Earthbound Bones

by ReGina Welling

  “Galmadriel.”

  Before she could stop herself, Pam asked, “Your parents lose a bet with the naming fairies?”

  Where does she think I’m from? Galmadriel thought indignantly, Neverland? “There are no fairies in…” It took a moment for the sarcasm to register, “Funny.”

  “You got a nickname? Something a little less…” Pam flapped a hand and Galmadriel thought she was trying hard not to say the word ‘weird’.

  Nickname? It took a few seconds for Galmadriel’s mind to supply the concept before racing through several possibilities. Gallie...Gaddie? Ugh, no. Madriel. Worse. Addie…Maddie? No. No. No.

  “Adriel. You can call me Adriel.” If she was going to be stuck with a new human life, she might as well have a new name to go along with it. Yes, Adriel would do nicely, and she made a mental note to think of herself that way from now on.

  Years behind a counter selling pastries had turned Pam into a shrewd judge of character. One who knew Adriel had chosen her new name right on the spot. For her part, Adriel did her best to look like someone intrinsically honest and capable who was reeling from some recent calamity. Because that is exactly who she was. You know—minus the huge secret about her past. Oh, and the possibility of following in the footsteps of other fallen angels and turning evil.

  “So which is it? Man, family, or the law?”

  “Pardon?” Adriel wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

  Pam sighed “I can see you’re in trouble, probably on the run, and if I take you on, I need to know what kind of trouble and how long before it comes knocking on my door.”

  “I am quite alone in this world and have broken no laws here. You will not have any trouble from me.” Her words were nothing more than the truth. Adriel met Pam’s questioning gaze with a level look, then waited for judgment. As close as she tried to keep her emotions, Pam’s face betrayed them. She wanted to believe—Adriel could see that—but there was still a hint of skepticism.

  Pam took her time answering.

  “Fine, I’ll give you a shot. I just need you to fill out some employment forms.”

  Employment forms. Adriel rummaged around in her memory for the meaning. When she found it, her stomach dropped. “Employment forms?” She repeated in order to buy some time to figure out how she would deal with her lack of verifiable identity. Nothing came to mind as Hamlin skillfully maneuvered the converted delivery van down a narrow alley running behind a series of connected buildings. He parked the truck, shot Adriel an encouraging look over his shoulder, and disappeared through a gray door.

  “Come inside,” Threading her way past wheeled racks, Pam detoured into her cluttered office to retrieve a thin folder from a full to bulging file cabinet. Calling out a greeting to someone named Wiletta, Pam gestured for Ariel to take a seat at a tile-topped bistro table positioned near the pastry case.

  The first thing that hit Adriel was the sweet aromas of sugar and yeast. Her gut churned out a response. Whatever went with that intoxicating scent, she wanted to wrap herself up in it and wallow.

  Pam slapped the folder down on the mottled-blue Formica and took a seat. “I’ll need to ask you a few questions about….” Then she noticed Adriel, arms folded across her middle to ease the aching emptiness, eying the case with a lascivious stare.

  “Have you eaten today?” Pam’s curiosity increased by the minute.

  “No,” Adriel admitted while the gnawing feeling grew more intense, and a strange growling noise erupted from her belly. She looked down in consternation before turning her flaming face away from Pam’s amused stare.

  Bustling back behind the counter, Pam pulled a loaf of crusty bread from some hidden area, cut a generous slice, and slathered it with butter. A handful of grapes and some slices of cheese joined the plated bread on a small tray, which she carried back to the table after adding two coffee mugs and a pot of decaf.

  Pushing the plate across, she poured two cups from the steaming pot. Though it was not the first time Adriel had smelled the enticing aroma of brewed coffee, it was the first time she had ever connected the sense of scent to hunger—or to a desire to gulp down copious amounts of the dark brew.

  She hesitated even though the food called to her like a siren to a sailor.

  “My pockets are empty.”

  Pam merely pointed to the plate and barked out a command, “Eat.” Fierce of face, she expected compliance.

