Michael's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  Michael returned a rare frown. “Our intentions were similar. You’ve often said that you wanted your life back. This was an opportunity. I wanted you to know how well you’re doing, to prove that you’re moving in the right direction. But things escalated very quickly when your fears took over.”

  “So it’s my fault that I’m a little concerned after a century of knowing the sun could kill me?” Arel turned to Abrigail. “And you were laughing at me!”

  Abrigail stepped back. “You looked so adorable with the helmet and those sunglasses. I’m sorry.”

  Michael put a hand on the bed and offered one of his most winning smiles. “On the bright side, or should I say the sunny side of things, you’re now free to enjoy my garden anytime you wish.”

  “Did you say sunny side?” Arel glared back. “I have an announcement, Michael. You may be the Creator’s right hand man, you may be wise and caring, but as far as humor goes, you better go back to being serious.”

  Michael retrieved his hand. “Right. I’m glad you said that. There are more important things to attend to than visiting my garden. It’s time for you to get dressed for your hospital visit.”

  Thirty

  AREL HAD SEEN hospitals on TV. That was one type of experience, sort of like seeing a war zone on the news. But to be placed in the middle of a battle, or in his case, a hospital, was appalling. As he walked down the wide, cavernous hallways, his first reaction was to gag.

  His scented handkerchief offered a small comfort. He held it close to his nose, trying to avoid breathing in the disinfectants and other strange, medicinal odors. Still, he couldn’t escape the large, florescent lit corridors. His eyes flitted over the sterile space, looking for a bit of softness or beauty. He was rewarded with pasty green walls and a slumped over wheelchair patient hooked up to an IV.

  “Couldn’t I have just called Peggy?” he whispered to Michael. The angel was walking slightly behind him.

  Before Michael could answer, a small group of people suddenly came out of a room they were passing. Arel nearly collided with a middle-aged lady and jumped aside. “Sorry,” he said as he backed away. The woman was dabbing at her eyes when their gaze connected. The woman’s eyes offered him a deep down bleakness he’d known on the dreariest, grey days of winter. It seemed to be connected to someone she loved. As she moved on, he glanced in the room she’d just exited. A man lay in the bed surrounded by medical equipment. He was deathly pale and unmoving.

  “Oh hell, that guy isn’t going to make it much longer, is he?”

  Abrigail was walking next to him. She took his hand. “Come along, dearest.”

  Arel obeyed, but his gut was doing some kind of belly dance of woe. Sickness and misery hung in the air. It seemed to saturate the walls themselves.

  “Now might be a good time to put those shields in place,” Michael suggested.

  “Tell me again, what am I doing in this horrid place? Never mind, I know the answer. Where else would a lab rat be?”

  “You’re only feeling the negative,” Abrigail said softly. “If you let yourself feel the healing parts of—”

  Michael cut in. “Actually, it’s best if Arel just focuses on not feeling right now.”

  Arel ignored both of them. He had no patience for advice. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  “It’s better if you go in alone,” Michael said quietly. “Peggy wants to see you, not two strangers.”

  Arel gave Michael a petitioning look for mercy. “What? Go in by myself?”

  “You don’t have to stay very long.”

  “I hate this!”

  Michael gave him an understanding nod. “I know.”

  “Like hell you do!” Arel’s voice was a sharp whisper as he took a final, deep breath of air through his handkerchief. With a shaky hand, he removed it from his face and peeked into the room.

  Oh, thank goodness!

  Glory, Peggy’s angel, smiled back at him from her bedside post. Still dressed in dazzling, etheric armor, she projected so much strength and compassion that he found himself completely taken with the sight of her. With a face that shone brighter than her golden breast plate, she was a wondrous vision who personified the term ‘guardian’ angel.

  Finally, there’s something of beauty to see in this place.

