Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  I can honestly say I have never skipped before either. So today is a first on a couple fronts: driving and skipping.

  “What are you going to get?” Teal Eyes.

  I lean in and whisper in her ear, “I don’t eat.”

  “You don’t,” she says loudly in shock and covers her mouth.

  I shake my head no.

  “Oh!” Angel thing.

  Providence places her order and I take a seat at a small round table in the corner with windows on both sides. I glance around at the artwork that hangs on the pumpkin-colored walls, nice bright paintings of fruits and vegetables and loaves of bread. She arrives moments later with juice, a toasted blueberry bagel, and cream cheese. She takes a chunk and lightly spreads cream cheese on it.

  “Wow, so you don’t eat at all?”

  “No, or drink for that matter.”

  “So, we’ll skip the dinner dates.” She chuckles and tosses a bite into her mouth.

  Her phone rings with a funky tune, she glances at the screen, “Do you mind if I take this?” she mumbles, still chewing.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Hey, Taylor, how are you?”

  “Umm, the date?” She stutters and mouths, “Yikes!”

  “Yeah, he’s sweet, but…I’m kind of spoken for.” She winks at me.

  From across the table I can hear Taylor’s voice, a stream of words speeding out of her mouth.

  “Relax. I, um, ran into Zan afterwards, and well…” She reaches across the table and touches my hand, lightly tracing her finger in loops around my knuckles. She taps my hand and I tilt my head up. She mouths, “Can I tell her?”

  “Of course.” I grin. Shout it from the roof tops if you’d like.

  “We are together.” She pauses for a moment. “Well…I mean together, together, but yes, he is here with me now too.”

  “Um, boyfriend?” She looks at me and shrugs.

  I nod and smile.

  “Yeah, you can call him that.” Or Angel. “Here, she wants to talk to you,” she says, handing me the phone.

  “Hi, Taylor,” I answer, unsure of what she wants to speak with me about.

  “Hi, Zan, how are you?”

  “I’m great, thanks, yourself?”

  “I’ll cut to the chase here…I’m Providence’s best friend in the whole world. I love her to death and I don’t want to see her hurt. She deserves the absolute best, so you better be good to her. She really likes you. If you break her heart, I will come after you. Do you hear me?” She questions in the sweetest of threatening tones.

  “I do. And Taylor, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

  Providence sets her hand on my thigh and squeezes, winking before taking her last sip of juice.

  “The long haul…” The phone goes silent.

  Was that a question? I wonder. “I’m not going anywhere. Providence will have to be the one to get rid of me.” Providence walks behind me and drapes her arms over my shoulders, laying her palms flat on my chest. She proceeds to kiss my earlobe, which is a tad strange—but whatever. She’s happy.

  “Oh, she won’t. She’s loyal. Once you’ve got her, you’ve always got her. And she’s had her eye on you since she saw you in the ’Bucks parking lot like two months ago. Oh crap, don’t tell her I just said that. Oh no, can she hear me?”

  “Hey, Taylor…” Providence laughs, having heard everything Taylor said.

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset…” Taylor yells through the phone.

  “Its fine, Taylor. We keep no secrets.” Providence giggles.

  “Ah, Prov you sound so happy. I love it.”

  “I am.”

  I reach behind myself and tap the back of Providence’s leg. “We are. We’ll get together so you can formally meet him. Call Knox and let me know when.”

  “I will. Luv you, babe.”

  “You too, Taylor. Later, babe.”

  I flip the phone shut. Providence gives me a hug before standing up and pocketing the phone. I toss my arm over her shoulder and we stroll to the car.

  “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “Yep, I’m perfect.” She rubs her tummy.

  “Okay…speed racer, here we go…” I quickly rub my palms together.

  “Do you want to drive?” She dangles the keys on her finger.

  “If you want me to I will.”

  “Do you know how to drive a stick?”

  “I know how, yes, but I never have. So be patient with me.”

