Angel Song

by Sheila Walsh

  Ann nodded. “Sounds good.” And it really did.

  Ann walked back into the empty house, surprised by how much she was looking forward to the evening ahead. It was almost like having an extended family.

  That thought caused her to look at the rolled-up paper—a letter written by the mother she’d hardly known—currently sitting on the kitchen counter. Part of her wanted to read it; another part wanted to burn it. What good could possibly come out of this? If it offered explanations, Ann didn’t want to hear them. What reason could possibly justify taking your kids for a “weekend visit to Nana’s” and then sneaking off in the middle of the night with nothing more than a note saying, “I’m leaving?” How many times had her mother offered what seemed like love, or acceptance, only to run out on them again? And if the letter asked for forgiveness . . .

  The house suddenly felt stuffy. Well, she hadn’t checked the mail today, and there were likely bills that needed to be paid. She walked outside, purposefully avoiding a glance at the letter as she went, and took her time making her way to the mailbox. She paused to pick up stray leaves that had fallen onto the concrete and veered off the path to pick the occasional weed.

  “You look like someone who’s trying to avoid something.”

  Ann looked up, surprised to see Eleanor squatting at the end of the driveway, lacing her running shoe. “Hi, Eleanor. And what would make you say that?”

  Her hair, pulled tightly back, still glinted in the sunlight as she stood. “Well, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anybody walk quite that slow, and you’ve found more excuses to stop than I would have imagined possible.”

  Ann laughed. “Busted.” She noticed Eleanor’s face looked flushed. “Just finishing your run?”

  “Yep, I beat my best time by twenty seconds today.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Yep.” She reached behind and grabbed her right foot with both hands, stretching out her quads. “A lot of times I feel like avoiding my evening run, but you know what I’ve always found to be true?”

  “What?”

  “If there’s something you don’t want to face, the sooner you get to it, the better.” She dropped the right foot and grabbed the left. “And if it looks to be too big to handle, I break it up into smaller pieces. On the days I don’t think I can make two miles, I aim for one. Or even a half. But I don’t let myself avoid the goal altogether.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “You know what I think your first goal should be?”

  “What?”

  “A shower. Looks like you’ve got a pound of sawdust currently roosting in your hair.”

  “Ha. You’ll appreciate that part, though, when it comes time to sell the house.”

  “I’m sure I will. You have a good evening now, okay?” Eleanor jogged off down the street, her ponytail swinging in the air.

  Maybe Ann should face the letter. But now, thanks to her stroll, she didn’t have time. She’d have to hurry if she was going to make it to Tammy’s before Ethan did.

  Chapter 18

  Tammy smiled. Ann was watching Ethan and Keith through the open kitchen window. Even though Ann was still going through the motions of chopping vegetables, her attention was definitely elsewhere. Oh, the possibilities!

  Ann turned her direction for a split second and saw Tammy watching her. She motioned with her knife. “Ethan’s really great with Keith.”

  Tammy nodded, although she doubted Annie noticed. “I don’t know what I’d do without him.” Ethan was running with his left arm in the air and shouting, “I’m going for the bomb; give it all you’ve got!”

  Keith threw the ball, which turned end over end instead of spiraling like a professional football player’s ball would. It obviously wasn’t going to get as far away as Ethan was, so Ethan corrected course, ran forward, and made a diving catch. He held the ball up in the air, as if to show the referee that he’d caught it, then yelled, “Touchdown!”

  “Woo, woo, woo!” Keith pumped his elbow in victory. “Yeah!”

  Ethan threw the ball back to Keith. It hit his hands, bounced off, and hit him on the face. “Ow.” Keith put his hands over his nose.

  Just then a black truck came speeding down the street, loud music booming through the open windows. A teenage boy leaned out the window. “What’s the matter, retard? Can’t you catch the itty-bitty ball?” The tires squealed as the truck sped away, the sound of the boys’ laughter echoing through the neighborhood.

