by Lori Wilde
“I believe your experience on Earth will change your mind about many such misconceptions. Now go.”
Chapter Two
By the time Kimber reached the hospital’s emergency room, Gerald’s condition had worsened. Her mouth unaccountably dry, she stopped at the water fountain near the ER receptionist.
The water tasted stale and lukewarm, but the hesitation had allowed Kimber a brief moment to center herself. For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to the feeling she’d harbored as she had watched Gerald drive away.
She had hoped she would never see him again.
Guilt plucked at her heart. What he’d done was despicable, but no one deserved this.
In the emergency room, Kimber passed several curtained cubicles, some of which stood empty. One revealed a mother standing beside a bed whose occupant must have been no more than two years old. She offered a quick prayer asking for healing for the child.
Walking faster, she came to the nurses’ station where the hall broke off into more passageways with still more curtained cubicles. She paused, unsure which curtain Gerald was behind.
A bespectacled nurse glanced up from the rack of charts she’d been looking through. “May I help you, miss?”
“I’m looking for Gerald Kirkland.”
“You his wife, honey?”
Kimber paused. Would she be allowed to see Gerald if she didn’t have some sort of family tie to him? “Um, fiancée.” It was only half a lie since it had been true within the past hour.
“Well, come on, then,” the nurse said, stepping out from the station. “They’re prepping him for surgery. Maybe you can see him for a minute before they take him in.”
Gerald looked almost as pale as the bleached white sheet beneath him. Two plastic bags hung suspended above him, one dripping clear fluid into his veins and the other replacing the blood he’d lost. An airway tube made a hissing sound as it pumped oxygen into his lungs.
Kimber caught her breath at the sight of him. Only when she began to feel slightly faint did she make a conscious effort to breathe normally. It wouldn’t do him any good if she flaked out now.
“You okay, honey?” the nurse asked her.
Kimber nodded. Another half lie.
She stepped closer, trying to ignore the various tubes and wires attached to Gerald’s body. His was a large, strong frame accustomed to vigorous activity. His body was the first thing she’d noticed about him. One of the reasons she’d first been attracted to him. And perhaps the reason other women had been attracted to him as well.
She tried not to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated her effort on offering emotional support. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed his fingers. He did not squeeze back, and Kimber began to realize with a horrified understanding that there was nothing she could do to help him.
Her tears spilled onto his hand.
“He’s nonresponsive,” said a man in scrubs, “but it’s possible he can hear you. It might help if you tell him how you feel about him.”
Tell him how she felt about him? As in, I don’t love you anymore, but I don’t want you to die, either?
When at last she spoke, her voice cracked. “Hang in there.”
She squeezed his fingers again to impart all the sincerity she couldn’t put into words.
Blip, blip, blip—blip—blip. The unsteady beep of the heart monitor.
Another man in green scrubs entered the tiny cubicle, and a woman in white followed.
Releasing his hand, she stepped away from the gurney and started out the way she’d come. She went out into the tiled corridor, determined to wait on the hard bench until the surgery was over.
Amid the murmuring of voices, the blips wavered briefly, then fell into one long, flat beep. Kimber had seen enough television medical shows to know this was not a good sign.
Activity in the room increased, and she rushed to pull the curtain open.
For several moments, she watched in horrified fascination, wishing there was something she could do to help and knowing she was powerless to stop the current course of events.
Kimber had no idea how long she stood there, watching without really seeing, as the medical team fought to bring Gerald back from the brink.
Finally, one of the men stepped away and began removing his gloves. “We’ve lost him.”
Please don’t let him die!
The man stopped what he was doing and looked up at Kimber. Until then, she hadn’t realized she’d prayed out loud.
“Get her out of here,” he said.
The woman in white came to her and took her arm to guide her out, but not before Kimber saw them pull the sheet up over Gerald’s face.
Distraught, she allowed herself to be led to the bench across the hall.
The woman with her was uttering words of comfort, but Kimber didn’t hear them. Her ears were tuned to Gerald’s room.
When the woman suggested she call someone to drive her home, Kimber realized she hadn’t told her father or stepmother before rushing over to be with Gerald. She dug the phone out of her purse and rose from the bench.
Someone behind the closed curtain asked, “Did he just move? I could have sworn I saw that sheet move.”
As if to confirm the statement, the monitor once again began blipping, this time stronger and steadier than before.
The woman in white ran back to Gerald’s cubicle. Kimber’s legs felt powerless to support her, and she sank back onto the bench in the hall.
“Let me see,” came the voice of the man who’d ordered her out.
A moment later, the blipping of the monitor became more rhythmic.
A woman’s voice spoke in quiet awe. “It’s a miracle.”
JARED BECAME AWARE of the sounds around him first.
The noise was loud and cacophonous, unlike the soft, melodious sounds he’d become used to “on high.”
First he heard a deep male voice asking if he had a problem with hemorrhoids. Then a click and a woman complaining about tough, grimy stains. Another click and the sound of something hitting against a hard object, followed by uproarious laughter.