  After the first tentative bite, Adriel closed her eyes to better savor her initial experience with the sense of taste. This was simple fare and yet, the lightly salted butter melted on her tongue to perfectly compliment the textures of the aromatic bread—chewy, crisp crust around a pillowy, moist interior. Next, she sampled a bit of the cheese and found it pungent with complex layers of sharpness. When the first grape burst sweetly between her teeth, she nearly cried from the basic pleasure of eating the tart fruit. Her concentration narrowed to this single act, and she quickly demolished the contents of the plate.

  “Feel better?” Pam asked with a raised eyebrow and an indulgent twinkle in her eye, after watching her prospective new employee mop up the last remaining bread crumbs with a fingertip and pop them into her mouth.

  “Yes, thank you.” The words seemed inadequate. Food was one aspect of being human Adriel could grow to like.

  Sliding the plate out of the way, Pam opened the folder to pull out a sheaf of papers. She flipped them over and slid them across the table, along with a pen pulled from an apron pocket, before excusing herself to help Hamlin finish restocking the mobile bakery.

  Though she busied herself for the next ten minutes, Pam’s gaze weighed heavy on Adriel every time she passed by. She kept one eye on the folder while simultaneously appraising a tray of maple glazed donuts studded with bits of bacon Wiletta slid into a spotlessly polished glass case.

  A good ten minutes passed before Adriel pulled the folder open to leaf through its contents, reading each sheet of paper carefully before returning it to the pile. Finding gainful employment was going to be a lot harder than she thought.

  “Something wrong?” Pam ignored Hamlin, who was making exaggerated gestures toward his watch in an attempt to hurry things along.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Adriel flipped the folder closed with a final pat.

  “It’s a standard W-2 and an employment history. What parts are giving you trouble?”

  “All of it. I can’t give you my former address, or any of the forms of identification on the list, and my employment history only includes a very long but unpaid position.”

  “So you are in trouble.”

  “Not exactly.” A dull throb pulsed painfully in Adriel’s temple. What could she say that would sound plausible? She didn’t want to prevaricate but who would believe the entire truth? Saying “I am an angel who fell out of heaven and I forgot to bring my wallet” was more likely to land her in trouble than get her a job. Not least because she had never owned a wallet in the first place.

  “This is my first day as a…here.” Could I sound more stupid? Adriel wondered. She stood to leave, “I’ve been turned out from my home, and now I am adrift in the world with nothing but the clothes on my back. Your sign said you need help, and I can help, but not if I have to fill out the forms or answer questions about my past. Tell me what I can do to repay you for the food before I leave.” The words came out of her in a rush. It was the best she had to offer and it was a total failure. She was a total failure.

  For a moment there was silence as Pam flashed her best pointed stare, presumably to search for evidence of a lie. Chin up with just a hint of pride, Adriel stood firm under the scrutiny. Her words were the simple truth, or as much of it as she felt safe to provide. She turned toward the door.

  “No, stay. I’m not sending you out to live in the street.” Not when you clearly wouldn’t last a day. That last bit Pam kept to herself, but no special powers were needed to read between those lines. “I have an idea if you’re willing to work for room and board.�
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  “Thank you.” Grateful tears stung Adriel’s eyes for a second before she blinked them back. “Room and board? What kind of board? Like oak or cherry?”

  Pam rolled her eyes. “Look, I own a small cabin about half a mile from here. It needs work and a good cleaning, but you can stay there rent free in return for a bit of DIY.”

  “DIY?”

  “Do It Yourself—fixing up the place. It’s not much but it has the basic amenities and the roof doesn’t leak, so you’ll be warm and dry.”

  “Is that where the board comes in? You want me to use it to fix up the cabin?” Okay, so a millennium around humans had not provided Adriel with every concept.

  Pam grinned, “Room and board means I’ll supply your meals in return for the work on the cabin—where you will stay.” She tilted her head, “You’ll need a little spending money, too. If you can work a cash register and handle a tray, you can take the lunch crowd a couple days a week—as long as you don’t mind working for tips. We serve soup and sandwiches from 11 am to 2 pm every day. You can fill in on the days we do an afternoon run in the truck.”

  “Tips?”

  “When you provide good service, people pay extra money like a reward. Where did you say you came from again?”

