A Heavenly Kind of Love

by Lexi Ostrow

  “I ask for the ability to shed my wings and walk amongst the humans.” The words were out before he’d had even the slightest notion he was going to say them.

  The collective gasp from those around the table was not unsurprising. In the history of the world, an angel had only ever walked amongst humans three times.

  “That is not an option.” Michael’s brow furrowed closer together as fire danced in his eyes. The Battle Angel was not one to defy, and he was making sure Gabe knew it.

  “Why not? I am willing to admit my shortcoming as her Guardian Angel. However, Cassandra Marks has been my first charge. I am not a Guardian Angel by nature, my knowledge and skills - fuck - my thought processes aren’t the same as an angel who was born to be a guardian. Would you not agree? Which indicates I did not have the best tools at my disposal to assess her and her situation for such a serious matter.”

  “We had thought,” his father started, rising from the table, “that your ability to lead and make decisions would have created a bridge between your ability to wage battles, and your ability to guard someone.” Gabriel looked around the table slowly, making eye contact with his fellow Archangels, but not his son. “If your oversight in your duty is an indication we were wrong, I see no reason not to allow my son the chance to right his wrong and potentially save the life of a woman destined for great things.”

  Chaos erupted around Gabe, and he forced himself to take a step back. Standing down wasn’t in his nature, but battling Archangels was a dangerous war, and if they came to blows, he did not want to be in the middle.

  “He was trained. His shortcoming is not our fault. He had a job to do,” Sandalaphon cried, leaping from the chair and sending it flying back into the wooden wall.

  “That is preposterous. Only the most adept Guardian Angels are granted such, and you propose we let one so careless with his work he cannot bargain for his charge’s life take up the role?” Ariel snarled, her pretty face morphing into one of anger. Her lip pulled back and trembled as she slammed her hands onto the table.

  “There is no reason to let him take up such a mantle. He had his opportunity. Guardian Angels fail, it is unfortunate, but we are not meant to intervene in matters of a human’s medical—unless they are dying from an accidental injury or suffering from a disability, not a death sentence.” Chamuel had gripped his hammer as if preparing for a fight.

  “Your son is not granted special treatment because he is your son,” Michael spoke, eyes blazing with all the fury the angel had wielded against Lucifer and Metatron so many centuries ago.

  Gabe had failed to do the job required of him; more importantly, he had failed a human life. While he hadn’t been thrilled to be assigned a woman of so little consequence initially, he had realized she was of consequence; to him and every child, she met. Cassandra Marks mattered, and if he did not stand up for her for her and not his own good, he didn’t deserve his wings. He’d lost sight of that in the past month, but he’d found his way, and he wasn’t going down without a fight on her behalf.

  “This should not be a judgment of myself!” Gabe’s voice rang through the room, somehow overcoming the cacophony from the Archangels. Seven pairs of eyes landed on him, most storming with heavenly fire but all widened in shock. His chest heaved, but the silence in the room allowed him the opportunity to continue. “I have failed in my duty. I admit I was not aware of the great weight that sat upon the shoulders of all Guardian Angels. I had thought the task would be simple, especially in comparison to fighting the demons that drove men to war with one another.”

  Not one angel spoke though all continued to stare at him.

  “It is not in my nature to fail, nor is it fair to my charge that I failed. I ask for the opportunity to get to know her so that I may not only come to terms with the unnecessary terms of her potential death, and provide you with the reasoning you need. I have been selfish, for that, I should fall, but let me save her.”

  “You’ve caused the death of your brethren, for that you should have fallen,” Raphael interjected the first bit of speech since entering the room. His dark eyes were narrowed into points and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Anger radiated off him in waves, but yet, it mingled with a strange sense of calm. “Why should this be any different?”

