Divine Hope

by Jo O'Neil

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Coffee Break

  A.M. and I vacated our tranquil spot as we adjourned our meeting and walked across the deserted square towards the exit which would lead us to Giorgio’s Coffee House. We left no betraying footsteps of our presence in the freshly fallen snow. That was until we joined the bustling London scene where our concealment lifted, and much to my astonishment I was no longer wearing my angelic dress and magenta cloak, which I guess would have looked out of place in twenty-first century England, although not as much as A.M.’s normal attire.

  Instead the two of us were decked out in dark blue denim jeans and matching, yet gender appropriate, grey dappled cashmere winter coats. A.M.’s footwear appeared unchanged, but my white satin pumps, which were most inappropriate for the weather conditions, had been sensibly replaced by stylish, knee high, black leather boots, the like I had never worn before due to their immeasurable comfort. Black leather gloves dressed our hands, and his and hers winter hats completed the look, even though none of our costume was essential for warmth, as we had taken on the guise of human form figuratively so we remained Divinely protected from God’s elements.

  As we entered the corner plot which housed the coffee shop, through a door the same shade of royal blue as the awnings that hung over each of the two large windows, A.M. complimented my look which he said had been orchestrated courtesy of Archangel Jophiel, the Angel of Beauty, who had made a major design contribution to my angelic gown.

  We settled at a small table for two in smart, dark burgundy leather chairs by the picturesque naked windows where the two roads Giorgio’s occupied were both visible. The winter’s day sunlight crept around the tall, majestic buildings on the other side of my square, throwing a yellowy-orange tint on the lavish, pearl heart design, white papered walls.

  I was just thinking some soft furnishing would help to muffle a good portion of the noise created by the forty strong guests, when my senses, tantalised by the alluring smells, demanded I joined the ever growing lunch time queue. Obeying this explicit command, I was edging closer to tasting my first café latte in nearly a fortnight when I was suddenly struck by a horrifying thought; I didn’t have any funds to pay for our beverages.

  I shoved my hands into my coat pockets hoping to find a stash of sterling notes. When both provided zero results I tried my jeans with the same disastrous outcome. Faced with the dreadful prospect of leaving latte-less, I was ransacking my brain for any solution, no matter how bizarre or mortifying, when A.M.’s voice filled my head.

  ‘God always provides, Serena, when one’s heart is full of peace, hope, and loving intent.’

  I quickly spun around believing A.M. was standing behind me with the required cash; much to my horror he was seated where I had left him some fifteen feet away. I was musing how on earth I had heard A.M.’s voice as clearly as if he’d been speaking directly into my ear, when the same phenomenon occurred again.

  ‘I need not be with you to communicate with you, Serena, for our loving Father always gives us the messages we require. Have faith, Serena, that what you desire will come to pass.’

  ‘Have faith,’ I muttered to myself as the coffee shop customers either side of me stepped a little further away with a disconcerted look in their eyes. ‘It’s all very well having faith, A.M.,’ I whispered so as not to attract any additional stares, ‘but how will faith help me pay for our drinks?’

  ‘God will provide, Serena, if you only trust.’

  I took a deep breath, and incoherent to human ears I said, ‘I have complete faith in God.’ I repeated the words over and over again, making every effort to convince myself all would be well.

  ‘All is well, Serena, when one trusts in God,’ A.M. called to me again to the oblivion of the other coffee dwellers. ‘Visualise yourself walking away from the counter with our coffees. Know this will be the outcome with as much certainty as you know the sun will rise tomorrow, and will shine ever brightly, even if its strength is shielded from your eyes by dark clouds. Have faith.’

  With my eyes screwed shut for extra concentration, I emphatically repeated my mantra while visualising indulging my coffee fetish as A.M. had suggested. As I hypnotically moved along the smooth, dark cherry wooden floor to keep my place in the queue, a flash of inspiration hit as I recalled Archangel Ariel was the Angel of Abundance. So I put a silent prayer into her for good measure to supply me with the finances I needed to satisfy my caffeine whim.

  In what seemed like no time at all I was at the head of the line being asked, ‘What can I get you today?’

  ‘I have complete faith in God. Thank you, Archangel Ariel, God’s beautiful Angel of Abundance, for providing the funds for two café lattes,’ I automatically replied with my eyes still tightly shut.

  ‘Sorry,’ came the confused (and who could blame her) barista’s response.

  I jumped as recognition dawned on me that I was being spoken to.

