Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  A deep laugh bursts through my lips.

  “So going back to what you physically feel. This…” she runs her index finger down the side of my face, “only feels smooth to you?”

  “I can feel the sensation of your touching me, which is smooth. Comparatively, if you had goose bumps, the raised skin would feel, well…bumpy. But I don’t feel warmth on the physical spot you touched. I feel that internally. My skin is different from yours.”

  “What do you mean? It feels the same as my skin, better actually since you’ll hear me think it anyway.” She rolls her eyes.

  “This skin is a façade.” I wrinkle my skin between my fingers. “We don’t have to take on a human form.”

  “What do you mean? Sometimes you don’t look like this?”

  “I usually don’t look like this, only when I’m making a special appearance.” I smile and wink.

  “What do you usually look like?” Creases form at the bridge of her nose in confusion.

  “It’s hard to explain since you can’t see it, but in my angelic form I have these same features, but instead of skin, I have a golden glow, if that makes sense.”

  “Umm, not really. Why can’t I see it? Can others?”

  “Just try to picture me but through a golden lens, with less defined edges. Your skin has a defined layer, where ours doesn’t. It’s more of a golden haze, if you will. Humans can’t see angels unless we take on human flesh, ever. With that said, some people can sense our presence.”

  “If you touched me would I feel it?”

  “No, not physically, but you may sense a change in your emotional state, a settling in most cases or a tingle from our internal light. The very first night I met you, I touched your shoulder to transmit some light, and after a few minutes you calmed down. You even said thank you. You didn’t know I was there, but you felt a calmness flow through you.”

  “When was that? How long have you known me?”

  “The first time I heard from you was in January—so, just a month.”

  “January. Do you remember why I prayed for you?”

  “Of course. Umm…your dad had been drinking and you asked for Him to keep you safe. And then Lily began machine-gun texting you.” I laugh.

  She smiles. “I remember that night. Not one of my finest, but not the worst either.” She hesitates. “Will I ever be able to sense you?”

  “You may at some point. You have a fairly healthy prayer life, so I’m very in tune with you. It’s quite possible the more you know me, the easier it will be for you to sense my presence.”

  “What do you mean ‘in tune’?”

  “Well…I can always hear your prayers, but the more time I spend with you, learn about you, get to know you, the farther away I can be from you and still hear your thoughts and feel you.”

  “How far is that?”

  “I’ve never tested it, but the first night I met you, when I left your bedroom, I could no longer hear your thoughts, and your emotions left me pretty quickly.”

  “And now?”

  “This morning when Taylor picked you up, I could hear your conversation with her for awhile, probably a couple blocks, and your feelings lingered with me for awhile, but that may have had something to do—well, never mind, angel stuff.”

  “No, tell me. I have no secrets from you.”

  “Well, I’m sure you have some secrets from me…”

  “What secrets do I have?”

  “I’m not around you all the time. You probably don’t pray about everything, and I promised I wouldn’t fish.”

  “So, if, hypothetically, I talked to Taylor about you, and you weren’t around and I didn’t pray about it, you wouldn’t know?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Okay, sidetracker, back to the angel stuff?” I didn’t forget.

  I laugh. “Well…I haven’t talked to Grant or Leo about this specific situation, but here’s my theory as to why your feelings lingered with me this morning for so long.” She stops walking and looks at me intently as if I’m solving the world’s problems. “Because I spent several hours radiating my light to you for warmth, and not that my internal light necessarily goes away, but rather, umm…dims. So, you, well, your feelings stayed with me longer. Once I replenished my light, I was good.”

  “How do you replenish?”

  “I run. Leo dances. Prayer can do it. Really just requires taking a mental break. I jogged here, so I’m full of it now.”

  Her lip curls up into a smile. Oh I’m certain you are.

  I shake my head and grin, running my fingers through the hair that flows down her back. She grabs my hand and pulls me down a sidewalk leading to an overlook, where we watch the Ohio River curve toward downtown. Two benches are situated on either side of the cement pathway next to large, round, empty and lonely-looking flower pots.

  “Who is Grant?”

  “He lives with Leo and me, an angel, just as we are.”

  “Are there others?”

  “Millions, everywhere.”

  “Seriously?” Her mouth falls open.

  “Yep. Millions here, millions still waiting for deployment.”

  “Deployment?”

  “Well, an assignment. So, in January I was assigned here, to Cincinnati. I’m assigned to specific callers for various reasons.”

  “So you’re new here?”

  “Yep, I’m a newbie. Grant and Leo have been here for a few years, though.”

  “Well, I think you’re doing a good job so far. I’ll give you a good rating.” She nudges me with her shoulder.

  “Thanks.” I tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear, feeling the tingle my touch leaves on her skin.

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “What do you mean?” I tilt my head inquiringly.

  “Phew! Deep breath. You touch me and my mind turns to mush.”

  “I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again.” I pull away from her, taking a step backward.

  “That’s not what I meant.” She looks at the ground. “I want it to happen again, and again, and again…” She clutches my hand.

