Heaven Sent (11 page)

“Sounds yummy,” I replied, breaking into an easy grin. “But I kinda thought we were going to a restaurant.”

“What? And share you with all those strangers?” He shook his head vigorously. “No way. I’ve been gone a long time and can’t stand the thought of sharing you with anyone else—at least not today. Today you are all mine.” He held the helmet out to me.

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace where I can have you all to myself,” he replied mysteriously.

I took the helmet and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The brunch sounded fabulous, and the idea of having Guy all to myself turned the Olympic-style somersaults in my stomach to handstands. I’d never be able to keep food down under these conditions.

He helped me into the helmet. “Not too fast,” I reminded.

“I remember.”

I climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapped my arms around his midsection. He smelled fresh, with the faint fragrance of cinnamon about him. The bike pulled away from the curb at a reasonable speed.

The motorcycle maneuvered through the Saturday morning traffic. As we drove, I got the feeling that it
was
possible for us to pick up where we’d left off.

Twenty minutes later, the city was behind us and we began climbing into the hills.

“Where are we going?” I called.

“It’s a surprise.”

“How far?”

“The thing about a surprise that makes it a surprise is you have to wait and see.” He was teasing me. It felt good—familiar.

“You can go a little faster,” I called after several minutes. We were on a steep incline heading up, still travelling at thirty-five miles an hour, which seemed ridiculous on the open road.

“Excuse me?” he called over his shoulder.

“It’s all right to go a little faster,” I said, raising my voice.

“As you wish.” He turned the throttle, and the bike growled to life as if being woken from a deep sleep. We weaved our way farther into the hills. The air got cooler and crisper as we continued our ascent.

We turned off the main road and continued on what appeared to be a narrow, private road. After a few minutes, he stopped by an old wooden fence and turned the motor off.

“It’s through there,” he said, pointing toward a stand of trees.

“How do you know about this place?”

“I looked into your mind with my angel sense and saw what you thought would be the perfect picnic ground. And then I found it.”

“Really?”

“Of course not!” he said laughing. “You really think I can look into your mind? You are too gullible, Megan.” He removed the cooler and blanket from the rear of the bike and started toward the trees, still laughing. “I have a bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell you—cheap,” he teased.

“It wasn’t that funny,” I chimed as I followed him. I was starting to get annoyed. “How am I supposed to know what angels can and can’t do?”

“If I could read your mind, don’t you think you’d know it by now?”

That made sense. “All right, all right, you got me.”

He dropped the cooler, spun around and cradled me into his arms. “Darn right I got you. And I may never let you go.”

My breath caught in the back of my throat. I didn’t dare respond because I had no idea of the words that might come out of my mouth. My head was spinning over the prospect of never letting go. I looked into Guy’s eyes. They were dark and dreamy and smoldering. “Is it hot out here?”

We were standing in a meadow that had been concealed by the trees. It was gorgeous, complete with wild flowers and a babbling brook.

“No,” he said, looking into my eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

Perhaps it was the altitude, or perhaps it was being so close to him knowing he was all mine, but my dizziness increased. “I need to sit down.”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He whipped open the blanket and spread it onto the grass. It made a soft, crunching sound as it came to rest. Then he took me by the elbow and eased me onto the blanket. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you. I think it’s because I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I lied. I couldn’t tell him it was his presence that was dizzying. I couldn’t risk being laughed at again.

He began setting up the picnic. He pulled a basket of fresh strawberries from the cooler, popped the stem off one and held it to my lips. “Here. Eat this.”

It was delicious—fresh and juicy with just the right amount of crunch.

After a few minutes, he handed me a plate of fresh fruit, cheese and half a Portobello Panini. There was fresh-squeezed orange juice to wash it down.

My stomach was beginning to settle, and I discovered I actually was hungry. I began to eat.

“It’s delicious.”

“I try.” There was a smugness to his response. I’d almost forgotten about his arrogance and how much I loved it.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” I said, putting my sandwich down.

