ann looked down at it. “Oh no. It’s food. You want it?” She held it out.
The man eyed it warily for a moment, then snatched it from her hand. “Who you looking for?” He was already ripping the wrapper off of a granola bar as he asked the question.
“I don’t know. I think his name might be Uri. That’s what another homeless woman called him. He’s a man who comes around here sometimes. I thought that maybe . . . well, I don’t know what I thought.” Ann turned to go back inside.
“Wait a second. You helped me. I’ll see if I can do the same for you.” The man had an affable demeanor that made Ann wonder how long he’d been homeless. “What you want to know from this man?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s just crazy.”
“Crazy’s something I do pretty well. Give it a shot.” He tossed the remainder of the granola bar into his mouth.
Maybe because he was so nonchalant, or maybe because she thought she’d lose her mind if she didn’t tell someone, Ann started talking. “He whistles a tune that I’ve heard a couple of times before, okay? And, I don’t know, maybe there are angels around sometimes when I hear it. I just wanted to know what he knew about it.”
He ripped open the second granola bar. “That’s an easy one to figure out. Maybe he is one.” He took a huge bite, but sort of grinned at her as he chewed.
“One what?”
“An angel.”
Obviously this had been a waste of time. Once again, Ann didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but this was definitely not it. “I hardly think an angel would walk around like a homeless person in the middle of New York.”
“Girl . . .” He slapped his thigh and laughed. “It’s obvious you haven’t been hanging ’round the right places. Haven’t you never read the Bible?”
Ann shrugged. “A little. I’ve never read anything about angels being homeless.”
“‘Don’t forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.’ It’s from the Bible. Maybe your friend’s an angel too. I hope you were nice to him.”
“What?”
Again the man slapped his thigh. “Just messing with you, girl. A friend of mine taught me that verse nearly ten years ago. It’s one of my favorite angles to play when I’m asking for handouts near a church. Reciting it at the right time, well . . . it can be real good for business.” He smiled and nodded his head. “Yep, real good. This tune, what’s it sound like? I haven’t heard that one before; maybe I’ll use it next time and see if it helps.”
“Oh, never mind.” Ann walked over to a bench and dropped onto it, covering her face with her hands. “You’re right—none of that’s real.”
The man groaned as he came to sit beside her. “Didn’t say that exactly. Who knows? When you hear this music, something good happens? Maybe it’s real.”
“No, usually I hear it when something bad happens. Like my sister dying, or letters I wish I’d never found buried in walls, or my car not starting.”
“Car not starting, huh? Didn’t sound much like angel work to me neither.” The lid of the peanut butter made a swishing sound as he unscrewed it. “Real nice of you to put a plastic spoon in here for this. Most people don’t think of little things like that.”
“You can thank one of your homeless sisters for that.” Ann stared at the dirt between the joints of the sidewalk at her feet. She wondered how many feet had walked over this place just today. How many of those people felt as lost and alone as she did?
“Mmm. This is real tasty.” The man made a smacking sound. “When your car didn’t start, maybe it kept you from a wreck or something. Or from going somewhere you had no business going.”
Ann thought about her meeting with Patrick Stinson. She looked up at the man, his left cheek now smeared with peanut butter. “It sort of did keep me away from something. Of course, when it got started again, I still had to face it.”
“You do something different than you would’ve if your car had started the first time?”
What would she have done? Sent Patrick Stinson packing like the philanderer he was, or gone along with him and landed the career of her dreams? “Probably.”
“There you go. Maybe them angels was just giving you a little more time to reach the right decision. They didn’t make it for you. They just kind of gave you a little more time to think about it so you could figure it out for yourself.”
Ann looked at him and nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” Now she was agreeing with the reasoning of a homeless man she didn’t know? Great. Wonder what craziness was going to happen next.
“Maybe so.” The man stood up. “Thanks for this now, hear? I hope I see you again sometime. Maybe next time you’ll teach me that tune.”
“Maybe so.” Ann walked back into the lobby, opposing thoughts pinging around in her brain like a pinball in a machine. When would things ever make sense?
