Some Kind of Angel (19 page)

A robe, slippers and I was on my way down the stairs. 

The back of the store lay disguised in shadows and the faint light from the street.  I made my way through the furniture to the cot where the man lay.  He rose at once.  He’d taken off his shirt and was sleeping in his jeans.

I turned on the light so I could see his face.  “Who are you?”

“I told you who I was, Leslie.”  How beautiful she looked, her hair mussed and hanging loose around her shoulders, her robe undone, her dainty flowered nightgown showing underneath.

“The way you say my name.  It’s as if you know me.”

He stood silent.  He could only let her discover him in her own time.

“I have a feeling I’ve known you before.”

He’d removed the block from her memory.  Now it would be her decision to accept him again.  He didn’t think there was ever a time in his existence when he’d been so afraid.

It all came crashing back to me in a thousand pictures and feelings, the wedding under the royal palms, the wonderful time in our honeymoon suite, Michael’s gentle caring for me when I carried Adam’s baby.

“You’re my husband,” I said, and flew at him, my fists pounding his chest.  “You’re my husband and you left me.  I hate you.” 

She went on pounding and he took her blows stoically, knowing he deserved every one of them.  Her fists weren’t hurting him, but the sight of her pain hurt him more than anything.  When he felt she had vented her anger enough, he caught her wrists.  “Leslie.”

“Don’t you “Leslie” me.”  She looked up at him, her eyes bright with fury.  “You made love to me and you were kind and passionate and fun.  You were fun in bed, Michael.  You made me love you with all my heart…and then you left me.  You thought you could make me forget you but I didn’t.  I remembered you every night in my dreams and when I woke and you were gone, I wanted to die.  I would have gone to the bridge and jumped, but I couldn’t because of Ethan.  I really do hate you.”

“Leslie.  Dear, wonderful Leslie.  I love you with all my heart and soul.  I didn’t have to come back.  But I did.”

“Why don’t you just go back to heaven or wherever you came from?  I’m getting along without you just fine.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.  She lifted her chin.  “You can stay the night here but when I come down in the morning, you need to be gone.  I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

If he had not spent time as her husband, and learned that sometimes she said the exact opposite of what was in her heart, he might have believed her.  “All right.  But I’d like to see little Ethan before I go.

“I should say no.  But…oh, well, come with me.”

She led the way up the stairwell and went to a small lamp by her bedside to switch it on. 

Michael stood by the bassinet, marveling at how the child had grown.  “His legs are getting long.”

“Yes,” she said.  “I was just thinking I’m not going to be able to bathe him in the sink much longer.  I’ll have to use the bathtub and then I’ll have to watch him very closely.”

“I’d like to be here to help you, Leslie.”

“No.”  The word was emotionless.

“No?”  He advanced on her.  She didn’t back away.

“We made love in that bed many times, Leslie.”

“Yes, we did.”  Her chin came up, her eyes flashed.  “And then you left me.”

“I thought it was for the best.”  He took a step closer.

“The best for who?  You?  Me?  The baby?  Who did you think it was the best for, Michael?”

“I thought it best for everyone.”

“You thought wrong.”

“So it would seem.  Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“Forgive you, yes.  Take you back, no.”

He was close enough now to reach for her, but he didn’t “You’ll never take me back?”

“No.”

He put his arms around her and drew her close.  She didn’t resist, which delighted him.  He stroked her hair where it hung long and beautiful down her back.  “You’re never going to let me touch you again?”

“No.” 

He let his hands drift down over her back to her buttocks.  He lifted her just enough to fit his erection between her thighs.  “You’re never going to let me make love to you again?”

“No.”

He moved, rubbing against her.  Her breathing accelerated.  “What am I going to do with you then?”

“Stop asking me silly questions and make love to me, Michael,” she said, turning and falling down on the bed with him on top of her.  “I’ve missed you so desperately.”

“And I you, love.”

“You’re going to stay this time.”  She wiggled her hand between them to unsnap his jeans.

