Untried Heart

by Nicky Charles

He’d offered. She’d already refused. Going after her wasn’t a good idea. He’d been down that road with his ex. At first Sabrina had done everything she could to get his attention and then, once he was interested, she’d started blowing hot and cold and he’d ended up doing all the chasing. She’d been like that pretty unattainable bauble you’d try to win at a fair. He’d done everything he could to get her attention and convince her to marry him. When he’d finally won her over, it turned out she’d not been worth the effort.

  He glanced out the window one more time and then turned away. He’d not make the same mistake again. He wouldn’t push for a relationship with Eugenie. Not that she was anything like Sabrina. No, Eugenie seemed sweet and caring and helpful, the kind of woman he should have gone after the first time round, the kind his dad had said he should find. Too bad he hadn’t listened. It was too late now, though. No more relationships for him. He had nothing left to offer beyond a quick roll in the hay and that wasn’t good enough for a woman like Eugenie.

  He stared at the painting again and then cocked his head. The woman in the painting bore a striking resemblance to her. The hair was different of course but... No, it was a coincidence. The woman in the painting had been dead for almost a hundred years.

  His eyes trailed over the image and then he headed towards the back bedroom feeling inspired. In the corner, draped with a cloth was a carving he’d begun working on years ago. It was a bust, a head and shoulders carving of the woman in the painting but he’d never finished it. Every time he sat down to work on it, he’d end up staring at it not sure what to do next. It was good but it was inanimate; lacking a certain spark that would take it from good to amazing. Today was different though. Today, he just knew what needed to be done to bring the carving to life.

  Gathering his tools, he began to work.

  Michael looked up from his computer screen. Someone was tapping at his door but he had no meetings scheduled. He cast his mind over the various GAs and the assignments they were on. The only one that caused him concern was Zeke. The GA was on a case as well as helping Eugenie. Hopefully, the lad wasn’t over-extending himself. Zeke had come a long way in the past year; offering to mentor Eugenie spoke well of his character. Yes, the boy had a lot of potential…provided he didn’t get carried away and do something crazy beyond his skill level!

  He sighed and logged out of the file he’d been perusing and leaned back in his chair. Whoever was out there was still waiting. “Enter.”

  The door cracked open and Eugenie poked her head in. “I’m sorry to bother you again, sir, but do you have a minute?”

  Ah, Eugenie. He should have known. She was so excited about her assignment and seemed to need extra assurance. He really ought to have had her take those training courses rather than studying the rule book but at the time he hadn’t foreseen her going out on her own quite so soon. Her own actions had precipitated her current course though and now all he could do was give her guidance.

  “Come in. Have a seat.” He nodded towards the chair across from him and she slid into it. As always, her hands were neatly folded in her lap, her knees pressed together, her back straight. Would she ever lose that quaint properness? “What can I do for you?”

  “Sir, I just discovered that Ben, my client, has a picture of me!”

  Michael quirked a brow. “I fail to see the problem.”

  “It’s a portrait. His great grandfather painted me when I was alive, back in 1923. What if Ben recognizes me?”

  “A guardian angel has to be able to think on his, or her, feet.”

  “I know but—”

  He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I’m not going to solve this for you, Eugenie. Yes, it could become an issue, but you can handle it.”

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her brow, seeming deep in thought. “I suppose I could say it was an odd coincidence.”

  “You could.”

  “Or suggest I might be a distant relative of the person in the portrait. That would be plausible since he knows I’m from England.”

  “Excellent idea.” He smiled at her. “And if all else fails you could perform a mind wipe.”

  She paled and he struggled to keep a smile from his face. New guardian angels were required to take a crash course in emergency mind wipes in case they were ever detected. The instructor was a long-suffering elderly angel who was constantly looking for volunteers willing to have minor memories, such as the last movie they watched, erased from their minds. By time the lessons were complete, the volunteers often had a stunned look, having been subjected to multiple inept attempts at mind wipes. They seldom volunteered again but the young GAs left the course properly prepared for their job. Eugenie had passed the course…barely...and the idea of performing a real mind wipe on a human obviously didn’t sit well with her.

  She cleared her throat. “That sounds rather extreme. I know how to do targeted mind wipes but I’ve never performed a full one before. What if I remove too much of his memory? What if he forgets who I am?”

  “Eventually that will have to happen.” He watched her expression, noting the look of surprise followed by sadness. It would seem the girl was becoming attached to her client. Not unusual given the circumstances and an occupational hazard, especially for the young ones. “Eugenie, you know that’s how it works. Once an assignment is done, the client’s mind is wiped removing all traces of you from their memory and replacing it with a plausible explanation for any changes that have occurred.”

  She wet her lips. “I’d forgotten that part.”

  “Is this going to be a problem for you? Do you need to be removed from the assignment?”

  “No! Please sir. I don’t want to quit.” Her eyes widened in alarm and she leaned forward as she pressed her point. “This is my first job with interaction and I want to see it through.”

  “Very well. As long as you don’t make the mistake of trying to guard your heart at the expense of helping your client.”