  This topic needed to be put to rest. “Somewhere far away from here where it seems I am no longer welcome.” Pam reached across the table to give Adriel’s hand a pat. Sympathy flowed through the touch of her skin, “You’ll tell me about it when you’re ready, but for now, I don’t need to know.”

  With the decision made, Pam pushed away from the table and got back to business.

  “Hamlin, go on ahead with the truck. I’ll get Adriel settled and meet you in Saint’s Square.” She hustled Adriel out the door and into a Jeep parked a few spaces away..

  The moment the door shut behind her passenger, Pam stabbed the gas. The Jeep shot down the street like a rocket. A little over half a mile later, she tromped on the brake with equal force and whipped into a short, rutted driveway where Adriel got the first glimpse of her new home. Cabin had been a kind word for the building. Shack would have been more appropriate. Honestly, hovel wasn’t far off the mark.

  What little paint had once coated the weathered exterior had deteriorated to no more than peeled shavings still in the process of being whisked from the surface by the wind. A pair of non-matching windows flanked the door, one painted red and the other blue. Still, the roof line was straight, and the porch floor felt solid and true.

  Turning the key in the lock, Pam shot a sympathetic look over her shoulder and cautioned, “The last person to live here was a pack rat. Just be warned.” The door swung open. With trepidation Adriel followed her new landlord inside.

  Talking quickly now, Pam pointed out the few positive features of the tiny cabin. “The range and refrigerator are newish, and there’s one of those stackable washer/dryer combos in the bathroom. There are clean sheets and blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed.”

  “Bed?”

  “Through that door.” Pam gestured toward the opposite end of the cabin, but all there was to see was box after box piled to the ceiling, leaving only a maze-like path between them.

  “Door?” Adriel repeated blankly.

  “It’s there behind the wall of boxes. A little cleaning could make this into a cute place.“

  “A little cleaning?” Adriel felt like a parrot stuck on repeat. Pam deserved a prize for understatement of the year—maybe for the century. “What do the boxes contain?”

  “Probably a bunch of junk. My uncle lived here until…early onset dementia set in a few years ago; I had to put him into a nursing home this spring and since he had no kids of his own, all of this,” she waved a hand expansively, “turned into my problem. There’s been no time to even think about sorting it all out.”

  “Sisyphus would have chosen his rock compared to this task,” Adriel muttered.

  “Who?” Pam’s brow wrinkled. “Did everyone have a weird name where you come from? I’ll bet you grew up in a commune. That would explain a lot.”

  “Sisyphus? Mythological figure sentenced to push a large boulder up the same hill every day for eternity, and no, I did not grow up.” Catching the raised eyebrow Pam shot her, Adriel quickly added, “in a commune.”

  Pam threaded her way through the piles of detritus to the one space in the cabin that was relatively clear: the kitchenette. Mismatched lower cabinets sprawled from the refrigerator in one corner to the stove in the other, with the sink halfway between. The upper cabinets were all the same except for the handles. Adriel watched impassively while Pam reached down behind the small range and presumably switched on the gas. Once each burner had been tested, she moved on to plug in the fridge.

  “Let me just get the water turned on and fire up the water heater.” She grabbed a couple of tools from a drawer near the sink, then bit her lip as she looked around critically. “I’ll stop by Bud’s Shop Rite on my way home and pick up a few essential items. This mess is worse than I remembered. Sorting through the boxes alone will be enough to earn you a year’s worth of rent. I’ll stock up the fridge.” She pulled open a few cabinets to see of there might be any usable foodstuffs left in them.

  Her eyes met Adriel’s, chagrin on her face when she found nothing more than a dozen cans of something called SPAM. “And the cabinets. And some cleaning supplies. And I’ll have the phone line reconnected.” Twisting her body to reach under the sink, Pam did whatever it was she needed to do. Adriel couldn’t tell, other than that it involved some banging and a fair amount of cussing.

  Satisfied, finally, Pam brushed a bit of dust from her hair and turned on the tap. Whooshing noises preceded sporadic gushes of water before the flow settled into a solid stream. Adriel watched Pam duck behind a stand of boxes. From what Adriel assumed was the bathroom came a series of similar noises followed by a faint, “All set.”