  Tammy felt her fingers closing tighter around the handle of the vegetable peeler. She wished she could take those boys out of their charmed lives—full of black trucks, sports teams, and Saturday night dates—and just for one day put them in Keith’s place. Let them see how it felt to walk into a room full of strangers, expecting to be welcomed because he always welcomed, only to find himself ignored, cut off from the group, or even laughed at. Yet Keith survived this over and over and over. If only everyone could see, they would realize that the one they thought weak was actually the strongest one among them.

  “How do you stand that?” Ann slammed the end of a cucumber into the trash can. “Don’t you want to chase those boys down and beat some manners into them?”

  Tammy moved her head from side to side, trying to make her voice calmer than she was. “Sometimes. A lot of times, actually.” She sliced the tomato in front of her. “I just wish they could all slow down long enough to really see him. To know how truly wonderful he is.”

  Ann noticeably stiffened, her knife freezing halfway through the cucumber. “I’m glad I got the chance.”

  “Lyle—that’s my ex-husband—left me not long after Keith was born. He was upset enough when we found out Keith had Down’s, then Keith had terrible colic and started screaming before the sun went down. I guess the thought of a lifetime spent with a handicapped son just scared him right out of here.”

  “When you were pregnant with Keith, did you know that he was . . . that something was . . . ?”

  Tammy placed the sliced tomatoes in a fan shape on the plate, then went to tearing slices of lettuce. “Not for most of the time.

  I was an older mom, you know, so I had the tests done, including an amnio. It came back normal, so we were making plans for a healthy baby. But two weeks before Keith was born, we got a call from the doctor’s office. There had been a mix-up. They’d sent my results to some other woman, and sent me hers.”

  Ann’s knife slipped and caught her by the finger. “Ouch.” She stuck her finger under the kitchen faucet and looked up at Tammy. “You’re kidding. The other woman, she’d thought that her baby . . .”

  Tammy nodded. “Yep, she’d spent the last half of her pregnancy thinking her baby had Down syndrome. I’d spent the last half of mine thinking my baby was perfectly healthy.”

  Tammy remembered locking herself in the bedroom and crying for three days straight after the call came. She had refused to speak to anyone, had hardly eaten. At the time, she thought her life was ruined. “Looking back on it, I see God’s hands all over it. The other woman was still pregnant when they figured out their mistake, so she’d obviously planned to keep her child, was prepared to deal with all the issues. I . . . well, I mean, to tell the absolute truth, I wouldn’t have done the same.”

  She went back to arranging the lettuce on the plate, the shame burning her face. “It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s the truth.” She stared out the window toward Keith, who was now sitting beneath the shade of his favorite oak, rolling the football around in his hands while he talked to Ethan. “I’d never believed in God until Keith was born. I realize now that God knew all along that I needed Keith, and that Keith had a special place in this world. I am so grateful that it happened the way it did.” It was absolutely true, in spite of how hard her life often was.

  “Do you really believe, you know, that Keith sees angels?”

  “Yeah, I do. I think maybe he is less distracted with the things that distract most of us, so he’s able to see th
e things we all miss.”

  Ann rubbed her temples with both hands, as if this thought gave her a headache. “If there are angels with him, why don’t they at least him help catch a football when there are jerk-boys driving by? I mean, what’s the point if all they do is go around haunting people?”

  “Haunting?” Tammy looked at Ann. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”

  Ann shrugged. “What else would you call it? A bunch of spirits flying around making random appearances but not doing much else.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Tammy looked outside where Ethan was demonstrating some sort of football grip and Keith was smiling, but his head was leaned back against the tree. “There’s a verse in the Bible about angels that says, ‘Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?’ I think they serve him in the way he needs to be served—not with physical strength, but spiritual. Keith has a heart problem, which often leads to lung problems. He gets ill for long periods of time. The angels may not make him well—only God can do that—but he always emerges on the other side stronger, and with more peace, than before he got sick.”

  “He and Ethan sure have a great time together. Keith already looks worn out from the fun.” Ann’s voice took on that extra-cheery tone people always use to redirect a hard conversation.