  “I won’t, sir.” She nodded but he could see the worry she was trying to hide. Her heart was tender, untried. Had she really understood that the heart of a guardian angel often bled before an assignment was over? It was the price they had to pay if they wanted the satisfaction of a job well done.

  As she hurried from the office, Michael narrowed his eyes. The next few weeks should prove to be interesting; the young GA’s future rested in her own hands. He returned to the file he’d been reading on his computer but not before he wondered which path Eugenie would take.

  Ben arched his back. He’d been working for hours on the carving, adding subtle details to the curve of the mouth, the angle of the jaw. Turning it slowly, he gave it a critical look. It was good. Very good. And it bore an uncanny resemblance to Eugenie. Hadn’t she said she’d been raised in England? It would be an incredible coincidence if she was related to the woman in the portrait.

  He glanced at the time. It was late and he’d not finished the rocking chair. Damn. Well then, he’d have to get up extra early in the morning. The light in the barn wasn’t suitable for working at night. If he ever had the funds, he’d love to build a new barn and outfit it as a proper wood-working shop. Not that that was very likely. It would be years before he could pay off his debts and have any spare cash-flow.

  With a sigh, he tidied up his work area and then headed outside. He needed to make sure the old stove in the barn was off and the door was locked. There wasn’t much crime in the area but he didn’t want to chance having his tools stolen.

  As he passed through the kitchen he noticed the dirty dishes from lunch still on the table. Their surfaces were suspiciously clean and there was no left-over pizza on the tray. A glance toward the corner where Chip was resting had him narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

  “Did you help yourself to the pizza and then lick off the plates?

  Chip raised his head and then burped loudly.

  “You just incriminated yourself. You realize that, don’t you?”

&nbs
p; Chip thumped his tail and gave a low woof.

  “Well, at least you’re honest. I can’t abide people who keep secrets.”

  Making a mental note to wash the plates with extra hot water, he headed out to close up the shop for the night.

  Chapter 9

  Eugenie stood by the window, her chin in her palm, her elbows on the window ledge as she watched the snow coming down. A short while ago the flakes had been sporadic, twirling and dancing to some silent melody before lightly landing on the ground to join their kin. The wind had since picked up and a thick blanket of snow now covered the yard around Ben’s workshop. When she’d arrived this morning, the sky had been grey, a distinctive nip in the air in contrast to the warmer temperatures of the previous few days.

  “It’s going to snow today,” Ben had announced when she’d commented about the change.

  “That’s wonderful.” The news had had her grinning while Ben had laughed shaking his head.

  “I remember my mother loved the snow. She used to tell me the angels were having a pillow fight and that was where the snowflakes come from.”

  “Angels don’t...” She’d caught herself and coughed. “I’m mean that’s a cute story.”

  “Yeah.” His eyes had grown distant as if caught up in a memory and then he gave a shrug. “I’d better get back to work. I’m behind schedule on this chair.”

  She’d nodded and made her way back to her own work area.

  That had been several hours ago. Now drifts were forming across the driveway, the snow falling thick and fast, the whirl of white mesmerizing. When a pair of warm hands cupped her shoulders, she gave a start of surprise.

  “It’s really coming down out there.” Ben’s voice sounded near her ear and she looked up to see him frowning at the weather. “I was so busy working I wasn’t watching the weather. I’d better get you home before the roads are impassable.”

  “Okay.”

  “Head up to the house with Chip. I’m going to shut things down out here and then see how deep the snow is in the driveway.”

  Eugenie heeded his instructions and followed Chip who was plowing a pathway through the drifts, barking in excitement. She stumbled a few times, once completely losing her footing and landing in the snow on her back staring up at the sky. Chip ambled over to check on her, nudging her with his wet nose. Laughing, she pushed him away before clambering to her feet.

  By the time she was in the house, both she and the dog were covered in snow. She brushed as much off as she could, stomping her feet as she entered the house. Beside her, Chip shook himself free of snow, the water droplets flying from his fur spattering the walls as well as her.

  “Thank you, Chip. As if I wasn’t wet enough already.” She wiped her face and he gave one more shake before making his way to his bed in the corner.

  Eugenie took off her jacket and then plucked at her now wet pants. The wardrobe Zeke had helped her pick out wasn’t made for this kind of weather. Her coat was too light, her boots too low and she hadn’t thought of a hat or gloves. She pushed her wet hair from her face and wiggled her toes. Her socks were soaked and her feet felt like ice cubes. Zeke had explained, when she’d complained of the cold, that although at the moment she suffered from extremes of temperature, as she matured as a GA she would become immune to changes in the weather. But for the time being she had to be careful, because she could cause herself to become weak and disoriented if she succumbed to hypothermia or severe heat stress. In dire cases, he’d heard of new GAs actually fading away to nothing! She certainly didn’t want that to happen; Ben needed her!

  A hot cup of tea would help, so she put the kettle on, then peered out the window to watch Ben. He’d made it to the road and retrieved his mail and was now making his way back to the house. The snow seemed to be getting deeper by the minute, at times the wind whipping the flakes by so quickly she could barely see him.

