Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “Um...Prov…” No movement. “Providence,” I say louder.

  “Huh, yeah.” I point to the corner of her mouth and she wipes the dribble. “Oh...” She giggles. “I totally need to get one of those.” Her voice is muffled by the toothbrush that sticks out of her mouth.

  “What do you need that for?” I’m amused.

  “I do cook, you know. I’ll need it to cook for you someday.”

  “The YoshiBlade?”

  “Yeah,” she replies in a high-pitched voice as though it were a given. “Did you see that thing?” she mumbles, finally brushing her teeth. “It cuts through anything, even a soda can.”

  “Well … I see how that could come in handy.” I’m being sarcastic, but I laugh. She walks back out of the bathroom, running her tongue across her shiny, clean teeth, and sits beside me on the couch, curling her feet under her and leaning against me. She flips off the television.

  “I have a weakness for as-seen-on-TV products. I steer clear of the hair-removal ones, but pretty much any kitchen gadget or closet organizer, I am a total sucker for.”

  I nod and wonder what else I don’t know about her. “Prov… what’s your favorite color?” She turns her head up to me.

  “What, hmm…I don’t know. Let me think.” She twists her mouth to one side. “Favorite overall…I guess, cherry red. It’s great for wearing, decorating, pretty much anything. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Am I allowed to say white?”

  “I don’t think white is technically a color, but I see why you would say that. What’s your favorite actual color?”

  “Blue, like morning-sky kind of blue. Favorite dessert?” I twirl her long hair around my fingers wishing I could feel its softness.

  “Wow, Zan, that’s a toughy. You know how much I like sweets. My mom used to make me a chocolate cake with caramel frosting for my birthday, so I would have to say that’s my favorite.” Her mouth waters, and I laugh at the sensation triggered by her memory.

  “What’s so funny?” She looks up at me.

  “It’s just strange that the thought of that cake made your mouth water.”

  She rotates around on the couch. Her knees poke against the back. She leans over me and props herself up with her arm and stares into my eyes. She licks her lips, making them a shiny red. I brush my fingertip over them picking up excess moisture. She leans closer as if she is going to kiss me, but holds still. She runs her fingers through my hair and I close my eyes focusing on the tingle my soft, wavy hair leaves between her fingers. Before I have a chance to open my eyes, her moist lips are kissing mine. I clasp my hand at her waist and she sucks in a breath. The scent of mint toothpaste passes my nose, and I can’t help but want to taste it too. Our lips part, but without taste buds I’m not able to, so I resort to a deep breath through my nose, filling it with sweet mint. Providence scoots a hair closer and shifts her hand to my thigh, using it to prop herself up. She pulls her head back and I open my eyes.

  “Favorite scent?” I ask.

  “Mmm…pine.” She skims her nose across my neck and inhales. “You?”

  “Strawberry.” I smile and lift a clump of her hair to my nose.

  She tries to hide a yawn. I shift her onto my lap, scoop her up in my arms, and carry her up to bed.

  “Hey, Zan…” She lays her head on the pillow. “This is another favorite, year-round.” She runs her hand along her flannel pillowcase. “Can’t sleep well without it.”

  I rub the flannel fabric of the pillowcase between my fingers and wish I could feel the softness, but I can only sense what my skin allows: that it is smooth.

  I lie next to her on the twin bed, so we are facing each other. I wrap my fingers around hers and whisper, “Sweet dreams.”

  I could get use to this year-round.

  The Blessing

  I step to the front door of Providence’s house. Bees are buzzing around in my gut the more anxious I become. I hold my fist up to knock on the door, holding it long enough to take in a deep, cleansing breath. The scent of magnolia blossoms swirls around me.

  I have never met Providence’s father, and meeting him for the first time without her by my side leaves me uneasy, but this is something I have to do—alone. I finally muster up the courage to knock. Mr. Corban answers the door, wearing khaki trousers and an untucked, wrinkled, blue shirt with more than half of the buttons undone, baring his V-neck T-shirt and an unappealing patch of graying chest hair. He eyes me up and down as though I’m trying to sell him encyclopedias.

  “Yeah,” he barks.

  “Mr. Corban, I’m Alexander Addison—well, Zan.” I extend my hand to shake his.

  “Providence isn’t home.” He disregards my hand and backs up, beginning to shut the door in my face.

  I raise my hand, calmly placing it on the door. “I know. I was actually hoping to speak with you, sir.”

