by Delia Latham
The rattle of tools somewhere in the shadows made him tense and hold his breath. Dad was back. Corbin had hoped the old man had wandered off and fallen into a drunken stupor. His stumbling return meant he still had a few more swings left in him.
Corbin’s only warning was the familiar, ugly whoosh of displaced air as a heavy leather razor strop sliced through it before slapping his bare back with cruel, cutting force. Despite his most stubborn intentions, he cried out.
“You know I gotta do this, boy!” His father’s drunken bellow roused frantic neighs and whinnies from the stalls on the other side of the barn. “The angel says it’s the only way to get the devil outta ya. And it’s my duty, it is. I cain’t just sit back ‘n let ol’ Lucifer have my boy, not when I can whup him outta ya and save yer soul.”
The leather sailed through the air again and landed hard against Corbin’s back. This time he managed to clench his teeth and prevent the scream that tried to rip from his throat. But he couldn’t stop the instinctive arching of his body, nor the reflexive jerking of his arms and legs, which tightened the rope, driving it deeper into raw, bleeding skin.
“Get outta my kid, Bell-zee-bub!” His dad slurped down another swig of the whiskey that always brought on these attempts to exorcise the devil from Corbin. “You cain’t have this boy. He’s mine!”
The strop whipped through the air again and Corbin’s back arched in agony. “Dad! Please. Stop.”
A harsh sob ripped from his father’s throat, and he dropped to his knees beside the hay bed. “I want to, son. I wanna stop. Don’tcha know this hurts me worse’n it hurts you?”
Corbin seriously doubted that. His vision was glassy from pain, but he saw the disgusting strings of mucus hanging from his father’s nose, watched him swipe them away with his sleeve. Then that same long arm was thrown across Corbin’s lacerated back.
“But the angel, boy. The angel said I gotta do this. I’m savin’ you, son! I’m savin’ you!”
He struggled to his feet again, and Corbin heard the rattle of the strop’s metal end as his father wrapped the handle more securely around his hand. Then came the dreaded sound in the air. Cringing, he squeezed his eyes closed and bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
Just as the screaming strop landed across his back, something happened. Something that had never happened before.
A sweet, feminine voice rang out across the huge room. “Stop! In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to drop that whip. You will not strike the boy again!”
Corbin’s eyes flew open and he raised his head to peer across the shadowy barn.
Aria? What is she doing here? She doesn’t belong in this place. He struggled to hold his bleary eyes open. She doesn’t belong in this time.
She stood straight and unwavering in a swath of light, her little chin in the air. Her velvet brown eyes seemed lit from behind, turning them to molten gold. A breeze Corbin hadn’t felt until that moment lifted her hair and blew it around her face like bright, billowing flames.
Behind her, some trick of shadow and light created the illusion of beautiful, majestic wings that swayed and fluttered against the rough walls of the large structure.
Even if his back hadn’t been laid open, and every breath wasn’t an exercise in pain endurance, the sight of her would have stolen his air. He moaned. Oh, God, please let this be my imagination. Aria’s the last person I want to see me like this!
“Come.” Her voice softened as she glided across the barn toward him and his father, who had dropped to his knees and crossed his arms over his face. “Get up. There is no devil inside you. Don’t let him hurt you like this…not ever again.”
She touched the rope that held his right ankle, and it dropped to the ground. Corbin could not find his voice, nor take his eyes off her angelic face. Despite his abject humiliation at being found in this demeaning position, she held him spellbound.
One by one, the ropes fell away. He struggled to raise his torso off the prickly hay bales, trying hard not to reveal the extent of his pain.
She saw it anyway. “Let me help you.” Her voice washed over him like a gentle rain…and then her fingers touched his back. He gasped, expecting the touch to be agonizing, but it soothed like a divine balm. As her hands moved across his wounds, he felt them mending, literally healing beneath her touch.
“You’ll be fine now.” She spoke softly. “Let it go.”
“I didn’t want you to know,” he muttered.
