Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “Well…not exactly like Gabriel. He’s a bit higher up than I am.” I grin.

  “Holy sh…smokes! You’re freaking serious.” A gasp of shock leaves her mouth. Now she thinks she’s crazy.

  “Yes.”

  “And Leo?”

  “Yes.”

  “The eyes…”

  “One of our traits.”

  “Not of this world. Nice.” She shakes her head in disbelief and a half-grin curls the corner of her lips. “So, are you my guardian angel?” This is freaking crazy! That’s the last time I’ll ever get drunk.

  “Well…not exactly your guardian angel…”

  A ringing sound interrupts me. Providence fumbles to pick up before it goes to voicemail. She mouths, “One sec.”

  “Taylor, are you okay?”

  “I’m good, I’m good. Can you pick me up? I don’t have access to a car.” Providence’s eyes run up and down me glaringly.

  “You and I…” She points between us. “We’re not finished here. I need some answers.” A stomp of her stiletto lets me know there’s no escaping this conversation. “Umm, one sec?” She looks back at me, “Where are we?”

  “Washington Park is a block from here. Have her pick you up there.”

  “Taylor, meet me at Washington Park, across from Music Hall. Okay…see ya in fifteen.” She slides her phone into the tiny space between the waistband of her black-leather skirt and her stomach.

  “I have to go home.” My heart sinks at the thought. “I have to be at work in two hours. Picked up an extra shift.” She rubs sleep from her eyes.

  Relief falls over me. Her running out isn’t because of what I told her, at least not solely.

  Fiddling with her fingers, she lets out a sigh. “Walk me to the park?” With a shimmer in her eye she smiles.

  “Yes, of course.” I return a forced smile, sad to see her go.

  “You’re not short on yeses today.” She glares in frustration.

  “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” I open my arms showing I have nothing to hide.

  I feel a small fire ignite in her belly, excitement maybe.

  “Really, you will? ’Cause I’ve got questions.” Her jaw drops open. She’s challenging me.

  “Yes?” She glares at me for yet another yes.

  “Fine, tonight. Come by at six.” Her heels click on the floor as she walks out of the bedroom.

  “Bye, Providence. Take care.” Leo waves, leaning against the kitchen counter.

  “You too, Leo.” She turns back to me. “No couch?”

  “No, no couch.” I smile at her thoughts.

  Well at least he didn’t say yes.

  “Huh, okay.”

  We stroll down the stairwell, stepping over trash piled in our path.

  “Brr, it’s cold out here.”

  I hand her my well-worn, olive-green army coat.

  “Thanks,” she says, sliding her arms in and pulling it tightly around her neck. She takes a deep breath, tilting her head down to the collar. “Mmm, piney!” Color falls from her face, stunned by a memory. She slaps her hand on her forehead. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!”

  “It’s all right, no worries.” I see what is causing the panic.

  “No worries? I’m mortified. I called you “my Christmas Zan.” That’s so embarrassing.” Her head tilts toward the ground, heavy with humiliation.

  “Little One, you were a bit intoxicated.” I smile recalling her adorable and completely honest ramblings.

  We walk the rest of the way in silence across the red-brick street, unique to this part of town, coming to a stop across from Music Hall. The morning is cool; the sun has recently risen over the buildings. Providence peers at the ground, shivering and hoping the humiliation will soon wear off.

  “Hey.” I gently clutch her arm, feeling the hot tingle and goose bumps it brings to her body.

  She kicks a stone with the tip of her boot, refusing to look up.

  “Hey, look at me…” She tilts her head up reluctantly, cheeks scarlet from a combination of cold and embarrassment.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are a wonderful person, Providence Corban.”

  The nausea of humiliation lingers, but my words cause her heart to flutter. I hug her, tucking the crown of her head under my chin and transferring enough golden light to ease embarrassment. A warm sensation courses through her veins. It’s a welcome warmth.

  Taylor rolls down the window of her silver BMW convertible. “Well…hello there.” She winks at Providence.