An odd look came over him. “I wasn’t so sure myself.” He sighed. “But here I am.”

“And Roxanne?”

Another odd, guarded look.

“What about Roxanne?”

There were so many questions I had about Roxanne: would she be coming back; did he still love her; would they spend eternity in heaven together? “Is she all right?” was the question I chose to ask. “She was hurt quite badly when you left.”

“She’s doing much better. She wanted me to thank you.” I got the feeling there was something more that had been left unsaid. I didn’t ask what it might be because I wasn’t sure my heart could handle the answer—at least, not today.

“I’m glad. If I could go back in time and change everything that happened that day in front of the gym, I would.”

There was a moment of silence between us, and I felt my heart creeping into my mouth. “I know you would,” he said. His voice was soft, and sweet, and forgiving.

From there the conversation became relaxed and easy, as if we hadn’t missed a beat. We talked school, Maudrina, the Poplarati, that Suze was now dating, everything except the subject of whether or not he was back for good.

“I actually have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here,” he said after breakfast was done and the dishes put away.

I had been staring at his lips for the last several minutes, longing for one of his kisses. “And that is?”

“I wanted a private place for us to begin working on harnessing your abilities.”

It wasn’t exactly what I’d been expecting and certainly not what I was hoping for.

He saw the change in my expression. “Megan, I can’t be around all the time. There are forces out there that mean you harm. You need to know how to defend yourself.” He was picking up on his harangue from last night.

He was right, of course. I did need to learn to control the power and the rage that was buried inside of me, but I got the feeling this was happening too soon. His words from last night:
there’ll be plenty of time for kissing
came to mind, and I wondered if he had been telling the truth.

“I know.”

“Come,” he said, holding his hand out to me. I rose, and together we walked farther into the meadow.

He led me to a large maple tree standing alone in the center of the meadow. It had a huge trunk and many wide branches fanning out, creating the only shade around.

“Okay,” he said. “Shake it.”

“The tree?” He nodded. His eyes had again turned serious.

I moved to the tree and attempted to wrap my arms around the trunk, but it was so wide I could only get them halfway around. My chin rested against the coarse bark that smelled of fresh wood. It raked against my arms.

I tried to shake it.

“Not with your hands, silly—with your mind. I want you to shake the branches so it appears that wind is moving through them.”

“I can’t do that. It’s impossible.”

“I believe you can—at least I think you can move it a little. Go ahead and try.”

I looked at him as though he’d gone insane.

“Go ahead. Try,” he urged.

“All right,” I said with little hope. I looked into the upper branches.
Okay, branches, shake,
I thought. Nothing. I faced Guy and shrugged.

He ran a hand slowly through his hair, and I wondered if he were exasperated with me. “First off, Megan, you have to believe you can do it.” It was almost as if he were talking to a child.

“But I
can’t
do it.” I replied. I was getting exasperated with
him
.

“You’ve used your abilities in the past. If you’ve used them once, your mind knows how to use them again.” His voice was calm. Any agitation I’d sensed a moment earlier was no longer there. I nodded.

What he was saying made sense. It was like muscle memory. If you’ve done something once, like hitting a perfect forehand at tennis camp, your muscles remembered how to do it. To do it again, you had to get your mind out of the way and allow muscle memory to take over.

“Okay.” I took a relaxing breath. “I need to reach the part of my mind that knows how to do it. Right?”

“Exactly. Do you remember the name of your first grade teacher?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer the question. Do you remember or don’t you?”

“Yes. It’s um…” I thought for a few seconds. “Miss Vigman.”

Guy smiled. “You see what just you did? You reached for a memory. Now reach for the ability to move the branches of the tree the same way you reached for that memory.”

“Like reaching for a memory,” I said softly. I looked up into the tree, squinted my eyes, and wrinkled my brow.

“Don’t do that,” said Guy, sounding like a school teacher. “You didn’t do that to reach for the other memory. Do this the same way you reached for your teacher’s name. Open your mind, and reach for the ability.”