  “Yeah, Keith doesn’t have a lot of stamina. He’ll be asleep before we eat if we don’t get this stuff to the table.” Tammy leaned forward and called out the window, “Hey, Ethan, will you get the burgers off the grill for me? Everything else is almost ready.”

  Ethan hopped to his feet. “You got it.” A few minutes later Ethan walked in the door with a plate full of burgers.

  Ann moaned. “I’m not much of a meat eater—in fact, I can’t remember the last time I had a burger—but I’ve got to tell you, the smell of the charcoal and smoke makes me glad I decided to lay aside my healthier tendencies for the day.”

  “I knew we’d win you over eventually. You’ll be eating fried chicken in no time.” Ethan set the plate on the table.

  Tammy recognized the gleam in his eyes. He was falling for Annie; there was no doubt about it. She started to insert a comment of her own but didn’t want to interrupt any chemistry that might be happening.

  “Oh yeah?” Ann laughed. “Don’t count on it. I’m thinking you’re due a visit to a sushi place.”

  “Yuck. Don’t count on it.” He made the motion of sticking his finger down his throat, complete with gagging sound.

  “That’s it, the gauntlet’s been thrown. My new goal in life is to see you eat sushi.”

  “Sushi? I love sushi. Can I come with you?” Keith blinked up at Ann with a crooked smile on his face.

  “Honey, you’ve never had sushi.” Tammy kissed him on the forehead. “Now go wash your hands.”

  Keith walked over to the kitchen sink and did as he was told while saying, “Doesn’t matter, I still like it.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  “If Annie likes it, then so do I.”

  Ann walked over and hugged him. “Then you should definitely come with us. Right, Ethan?” She looked over her shoulder, a dare in her eyes.

  Ethan picked up a ketchup bottle from the kitchen counter and carried it to the table. “Hey, buddy, she doesn’t like to be called Annie. Call her Ann, okay?”

  “Really?” Tammy looked at Ann, hoping for an argument. “We’ve been calling you Annie this whole time. Why haven’t you said anything? I feel terrible.”

  Ann shrugged. “That’s what everyone called me when I was kid—when I lived here. When I moved to New York, I thought it was time to grow up a little. I’ve been Ann ever since. Of course, to Sarah, I was always Annie.” Ann returned to her seat. “However, I don’t believe we were talking about my name. I think we were talking about sushi, and how Keith wanted to come with us.”

  Keith was bouncing up and down saying, “Sushi, sushi.”

  Ethan looked toward him, then shook his head. “Looks like I’m outnumbered.”

  Tammy swatted him with the dish towel. “I’d say it was more like outsmarted. Either way, you lose.”

  “Seems like cheating to me.” Ethan sat down in his seat, but the look on his face made Tammy think that maybe he’d been the winner after all.

  Chapter 19

  Ethan stood beside Ann at the sink. He rinsed the dishes, then handed them to her so she could load them into the dishwasher. She was so close, so very close, and every time she turned her head, a nice fruity fragrance filled the air. He wanted to lean closer and breathe it in. Instead, he scrubbed at the remnants of ketchup, mustard, and baked beans with a little extra vigor.

  “I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so completely stuffed. It’s been years since I last had a hamburger.” Ann put one hand on her stomach and groaned.

  “Admit it, though. When you took that first bite, you were wondering what ever possessed you to give them up.”

  Her shoulder brushed against his. “Okay, I’ll admit it. But right about now, I remember exactly why I gave them up. Blah.”

  “I’ll bet in New York you eat at fancy restaurants all the time.”

  “Not all that often.” She loaded a plate in the dishwasher, her face thoughtful. “But sometimes.”

  Ethan wondered who took Ann to nice dinners in New York. He could almost picture the guy—wearing an expensive suit and speaking with a European accent. “Charleston has some nice places too, you know. I should have told Tammy we were going out tonight.”