  ‘Oh, sorry!’ I said with my humiliation clear to see. ‘I mean, err . . .’

  I looked suitably embarrassed as I glanced downwards at my folded hands. Mercifully, I saw the corner of what looked distinctively like coloured paper. As I dared to lift my thumb, I clearly saw a pound sign. My relief was immediate, and all my shame disappeared with my sign from God and Archangel Ariel that all was indeed well. My jubilation flooded through into my order which unsettled the barista further, and secured me even more personal space when the customer behind me, who couldn’t have failed to observe my behaviour, took a few extra steps in the opposite direction. Finally, with one skinny and one regular café latte (I figured A.M. didn’t need to concern himself with keeping his figure), I triumphantly returned to A.M.

  I was back in heaven when I took my first slip of caffeine. A.M. merely sat there with his masculine left hand lightly draped around the glass coffee cup as he watched me with mild bemusement on his face.

  I noted Archangel Jophiel had not deemed it necessary to adorn A.M. with a watch. On checking my wrists, my hands moved to my earlobes and neck, none of which had been bejewelled. I surmised an Archangel wasn’t ruled by time so had no need for a watch, and nor did an honorary angel. With this quandary satisfied, my attention wandered back to my coffee and the fact I hadn’t consumed an awful lot of food or drink lately.

  ‘A.M., appreciating I haven’t eaten since the day before I checked into the Make Me Perfect hospital, and I haven’t had anything to drink since the sip of water I took a few hours before my scheduled operation, why haven’t I died of hunger or dehydration?’

  ‘In heaven the vibration is such that earthly rituals to sustain energy and life are not necessary, which is why you did not need to eat, drink, or sleep.’

  ‘Archangel Azrael told me I didn’t need sleep after my life review,’ I recalled. ‘So now I’m back in the earth’s hemisphere, presumably all that will change,’ I said wishing I had booked a comfortable room at Claridges Hotel and ordered a panini with my coffee now I could invoke money on demand. My eyes diverted to the queue hopefully, but in a short space of time it had grown even longer.

  ‘You are an honorary angel, Serena. You are supported by God’s love, so there is no need for any substances until your assignment is complete and you have returned officially to earth. But a coffee will not hurt,’ A.M. added, possibly due to the anguished look which formed on my face.

  ‘There’s something else I wish to ask you, A.M.’

  He remained silent. Even so, his intent gaze showed me he was listening.

  ‘It’s a little delicate,’ I sheepishly added.

  ‘I am here to help, Serena,’ A.M. tenderly responded giving me the courage to take him into my confidence.

  ‘It concerns Rupert.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said using the same tender tone.

  ‘I’ve . . .’

  A.M. gave me the space to find the right words and continue without any interruption.

  Exhaling with the velocity of someone with
a heavy burden on their chest, I confessed, ‘I’ve forgiven Hope Harper for stealing Rupert away from me, truly I have. But I’ve been left with what I can only describe as an ache. I miss Rupert, A.M., and I don’t know how to rectify the misery this is causing me,’ I said noticeably defeated.

  A.M. contemplated my predicament before announcing, ‘There really is only one thing for it.’

  ‘There is?’ I answered without having a clue what this wonderful solution was.

  ‘You must invite Archangel Haniel for coffee.’

  After I had recovered from A.M.’s shock disclosure and asked him for the third time whether he was joking, I called Archangel Haniel.

  ‘Err . . . Archangel Haniel, I was wondering if you could spare some time in your busy schedule to join Archangel Michael and me, Serena Olivia Unity Lewis, for coffee?’

  I don’t know what I expected; some kind of explosion as Archangel Haniel turned up in a puff of smoke, or more likely orbed in through the closed door. Perhaps a little disappointingly neither of these things happened. Instead, a few moments later a very attractive blonde entered.

  At first glance I actually thought it was Hope Harper, but this blonde was a little too slim and tall to be Hope. And then I noticed she had the same coat on as me and the exact same knee high, black leather boots, so by the time she came over to A.M. and greeted him affectionately, there was no need for me to wait for introductions; I knew Archangel Haniel had just arrived.

  ‘Serena, hello,’ Archangel Haniel smiled, and as she did I thought I saw a star twinkle in her teeth.

  ‘Hello,’ I said hesitantly, and then with a little more confidence I stated, ‘You look most different to me in your humanised disguise, Archangel Haniel. I really wouldn’t have recognised you from the apparition I saw of you earlier today.’