  “I’ll be back later,” Pam called over her shoulder as she breezed out the door leaving Adriel to look around her new home. As an angel, being thankful was eternally ingrained into her the very molecules of her being; however, today she was no longer an angel, and neither was she thankful. Disgusted, annoyed, and abandoned were closer to the description.

  All she wanted was to go to the one place where it seemed she was no longer welcome: home.

  ***

  In the silence that fell after Pam closed the door behind her, Adriel felt more alone than ever before. Despair settled deep in her chest, stole her breath in a suffocating blanket of sadness. A ringing noise sounded in her ears that had nothing to do with bells or phones. Stumbling to the table, she sat and dropped her head onto folded arms while the stinging in her eyes turned to a flood of burning tears. Being cut off from everything she had ever known—her work, her identity as an angel—and landed here, amid a shallow layer of dust and some poor soul’s castoffs felt like more punishment than she deserved. What was she supposed to do now?

  Sinking lower into self-pity, the blackness descended until she cursed herself for the stupid choices that had led her to this place; to this time; to this body. This treacherous body with its hunger and pain and tears; she hated it more than she hated pure evil. And she still had to pee.

  Too busy wallowing in misery, she missed the rustling sound of the pet door when it opened, the padding of tiny feet as the cat approached. When a tentative paw batted at her hair, Adriel shot out of the chair with her heart hammering in a chest that, before today, had never known the base nature of fear. Today, it had known little else.

  Gifted with the ability to become corporeal when necessary, while an angel, her body had always been a thing made of energy, not mass. She was unaccustomed to the way emotions affected the physical.

  “Was that really necessary? You scared me,” she wagged a finger at the black cat, who merely regarded her with an unblinking green stare. If he could have, he probably would have smirked at her. Calmer now, she decided a little company might make life here more
bearable. A loud yawl split the air.

  “Howling at me is not polite.”

  As though he understood the words, the cat gracefully turned to spill languidly to the floor. A short span of living in the wild must have honed his hunting skills, since he appeared stout and healthy, but based on his actions, he preferred a dinner he didn’t have to chase down and kill. To emphasize his point, he sat back on well-toned haunches and loosed a second plaintive yawl before stalking purposefully toward one particular low cabinet. A delicate paw reached out to brush against the white enamel, nails making a noise that set Adriel’s teeth on edge. She would have done anything to stop the cringe-worthy feeling of her skin crawling, so she opened the cabinet to find an unopened bag of kibble and several small round cans stacked alongside.

  Seeing the human had finally gotten the hint, the feline pranced his way across the floor toward a pair of bowls. One was labeled food, the other, water. Well, that was clear enough. Adriel shook bits of kibble from the bag and filled the water dish.

  Another disdainful look from the cat had her choosing one of the cans and taking a closer look to see how it opened. A firm pull on the ring did the trick. The strong smell of tuna filling the air made her nose wrinkle.

  She dumped half the can’s smelly contents on top of the kibble—which wasn’t easy with the cat trying to shove his head into the bowl the entire time—then stepped back to watch him eat with gusto. The sound of contented purring went a long way toward soothing Adriel’s rough-edged nerves, and brought the ghost of a smile to her face.

  As soon as he finished bolting his meal, the cat issued a small belch and leapt back to the table, then up onto the nearest pile of boxes He circled twice, sprawled on his back, and, still purring quietly, fell promptly asleep.

  Cheered a little by the cat’s presence, curiosity and urgent need sent Adriel wandering through the maze of boxes. Despite the sheer volume of things crammed into the tiny cabin, Pam’s uncle had been somewhat tidy in his personal habits. Under a fine layer of dust that had accumulated in his absence, the bathroom fixtures were surprisingly clean. This room had stayed relatively uncluttered—probably because there hadn’t been room for more than his personal toiletries. Those, thankfully, had gone along with him to his new home, leaving the shelves empty of everything except a stack of linens. The topmost facecloth Adriel sacrificed to rag status, and used it to wipe away every tiny mote of dust.