  “Cassandra Marks doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve a shitty angel. I should have received more training. Fuck I hardly paid attention to Carlyle’s droning, and that is on me - my failure to bear. She has set her life to a greater purpose, and she was granted the highest honor a human could have but was given a second string angel.” In the past, admitting his shortcoming, belittling himself in any way, would have left a bitter taste in his mouth. Now it merely left his heart heavy because he spoke the truth.

  “My son,” Gabriel pushed the chair back and walked toward him. “I intervened and placed you in a position that would keep you with me. I may have been wrong.” Gabriel’s hands squeezed Gabe’s shoulders for a moment before turning back to the table. “We let the human’s fate rest on one question about her, let us give Gabe the same chance. Gabriel, son of the Archangel, Guardian of Humans, why do you fight so to save her? Speak what is in your heart.” Gabriel’s voice sung with the command of an angel, removing any ability Gabe had at declining to answer.

  He was faced with uttering the one thing that had worried him since he first laid eyes on her out in the desert wasteland of Uganda’s war stricken region. “She makes me feel things.” His shoulders sagged as the truth came out. “When I watch her with the children, I too experience joy. When she laughs, the sound makes me smile. I see the way it influences those around her as well. When she was told her diagnosis less than an hour ago, her fear swarmed me so completely it was as if the blade of death hovered over my neck. She’s a beacon of light in an otherwise darkening world. She is important.”

  With the confession past his lips, Gabe’s shoulder’s sagged. Angels didn’t feel things the way humans did, but he had just admitted he was. That would most certainly mean he was weak and on the verge of falling. It almost had to mean Cassandra mattered if she was able to elicit such a response in an angel as fierce has he knew he was.

  Raphael cleared his throat, uncrossed his arms from over his chest, and nodded at Gabe. “I have known you your entire life. You have always bordered on falling due to your ego. Hearing you speak of the way this woman affects proves that you are not a lost angel. Your struggle to save her is indeed focused on the woman that she is, and not on merely proving yourself.”

  Gabe wasn’t certain if one thanked an Archangel for a compliment, so he nodded. Hearing the opinion the fierce warrior had of him was upsetting, but correct.

  “I am proud of you. Being a Guardian Angel has opened you up to new experiences. Do not find fear in your new emotions. Emotions help Guardian Angels select humans for the cause and protect them from harm. You need to care for her to save her. As head of the Guardians, I vote to grant you the request.” The briefest smile sat on Gabriel’s lips. “I urge the six of you to think of this as a learning experience. My son was not born to protect in this manner, yet he has a knack for it. A rough start does not need to condemn him and a human we selected for protection.”

  Gabe’s jaw nearly cracked into the tile floor as each of the ruling Archangels did the utterly unexpected and nodded in agreement.

  “It will be done. Gabriel, your wings and powers will be removed for a period. You will select when you wish to ascend again. This is done with merely a thought, so be careful where your mind wanders, for once you regain your wings, your time is up, and we will pass judgment. We have a home in Boston. You will have all that you should need to complete this task.” His father stopped speaking. “And remember, do not dance with fate or you will lose your wings.”

  “When will it occur?” His body was tense, unsure of what it would be like to be human and powerless. He’d suggested it, but now that it was happening, he was more than a little unnerved at being . . . well, bas
ic.

  “Right this moment.” Raphael snapped his fingers, and he was suddenly alone in a living room with the angel. “I promise, as this is not a punishment, it will bring no pain. We all wish you well, but know that being human comes with temptations you must be strong to ignore.”

  “I am ready.” The words could not be a lie. He felt the power they held down into his toes.

  “Unfurl your wings.”

  He did as Raphael instructed, noticing the way the massive wingspan nearly reached from wall-to-wall.

  “Good luck, Gabriel, son of the Archangel, Guardian of Humans.” Raphael was gone, and with him, the noticeable weight of his wings from his back.

  He stumbled, dropping onto the floor with a growl. “Well, that’s sure as shit going to take some practice. That would’ve been nice to know!” he looked up, yelling at the ceiling as if Raphael was listening to him. “First things first, learn to walk, then go see about saving Cassandra.”