  I glance down at our hands clasped together, fingers intertwined, a little in shock, certain she was not referring to my angelic touch. And I’m incredibly afraid to admit to myself that it feels exactly how it looks, which is, well, wrong and completely inappropriate. I try to force it out of my mind. But I have the overwhelming desire to give her whatever she wants. It’s as if I have somehow become intoxicated by her. Ignoring it, I shift my eyes back to her glowing face.

  “So, what was I so thoughtlessly distracting you from?”

  “Umm, what were we talking about…oh…what do you mean by ‘callers’?”

  “Like you. I mentioned we were assigned to people. Those are our callers. The ones we hear pray in our minds.”

  Her mood suddenly shifts. “So it’s true you do have to be here because I’m your caller, your assignment?” A tear rests in the corner of her eye.

  “Hey,” I say softly, sensing the change. “I may be assigned to you, but I choose how to answer you. I appeared before you the night with your dad, and at the rave, I could have come to you unnoticed, sent you some light and left.”

  “Why didn’t you? Wouldn’t that have been easier?” She rips her hand from mine and throws her arm down to her side.

  “Definitely, but I couldn’t bear to watch you on the floor in pain or leave you passed out at the warehouse. You needed more than that. And I wanted a relationship with you.”

  “How many others do you have a ‘relationship’ with?” A knot forms in her throat and a hint of jealousy turns her stomach.

  “I have only appeared before two others. Summer, she was my very first caller, a little girl battling cancer. The only one I’ve met so far who sensed my presence. She actually started talking to me, even though she couldn’t see me. She told me it wasn’t her time to go, that I had the wrong Summer. So, the next day, I went like this.” I point to my body.

  “Were yo
u going to take her?”

  “No. I was only there to comfort her.”

  “Do you still hear from her?”

  “Oh yeah, she prays frequently. I sometimes go to her. She’s usually aware even though she can’t see me.”

  “And the other?” Her breathing steadies and nausea subsides.

  “Avery was the other. I was assigned to her when her father passed away. She is in high school. She has nightmares, so I see her almost nightly. She needed comfort too. But mostly, she needed to be able get mad at God and know that it was okay to be pissed about her father’s death. So, she yelled at me, punched me a few times, I listened, and let her be angry.”

  “She punched you?”

  “Yeah, no worries. It didn’t hurt.”

  “Because of the skin thing?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It’s okay to be angry with Him?” She finally looks up at me.

  “Of course. He wants a relationship with you, and relationships aren’t always tied with pretty bows, sometimes even the ones with Him.”

  “How do you know when you should show up?”

  “Depends on what I need to do to help. Some things I have to be in this form to do.”

  “Like carry me out of the dance club?”

  “Yep.”

  We reach the top of the hill in the park overlooking the Ohio River. The trees are still bare from the winter and the air has a crisp winter feel even though it’s almost March. We both sit down on the cement curved bench that is built into the hillside and watch as an airplane takes off from the tiny local airport, typically used for private jets. The coolness of the cement seeps through Providence’s jeans sending shivers along her spine. I lean so my back is flush with the cement and cup my index finger and thumb around the back of Providence’s neck underneath her long, dark hair and give a little squeeze. While I massage between her neck and collar bone, she closes her eyes in peace. Another shiver races down her spine, raising bumps on her tanned skin. She rubs her arms over my coat to tame them. A glow shines on her heart-shaped face and warmth courses through her veins.

  A glance up at the plane that recently took off sparks her next question.

  “Can you fly?” A blush of rose surfaces on her glowing cheeks.

  “Hmph…yes.” A chuckle slips out.

  “Where are your wings?”

  “We, uh…tuck them in.”

  “Will you show them to me?”

  “Sometime, sure.”

  She leans over, placing her head on my shoulder and closes her eyes. I hope it’s soon. I’m curious.

  I laugh aloud.

  The setting sun leaves the sky deep pink and orange.

  She tilts her head up to see my face. “Can you read other people’s minds?”

  “Only my callers.”

  “So not Taylor or Lily? My dad?”

  “No.”

  “Can you help my dad?”

  “Only if he is assigned to me. I can always talk with him, but that’s really it.”

  She draws her knees up to her chest, leans her head back on my shoulder, and the tip of her small nose grazes my neck.

  “Why do you smell like pine? I figured that was a one-time thing, but you always smell that way.”

  I smile. “I don’t know. Where I came from smelled of pine. Maybe that’s why.”

  “What was it like there?”

  “Hmm, that’s really hard to explain. In some ways, very similar to here, in others, not at all. I don’t even know where to begin.” I shake my head and look to the sky, which resembles my home but doesn’t feel the same, probably like seeing a familiar constellation when you’re in another country. It still looks the same, but people don’t speak the same language and the surroundings are foreign.

  “Who sent you here?”

  “Gabriel and the other archangels.”

  “Is that who assigns you callers?”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty sure. Ultimately God, but I think they have a role in it as well.”

  “So if this…”—she lightly pinches the underside of my wrist—“is a façade, do you bleed?”

  “No, our bodies don’t have the same makeup as yours.”

  “Huh, interesting. I wonder how that affects…never mind. Erasing from my mind.” She giggles. “So, what did you do all day today, while I was at work?”