  She nods as I open the car door for her.

  “Thanks,” she whispers, struggling to look at my face.

  “See you at six.”

  “Six.” She gives a quick wave and settles into the passenger seat, still unable to make eye contact.

  Taylor revs the engine and speeds away.

  Still in tune with her, I hear, “Taylor, oh my gosh, I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Who was that?”

  “Zan.”

  “Friday-night-savior Zan?”

  “Yep, and apparently I need to stop having Friday nights.”

  “He’s totally gorgeous. Friday night with him doesn’t sound bad.” She laughs.

  “Taylor, I passed out, like in his lap, for hours. I can’t believe it. I’m leaving some dudes’ house, wearing last night’s trampy outfit, hair in total disarray, and no toothbrush. Ugh!” Providence didn’t tell her I was an angel.

  “Did you…you wouldn’t…”

  “No, oh my gosh, no. Are you kidding? I couldn’t even stand up.”

  “I was gonna say, since you’ve never…well, anyway, I hate to say it Prov, but he’s seen you in worse shape.”

  “Ugh! I know. He’s only seen me in bad shape. How humiliating. Okay, let’s talk about something brighter…Knox perhaps…spill it.” Angel, my God, he said he was an angel. Is that right? Do those exist?

  I saunter home with her lingering feelings of humiliation, praying that she will understand I’m here to protect and comfort her. I also still feel traces of the warmth that ran through her veins, the light I gave her, coursing through her body. That part makes the weight of her burdens worth bearing.

  The Walk

  God, I don’t know what you have planned for my life, but I will follow wherever you want me to go. Did you really send an angel for me? It seems crazy and ridiculous, but I think I believe him. I know I was completely trashed, and I’m sorry for that, but I saw white-feathered wings, I know I did. It just seems odd the two times this week I desperately needed someone he’s shown up, and surely that’s no coincidence. I just…hmmm…I felt like I needed him before I met him, before I knew it was him that I needed, if that makes sense. He just makes me feel better. I was so ashamed this morning because of everything he’s done for me, never asking for one thing in return or judging me. He always knows exactly what I need, a hug, a smile, a comforting word. But I guess that’s his job, right? He has to do it. I can’t stop thinking about him. Well…if this guy isn’t who he says he is, could you please give me a sign? Otherwise, I’m inclined to believe every word that comes out of his mouth. Oh, and if you could maybe give me that sign in the next thirty minutes that would be awesome since that’s when he’s coming over.

  Compared to this morning, the afternoon has warmed up considerably. I jog over to Providence’s house hoping to free my mind of disorder, allowing me the ability to focus solely on her. I listen to her prayer, pleased to hear the shift from this morning’s sullen tone to one more consistent with her usual upbeat character. And since she wants a sign confirming my word, I pocketed a white feather to give her. I’m not going to be able to show her my wings today, so this proof will have to do—for now.

  I jump the steps leading to the front door of her small, pale-yellow home, pausing for a moment before knocking. Even before seeing her, I can sense her. Anxiousness triggers her stomach to dance an Irish jig and causes her breathing to become uneven. It’s a few minutes before six, but I w
ould rather be early than late. The anxiety I can calm with a simple touch, and I see no reason to delay her peace. I knock twice.

  “Hi,” I announce, when Providence opens the door. “Six, as instructed.” I look at my watchless wrist after glancing quickly at the clock hanging on the wall in the living room.

  “Hi,” she replies bashfully, trying to avoid direct eye contact. The morning’s embarrassment apparently hasn’t completely been forgotten. I’ll remedy that.

  “So, you want to take a walk?”

  “Sure.” She grabs my coat off the hanger.

  She extends her arm to pass it to me. “I’m good. You can wear it.” I touch the tip of her fingers, sending a little light to calm her.

  “You sure?” I shake my head as she pulls her tiny arms through the oversized sleeves and closes the door. “Love the shirt, by the way.” I glance down at my Kelly-green, vintage Cascade T-shirt.