  I take the keys and start the engine. I put the gear in reverse, lightly touch the gas, and slowly let off the clutch like a well-oiled machine, smooth.

  “Nice job. I stalled about fifteen times just getting it out of my driveway the first time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can we go to the park for a little while?”

  “Sure.”

  “I love it there. I want it to be our place. But I kind of feel like I need to make up for how I behaved the last time we were there.”

  “Providence, we’ve moved past that.” I squeeze her knee.

  She lays her hand on mine. “We don’t keep secrets, do we?”

  “I will tell you anything you want to know, I promise. Just ask.”

  I park the car and we walk, holding hands, across the grass toward the cement bench that overlooks the tiny airport. I sit down, and she slides next to me, throwing her legs over mine. I wrap my arm around her, and she leans her head on my shoulder. It’s comfortable.

  She inhales a deep breath. “Mmm, piney.”

  She turns her head up to look at me. “How long do you think you have, you know, before they take your wings?” She cringes.

  “This morning I talked with Leo and Grant. They think I have some time before the archangels come for me.”

  “Come for you?” She gasps.

  “Yeah, just temporarily. They take me back with them, take my wings, and then send me back here,” I say, sounding nonchalant.

  “A man…not an angel…” She speaks in a solemn tone.

  “That’s right.”

  “Does that make you sad? No secrets, remember.”

  “Umm, sad…I don’t think sad. A little scared. There are things I will miss.”

  “What are you scared of?”

  “Well…it’s more the unknown. I don’t really know what happens.”

  “That scares me too. What will you miss?”

  “My method of transportation.” I laugh.

  She returns the smile. “I don’t know if I’ll miss you sneaking up on me.” She laughs. “What else?”

  “I’ll miss hearing your thoughts. I’ll miss feeling everything the way you feel it, your pulse, your warmth.”

  “But you’ll be able to physically feel me. I’m excited for that.”

  “Me too.” I smile at the direction her thoughts are heading. “Providence…” I linger on the last part of her name and shake my head.

  “Sorry.” She giggles and her cheeks blush. “Will you still smell like pine?”

  “I don’t know.” I brush a wisp of hair out of her eye and curl a lock around my finger.

  “See, like that makes me all warm and tingly.”

  “Yes.”

  “And someday you will actually get to feel my soft, warm skin. Oh Zan, I want you to feel it when I kiss you.” Her bottom lip sticks out, hinting at a pout.

  “Providence, right now, I can feel that desire burn in you, and I love that feeling. It’s absolutely incredible.” I realize as I speak that I’m tightening my grip on her thigh. “There are a few things I need to work out before they take me. I need to be able to give you a great life.”

  “Zan…we will have a great life.”

  I look away from her. My concern grows as I think about all I need to do to provide a normal life for us when I come back, the simple basic necessities of life that I don’t require now. She runs her finger down my face. “Please tell me…everything. Don’t keep me in the dark, even if you t
hink it will scare me. Not knowing is worse.”

  “I will. And Providence…if for some reason they come for me and I can’t see you before they take me, Grant and Leo will find you and let you know, okay? I will come back, though. I don’t want you to worry.” I intently look into those hazel eyes where I see flashes of trepidation.

  “Zan, I can’t promise I’m not going to be worried. Honestly, I’m probably going to completely freak out. Gosh! I just hope we know more before that happens.” She shakes her head. “I just cannot imagine if you just disappear.” A knot builds in her throat and holds back a breath.

  “Hey, hey, I have some time. I’ll figure it out and I’ll tell you everything I find out.” I curl my pinkie finger at her.

  Her jaw drops and her eyes narrow. “Zan, are you pinkie swearing?” Her tongue brushes over her lips.

  “I guess I am,” I answer bashfully.

  She rattles her head quickly back and forth. “Okay, well, enough with the depressing…” She moves her legs and crawls into my lap. She brings her nose to mine and whispers in my ear, “I love you. I love you.”