“Yes, love.”

“And you’re never going to leave.”  She moved his jeans down his legs.  He wore no underwear. 

“No, love.”

“Say I promise.”

“I promise to stay with you forever, Leslie.  Till death do us part.”

“Are you really an angel, Michael?”  She fit his body into hers.

“Not anymore, love, not anymore.”

The church lay somnolent, dreaming in the warm late afternoon sun of November.  Then the cars pulled into the parking lot, people piled out and the big double doors of the church swung open.

The Rutledge contingent entered first.  They had all flown in for the christening, Elizabeth, Jake holding the door open for his family, Lynne, their son David and their twin girls Veronica and Victoria, dressed in their finest violet dresses,.  Next came Gabe, looking uncomfortable in his white shirt, Dorian, and Laura.

Laura had a bee in her bonnet.  “I want to hold Ethan when he’s baptized.”

“No, Laura, you cannot hold Ethan.” Elizabeth told her.  “Leslie has asked Natalie to hold him since she’s to be his godmother.”

The Cameron family was there as well.  Eight year old Madeline pleaded with her mother Liz.  “Can I hold the baby, Mama, before he’s baptized?  Afterwards, he’ll be all wet.”

“He won’t be all wet.”

“But that’s what you said.  You said the minister was going to put water on his head.”

“It’s just a few drops, Madeline.  If you’re very good, maybe Leslie will let you hold the baby when we go back to the store for cake and ice cream.”

“Meanwhile,” Hunter told his favorite daughter, “I’ll lift you up so you can count those drops.”

“Will you, daddy?”

“Yes, I will.”

And so the church woke from its dreaming to watch yet another christening.  This with the Rutledge family all present and accounted for, and the Cameron family, Liz, Hunter, Madeline and Philip, Justin, Anne, their son and their twin girls and Natalie, and Susan and Alex and their little boy, Johnny.  Grandmother Amelia decided not to come but made them promise they would create a video for her.

And so, held in the arms of Natalie, a woman who knew she’d never have a child of her own, Ethan Michael O’Malley was christened while Dorian, his godfather stood by.

Back in the store, in the chaos that was the two families, the adults sat around the table while Madeline begged for more ice cream, the two sets of twins scrambled around on the floor playing duck, duck, goose.  When they tired of that, they played hide and seek among the antique furniture.

I caught Michael’s arm.  “I bet you didn’t think you were signing up for this when you married me, did you, sweetheart?  It’s pretty chaotic.”

“It’s family chaos, my love.  That’s the best kind.”  He took me in his arms and kissed me.  I kissed him back.  Crazy as I am, I wanted another child right away, and maybe a couple more, all of them with Michael’s spirit…and his dark hair.

They gathered in the council room, Gabriel, Timothy, Paul, Peter, Philip, Guinevere and Sarah.

“I want you to see this,” Gabriel said and he opened the heavens.

“Oh, my,” Philip exclaimed.

“That’s really a lot of children.”  This from Peter.

“Michael looks happy,” Guinevere said, a smile lifting her lips.

“I suppose you want us to give him our blessing,” Timothy said.

“Oh, yes.  Please,” Sarah said.  “We must give him our blessing.”

So the council held hands, extended their wings and showered blessings down on the house of O’Malley.

When they were finished, Gabriel said drily, “He’s going to need it.”

Here’s an excerpt from my next time travel book as yet untitled.

I came to a clearing and at the edge of it, I stopped.  Two men were engaged in fighting, their swords clanging against each other in a way I’d never heard.  I realized they were not fencing, but fighting with broadswords.  I crept behind a bush and knelt there, watching.  The man dressed all in black seemed to have the advantage.  The man in the white shirt fought valiantly, but he was outweighed by his opponent by a good thirty pounds and relatively, the heavier man’s sword seemed twice as big. I watched as the cloaked man repeatedly swiped at the smaller man in stroke after stroke, until at last, he had him down on the ground.  I watched in horror as the smaller man lay there, waiting for the death blow.  I opened my mouth to scream but I was so terrified nothing came out.  The sword dropped into the man’s side.  Even as I watched, the blood began to spill, staining the white man’s shirt.  I expected the man in black to strike another blow or say something, but he simply wiped the man’s blood off his sword by swiping it across his thigh. 