  “Thank you. Oh…and this is for you.” I hand her the white feather.

  Her jaw drops. She draws in a mouthful of air and holds it. She blinks several times, collects her thoughts, and finally exhales in a slow stream. She believes me.

  “Wow.” She clears her throat. “So, umm…angel, huh? I guess that explains why you didn’t take my dad the first night I met you.” She peers at the ground visualizing her dark memory.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, no, not this again.” Yes, yes, yes! She scowls.

  I smile. “I will tell you anything you want to know. If you want me to elaborate beyond the yes I will.”

  At the top of the hill, I slow my pace and gaze at the large stately homes beyond the barren trees that rise up as we round the corner. Leaves will soon mask their grandness.

  “Well…I have about a million questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  She shrugs and asks, “Why me?”

  “Well…for one, because you asked. Two—and this sounds hokey—but I’m here to replace the darkness within you with light, to protect you, provide comfort. He has a plan for you, and you simply need a little angelic support.”

  “I asked?” Her forehead creases as she raises her eyebrows.

  “Yes, you prayed for help. I’m the help.” I throw both thumbs at my chest.

  “Do you know what His plan for me is?” Her eyes sparkle, hopeful.

  “No. I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did know. What fun would that be?”

  Her glare turns into a half smile.

  “So, I just prayed and He was all ‘Zan, go to Providence?’”

  A laugh slips out. “Sorry, that was funny. Not exactly. I hear your prayers.”

  “What do you mean you hear them? How?”

  “When you pray, I hear your prayer, in my mind. It’s a little like call forwarding. When you talk to the boss, it’s redirected, in a sense, to me. He listens as well, to manage the things out of my control, but I’m the field man, well…angel, so to speak.”

  “So you can hear all of my prayers?”

  “Yes.”

  “So before you came over to my house tonight…”

  “I heard everything you said.” I turn and look her in the eye. “You wanted a sign, I gave you a feather.” I wink.

  She blinks and diverts her eyes. “And the needing part?”

  “Yeah, heard that too.” I stare straight ahead to ease her discomfort.

  Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh! He heard me say that I needed him and that he makes me feel better And…the humiliation continues…

  “Don’t be. This is what I was designed to do.”

  Her face turns bright red, “You heard that too. I didn’t speak out loud.”

  “Yes, when I’m with you I can hear your thoughts. When I’m not, I can only hear your prayers.”

  Oh, that’s heavy. She sighs.

  “I know.” I lay my arm over her shoulder, pulling her to my side, and we continue up the hill.

  “Oh gosh, that’s creepy that I can just think something and you hear it. Can you hear other thoughts from early today or last week?”

  “When I’m with you, I can fish through your memories, but I typically don’t—a privacy thing.”

  “Typically?” She tilts her head and squints her eyes.

  “The first night I introduced myself to you, your physical and emotional pain was overpowering everything else, so I had to penetrate beyond the surface to find out what happened to you that night.”

  “So you knew my dad was responsible?” She strokes her arm where the bruise has now faded to a pale yellow.

  “Yes.” I reassuringly run my hand over her back.

  “Do you do that a lot? Fish, I mean.”

  “No, that was the only time.”

  “Will you ask me next time before you go fishing?”

  “I promise, unless you are in danger.”

  “Deal.” She reaches out to shake my hand.

  She stares to the right as we stroll down the hill, taking in the large, sunshine-yellow, country-style home situated atop a grassy hill. Her eyes drift over the white front porch that spans the front of the home and she dreams of sitting in a rocking chair and sipping iced tea. She blinks and turns back to me.

  “What did you mean, this is what you were designed to do? Since I’m already totally humiliated, I figure I should go ahead and ask.”

  “I have a kind of internal light—that’s the best way to describe it—that I can transfer to you. It will slowly expel whatever darkness is present—to a degree.”

  “To a degree?”