With effort, Jared opened his eyes and squinted against the harsh light that came from two long cylindrical strips in the ceiling. Laughter rang out again, and he turned his head to the source, a large box projecting from the wall, with images of miniature humans showing inside it. He’d heard that the Chairman of the Board had such a box, to watch the activities of those below, but something told him this wasn’t the Big Guy’s office. Something rustled beside him, and he turned toward it.
A lovely creature sat in a chair near him and pressed a button on a small black box every so often. Each time she did so, the noise and pictures emanating from the box on the wall abruptly changed.
A vision of femininity, she was so beautiful he didn’t think she could possibly be human. But she wore no wings, and instead of the traditional white robe, she was garbed in two layers of loose-fitting upper clothing, neither of which had sleeves.
Her lower half was clad in a faded blue fabric held together by a series of buttons below her waist. And her feet were encased in a soft-looking gray material. Like the sandals he was accustomed to, these were also tied, but instead of leather thongs, they were held together by white strips of fabric with clear, hard tips on the ends. Printed on the flap that protruded from the top of the foot covering was the word Adidas.
His gaze was drawn upward to her face.
The eyes, cinnamon brown framed by lashes of black, were trained upon the box on the wall. Her features were of a pleasing proportion—the divine proportion, you might say—and the dark brows and sun-darkened complexion complemented the burnished brown locks that surrounded her face.
Jared felt a strange sensation in the pit of his being. She was more beautiful than any angel he’d ever seen.
His thoughts returned to the name printed on her foot covering. Adidas. He was familiar with Adonis, the Greek god, and had even beaten him at a hand o
f fenuki. Could this, perhaps, be a beautiful goddess, maybe even a heretofore unknown relation of her handsome male counterpart?
She turned in her chair and became aware of his steady perusal. “Oh, you’re awake.”
Her eyes were filled with compassion and pity. But something else lurked there, as well. A wariness emanated from her, making her appear torn inside.
“Maybe I should call the nurse.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She leaned forward and touched his arm, which was covered by a clean white blanket. “We almost lost you. No matter what our differences, I couldn’t leave you here alone, Gerald.”
“My name is Jared,” he corrected.
She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small frown. “Do you know my name?”
How could he not know it when it was emblazoned on her garments? “Of course.”
The goddess appeared relieved for a spare moment, then leaned closer. “Tell me who I am.”
Jared didn’t know what sport she found in this game, but he decided to humor her. “You’re Adidas.”
His response appeared not to satisfy her. If she’d tell him the rules of the game, perhaps he’d be a more worthy opponent. Nothing seemed to make sense to him right now.
With a clatter to announce her entrance, a young woman entered the room pushing a cart laden with trays.
“So, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, eh?” The woman positioned a narrow, wheeled table so that it reached across the bed where he lay, then placed one of the trays on top of it.
Jared didn’t know what he’d done to earn such treatment. Here he was, lying upon a chaise of white, with a nubile young goddess beside him and a servant woman to feed him. But he didn’t understand why there were no palm fronds to shade him from the harsh light and no clusters of grapes to be hand-fed to him, one by one. He would have to speak to Nahum and find out what was going on.
“Here’s your lunch, honey.” Turning to Adidas, she added, “I’ll tell the nurse that he’s come around.”
Adidas thanked the servant woman and moved her chair closer to Jared’s chaise. “Are you hungry?”
Was he hungry? He’d never experienced such a need in all his existence. Only humans and the rest of the earthly creatures wanted for physical sustenance.
Then realization dawned. He was now a human serving his earthly apprenticeship. He looked around him at his stark surroundings, taking in the painting that tried desperately to cheer up a wall filled with hoses and silver-colored fixtures.
Taking in the clear, fluid-filled bag that hung over his bed—not his chaise—that dripped liquid into a tube that disappeared under the blanket near his arm. Finally, his gaze fell on the goddess beside him. Could she be a mere human? If so, he wondered why he’d previously been so reluctant to complete this portion of his training.
She watched him expectantly, and he remembered she was waiting for his response.
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
She picked up a cream-colored box beside his pillow and pressed a button. The bed vibrated and moved upward until he was in a near sitting position. Then she took the cover off his tray of food.
“Mmm, vegetable soup. Why don’t you try to eat a little, even if you’re not hungry? It’ll help you get your strength back.”
Jared tried to lift his arm to pick up the spoon, but the appendage was much heavier than he’d anticipated. And when he put more energy into his effort, his arm jerked upward and flopped heavily against the tray, spattering orange soup on the white blanket.
“It’s okay,” said Adidas. “I’ll feed you.” She turned her chair until she faced him and dipped the spoon into the soup. After scraping the bottom of the spoon against the bowl, she lifted it to his mouth.
Jared wasn’t sure how to do this. He watched her as she opened her mouth slightly when the spoon approached his face. Copying her action, he parted his lips. Warm liquid and lumps of vegetables touched his tongue, and he found the sensation quite pleasing. Adidas withdrew the spoon, and the liquid dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin.