  Six

  Cassandra winced as she stepped inside yet another small, uncomfortably white-walled room. She’d never had a mammogram, despite not knowing her family history. The idea of squishing a part of her body into a pancake had never seemed appealing. If you’d done it, maybe you wouldn’t be here now.

  A white gown was draped over the exam table, just as the nurse had said it would be before she’d opened the door. Peeling off her shirt, Cassandra noticed the copious amount of sweat she’d produced. Fear does that. Unclipping her bra next, she tossed it onto the bed beside the shirt and stared at the gown. She’d only need it for a few moments before they began, probably so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable while someone talked to her, but it felt daunting to slip the hospital gown on.

  Cancer. The word banged through her mind like a pinball during a game, and she forced herself to bend over and grab the damn gown. Her mind was blank, a wash of absolutely every thought, as she pushed her arms through and tugged it down.

  The knock on the door came as she was sitting down on the edge of the bed.

  “Hello, Cassandra?” The woman entered, her face glued to Cassandra’s chart. “My name is Rachel, and I’ll be the nurse performing the mammogram. This is Hannah—a radiology tech who will be with us today.” Hannah gave her a smile and stepped up to a computer.

  She nodded, wishing she could sink into the bed and simply vanish into it.

  “Is this your first mammogram?” Rachel sat on the stool in front of the bed and lowered the clipboard.

  “Yes.”

  “All right then. I want you to be comfortable during this—there’s nothing to be afraid of. The machine isn’t as bad as people tell you.”

  For the first time, Cassandra saw the device behind the nurse. It looked like nothing more than one of the machines the eye doctor used. When she looked longer, it became apparent the place where an eye patient would rest their chin was actually where her breast would go. A strange plastic piece, triangular in shape, sat at the top portion of the machine - the part that would be doing the squishing she presumed.

  “I want to assure you, while there may be some pressure and discomfort, mammograms aren’t painful. Your breasts won’t be flattened into pancakes when the arm lifts and you should feel no discomfort after the arm raises.”

  Rachel stared at her as if she expected Cassandra to respond, so she nodded.

  “The way this works is you’re going to come sit on the stool right in front of the machine. You’ll place your forehead against that piece there–” she pointed at the rectangular piece as expected. “And one at a time we’ll image your breasts. The arm will lower slowly, and the pressure will increase. The entire process will take less than a minute per side.”

  That was the first piece of decent news she’d heard all day, and it meant absolutely nothing because both doctors assured her they were not wrong in their diagnosis and this was merely a backup test.

  “Hannah is here because this isn’t a standard mammogram, but a diagnostic one.”

  “I know why I’m here, you don’t have to worry about alarming me.” The words nearly stuck in her throat but somehow came out sounding far calmer than she felt.

  “I’m sorry then. Please know we’ll get this done quickly. Hannah will make certain I have all the imagery we need to do this only once. Are you ready?”

  She was never less ready for anything in her entire life—which was ironic since her whole life essentially hinged on her getting this done.

  “No, but there’s not much else to do except getting it done.”

  “Exactly.” Rachel must have missed the sardonic tone in Cassandra’s voice because she sounded rather chipper to get started. “If you’ll step over here and lift the gown, we’ll get started.

  Swallowing hard, Cassandra rose and noticed her legs trembled. It took three rocky steps to reach the machine, and when she sat, she nearly missed the little black stool. A rush of coolness pressed against her stomach as she lifted the gown and Cassandra realized she had to gawkily tuck the clothing under her chin.

  “All right then, I’m going to touch you now.”

  Cassandra nodded and waited. Doctors poked and prodded all the time in diagnostic tests. Each out of the country work trip checkup required a full medical check—a mammogram was technically less invasive. Still, her breath caught in her throat

  Rachel handled Cassandra’s breast delicately, and the warmth of the plastic plate helped take away some discomfort. Holding her breath, Cassandra waited for the next instruction.