  “Physical ailments I can’t cure or remove, such as cancer or alcohol-induced lightheadedness.”

  She covers her face with her hands.

  “Physical ailments that are caused by emotions I can help by altering what you focus on. Like today, when I arrived, you were anxious, your stomach was dancing. Those types of things I can calm.”

  “How?”

  “By touching you. You don’t feel that way now, do you? ”

  “No, come to think of it. It did go away as I was putting your coat on. But it wasn’t your coat…”

  “I touched your hand, gave you a little light.”

  “Do you give me this light every time you touch me?”

  “No, it doesn’t happen just by touching, I have to initiate it.”

  “Will I be able to tell when you are?”

  “I don’t know. Want to see?”

  She nods and smiles brightly.

  I take her hand in mine and just hold it. Her heart beat picks up and goose bumps rise where I brush my thumb over the back of her hand.

  “Are you doing it now? I feel all tingly.” I feel all tingly. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. How embarrassing.

  I chuckle. “No. One second.” I radiate light from my palm to hers. “Now you feel it?”

  Her heart beat calms slowly.

  “I still feel all tingly, just not as jittery.” She smiles. And still embarrassed.

  “Yeah, there wasn’t one particular emotion I was going for, so I just calmed your nerves a bit.”

  She blushes.

  “So, what does it feel like when I touch you?” She lightly brushes her thumb along the back of my hand.

  “Mmm…It’s more of a sensation. I could feel your hand was smooth, not physically bumpy or anything. But my feeling is more emotional than physical. I sense your emotions. The warmth I felt when you touched me was more emotional warmth, your desire to touch my hand, as opposed to your hand being warm because you’re human with blood pumping through your veins. I can feel your physical discomforts as well, but they don’t disable me, like yesterday when you were wearing the stilettos and they were pinching your feet.” I smile knowing that analogy was more comfortable than my commenting on her desire to touch my hand.

  “Seriously, you felt that?”

  “Yeah, how are those blisters?”

  “Real funny, Zan. What women do for fashion.” She jokingly huffs.

  “I’m not complaining.”

&nbs
p; My comment instinctively causes her to turn toward me and squint her hazel eyes, sunlight makes the golden flecks sparkle around her pupils.

  I think that was a compliment, sounded like a compliment. Oh, those eyes make me melt. Sh...crap, he can hear me. Stop thinking, stop thinking.

  I turn away from her and smile. I may be the one blushing now.

  “Oh my gosh, I have no secrets from you.” She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout and frowns.

  That face, and I thought I was just getting a grasp on my weaknesses. Fortunately she can’t read my thoughts.

  I have a tendency to allow her feelings to take control of me. When she feels bad, I want to make her better. When she feels better, I want to stay with her to experience it, that warmth racing through her body.

  In the park, nearing the top of the hill, I stop walking, grab her hand, and curl her in for a hug, resting my chin on her walnut hair. I’m not entirely certain what drives me to do it, but she doesn’t stop me. Her arms rest low on my hips with her hands clenched together in the center of my back.

  “Your hair smells good—strawberries.”

  A car passes as we embrace on the side of the road. She doesn’t even flinch but runs a finger up and down my back.

  “This is comfortable, you know.”

  “I know exactly what you mean, I feel what you feel.”

  “Your eyes do kind of make me melt,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “I did feel a little fire building in you.”

  “Are you doing it now, the light thing?” She peers up at me.

  “Nope, just hugging you. No need for that right now unless I’m missing something?”

  “Oh, you’re not. It’s just strange. I can have the absolute worst day, and you’ll hold me and everything else will fade away, vanish into thin air.” And you’ve been there for one of my two worst days. Where were you when my mom died?

  “It’s more of a bonfire now.” I pull my head back and smile at her, changing the direction of her thoughts.

  She blushes. “I can’t help it. Okay, okay, okay, self-control.” She lets go of me and jogs around in three small circles, cocking her head from side to side to remove the fog.