…and sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath.
“Oh, God, please…not the dreams again!”
Gagging, he leaped from the bed and dove through the door of the small restroom, barely reaching the commode before he lost what was left of the Chinese takeout he’d had for dinner.
If this is what praying for Aria Robbins brought on, he was in for a long week.
4
She stumbled into the kitchen and got the coffee pot going earlier than usual. What little sleep Aria had managed to get had been broken by awful, disjointed dreams. She couldn’t remember much about them, just shadowy bits and pieces. There’d been a young man—stripped to his underwear—tied down and beaten half unconscious. A drunken man with a leather strap of some kind in one hand and a whiskey bottle in the other, standing over the kid and shouting senseless drivel about angels. A hideous creature with huge, black wings laughing maniacally as it looked on, encouraging the inebriated fellow to further abuse the bloody, half-naked boy.
Yesterday’s weird goings on had apparently affected her more deeply than she realized. Thank God it had all gone down on a Friday. Now she’d have the weekend to rest and recoup.
She made the coffee stronger than usual and poured herself an oversized mugful, eager to shake off the dream shadows in her mind. Someone tapped on her door just as she lifted the steaming brew to her lips. Surprised, she set it on the counter and hurried to see who had the unmitigated gall to approach the dragon’s lair before she’d swallowed the caffeine that made her human for the day.
Viv Hart stood on the porch holding a covered plate of something that smelled delectable.
“Mrs. Hart!” Aria swung the door wide. “Please come in.”
“Just for a minute, dear. And it’s Viv, remember?” Viv stepped into the cottage, her bright blue gaze bouncing all over the small room in a heartbeat. “What a charming place! I love your taste in décor.” She seated herself at the small dining table and set the plate she’d brought in squarely in its center. “I smell coffee. Can I beg a cup?”
Aria grinned. “Of course you can, but I warn you, it’s strong enough to stand your spoon up. Just stay where you are. I’ll get it.”
“Thank you. I thought you might enjoy a Danish—fresh out of the oven.” Viv pulled the foil wrapper off the plate, revealing several gooey sweet cakes, still warm and dripping with glaze. She shot Aria an impish grin and a saucy wink. “Not my oven, but I haven’t found a thing to criticize about the ones that come out of that big old contraption in the kitchen at Angel Treats. Have you had breakfast?”
“No, ma’am, and now I’m glad I put it off until later.” Aria slid a couple of dessert plates, forks and napkins onto the table. She set a cup of steaming coffee in front of her guest, topped off her own, and joined the older woman at the table. “These look downright sinful!”
“Oh, they are, dear. They are!” Viv sank her fork into the one on her plate, then paused and reached for Aria’s hand. “Oops, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s pray.”
Aria smiled. “You do the honors.”
Viv closed her eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for good friends and good food. Amen.” She squeezed Aria’s hand and then released it. “Let’s see if these are as scrumptious as they look.”
They were. Both women moaned in playful ecstasy over the flaky treats, and chatted comfortably for a few minutes, but all the while, Aria waited, wondering why her landlord’s wife had felt the need to bring breakfast and bright smiles to her cottage on a Satu
rday morning.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Aria, dear, are you still working at the church and with Pia?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Aria picked up her napkin and dabbed at a spot of stickiness on her lip. “I enjoy both jobs very much.”
“Well, that’s good, of course. But then, you’re also the minister of music at the Tabernacle, aren’t you?” She shook her head, obviously not expecting an answer. Aria had filled that position at the church for some time, and anyone who attended The Falls Tabernacle would be aware of that. “I don’t know how you do it all.”
“Well, I do stay busy, but I don’t have a family to worry about, so that helps.”
“Hmm.” Viv laid her fork on her plate and tapped her napkin at the corner of her mouth. “Still, you don’t have a lot of spare time, do you, dear?”