He sat open-mouthed as most of the soup made a drool path down to his neck.
“It’s okay. I’ll get it.” The auburn-haired woman dabbed at his chin and neck until it was once again dry. “Maybe this time we should use a bib.”
She tucked a paper napkin under his chin, and a terrifying thought occurred to Jared. It appeared Nahum had changed his mind and decided to make him serve his full apprenticeship after all, starting as a baby.
Judging from the equipment in the room and the sterile smell of it, he decided he must be in a hospital. Could it be that he was a newborn and this gorgeous woman was his mother? Mothers feed their babies, and she was certainly doing that. He couldn’t remember the birthing experience, but then he’d heard that all humans forgot the events accompanying their emergence into the world.
The worst part would be going through life desiring his own mother. There was no way he could stop the strange urge that compelled him to stare at the beauty of her face, listen to the soft melody of her voice, or notice the gentle curves of her earthly form. How could Nahum do this to him!
But wait. Didn’t babies drink from bottles? Or elsewhere? Jared immediately reined in his errant reflections. No, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t be having such thoughts.
In fact, if he were a baby, he wouldn’t have been able to converse with her.
She pushed another spoonful of soup into his mouth, and this time he closed his lips around it, keeping the savory nourishment inside as she withdrew the spoon. It sat on his tongue, and he wondered what to do with it.
This was quite different from on high. Up there, when they’d sipped wine or sampled grapes, it had been a symbolic procedure. The wine and grapes, having no dimension, had presented no problem, but this soup...
Reflex took over, and he swallowed. The chunks of vegetables lodged in his throat, bringing on a fit of coughing.
Adidas leaned forward and patted him on the back. Through a tear-filled haze, Jared was rewarded with a glimpse of the top of her garment. Thoroughly distracted now, he ceased coughing. Strange, but this unexpected sight created even more pleasure than his first taste of vegetable soup.
“For goodness’ sake, Gerald, you’ve got to chew your food before you swallow it.”
“Chew?”
“Yes. You know, mash it between your teeth.” She stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.
For some unexplained reason, Jared didn’t want her to be displeased with him. He wanted to see her smile, wanted her to lean close again so he could smell her sweet floral scent. And he wanted something else. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, but what he did know was that it somehow involved Adidas.
“Who is Gerald?” he asked.
She frowned at him a long moment before answering.
“You were involved in a car accident...on Judestown Road.” She waited a second as if she expected him to be familiar with this information. When he didn’t reply, she continued, her tone slow and careful, as if she was afraid of upsetting him.
“You came very close to leaving us.” Her gaze dropped to her lap, and when she looked up again, her eyes glistened with moisture. “Your name is Gerald Kirkland. The doctors said you might suffer a temporary memory loss. But don’t worry, it’ll come back soon, I’m sure.”
Then Jared recalled Nahum’s words. There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it. So he had been placed in Gerald Kirkland’s body. At first he felt a twinge of guilt for invading the man’s physical space. Then he remembered that the body would have died, had he not come into it.
He wondered if Adidas was the woman he was supposed to protect. And if so, how was he supposed to look out for her while confined to a hospital bed?
Jared lifted his right hand and was surprised to note how large it was. Dark hair covered the thick forearm. He reache
d for her, and she held his hand in her lap. Her skin was soft, even softer than a fenuki feather, and he relished the sensation of her fingers touching his.
“Tell me about your relationship with”—although he was inhabiting the man’s body, he couldn’t claim to be the former occupant—“Gerald.”
If she thought his question was odd, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seemed to be focusing on how best to word her reply. “We were...”
Hesitation. Wariness. There was something she obviously didn’t want to tell him. And she didn’t.
“We are friends. Just friends.”
“That’s it?”
“Your memory will come back gradually. Don’t push it too fast, Gerald.”
Jared squeezed her fingers. “Call me Jerry.”
She sat up straight in her chair and seemed to be trying to ignore the pressure of his fingers against hers. “You hate it when people call you that.”
“Not anymore.” With conviction, he added, “I’m not the man you used to know.”
Chapter Three
Kimber didn’t know what to do. Jerry, as he now insisted on being called, was driving her nuts. He was turning her home from a sanctuary into a zoo.
She should try to have more patience with him. But it had taken repeated corrections and finally a look at her driver’s license to convince him her name was Kimber, not Adidas. He had seemed surprised to learn that she was only twenty-eight...in human years, as he’d put it.
And patience ran thin after dealing with his endless questions about the mundane events and artifacts of everyday life. It was as if he were an alien from outer space and this was his first close-up look at life on Earth.
Kimber stirred sliced bananas into the pancake batter, then poured out four round globs onto the hot griddle. And look at her now. Here she was, second vice president of Barnett’s Bakery—a woman accustomed to delegating work and giving instructions to high-level employees—taking breakfast orders from her temporary tenant.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was taking a couple weeks off from work to care for him when she most needed to be at the office, Jerry seemed to take delight in finding new ways to make her crazy.