“I leave you here to die,” the man in black said, his voice triumphant.  “I go home now to gather my army and storm your castle.”  He turned and strode to his destrier, mounted and rode away.

I crept out of the brush, taking my blouse off as I ran, desperately trying to rip the silk into strips.  It would not give.  The felled man’s broadsword lay at his side.  I grabbed it up and stabbed at the fabric, ripping it into strips.  I cut my slacks off at the knee and made pads.  Kneeling, I put the pads in place to staunch the flow of blood and began to wrap the strips around him, making him groan as I lifted him.  I was soon covered with blood as were my makeshift bandages and my clothes.  “Your horse.  Is your horse nearby?”

He was coherent enough to raise his head and give a melodic whistle.  A huge horse, black as the night around us, trotted into view.  I unclasped my cloak and put it around my fallen hero.  Then I maneuvered myself under his arm pit and helped him rise to his feet.  He got one foot into the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle.  I couldn’t imagine the herculean effort it took for him to do that.  Before I could hit his horse on the rump and send him on his way, he reached down with his good arm and grabbed mine, and with a strength I thought he couldn’t possibly have, he levered me onto his horse in front of him. 

I could feel the warmth of his body at my back and the coolness of the air as we rode through the night.  He had hold of the reins, but he seemed to leave our destiny to the horse.  “Is it far?”

“No,” he got out in a guttural voice.

It seemed far to me.  When at last a castle came into view, he led the horse across the wooden bridge that lay over a running river and through the castle portcullis which was already raised in anticipation of his coming.  When we reached the inner courtyard, people spilled from the outlying buildings and out of the castle.  Men lifted my knight out of the saddle and bore him away.  I too, was lifted free, and carried like a sack of grain over a man’s shoulder.  We entered the keep and I was dropped to my feet. 

“Those are your bandages my lord Nicholas wears?” asked the man who had carried me in. 

Nicholas.  “Yes,” I said, aware that I was standing in the light of several torches in my bra and an abbreviated version of my pants.  He raised his head and snapped his fingers and a cloak was brought.  My inquisitor threw it around my shoulders.  It smelled of horse and man but I was glad to be covered.  Only a woman of ill repute would be wearing what I wore, and I doubt even she’d appear in the castle keep in such a scanty outfit.

A woman came and took my hand.  “Come with me.”

“No.  I’m going with him.”

“You have saved his life.  For that, we are very thankful to you.  Come with me now and I can help you clean up and get into some proper clothing.”

“No.”  I wrapped the cloak around me and ran off after the men bearing him away. 

They entered a room which I took to be the kitchen.  Nicholas lay on a rough butcher block table.  The stream of blood seemed to have gone down to a trickle but now that I could see the size of his wound, I shuddered.  A servant girl, looking terrified, hovered close to the door.  The men stood around him and I heard the word, doctor.  Oh, great. 

The good man came in, his hair mussed, looking like he’d been plucked from his bed and said exactly what I thought he would say. 

“He must be bled.”

I elbowed my way through the circle of Nicholas’s compadres.  “You touch him with a knife and I’ll put it to your gullet.  Can’t you see, you idiot, he’s already been “bled?”  What he needs are clean compresses against the wound.”  I turned to the servant girl.  “Go and get me a clean sheet and a pair of scissors.”

The “doctor” did not like being preempted.  “Are you going to take a woman’s advice over mine?”

Nicholas’s sword lay on the table.  I grabbed for it but it was so darn heavy.  It took both my hands to lift it up.  I managed to bring it up to a pathetic angle.  “I have…magic powers.  I may look as if I can’t pick up this sword, but I assure you, I will bring it down on anyone’s head who makes a move to bleed this man.”