  ‘Not everyone would wholeheartedly agree with that statement, Serena,’ Archangel Haniel replied.

  Responding to my look of utter confusion and my request that she explain herself further, Archangel Haniel gestured towards a group of young women sitting on the plush, leather sofa which circled the back wall as she playfully said, ‘You will soon see.’

  ‘Please sit, Archangel Haniel,’ A.M. diverted the conversion as he gestured towards the empty space between him and me.

  Amazingly, before my very eyes a dark burgundy, leather chair, which perfectly matched the seats surrounding it, materialised for Archangel Haniel.

  ‘Thank you, Archangel Michael.’

  I nervously scouted my eyes around the coffee house, convinced I would be met with bewildered stares, but to my utter relief no one seemed to have witnessed the supernatural occurrence.

  ‘I must say this is very pleasant,’ Archangel Haniel continued, ‘the moon asked me to pass on its regards to you, Archangel Michael.’

  ‘How is my old friend? It seems an eon since my last visit,’ A.M. responded.

  ‘The moon is as vibrant as always, and so too are the stars which support the moon’s endeavour to light the dark of the night sky.’

  A.M. nodded appreciatory at Archangel Haniel in acknowledgment of this fortuitous news.

  ‘If I am not mistaken,’ Archangel Haniel squealed, ‘that,’ she pointed to A.M.’s full glass with her professionally manicured hand, ‘is the drink humans call coffee.’

  ‘It is. Would you like mine?’ A.M. offered.

  ‘Thank you for your kind gesture, Archangel Michael, but I will conjure my own rather than deprive you of your cup,’ Archangel Haniel replied.

  And then after she had composed herself, just as A.M. had summoned the chair without any incantations or flashes of light, Archangel Haniel cosmically ordered a café latte which immediately appeared before her.

  ‘Magic sure beats queuing or praying for funds,’ I commented.

  ‘I did not use magic, Serena. I prayed for what I desired,’ Archangel Haniel enlightened me as she removed her coat to uncover a stylish blouse with soft frills at the cuffs and collar. Most striking of all though, was the shirt’s colour which matched that of the moon.

  Intrigue overcame me. I unbuttoned my own coat, and to my delight I revealed the same style blouse Archangel Haniel was wearing. However, instead of being cool silvery-bluey-white, it was the same magenta shade as my cloak.

  ‘Thank you, Archangel Jophiel,’ I whispered. ‘I love my shirt.’

  ‘You are most welcome, Serena Olivia Unity Lewis,’ a strangely familiar voice I was certain I hadn’t heard before, sounded in my head just as A.M.’s voice had done earlier.

  I looked at A.M. with wide startled eyes.

  ‘Do not be concerned, Serena, for I am Archangel Jophiel, the Angel of Beauty,’ the voice confirmed.

  I was still a little sceptical. My mind returned to my Sunday school teacher’s lesson on evil spirits and the being of light test I had laid down for A.M, who as God’s Chief Angel had been privy to my conversation with Archangel Jophiel and assured me I had definitely been conversing with God’s angelic beautifier.

  ‘Sorry to doubt you, Archangel Jophiel. I’m new at talking to angels. Admittedly, it’s all very exciting, but at the same time it’s also a little unnerving.’

  ‘No apology necessary, Serena. I am always within reach if you need me,’ Archangel Jophiel lovingly replied.

  ‘Archangel Jophiel, did you also dress Archangel Michael in this shirt?’ I played with my tactile, frilly cuff as I asked.

  Instead of answering me, I heard Archangel Jophiel’s beautiful laugh as A.M. undid his coat to expose a royal purple with a hint of blue shirt like Archangel Haniel’s and mine, minus the trimmings.

  I joined Archangel Jophiel’s laughter just as one of the young women Archangel Haniel had pointed out to me approached Archangel Haniel and said, ‘May I have your autograph, please?’

  A few people on the tables close to us looked over with interest, obviously wondering who the celebrity was.

  Archangel Haniel was totally unfazed by the intrusion and the attention it had generated when she answered, ‘I think you have mistaken my identity.’

  ‘Aren’t you Vivienne Logan, the supermodel?’ the lady replied a little haughtily.

  ‘No,’ Archangel Haniel simply responded as she flashed her amazing smile.

  ‘Oh,’ the lady looked most put out as she hurried back to her seat, whereupon she relayed her encounter to her friends who all stared at Archangel Haniel with wide eyes, until one of the group fished my favourite L’Occitane hand cream out of her designer bag which instantly altered their topic of conversation.