“No, I guess not, but—” Aria paused, and then narrowed her gaze. “Did you sweeten me up because you need me to do something? Miss Viv!” She tried to pull a frowny face, but couldn’t quite force her lips in the right direction. “Shame on you!”
Two patches of pink bloomed in the older woman’s round face. “Oh, dear. I didn’t handle this at all well, did I?”
Aria laughed. “I’m glad you came, even if you did have an ulterior motive. What can I do for you?”
“Well, if you’re sure…I’m afraid I’m in over my head with this wedding, and I’m just desperate enough to stoop to anything to get all hands on deck.”
Aria gnawed at her bottom lip. She was aware of the upcoming wedding. Two of Heart’s Haven’s tenants, Kaci James and Ryne Calvert, were getting married in the center court of the complex, and the Harts were determined to make it a heavenly event.
Aria barely knew the couple, other than to nod and smile across the sanctuary at church—or here in the Haven. With the thought, she suddenly felt a bit sheepish…why didn’t she know them? They were her neighbors. They were her church family. Had she withdrawn herself so completely that she existed as an island in the midst of a sea of people?
She tuned back in to Viv’s chatter. “You don’t have to, of course, dear. I’ll think of something else if you don’t have time.”
Aria shook her head, feeling dazed and confused. “I must have zoned out for a moment. What was it you needed me to do?”
A little line appeared between Viv’s eyebrows. “Are you all right, dear?”
“I’m fine.” She managed a light laugh. “This coffee just hasn’t quite hit my bloodstream yet.”
“Well, since you have such a lovely voice, dear, I thought you might be willing to sing at the wedding? Kaci has given me free rein to coordinate the entire affair, and when I asked the girl what kind of music she likes, she just gave me one of those precious smiles and said, ‘Oh, I love to hear Aria sing.’ I’ve never seen a bride more relaxed about the little details of her wedding.”
“Well…yes, I suppose I could sing. But are you certain they don’t have someone they know…or maybe a CD they’d like to use…?”
“Yours was the only name Kaci mentioned. So, you’ll do it then? You’ll sing?”
Aria chuckled. “Sure, Miss Viv. Count me in.” She still wasn’t comfortable calling the older woman by her first name, but Viv had insisted from the day they met.
Aria’s busy brain was already trying to shuffle this new task into her crowded schedule. Most weeks she spent well over forty hours working her two jobs, and another half dozen or so tending to the music program—rehearsing, lining up songs, scheduling the musicians. Singing at the wedding would add another several hours to a schedule that was already straining at the seams, especially now, with the Easter program to think about. Were there even enough hours in the day?
“You choose a song, dear. I know it’ll be perfect.” Viv stood and crossed to the sink, where she ran water over her hands and dried them on a tea towel. “That’s a big load off my mind. And now, I need to get out of your way and let you enjoy your weekend.”
“You’re not in my way. Come back any time.” Aria quickly washed the plate her landlady had brought over and handed it to her. “I always welcome visitors who bring lovely smiles and delicious food.”
Viv laughed and patted her cheek. “Well, don’t forget that you invited me, dear, because I will be back.” She stepped out onto the porch and shook her head. “I hope this awful humidity lets up before the wedding.”
A familiar unease squirmed in Aria’s belly. “I’m not completely sure it’s humidity.”
“No? What do you mean?”
She didn’t want this sweet woman to think she was losing her mind. “Oh, nothing, I guess. Thanks again, Miss Viv.”
Viv hurried off toward the big house. Aria remained on the porch for a moment, trying to shrug off a vague sense of unease. A shadow seemed to overhang the place this morning. She looked up, expecting to see dark clouds obliterating the sky. Her searching gaze found only clear blue in the heavens.
But something was there. She felt it.
Her gut clenched, and she stumbled backward, clutching at the doorframe as the air around her fluttered and waved, as if folding in on itself. In that brief instant, she caught a split-second vision of clashing swords, heard a distant shout. The phrase “battle cry” crossed her mind, though she had no idea what it meant.
