Some Kind of Angel

by Larson, Shirley

  As the days went on and became months, Michael realized he had made another mistake. He no longer belonged in heaven. All he did was watch Leslie, watch her bravely deal with estate sales that kept the merchandise coming in to the store, deal with breast feeding the baby when there was a customer who wanted her and her alone, deal with her loneliness in the evening when the store closed. He longed to feel her in his arms, smell the scent of her hair, hear her laugh. He wanted to hold the baby, smell his clean baby smell.

  Gabriel came to him in his chambers. “You missed choir practice again.”

  “I know.”

  “You were supposed to help me tune the harps.”

  “I know.”

  “You have a decision to make.”

  “I know.”

  Gabriel didn’t chastise him. He merely gazed at him with a sad expression on his face. “I knew this would happen. You’ve fallen in love with her.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re moping, Michael. We have no use for moping angels in heaven. And don’t say I know.”

  “Well, I do know.”

  “Make your decision, Michael. You either have to stay here and stop watching Leslie, or…you have to go back. Going back means you will lose your immortality.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s a big decision. Think long and hard before you make your decision, Michael.”

  “Yes, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel stood gazing at Michael, knowing there was only one decision he would make.

  “You’ve been a good angel, Michael. You were a good human. Whatever you do, you’ll be fine.”

  “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  Gabriel returned to the temple and, when they looked at him with expectant faces he said, “Do not look for Michael to come today. He has to do some thinking.”

  There were groans in the choir. The heavenly choir director was indignant. “Michael is the only one who sings the high tenor part well.”

  “I’m sure Jonathon can sing it quite nicely if you work with him.”

  New York streets were as noisy as ever. The honking horns and sounds of accelerating car engines resounded in Michael’s ears, but this time, the noise was familiar and welcome. It was October in the city and he wore a white shirt and a pair of jeans Gabriel had dredged up from the charity bin. At least this time Michael knew enough to reject the velvet suit that was Gabriel’s first choice. The breeze lifted his hair, tossed a dark strand close to his cheek. The temperature was a comfortable eighty degrees with skies that were blue and clear.

  He didn’t want to startle her. He decided it might be best if he stood outside the store and he met her exactly as he had the first time.

  He stood there for quite a while before she noticed him and came out of the store, the baby in her arms. “You seem quite taken with my window display, sir. Was there something in particular you were interested in?”

  How familiar this man seemed. And how lovely he was. Tall, with dark hair combed back from his forehead, a face that would have made Michelangelo stop and stare. I’ve never seen a man as handsome as this one. Wait. Yes, I have. How strange. I’m having a severe case of deja vu.

  I had this urge to ask him if he’d like a cup of coffee and invite him to come to the back of the store into my private area. I really shouldn’t. It wasn’t wise.

  “I wondered if you know of a coffee shop in the area. I haven’t had breakfast and…” It was shameless of him, Michael knew, but she looked so lovely in her flowered spring dress that buttoned down the front, her hair as glossy and black as ever, her eyes darkly interested in him, that he had to give her every opportunity to invite him in.

  As always, Leslie’s kind heart prevailed. “I have a coffee maker in the back of the store. I’d be glad to make you a cup. It’s free,” she said, flashing that beautifully enticing smile.

  A man would have to be made of stone not to love that smile. Michael was not made of stone. He was flesh and blood…make that an accent on the flesh. “Free is good,” Michael said.

  “How do you take your coffee?” she asked as she led him back through the well-organized display of a vintage Heywood cedar chest, a Henkel Harris Queen Anne style dining room table and matching serving cart, a primitive carriage wheel, and a rare 1883 dome top steamer trunk.

  “Black. I don’t like to dilute the caffeine.”

  “That’s what my…” Leslie shook her head. “Are you new to the city?” she asked, when he settled in a chair and she placed the mug in front of him, the one he used to drink from.

  “This is my second visit.” He lifted the cup and sipped.

  Leslie stared at him. “I’m sorry if I’m overly curious about you but you seem so familiar to me.”

  “They say everybody has a double somewhere.”

  “I doubt if there’s another man in the world who looks like you.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I believe you’re fishing for a compliment, Mister…” Leslie tilted her head, waiting. When he seemed not to understand and took another sip of his coffee, she said, “This is where you’re supposed to tell me your name.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot. “My name is Michael. Michael O’Malley.”

  She sat very still, as if she’d received a shock. “Michael O’Malley,” she echoed. “That’s my last name. Do you think we’re related?”

  “I doubt it. I am from Ireland.” He smiled at me, nearly taking my breath away. I felt my mouth moisten and now I knew what Marian meant when she declared she slathered over a good looking man.

  How odd. It felt as if I’d had that thought before. It was even odder that I wanted to tell him I had a watch with his name on it sitting on my dresser upstairs. It must have belonged to him originally. I should give it to him. But maybe I should find out a little bit more about him first. I told myself I needed to be on guard after what happened with Adam, but this man was so drop dead handsome it was hard to be suspicious of him. And he seemed really nice.

  “Now that you’ve returned to New York for your second visit, what do you plan to do, Mr. O’Malley? Do you have a lot of sightseeing in mind?”

  “Before I do anything else, I need to look for a job.”

  He wasn’t looking at me. He sat toying with his spoon as if he expected nothing from me. I had a sudden vision of this man working on the shop floor and how any female potential buyer would just stand and look at him. Sales would soar.