It wasn’t just the landing that jarred Ann as the plane touched down in Charleston. This would perhaps be the last time she ever came back here, and though she looked forward to putting her past behind her, something still hurt.
There wasn’t anything worthwhile for her here. She didn’t want to be reminded that no one was quite as willing to keep her around as she was willing to be kept around. This town was full of abandonment, and she wasn’t going to get caught up in it this time.
When she pulled into the driveway that evening, she looked toward Tammy and Keith’s house. She expected Keith to show up at the passenger side window any minute now, like he always did—but he was nowhere to be seen. Surely he wasn’t still sick?
She glanced toward the house just in time to see the curtains rustling in what she knew was Keith’s bedroom.
Seconds later the back door flew open and he was hurrying toward her car. “Annie, Annie. I knew you’d be back soon. I just knew it.” He was breathless by the time he rushed over and threw his arms around her, hugging tight.
Ann hugged back, so amazed at the sense of love that seemed to follow this kid. “You did? How did you know?”
“It told me so.”
“Your angel?”
“No.” He kept his arms tight around her. “My heart did.” His breathing still seemed labored.
Ann put her hand against his cheek, willing herself not to cry in front of him. “Your heart was right.”
“Yeah, I know.” He pulled away then, his smile lighting up the whole world. “Never doubt your heart.” He said it as if he were telling her that the sun rises every morning and sets every night.
Tammy had walked across the yard to join them by this time. “Welcome back.” She gave Ann a brief hug. “How long you here for this time?”
Ann shrugged. “Couple of weeks.”
“Two weeks?” Tammy’s voice obviously came out louder than she’d intended because she spoke more softly when she continued. “You’ve never stayed that long before.”
“Well, a few issues came up with my job in New York that gave me some extra free time, and I decided I would come down here and get the house all finished up, tie up as many loose ends as possible.” Ann ruffled Keith’s hair. “It’s good to see you up again. Last time I was here, you had a pretty nasty cough.”
“The doctor gave me some medicine.”
Ann smiled at him. “That’s good.”
“And Ethan brought me some of his world-famous chocolate chip cookies. That made me feel
lots
better. You want one?”
Ethan. Just the sound of his name hurt. Ann looked at Tammy and found her staring back, as if waiting for a reaction. Ann could think of several things she wanted to say, several more things she wanted to ask. Finally, she settled for, “How’s he doing?”
“Keith, go get Ann one of your cookies, okay?”
“Okay, Mama.” He started toward the house, moving fast.
“Walk. You don’t want to end up on bed rest again, do you?” Tammy turned toward Ann. “I think he’s doing about as well as a man can do when he’s got a broken heart.”
“A broken heart?” She hadn’t expected that. “Right.” She sort of laughed the words, trying to play them off as insignificant teasing. “He’s the one who didn’t want me. I didn’t fit into the right mold to be good enough for him.”
Tammy turned her face away, her mouth forming a tight line. “Most people I know would kill to have what you keep throwing away with both hands.”
Ann opened her mouth to argue. Then closed it. Tammy was right. As with any other chance of happiness she’d ever had, she was building a wall around herself. She didn’t want to get close enough that it could hurt her. It was an old habit, and she wasn’t sure she could break it, even if she really did want to.
“Here you go, Annie.” Keith held the cookie high in the air as if he’d wrestled it free from a throng of cookie mongers. “Here you go.”
“Thanks, Keith.” Ann reached out and took the cookie from his hand. “This looks terrific.”
“It is. You got some milk? Ethan’s famous cookies are better with milk.”
“I haven’t been to the store yet, so I guess I’ll have to do without the milk.”
“I’ll bring you some over. I can do that. Right, Mama?”
“Keith, Ann has been traveling all day. Let’s give her some time to herself. Okay?”
“No, I’m all right. Keith, if you want to bring a little milk over, and maybe a cookie and milk for yourself, I think that would be just great.”
“Really?” He smiled up at his mother. “Can I?”
“Sure. But don’t overstay your welcome.”
“Okay, Mama.”
Five minutes later Ann and Keith were seated at the kitchen table, each dunking a cookie in milk. “I never knew Ethan could make cookies.”