  It helped him to forge ahead, to walk over to the hospital bed. Of course, he had his orders to ignore Glory since Peggy couldn’t see her. But he wished he could simply look at the angel instead of the person he’d come to see. His earlier experience with Peggy in the diner still made him shudder. Now he was on his own. Not even Carol was there to act as an intermediary.

  Glory’s gentle voice sounded in his mind.

  Try to put your fears aside. You know how to be a friend! That’s what she needs.

  He couldn’t believe how much she could affect him. Her words seemed to strengthen his whole body and help to clear his mind. Maybe it was because she was a more angelic example of heavenly help. He’d begun to think of Michael as more earthly. It was probably a mistake on his part, but there wasn’t anything to do about it now.

  Glory smiled broadly again. He saw her energy expand like a big bubble of pink light that encapsulated him and helped him to approach the bed. With a quiet sigh, he looked down at the bed’s occupant.

  Bloody hell!

  As soon as he saw Peggy, he forgot about himself and stared at the fragile, pale girl who lay on the bed. The pretty, perky looking woman from the night before was gone. The new version of Peggy looked awful. And she was in pain, lots of pain. It radiated out from her in waves that hit him in his gut. His solar plexus went from belly dancing over his hospital woes to a frantic pulse of alarm.

  He instinctively knew he should heed his gut’s warning. His hand went to his pocket, wanting desperately to use the handkerchief again, not for his nose, but to push back the sick feeling that took hold of him. As he paused, trying to collect himself, Peggy opened her eyes.

  “Arel? Is it really you?” Her gaze immediately locked on his face with a pathetic fierceness, but her voice trembled when she spoke.

  Be a friend like Glory said!

  He had to give himself the silent order to keep from running from the room. He tried to smile, but he couldn’t manage it. “I’m sorry about your accident.”

  “It was my fault, all my fault.”

  Peggy’s admission of guilt made him forget her condition as the diner scene replayed itself in his mind.

  Yes! You burned me!

  He wanted to chastise her, to tell her that she had no right to touch him ever again, but when he came back to the moment, he couldn’t. It would be like yelling at a frightened child.

  “I didn’t brake in time,” she continued.

  His mind calmed down enough to know what Peggy was really telling him.

  She’s not talking about hurting you, she’s talking about the accident, you idiot.

  Still, he couldn’t escape Peggy’s eyes. They were pools of regret.

  Peggy stirred a little and winced. “I’m so glad that you could come. I was worried about you after our meeting.”

  He let out his breath cautiously. Could she really care about him? “No problem.”

  “Last night, I was too forward. It’s the way I am sometimes. I want to say that I’m sorry. I hope you won’t hold it against me.”

  He watched her hand move ever so slightly towards him and pull back.

  He sighed. Some inner need to be gracious made him reply appropriately. “No, it wasn’t you. I was a complete fool.”

  Peggy stared back, looking red-eyed and ready to cry, but she tightened her jaw instead. “I want you to know that if you need a friend, I’m here for you. Promise me that you’ll remember that.”

  Peggy’s voice was so genuine that he felt his face warm with shame. He’d made all kinds of judgments about her. He’d thought the worst, while she was all sweetness and concern. Reaching in his pocket, retrieving his spare handkerchief, he quickly handed it to her.
“Please don’t upset yourself.” He didn’t know why, but he wouldn’t be able to stand it if she really started bawling. He needed to reverse time and have the spunky, brasher version of Peggy back. It would be so much easier to push her away if she wasn’t so exposed and hurting. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, forcing a smile. “You need to take care of yourself.”

  Peggy frowned, squeezing her eyes shut.

  He could feel her fighting her pain. “Should I call someone to help you?”

  She relaxed a little and looked at him again. “Just give me a moment. I have a case of whiplash from last night’s incident. Such a stupid thing. I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Sometimes things happen. You shouldn’t keep blaming yourself.”

  “Please, if possible, could you come back to see me again?”