  Flames shoot through her body to all of her extremities. I grip her waist and she presses her lips to mine, letting out a soft moan. We both close our eyes and the world seems to spin around us.

  I part my lips. “Love you.” I kiss her again and tighten my grip on her hip and lower back.

  She backs away for just a second, leaning her forehead to mine. “Hmm!” She sighs, making a soft sound.

  A voice echoes in my mind.

  God, I could really use some help…

  The voice is not Providence’s but rather belongs to a man.

  I rub my palm on her back. “Providence, I have to go…”

  “What…now, why?” She pulls her head away, showing me a pouty lip.

  “I have a call. I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t play hooky, can you?” Her nose crinkles.

  “No. Not if I want to attempt to remain in His good graces.”

  Her pout curls back and a half smile peeks through.

  “So, I think if we get the car, I can just transition there when we get around that bend.” I point down the hill where the trees line the street, away from people.

  “Okay,” she says with concern.

  We get in the car and drive down the hill, much slower than Providence’s normal speed. It’s delay tactic.

  “I’ll see you later.” I kiss her on the cheek.

  “Tonight?”

  “Sounds like a plan. You know how to get a hold of me.” I smile.

  “Bye.” Her bottom lip protrudes slightly in sadness.

  I squeeze her leg and just as she reaches to touch my hand, I transform. She looks over at the now-empty seat and gasps, her jaw and heart dropping. She stops the car in the middle of the street.

  “Oh, that was equally freaky and incredibly depressing. Yuck, yuck, yuck!” A tear gets caught in the corner of her eye and she covers her face.

  Sensing her panic, I reappear. “Hey, hey. I’ll be back soon.” I brush her long hair off of her shoulder.

  “Okay, okay,” she agrees, trying to regain composure. “Eww, that was so icky-feeling and heartbreaking.”

  “Like a huge hole ripped open in your chest.”

  “Yes!” she exclaims.

  “I know, Little One. I feel it too. I promise I’ll see you tonight, but I have to go now.”

  “Okay. Let me close my eyes first. I can’t watch.” She closes her eyes and I transform.

  I move to a small office, downtown, located in a light-gray, Beaux Arts-style, historic, thirteen-story building. The windows are arched and intricately designed. A headstone of a cow protrudes from each corner of the building.

  The office itself is small, complete with a large, black-leather chair on wheels and a cherry-wood desk piled with papers, a computer, and a leftover Chinese meal. Six large easels are scattered throughout the room, each displaying a different marketing concept for the same product.

  A brown-haired man in his mid-thirties sits in the leather chair with his elbows resting on his desk. His hands grab his scalp in frustration. The sleeves of his white, button-down shirt are rolled up. His tie is loose around his neck, and it appears he slept here all night.

  “If I don’t nail this sales pitch on Monday, they are going to can me for sure,” he mumbles to himself.

  Oh God, please help me. I need this, I really need this one.

  I move past the easels, observing each concept, some much better than others. His talent and creativity shines through each of them. He simply needs to put himself in the shoes of his target audience.

  What am I missing? What haven’t I thought of yet?

  I move over and place my golden hands on his shoulder, radiating light down my arms into him, removing some of the fog that frustration has brought on. While in this form, I cannot tell him what to do. If I showed up at his door, he probably wouldn’t listen to me anyway. Plus, it isn’t my job to give him the answers. He needs to find them within himself. So, I focus my light on the heart string that I believe will best help him do just that.

  He stands up and walks past each easel. He pulls the forth one down and furiously scribbles on it in black marker. He runs back to the computer making his design changes.

  “This could be it. I think this is it. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”

  Judging from the scribble, he appears to be on the right track. I’ll come back on Monday to give him a boost of confidence for his presentation.