“He can’t,” Keith said, his mouth full of cookie.
“But you called these Ethan’s famous cookies.”
“He buys these at the cookie store, but they’re real good. So good they’re famous.”
“I see.” Ann tried to puzzle through that one, but wasn’t sure she got it.
“I’m glad for Ethan’s cookies. And my angel dreams.”
“Your angel dreams?”
“Yeah. Sometimes when I go to sleep, I get to be with them. It’s real bright and warm, and they play their music—even their wings make music. It helps me forget about sad things.”
“What kind of sad things?”
“My dad doesn’t want me.” He dunked his cookie again. “That makes me sad sometimes.”
“What makes you think he doesn’t want you?”
“He went away. It’s my fault.”
Ann reached across and squeezed his hand. “That’s not your fault, Keith. It’s your father’s fault. He’s the one who is wrong, and he’s the one who missed out on getting to know you. Or having fun eating cookies with you.”
“Did your daddy leave you too?”
That question brought up the usual barrage of memories that Ann did not want to face. “Not really, but my mother left me.”
“Did that make you feel sad?”
Ann nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s why God sends His angels to me and you, maybe. So we won’t be sad anymore.”
“Maybe so.”
When Ann finally settled in for the night, sleep wouldn’t come. She sat on the couch, then lay down, then sat back up again. She walked through the kitchen, lit only by the moonlight and the soft glow of the streetlights as they shone through the windows. She poured herself a glass of cold water from the fridge and looked out the window toward Tammy’s house. She thought about what Keith had said about God sending His angels so that we wouldn’t be sad.
She turned her back and leaned against the kitchen counter. “God, if You really are there, if You really have angels that go around helping people, why don’t they actually do something helpful? Why didn’t they save Sarah?”
Something Keith had said came back into her mind so strongly that she could almost hear him saying it.
“They comfort me
like when your mama holds you when you’re hurt. The hurt’s still there, but you
feel better just the same
.”
Yeah, well, that wasn’t enough for Ann. She wanted someone who could actually
do
something, not just sing a comforting song while it happened. She walked over to her table full of paperwork and dug through the stacks until she found the printouts of the Hagar paintings. She looked at the haughty face of Sarah, her back turned, as Hagar was sent away. Then she turned to the next painting and saw Hagar in the wilderness, crying in despair beside her dying son. Yet the angel was on his way. Help had already been sent. If that was the case, then, in this story, God had probably been watching Hagar the entire time, from even before she got pregnant in the first place.
But why didn’t He do something to help before she got to this point? God, if there was a God, was either all-powerful or all-loving, but He couldn’t be both. Well, if He didn’t have any power, then why did He really matter? And if He didn’t love people anyway, then what was the point?
Her mind anxious, she knew sleep was still a long way away. She turned on the television but then remembered she’d had the cable disconnected.
She looked out the window toward Keith’s house again, envying his quiet faith, even if it likely was misplaced. “Keith, for your sake I hope there really are angels, and I hope they are over there with you right now.” She turned out the light.
As she lay there, thoughts still swirling through her mind, she pictured Keith’s golden octopus high above her head. Watching her. Actually caring what happened to her. Willing to intervene, or at least “hold her like your mama does when you’re hurt.” Was it truly possible that such a creature existed? And was watching her right now? For the first time, Ann kind of liked the idea.
Ann woke up earlier than usual the next morning, surprised by the silence. Not one single note of music. As much as this should have relieved her—and it did, to some degree—it also left her feeling as though something was missing.
Something was missing, all right, and the medical term for it was paracusia. Maybe she was finally getting over these hallucinations.
Today was the day to get some things done around here. First thing on the list: remove all curtains and replace them with the more modern, white, semi-sheer blinds she’d purchased two trips ago.
Within minutes, the whine of the electric screwdriver filled the house. When Ann removed the curtains from “her” bedroom, she saw a bit of the pewter tankard that hadn’t quite been covered up by coats of stark white. Something else she needed to touch up. She put her fingers on the color, remembering how she’d felt that day as she painted the walls something other than her usual. How right its warmth had felt.