And then it was gone, and Aria realized she was clinging to the doorframe with white-knuckled fingers, whimpering like a frightened child.
She hauled in a deep, steadying breath and hurried inside, praying no one had witnessed her moment of…what? Insanity?
She needed more coffee. And for the first time in her life, she wished she had something stronger in her cupboards.
Whatever had just happened to her had something to do with what Zoe Manning had called about yesterday. Of that, she had no doubt.
****
“Going into town?”
Aria had her car door open and was getting ready to brave the furnace-like interior when Corbin’s voice rang out from the next driveway.
She bit her lip. She was headed to the church for Pia’s meeting with the WINGS team. Corbin stood next to his pickup, twirling a set of keys on one finger. Of course. He was headed there too.
“Yes. To the church.”
“Pia’s meeting?”
She nodded. “And a couple of other little things I need to do.”
“Me too.” He gave her a crooked smile that would have melted the hearts of several young ladies Aria could think of. Not hers, though. She barely noticed that his smile wasn’t quite straight, and that his thick eyelashes were TV-commercial long. “Want to ride with me? We’re going to the same place, and coming right back here.”
No. She definitely did not want to ride with Corbin, and she opened her mouth to say so, but then hesitated. She really was turning herself into an island, wasn’t she? And Pastor David had made it very clear that he expected her to make an effort to get along with this man.
She shrugged and closed her car door. “True.” She rounded her vehicle and joined him in his driveway. “My prayer hour is coming up in about twenty minutes, and then I need to make a run to the music store before the meeting. I can walk to Angel Song; it’s just a couple of blocks from the church.”
“Or you can take my truck. My prayer hour follows yours, I believe. And then it’ll be time for Pia’s meeting.” He walked around and opened the passenger door for her, keeping up a steady stream of conversation as she climbed in. “By then I have a feeling we’ll both be starving. Can I talk you into having dinner with me?”
He closed her door before she could answer and hurried around to the driver’s side.
Aria hesitated, studying his profile as they drove out of the complex and headed toward town. This was turning into far more togetherness than she felt comfortable with. But still…it was only dinner. She needed to put forth a genuine effort.
“How about we bring dinner back to my place?” she offered. “It’ll be quieter, and…maybe we can wa
tch a movie or something?”
He shot her a surprised glance that made her stomach do an unexpected somersault. “Sounds like a plan.”
Aria closed her eyes and forced herself to relax against the seat. Sounded like a plan all right. Probably the worst one she could have come up with, but she hadn’t exactly had time to concoct anything better.
Well, it is what it is. For better or worse…
5
Corbin swallowed his last bite of pizza, washed it down with a drink of Dr. Pepper, and grinned at Aria, whose plate still held half of the single slice she’d taken from the box. Her salad bowl was empty, but she’d only filled it about half full to begin with.
“So…what now? A movie? Or…” He rubbed his stomach, already wishing he hadn’t gone after the pizza with such gusto. “Maybe a walk along the greenway?”
Aria’s eyes widened. She dropped her pizza crust onto the paper plate and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “A walk, yes! My legs could use a bit of a stretch.”
“Mine, too.” Corbin groaned as he stood to help her clear the table. “I ate too much.”
She laughed. “Ya think?”
He ran a damp dishcloth over her small table and trumped up a shocked expression. “Hey! I only ate my half.”
She hiked a brow. “Really? OK. Well, we won’t count that extra slice or three if you’d rather not.”
They were both laughing as they strolled through the complex and set off down the Angelina Trail. Corbin couldn’t believe they’d made it through the last several hours without a single snippy word or withering look.
“I thought Pia did a good job getting everyone fired up and ready to face the coming storm.” He tossed it out there, knowing it might be opening a can of worms. Aria might be right on board with the whole “angels around us” mentality.
“She did a great job.” Aria shot him a sweet, relaxed smile—the first he’d ever received from her, especially at such close quarters. It did strange things to his insides. “I was there when Zoe called yesterday. It was pretty intense.”