  ‘I helped her out quite recently with matters of the heart,’ Archangel Haniel explained as she handed me a tube of hand cream identical to the one I had been wishfully eying. ‘Her soul knows exactly who I am, but her human intelligence has chosen to forget our little chat and has instead transferred her recognition of me to one she finds more acceptable.’

  I thanked Archangel Haniel for my gift. As I liberally applied the cream to my slim hands I asked her, ‘Do you always become visible when you help someone, Archangel Haniel?’

  ‘No, not always. Sometimes it is enough to send a sign, such as a white feather. Other times a little voice in their head can guide them, or a vivid dream. Then there are times when only the obvious will do; which was the case with our Vivienne Logan fan. I had to materialise to stop her making a grave mistake.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit scary when an angel suddenly appears to us mere mortals?’ I genuinely enquired.

  ‘As a Messenger of God it is impossible for us to be anything other than loving. The soul senses this and feels at peace in the company of angels. It is after the occurrence when the human can start to doubt the experience, and they often alter the events in their consciousness until it becomes part of their subconscious. For this reason, some humans require more than one visit from either the same angel, or they may need several different angels to help them,’ Archangel Haniel eloquently answered me.

  ‘Which reminds m
e; you called Archangel Haniel with a purpose in mind, Serena,’ A.M. said bringing our conversation back on track.

  ‘Yes,’ I looked at Archangel Haniel to acquire her consent to continue.

  ‘How may I help?’ she asked; I suspected she already knew.

  ‘My heart aches, Archangel Haniel, every time I think of Rupert. Archangel Michael thought you could help me,’ I asked promisingly.

  ‘You wish me to heal you of your infliction?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I sighed.

  No sooner I had asked, before my very eyes Archangel Haniel’s opalescence aura penetrated my heart. As I relaxed into my healing, a voice deep within me vehemently shouted, “NO!” This violent interruption pulled me out of my relaxed state with great force.

  ‘Your free will does not allow the healing, Serena,’ Archangel Haniel said without prejudice as she retracted her aura, ‘just as it refused the reprieve I sent you from your heartache when you petitioned me earlier today.’

  ‘Why am I holding on to this most negative emotion?’

  ‘The “why” is for your free will and your soul to work out. When you have, all you need to do is ask and I will take away your aching heart and replace it with one which will only know love.’

  ‘I don’t know how to figure it out,’ I said with an air of frustration.

  ‘Then pray to our Father. He will help you find the strength and the answers to your prayer,’ Archangel Haniel answered with love.

  I lightly intertwined my fingers, bowed my head, and closed my eyes before following Archangel Haniel’s advice.

  ‘Dear God, please help me release this heartache.’ Sensing no change I added, ‘Please lead me so I’m able to rid myself of this pain.’ Still nothing happened so I finished with, ‘Thank you.’

  ‘A good prayer always leaves the: hows, whys, and wherefores up to the Almighty; for our loving Father always knows what is best for us and He will deliver the answer at precisely the right time,’ Archangel Haniel praised me. ‘It is also wise to ask your guardian angel to pray along with you.’

  ‘What has my guardian angel got to do with praying to God, and do they actually exist?’ I queried as my brain fully processed Archangel Haniel’s statement.

  ‘Every soul comes to earth accompanied by their very own guardian angel to watch over them. If asked, the angel will petition God on the soul’s behalf so He may grant the soul’s wishes,’ Archangel Haniel answered me.

  ‘Archangel Haniel, will I ever find love again?’ I asked somewhat bashful.

  ‘Not until you have agreed to truly release Rupert. True love, Serena, means loving someone enough to let them go.’ She buttoned up her coat, pushed back her chair and said, ‘For now my work is done. Serena, I feel sure we will meet again. When you are ready to release your pain just call me and I will come to your aid immediately, in the name of our Father who has made the loving promise to mankind to send an angel whenever a soul has a need.’

  ‘Thank you, Archangel Haniel,’ I humbly responded. ‘Would you like your hand cream?’ I asked as I hesitantly offered the glittering tube back to the Angel of Love.

  ‘Please keep it with God’s compliments,’ she delightfully replied before addressing A.M. ‘Archangel Michael, as always it has been a blessing to spend time with you.’

  ‘And you, Archangel Haniel. Please pass on my regards to the moon and the stars.’

  Archangel Haniel inclined her head in acknowledgement, and then she left as swiftly as she’d arrived, with her long blonde hair whirling around her and her café late untouched.