  Peggy’s request was delivered in a pleading tone. He tried to resist it, but it was like resisting a stormy wave, crashing into him. He was carried to a place where he had to try and relieve her suffering. He went into auto-mode, reaching out and putting his hand on hers. There was searing pain, but he was in a place far removed from the hospital room. In that place, if sacrifice was needed, he had to endure.

  I’ll do my best to help you.

  He knew that he was making a silent vow to her. No, he was repeating a vow. It was an old, ancient promise, and its memory opened some portal between them. He felt himself drawing her torment into himself. A flash of grief, then shooting pain invaded his body. Absolute misery followed.

  Glory stepped forward and broke the connection between them.

  Stop taking on Peggy’s pain! It’s not what’s wanted.

  Her order brought Arel back to his senses. He realized how close he’d come to some terrible fate. He nervously backed away from the bed. “I have to go,” he muttered, moving hastily towards the door.

  * * * * *

  As soon as Arel left, Peggy felt the tears return. She’d been crying ever since the incident in the car. But she hadn’t been sure if her feelings were real. Maybe they were based on some horrid nightmare that surfaced from seeing a movie at the age of four. That’s why she needed to see Arel again. Was there a bond between them? Were her feelings based on fact or fantasy?

  When Arel appeared at her bedside, she’d made herself control her inner grief. She was afraid she’d scare him away otherwise. While her present emotional chaos was something unusual, she was sure his phobic responses were a more permanent feature of his personality. He was definitely a wounded, scarred person.

  What if she was to blame? What if she had somehow betrayed him ages ago, and he’d never recovered? Was it possible for that type of bond to persist for lifetimes?

  What am I thinking? I don’t even believe in other lifetimes!

  Maybe not, maybe she would only live the one life, but when Arel stepped inside the hospital room and came up to her bedside, all reason and all doubt about what she'd seen vanished.

  Oh my god, he is the same man that was in my vision.

  It wasn’t just that he had the same fine features, the same gentle mannerisms, the same slightly, sagging shoulders. It was something so much deeper. Could people’s hearts communicate with one another? She didn’t have rational answers when he stood by her bedside.

  But I know this man.

  She knew his eyes. She knew that they’d once looked at her with only love. A crazy, but absolute feeling of certainty and fact put her doubt to rest.

  He was my brother once, my protector . . . until I betrayed him, and even then he didn’t blame me.

  She tried to sit up and the spasms in her neck and back went into a tortured frenzy. Perhaps she deserved it. Maybe it was a punishment for what she’d done to him. She wanted to start sobbing again, but she knew that wasn’t the answer. She had to think about what was best for Arel.

  You haven’t changed, have you, brother?

  When he visited her, he’d reached out to her, touched her so compassionately. He’d sacrificed himself for her again. She knew it. For a moment, he took away all her pain.

  No! That’s not what I want between us!

  She hated the idea that misery still connected them. She wanted a bond of love. It already existed in her heart, but it was clear that Arel was afraid to link himself to her. And why shouldn’t he be afraid after what he went through long ago and even now?

  She clutched at his handkerchief, bringing it to her face to swipe at the steady stream that wet her cheeks. As she inhaled the cologne that scented the linen cloth, its wonderful woodsy spice fragrance interrupted her pain. Her mind quieted a little. In that still space, she got a brief glimpse into their shared past. In a time that seemed forever gone, she saw a handsome, young man, embracing life with open arms, dancing with her, cheering her up when she was sad, always so strong. That was Arel’s true nature, and it was up to her to help him find it again.

  Thirty-One

  AREL PAID NO attention to Abrigail or Michael even though they were following him down the hospital hallway. He had lied to Peggy. He wasn’t coming back.

  Get out of this place. Drive back home, lock the doors, and never leave your safe haven again.

  He did make one stop at the nurses’ station, to report Peggy’s condition to the nurse in charge.

  She gave him a happy smile. “Are you Arel?”

  “Yes,” he frowned. “How did you know?”