  “Sorry, Eugenie, but there’s no way we can chance driving in this.” Ben made the announcement as he entered the house, pushing against the wind to shut the door. “It’s turning into a regular blizzard out there.”

  “You mean we’re snowed in?” She glanced outside again.

  “Yep. We’d be risking our lives trying to drive in this.”

  “Oh.” The implications of being snowed in with Ben began to make themselves clear and she was almost ashamed to admit it sent a thrill through her.

  The kettle began to whistle, so she bustled about adding water to the teapot and finding cups while Ben hung up his coat. The shot glass was back in the cupboard and she smiled at the knowledge Ben hadn’t been imbibing. She had nothing against the occasional drink of alcohol as long as it wasn’t used as an escape from one’s problems.

  “Here you go.” She placed a steaming mug on the table.

  “Thanks.” He sat down, wrapping his hands around the vessel as if trying to absorb the warmth.

  “I thought it would help ward off the chill.”

  They sat quietly, savouring the brew until practicalities had to be dealt with. Together they prepared a hot meal, working companionably within the confines of the small kitchen. Conversation centred around cooking and eating for most of the meal until an uneasy silence settled on the kitchen. Ben was studying her, frowning and then looking away. What was he thinking?

  Her own thoughts, she knew, were in a turmoil. Thoughts of kisses and paintings swirled around in her mind mixing up with Ben’s financial woes and her own inexperience of how to help him without exposing her Heavenly purpose. Suddenly, her mental meanderings were halted by Ben clearing his throat.

  “I worked on a sculpture last night after you left.”

  “A sculpture? In wood?” She blinked not having expected him to mention his artwork.

  “Yes. Remember that painting I showed you before you had to leave for an appointment?”

  Eugenie lowered her eyes to hide her nervousness about him connecting the picture with her and nodded.

  “It’s always fascinated me. The family legend behind it. The girl’s smile, the look in her eyes. Years ago, I even started to try to carve the girl’s likeness. Given that I didn’t have a three-dimensional model it was tricky; a lot had to come from my imagination.”

  “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult.” Under the table, she clenched her hands not at all sure where this was going.

  “When it was done, I wasn’t happy with it. Something was missing but I never knew what. It was too...” He waved his hands as if searching for words. “Flat. The emotion in the painting was missing from the carving.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “But yesterday, after you left, I felt inspired and began working on it again. I’d like you to take a look and give me your opinion.”

  She swallowed hard and forced an interested look onto her face. “I don’t know if my opinion would be worth anything, but if it’s anywhere near as good as your animal carvings, I’d like to see it.”

  Following Ben to the room where he worked on his hobby, she kept thinking of how to nonchalantly explain the resemblance, if his sculpture was, indeed, a good likeness to the painting. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious. After all, turning a painting into a sculpture was difficult; Ben had admitted as much.

  But when he pulled the cloth covering off the piece, she gasped. It was her. She felt as if she was looking in a mirror. Yes, the reflection was made of wood, but it was so lifelike and...beautiful. Tears welled in her eyes and she had to give a small cough to clear her throat of the lump that seemed to have taken up residence.

  “Ben, it’s…it’s amazing.”

  “Do you see it, Eugenie? It’s you. Last night, when I finished, I thought perhaps I was imagining it but seeing you here standing beside it, there can be no mistake.”

  This was exactly what she’d been dreading. She wet her lips, preparing to explain but Ben continued talking.

  “I was trying to figure out how this could be, but then I remembered you said you were originally from England. Could the woman in the
painting be a relative?”

  “Yes, that makes sense.” She grasped onto his explanation like a lifeline. “Maybe a distant aunt or grandparent from generations back. Life is full of curious coincidences, isn’t it?”

  Ben nodded, turning the carving and glancing between it and her. “Yes, and I’m really glad this one happened or this sculpture would never have been completed. I can’t believe I didn’t see the resemblance earlier.”

  “People see what they want or expect to see.”

  “True.” He stroked one finger along the cheek of the sculpture. “I must admit to being pleased with how well this turned out. You really inspired me.”

  She nodded. It was good and that gave her an idea. “Have you thought of trying to get an art gallery or dealer interested in your work? You might be able to sell this and your other carvings for a nice amount.”

  “Nah, my stuff isn’t good enough. Well, maybe this is.” He gestured at the carving. “But I don’t think I’d ever want to sell it. It’s sort of personal.” He gave an awkward shrug. “As for the rest, they’re just toys.”

  “But the figurines – the animals and birds – they’re beautiful, so lifelike.” She picked one up and turned it over in her hand, once again noting the attention to detail. “I almost expect it to start to move.”

  “It’s all in the placement of limbs and the angle of the head.” He reached out and touched the piece. “And here, the curve of the tail and the feathers.”

  His fingers brushed hers and she froze as tingles of awareness shot through her. He was so close, it muddled her thinking. Did he feel it too? She glanced up and found him looking at her, faint frown lines showing between his brows. Their gazes locked for one beat, then another and then, as one they both looked away.

  Ben cleared his throat.

  She blinked and forced herself to concentrate. This was a job, she was here to help Ben get his life straightened out. She looked down at the carving again.

  “Well it’s lovely and worthy of recognition.”