“Okay.”

I looked back into the tree and relaxed, allowing my mind to open. After a short time I could feel it opening enough for me to reach in and pull up a memory.

“There!” Guy said pointing high into the tree.

When he called, I realized I must have fallen into a trance. I had been staring into the tree, but now I realized the uppermost bough was waving to and fro.

“I didn’t do that. That’s the wind,” I said.

“There is no wind,” replied Guy. “And only one bough is moving. That was you. Do it again!” he implored, his voice ringing with excitement.

For the next few hours, Guy worked with me on making the bough move again and again. By the time we had finished, several branches on the tree were waving vigorously.

“How does that feel?” he asked, smiling proudly into the tree.

“Exhausting.”

“You did great.”

These words coming from him made my heart sing. I felt fantastic. “I know we just ate, but I’m famished.”

“No problem. There’s more food.” He took a step away from me, spun around and called over his shoulder: “Last one to the blanket has to do the dishes.”

He took off running. It took a moment to realize what was happening, but I took off right behind him, running hard. I nearly caught up to him. We fell onto the blanket, laughing like little children, and devoured everything that remained in the cooler. And when we were finished eating, we made out like the old days of ditching class in the stairwell and piling up pink slips, except this time we didn’t have any place to be, so we took our time.

His kisses were electric, but the stinging no longer bothered me. I had become hungry for the charge they gave off. It dawned on me that I was falling more deeply in love with him. I still wasn’t sure that he wouldn’t leave again. This sobering thought crept into my consciousness. I ended the kiss.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, gazing at me with those dreamy eyes that I could get lost in forever.

“Nothing. I’m a little tired, I guess.” I had to look away. His eyes were so magnetic, I felt I would spill my guts to him, and I wasn’t yet ready to voice my fears.

“Tapping into your abilities takes a lot of energy in the beginning. But you’ll get the hang of it. We accomplished way more today than I thought we would.”

“What do you mean we?” I asked with a playful grin. “I don’t recall you doing anything.”

“I’m the coach. Coaching’s not easy. That’s why we get the big bucks.”

“Uh-huh. Some coaches get paid way more than they deserve.” We were both smiling at each other, enjoying the one-upmanship.

I again wound up in his arms.

“Do you think I’m overpaid?” he asked.

“It’s not my call.” I thought of something he’d said to me a long time ago. “But I’ll tell you one thing,” I said, adding a little swagger to my voice. “To the victor goes the spoils.”

We were nose-to-nose. He smelled of cinnamon and wonderfulness. “And I suppose you’re the victor?”

“No. We both are.”

We spent the next several hours talking and kissing. No one did the dishes.

When Guy brought me home that afternoon, I insisted he drop me off at the corner. I still hadn’t told Suze he was back. As far as she knew, he had moved to Anchorage, Alaska, to live with his father. I didn’t want to spring him on her until I had a better sense of how long he’d be back. If he left again, I’d be devastated, and I didn’t want her worrying about me.

“See you tomorrow,” he said.

“Righteeo,” I replied with a grin.

“Yep.”

My grin broadened. “Thanks for the lesson, coach.”

“My pleasure. You’ll be ready to battle demons in no time.”

He kissed me on both cheeks as they do in French movies—très romantic—then turned the bike around and headed up the block. I realized as he was pulling away that I not only had to spring Guy on my mom, I had to spring him riding a motorcycle on her as well. That wasn’t going to be easy. I was beginning to find it romantic to be riding so close that I could taste his cinnamon cloud along the back of my palate. Yet I was certain my mother would not have a similar reaction.

When I walked in, Suze was holed up in her tiny office that used to be our breakfast nook, doing paperwork.

“Pick up any antiques?” I asked, looking around.

“Not this morning, although we did see a striking pair of Biedermeier end tables. They were in an older couple’s garage, and I don’t think they realized their true value. But they were still too expensive. Besides, if I bought them they’d probably just move from the couple’s garage to our garage.” She laughed and shook her head.