  “That young lady you asked about has refused pain medication all day. She insisted that she had to be clear headed if you came in. I’m so glad that you made it.”

  He gave her a weak nod. “Me too.” Another lie.

  Moving away from the station at a brisk pace, he headed for the elevators. Once he reached them, he didn’t have to wait long for one of them to ding out its arrival. He retreated back when its doors opened. There was a hospital bed inside, with a young nurse standing close by.

  “I can take the next one,” he insisted nervously.

  If you think I’m going to join you in that little cramped box, and be forced to look at another sick person, think again.

  The old lady on the bed caught his eye. “Please come in. I need a little company,” she said with a weak smile.

  Damn! Damn! Damn! Be nice. She’s old.

  His head sagged to his chest as he walked into the elevator, moving to the back so that Abrigail and Michael had room too.

  “You go ahead,” Michael said. “We’ll take the next one.”

  He tried to give them one of his most hateful looks, but the doors glided shut before he could put the full impact of his wrath into it.

  The old woman on the stretcher gave him another caring smile that made him regret his display.

  “I won’t bite,” she whispered as she watched him move more tightly into the corner. He was practically hugging the wall.

  She put her hand out to him. It was withered, spotted and bent with age and arthritis. Her skin was translucent, allowing the veins beneath to stand out blue. She was deeply bruised from so many IVs.

  “Come here, young man,” she demanded sweetly.

  His hackles went up. Someone else wanted to touch him. But the woman’s voice and kindly face reminded him of the grandmother who had visited him on a couple of occasions when he was a young boy. She was one of the few, bright spots in his childhood. Being held in her arms after a nightmare was a rare comfort. He’d never forgotten her.

  The memory and duty propelled him forward. His angst made him grit his teeth. If only he could let out the primal scream that lived in his gut. If only he could find a way to let everyone in the world know how hard it was to be alive. But instead of screaming, he put his hand out too, letting the old woman take it. Her grasp was fragile. She wasn’t like Peggy. He felt safer in her hands.

  “Oh my,” she exclaimed. “You’re so cold.”

  He tried to pull away, his face going red with embarrassment. Why wasn’t Michael’s blood warming him? Why was it making him cold like some hideous reptile? Then he reme
mbered how hot he’d been earlier when he’d overdressed and the sun nearly roasted his brain. He couldn’t win.

  “It’s okay,” the woman said quietly, as if she understood his plight. “You just need some mothering, you poor thing.”

  He brightened at her words. He was a poor thing. Why didn’t the angelic forces recognize that? Why didn’t they protect him from sick people?

  “You’re very kind,” he replied, praying that the elevator would reach his floor soon. The old woman was nice, but he needed to escape, to get away from neediness and the woes of ailing people.

  The old woman stared at him with cloudy, blue eyes. They seemed to hold a lifetime of memories and wisdom behind their failing sight. But now she used them to probe Arel’s own golden gaze.

  “You have lovely eyes, young man.” She hesitated, still probing. “Sad eyes.”

  He let out a soft protest.

  Tell me something that I don’t know.

  She let go of him, pulling her weak arm back with difficulty as if it weighed far too much for her to maneuver.

  He reached out to help, again without thinking. He lifted her hand and arm with careful touch and pressure. He didn’t want to bruise her further as he placed her arm on the bed.

  She gave him another smile. “Thank you, dear. I’m Mrs. Hayes. I’m on the cardiac floor. If you need someone to talk to, come see me.”

  As she spoke there was a stopping motion. The elevator doors began to function. When they opened, he felt like Peggy had looked when he visited her. He wanted to cry, but his would be sobs of relief.

  “Goodbye,” he said hastily, walking away as fast as social graces would permit. Once clear of the doors, he practically ran down the hall towards the exit and the parking garage.

  Michael and Abrigail’s elevator arrived soon after his. They did double time trying to catch up with him.

  “We’re coming, dearest!” Abrigail said as she ran.