  “I went for a jog, answered several calls. Nights tend to be busier. A lot of people save their prayers for the end of the day.”

  “Including me.”

  “Yes, except … I have to confess one thing…”

  “What’s that?” She crouches on the ground in front of me with her hands on my knees, maintaining eye level.

  “I knew you were going to the rave. I followed you there. I watched you from across the warehouse until you needed me. I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t ask me to be there. I just wanted to protect you, keep you safe.”

  “Are you kidding? Don’t be sorry. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there. I’m glad you were there. Taylor would have gotten me, but she saw me leave with you.”

  The small fire in the pit of her stomach awakens. A lump rises in her throat and tears gather, clouding her eyes. I wrap my hands around her wrists and pull her into my lap. I rotate her chin toward me with the tips of my fingers.

  “What’s wrong?” With her feet on the seat, I pull her knees toward me so I can fully see her face.

  “What if I want you to feel me, I mean, feel my touch?” She closes her eyes wishing she hadn’t asked that but yearning for the answer.

  “I can feel your touch, through you. I feel it how you want me to feel it.”

  “But I want to know how you feel it, uninfluenced.” She scoots her body back onto the cement bench, leaving her legs to drip over mine. A chill soaks into her back.

  I stare at the runway and watch a plane taxi in to its hangar. I feel the pinch in her chest, and my response is not going to ease that tension.

  “That’s not possible. I wasn’t designed for physical touch.” I turn back to her. A tear slides down her cheek.

  “I don’t understand. How can I feel so full, so complete here?” She sweeps her hand from one of my palms, over my arm, across my chest, and down my other arm to my other palm.

  I run my thumb over her cheek, mopping up her tear. “Do you not understand how incredible it is for me to experience touch through you, your emotions.” I settle my hands flat on her thigh while shock washes over my face.

  What am I doing? I shouldn’t have said that. Why can I not control myself around her? It’s different with her. I feel different with her.

  The hint of a smile plays across her lips. “Oh, I’m going fall in love with you, Zan,” she whispers, bites her lip, and lowers her head to hide her face.

  Crap! This isn’t allowed. I shouldn’t be here. I took it too far. This isn’t the kind of relationship I’m allowed to have with her. Did I influence her emotions too much? What is it about her? Why do I feel different with her? It’s not an age thing. I have plenty of other callers her age, and they don’t make me feel the way she does. No one does. It doesn’t even matter. This isn’t an option.

  She fiddles with her fingers and looks up after my long silence and sees the panic in my eyes. “Oh…oh…oh no, that’s not allowed, is it?” She shakes her head and closes her eyes struggling to breathe.

  I shake my head no. Not allowed, more like forbidden.

  Her heart sinks as tears flood from her eyes. I pull her back onto my lap, cradling her as I had last night. I’m at a loss for words. She clutches her belly, wishing for the churn of nausea to settle. Then a spark of anger explodes within her.

  She stands up and takes a deep breath. “We should go.”

  “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have said …”

  She waves her hand at me, the tightness in her throat leaving her unable to speak.

  “Providence…” She pulls her hand
away before I can grab it.

  “Don’t…I don’t want your freaking light making me feel all better right now, Zan.”

  “I wasn’t…just give me a chance to explain,” I beg.

  “I’ve been humiliated in front of you way too many times, Zan. I certainly don’t need to hear how sorry you are that this stupid little human fell in love with you in a matter of a week.” Her jaw drops in shock, and she stares at the ground. “Oh my gosh, how did this happen? How could I fall in love with someone in one week? That’s ridiculous. Not even someone, more like something. I’m crazy,” she whispers to herself.

  “Providence, you’re not…please, I…”

  “Don’t. Not another word,” she spits out in anger.

  Oh God, please help me explain to her. Please help me to control myself.

  Darkness of the night falls over us. We walk the rest of the way home in silence. A chilly wind blows, sending pins of cold on her bright red cheeks, but it doesn’t come close to registering against the other pain she exhibits. She clenches her stomach as the flames of anger and hurt scorch her insides. She tries to swallow the baseball-sized lump that has built in her throat but can’t seem to clear it. Tears lie in the corner of her eyes, and she makes several unsuccessful attempts to wipe them away without my noticing.

  Back at her house, on the front porch, she peels off my coat and throws it at me so I can’t refuse to take it back. I lift her chin so her eyes meet mine, but she pulls away.

  “Providence, please, I do care about…”

  “Shh…Don’t. I’m not some little experiment, Zan.” She steps away from me, hunting in her pocket for the keys. I pull them out of my coat pocket and hand them over. She snatches them from me, unlocks the door, and slams it behind her without looking back.

  In Eden

  I race away, turning once to look back at the pale-yellow cedar house with the hunter-green shutters as I attempt to figure out how this evening spiraled so quickly out of control.

  I screwed up, I screwed up big. I knew how she was feeling. I knew her heart was swelling, and the fire she longed for was burning inside her. I didn’t think that spark was love. How could I not know that? I just couldn’t stop. I wanted her to feel that way. I wanted to feel it with her, through her. I wanted her to feel that for me. Oh, this is bad, this is very bad!