  “Do you know anything about antiques, Michael?”

  “I know I walked past an old 1920’s buffet that is often called a “dog” in the trade because there are so many of them around they are practically worthless. I know you recently garnered an old house stuffed with valuable antiques because I see them in the back, not yet marked for sale. I see that you’re considering putting out a catalog but it is difficult spending the time on it because you have a baby to nurse.” He nodded at the bassinette where Ethan slept beside me.

  “You see a lot of things, sir.”

  “I hope I haven’t offended you.” Those beautiful blue eyes raised to gaze at me.

  “No, no. I just meant you’re very observant. May I refill your cup?”

  “Yes, please.”

  In the quiet, an antique grandfather clock, one that he’d fixed, ticked relentlessly away. This was his life now, measured in seconds and minutes. He needed to make the most of every one of them. It was now or never. “Well, I thank you for the coffee, Mrs.?”

  “It’s O’Malley, the same as yours, remember?”

  “Oh, yes. For a moment, I forgot.” He rose, thinking that he had failed and she was going to let him walk out of the shop without asking him to…

  “Mr. O’Malley. Would you like to work here in the antique shop for me? I can’t pay you very much. But there is a cot in the back. You could sleep there and use my shower upstairs when you needed to until you found an apartment you could afford.”

  “That’s a very generous offer, Mrs. O’Malley.”

&n
bsp; “Oh, call me Leslie, please. Shall we say two hundred dollars a week to start?” I couldn’t afford that right now, but perhaps the added income he brought in, sales might make up his salary. That was being very positive. But he could also watch the store while I was feeding Ethan and tending to his needs. That would be a definite plus. “I have a business suit which I think would fit you.”

  It all felt so eerily familiar to me, seeing Mr. O’Malley stand there in front of the mirror wearing that second hand Armani suit that fit him like it was tailor made for him, and a white business shirt with the neck unbuttoned, giving him that just right I’m-all-business-but-I’m-sexy-as-hell look. He’d probably even sell that “dog” of a buffet he referred to.

  Baby Ethan chose that moment to wake up. He was good for a few minutes, but when his tummy started to rumble, he began to cry.

  “Go ahead on up and feed him,” Michael told her. “I’ll watch the store.”

  “Oh, sheer heaven,” I cried, and I gathered the baby into my arms to climb the stairs. I had Herman watch the store while I fed the baby before, but I’d always been afraid a con man might steal him blind. With this much more astute man downstairs, I could sit in the white rocker, put Ethan to my breast and relax. At six months old, he liked to take his time nursing. I rocked and hummed…and then it occurred to me I should be thinking about something for supper. My choices were limited. I was frugal when I went to the grocery store. As a result, all I had to offer Mr. O’Malley was macaroni and cheese out of a box, or three kinds of soup. Michael might be used to more exotic fare, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  After Michael assured me he would be happy with any of those choices, we sat down to a simple meal of tomato soup that I augmented with a green salad and a loaf of crusty bread. In the awkward silence that followed the end of the meal, I said, “I don’t have any way to wash dishes down here. I have to carry them upstairs.”

  “Would you like me to help you?”

  “No. No.” I didn’t know why I didn’t want him to come upstairs and see my private living quarters, I just knew I didn’t. But I’d have to leave the baby downstairs with him.

  As if he read my thoughts, he said, “He’ll be perfectly safe.”

  I didn’t know why I believed him, but I did. “Thank you.” I loaded the tray that I kept downstairs for this purpose and carried it up the stairs. Once I was up there, I decided to do the dishes and let them air dry in the dish drainer. There was something about the dish drainer that made me think of the man downstairs. No, that was ridiculous.

  When I finished with the dishes, there was nothing left for me to do but return down stairs.

  I reached the bottom of the stairs and saw that Mr. O’Malley, Michael, had picked Ethan up and was bouncing him on his knee to the tune of ride a horsey. Ethan was grinning from ear to ear. The minute the song stopped and Michael’s knees went still, Ethan bounced up and down in his baby way, showing the man he wanted another song and a ride. Michael obliged. I stood there and watched for a bit, enthralled with the picture of my son interacting with Michael.

  At last, I said, “It’s time for Ethan to go to bed.” I went to Michael and as I reached down to pick up the baby, my knees bumped Michael’s. It was like getting an electric shock. No. I would not get involved with this man. I was off men for the rest of my life. I snatched Ethan up into my arms and went to the stairwell. “Thank you for watching Ethan. I appreciate it.” I climbed the stairs, knowing it would be a long evening down there for him alone, but I couldn’t help that.

  I stripped Ethan out of his onesie and bathed him in the sink. His legs would soon be too long for me to do this. He was growing so fast. Even though he was still a baby, with his dark hair and handsome face, he had the look of Adam. It made me sad to think that Ethan would never see his father.

  I fed Ethan and put him in his bassinette. He was a good sleeper, and I thanked my lucky stars for that. I’ll watch television, viewing only my musical shows, no violence for Ethan’s little ears, and then I’ll go to bed.

  The dream came but this time it was more vivid than ever. Michael was in my room, in my bed, taking me in his arms. The Michael in my dream became the man downstairs. Oh, this dream would drive me mad. I would go downstairs and I would see the man sleeping on his cot and then I would know that he was just a man who had nothing to do with me.

  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 w
rong.”

  “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.”

  Epilogue

  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.”