  I move to the window and notice a light cloud cover has rolled in. The scent of spring rain hangs in the thick air. A soft chirp comes from my right. A white dove sits on the window ledge, the same white dove from this morning. He hops around in his showy dance again before flying down to the next window. I follow him. He flies up two more stories, landing on a ninth-floor window ledge. It’s probably a good thing no one can see me since I’m hovering half on, half off the ledge, nine stories above Sixth Street, glowing all golden-y. The dove flies up, landing on the archway of the twelfth-story corner window next to the stone, cow-head statue. I follow him again. I cock my head to the side and analyze the cow head—at least I think it’s a cow’s head. A gargoyle I would have expected. This definitely isn’t a gargoyle.

  From my position on the ledge, I peer through the magnificent arched window. An older gentleman with thinly graying hair sits at a large, walnut desk, jotting on a portfolio pad. He is surrounded by books on Ohio law. I move into his office out of curiosity. The dove remains perched on the ledge looking in as if he is watching me. I glide past shelf after shelf of law texts bound with navy, hunter green, and burgundy hard covers imprinted with gold text. I run my golden hand along each of them. The gentleman looks up from his notes. His writing hand stops mid-air.

  “I know you’re here.” He pauses and looks out the window. The bird remains on his perch. “I sense you. Plus your feathered friend gives you away.” He smiles and points to the dove. “Show yourself, angel.”

  The Fallen

  “Angel?” He glances around the room, rolls his chair away from the desk and leans back, appearing more relaxed. He sets down his pen. “It’s all right. I can wait.” He crosses his arms.

  Nervously, I pace the wall of books. Summer is the only person who has sensed me since I’ve been here. It’s unnerving. The curiosity in my gut tells me to appear before him. He can’t harm me, so what am I so nervous about? I move to the corner of the large, light-grey-walled office where I face his back, and I transition.

  He barely looks in my direction before saying, “What brings you by today, angel?”

  “Uh, I followed the dove.” I point my thumb to the ledge where the bird is still perched, hoping he will quickly forget my ridiculous response. “I apologize for intruding. I’ll just be—”

  “Are you in need of something?”

  I scrunch my eyes together in confusion.

  “Have a seat.” He points to the hi
gh-backed, burgundy, leather chair placed in front of his large, rectangular, walnut desk.

  Still confused, I walk over and sit. He rolls his chair out from behind the desk close to mine, making the atmosphere more casual. He crosses his legs in preparation for a long conversation.

  “What’s your name, angel?”

  “Alexander, well…Zan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Zan. I’m Luke Abel.”

  “Luke…” I look directly into his eyes and that’s when I see it. He has teal-green eyes, just like mine. “Are you…?”

  He shakes his head no. “I’m a fallen, son.”

  I attempt to hide my gasp. “You are? And you could still sense me?”

  My body tenses in shock. A fallen. I thought fallen angels were rare. I’m stunned to happen upon one in the only city I have been. And to be led to one by a little white dove no less. It’s very strange.

  He softly laughs. “Some characteristics aren’t lost. Zan, angels don’t come here often, so I’m guessing your little feathered friend led you here for a reason.”

  The sill is empty when I peer out the window. Only the view of the intricately designed black, wrought-iron balcony railing remains. The dove’s behavior was odd for any bird, but particularly unusual, given a dove’s skittish nature. He guided me here, but why? Luke scans my face, noticing I’m stumped.

  “You’re choosing a different path, aren’t you, Zan?”

  My jaw drops and my voice gets caught in my throat. Is defiance so clearly written on my face that a complete stranger can see it?

  “Zan, angels come to me for one of two reasons. One,”—he holds up a finger—“their caller needs legal assistance, or two”—he holds up another finger—“they need a life. Since you probably would have used the door if you needed legal guidance, I’m guessing your reason is the latter.”

  “A life?” I whisper. Stated that way, it sounds awful. Nevertheless that is exactly what I need. I need a last name, proof of a life.

  “You have the same expression on your face that I did. I know this is overwhelming, so let me tell you a little about myself.”

  I nod wondering if “overwhelmed” even begins to describe my emotional state.