  “I’m the one who told her we would come over, if you recall. And to be perfectly honest, I can’t remember when I’ve had such a nice dinner.” She toyed with the trio of forks in her hand, then put them in the tray. “It’s funny, as much as I’ve avoided coming here for all these years, somehow at dinner tonight, I felt almost as though I’d come . . . home.” She straightened up.

  Ethan’s hand seemed to move of its own accord. It would not stop until it touched her hair; he knew this, yet he didn’t seem to be in control of it. Her dark brown hair was simple—long and straight—and it looked so soft, so amazingly soft. He’d wanted to touch it ever since he first saw her. His fingers were an inch away when he heard the sound of Keith’s door closing in the hallway behind them. His hand dropped to his side, goal thwarted. At least for now.

  “He’s sound asleep,” Tammy said as she moved back in to join them. “Thanks to both of you for coming over tonight. You have no idea how much it means to him, and to me, to have company.”

  “Thanks for having us over,” Ethan and Ann said at the exact same time. All three of them laughed.

  “Well, I guess I’d better walk Ann home.” Ethan hoped his voice sounded sufficiently casual to be cool, although he was pretty certain it sounded more like the desperate dork he was.

  “What, do you think I might get mugged between here and there?” Ann looked at him, her eyes shining with . . . either flirtation or irritation. How was a guy supposed to know the difference?

  “Well, usually I’d say no, this is a plenty safe neighborhood. But I’ve heard a rumor that some crazy New Yorker has been seen in the area recently. You know how those Yankees are. There’s no telling what they might do. I think we need to set up a neighborhood watch, and, well, I just don’t want to send you out into the night alone to face that kind of danger.”

  Her laughter fed the hope that it had been flirtation. “Don’t tell me a southern gentleman would let a little bitty girl from up north scare him.”

  “First off, I didn’t say I was scared; I said I’d better stick around to protect you. Second off, don’t ever confuse me with a gentleman.”

  “My mistake.” Ann reached over and hugged Tammy, which seemed to surprise both of them. “Well, good night. I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow.” The way she said it, it sounded like she was looking forward to it. A very good sign.

  “Count on it.” Tammy hugged Ethan, then went to hold the door open for the
m. “Good night.”

  Ethan and Ann walked slowly across the lawn toward the house. They were close enough that Ethan could easily reach out and take her hand; his fingers twitched at the thought. But he didn’t want to do anything dumb at this point, and how was he supposed to know how she would react?

  By now, they were at the kitchen door. Ethan mustered what was left of his courage, reached out, and touched her hand. “Hey, do you want to go to church with me in the morning? It starts at nine, and Tammy and Keith will be there too.”

  “Church? Um . . .” Ann looked him in the face, and her voice came out firm, almost hard. “I don’t do church.”

  “Really?” Ethan knew his voice did not hide his surprise. “I . . . well, living in New York I would think there would be lots of churches to choose from, but maybe in a city that size it’s hard to find one with just the right mix of people, huh? I think you’d like the one here. Sarah went there and lots of her friends. Tammy goes there, and Keith—I already said that, didn’t I?”

  “Ethan, when I say I don’t do church, what I mean is, I don’t do the God thing.”

  What? How had he been so oblivious that he’d never picked up on that? He pulled his hand back to his side, the finality of it burning through his veins. She was off-limits. As a nonbeliever, Ann was off-limits for anything more than friendship. And he certainly was feeling more than friendship toward her.

  She was still looking at him, a dare in her eyes, waiting for a response, but the shock made it difficult for him to think of anything coherent to say. “Really? I just assumed, I mean, you’re Sarah’s sister, and your grandmother . . . well, she was . . . you know . . . and I guess I just figured that with that kind of family, you would—”

  “Yeah, that kind of a family. Just look at where it got them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, my grandmother suffered terribly for months before the cancer finally took her. Sarah was killed two days before she graduated with her master’s in social work. And even Tammy. She believes, and she has a handicapped son—who means the world to her, I’ll grant you that—but her life is just plain hard. If there was a God, why wouldn’t He take better care of the people who actually believe in Him?”