  “Please lean forward a bit, the machine will lift the gown, don’t worry about that.”

  Feeling silly, she lifted her head and sure enough, the cloth draped over the machine. Leaning forward, she pressed her head to the plastic and almost pulled back, shocked that it was colder than room temperature.

  “Okay, I need you to breathe normally for me. I’m going to get started.”

  A soft whirring noise began when Rachel touched something on the computer. Suddenly, seeing the procedure was too much to handle, and she closed her eyes. Forcing herself to take calming breaths was proving harder than she’d expected, one way or another this test would change her life.

  The pressure began while she counted in her mind to distract herself. It started mildly, no more than a gentle handshake. Quickly, it grew heftier, until it felt as if a ten-pound weight sat on her chest. While it didn’t hurt, it felt more than a little unpleasant, like getting fingers stuck in a car door.

  As quickly as the intensity began, it was gone. That was not nearly as terrible as I imagined. Anger surfaced. Why didn’t you do this before? Still fuming, she didn’t notice who spoke.

  “Got them.”

  She opened her eyes when Rachel touched her arm lightly. The nurse effortlessly switched which of her breasts was on the machine’s surface.

  All of the avoidance because you’d heard this was a terrible process. You might have caught this sooner. You might not have gone and spent three months in a foreign country letting the cancer progress further!

  She gasped. Her missions often brought about sad thoughts regarding the kids, but she’d never been bitter about her career prior.

  “Sorry, was that painful? It matters.”

  Embarrassment colored her face, and Cassandra shook her head. “I was thinking about something, sorry. No pain.”

  Another few seconds passed, and the pressure stopped for the second time. She was simply a woman in an uncomfortable position, feeling guilty for what she’d just thought.

  “You’re all set. The results have been rushed, and the Doctor Dresdell will have them in time for your appointment in the morning. Please be aware we might have to do more. Mammograms are not one and done when you’re facing cancer.”

  “I understand.” The words were hollow. Cassandra did understand, but she was too upset with herself to display any other emotion. The gown fell back into place as she leaned back from the machine.

  “I wanted to say you’re not alone in this fight. I’
m three years in remission. You’re in good hands.” Rachel put her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder.

  It was interesting; the way someone shared such a personal detail. It had been less than an hour since she’d finished picking up the pieces of herself off the bathroom floor and saying the words out loud was not an option. Telling a random stranger was inconceivable. She had made the decision almost immediately that she would tell only Diana—and only because she needed something to change at work.

  Why me? A tear slipped down her cheek as the awkwardness melted into regret. Why now? I’ve got so much left to do? Another tear. Buck up. Nothing’s even started, you can’t crawl under a blanket. This is temporary, and in no time you’ll be able to tell people you’re in remission too.

  “Okay then, if you don’t have any questions, we’ll leave to get dressed, and you can stop by the first window on your way out to pick up paperwork.”

  She nodded. It would seem all she had done today was string a few words together, cry and nod. “Thank you.”

  Blowing out a breath, she waited until the women closed the door before standing up. So many errands loomed in her near future. None of which were going to happen Cassandra only wanted to go home, curl up and pretend this day was all in her imagination.

  Seven

  Her hand tightened enough around the brass knob only enough to push open the brownstone door. The usual creek accompanied the rush of hot air as the door swung inward.

  Cancer.

  Her nose burned as tears formed in her eyes for what had to have been the eleventh time in the short distance she had walked from the hospital. The train had seemed useless because the last thing she’d wanted was to be trapped underground with tons of eyes on her as she attempted to pretend to be copasetic about the news she received.

  You have cancer. The pained cry streaked through her mind seemed to knock the wind from her body, as Cassandra sat on the bottom step of the winding staircase that led to her third story apartment. The crushed carpet offered no padding, and the discomfort was only a momentary distraction.