  His eyes show concern and his mouth curls downward in a frown. “Look, I know what she has told you. If this is some kind of intervention, I’m not interested, Alex.”

  “Zan…” I bite my tongue regretting that I corrected him.

  “Whatever.”

  “It’s nothing like that, sir. I would like to speak with you about Providence. May I please come in?”

  “If you must.” He opens the door wider.

  He takes a seat at the rectangular, walnut table in the kitchen and pops the cap off a beer. I take the seat across from him and rest my clasped hands on the table top. I glance around the kitchen, a hunter-green and burgundy plaid valence hangs in the window. Matching towels drape over the oven handle, and family pictures are scattered on the ivory refrigerator. It occurs to me that nothing in this kitchen has likely changed since Providence’s mother passed away.

  “Well,” he barks impatiently.

  “It is nice to finally meet you, sir.”

  “Yeah,” he says, his tone sounding somewhat in agreement. “Providence mentioned you the other day. It seems you two are really hitting it off,” he grouchily remarks, staring out the kitchen window.

  “Yes, sir, we are. That’s actually what I wanted to speak with you about.”

  “Speak, then.” He settles himself into the chair.

  “Sir, I love your daughter with all my heart—”

  “Hmph.” He chuckles. “Love, huh? How long have you two known each other?”

  “A few months…and I realize that doesn’t seem like a long enough time, but—”

  “A few months isn’t a long enough time. You barely know each other.”

  “We know each other quite well, actually, for such a short period of time.” I don’t mention that when I’m with her I can hear her every thought, or that I spend most nights in her bedroom watching her sleep.

  “Are you insinuating something?” His eyes flicker with fury.

  I swallow. “No, sir, absolutely not. I have the utmost respect for your daughter. I was merely stating that we have spent quite a bit of time together, getting to know each other, and growing to love each other.”

  “Ugh!” He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s what she told me.”

  I lean forward in my chair, placing my elbows on the table in an effort to be firm with my words. “Sir, I love your daughter, more than anything in this world. I want to spend my life with her.” I pause and look into his greenish-brown eyes. I realize I just said “spend my life with her.” My life. It seems strange to use that term. I’ve always existed, not lived with the expectation that at some point I wouldn’t live any longer. I swallow. “Mr. Corban, I would like your permission to marry your daughter.”

  “My permission? Is she even ready to get married? How do you know she will say yes?” He sets his beer on the table.

  “Well…I don’t know for certain since I haven’t asked her yet, but I have a pretty good idea what her answer will be.” Since I know almost every thought that runs through her mind. I try to hide my smile.
“Sir, Providence values your approval. She loves you very much. I couldn’t in good conscience ask her without your blessing.”

  He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose again.

  “What do you do for a living…Zan?”

  “I’m studying for the bar exam. I’m going to be an attorney.”

  “You’re a little old to just now be getting law degree, aren’t you?”

  “Um, well…I was in, uh, social services for a little while.”

  He raises an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “Fine, so, attorney, huh. They do pretty well for themselves,” he comments under his breath. “Do you have a job lined up?”

  “I currently work as a fact-finder for Luke Abel at Rivers & Abel Attorneys. I will assume a formal position there following my exam.”

  “Decent firm, has been around for awhile, yeah?”

  “Yes, nearly seventy-five years.”

  “And you’re able to pass that exam? I imagine it will be tough to provide for her on a fact-finder’s salary.”

  “I am. I’m confident, sir. You have my word.”

  “You know she is going to start school soon?” A hint of pride glimmers in his greenish eyes.

  “Yes, we have discussed it.”

  “I don’t want this getting in the way.”

  “Of course not, I will support her every step of the way. I couldn’t be more proud of her. She will make a wonderful teacher.”

  He nods and a half-smiles creeps to his lips.

  “You have raised a wonderful woman, Mr. Corban.”

  “Don’t give me credit.” He drops his head glancing down at his lap where he fumbles the bottle cap with his fingers. “It was her mother’s doing, not mine.”

  “Providence has told me wonderful things about your wife, but I know not all the credit goes to her. Providence said your diligence made her into the soccer star she was in high school and how you spent hours teaching her how to drive the Civic.” I smile noticing a breakthrough in his demeanor.

  “Ha! Took that girl forever to back out of the driveway. I was afraid I was going to have to take the damn car back.” He laughs, standing up to pitch his bottle into the green bin. “Would you like a glass of water?” he asks, pouring himself one.

  “No thank you.” I glance at my hands and unclench them, relieved to have made a minor advancement with her father’s smile. “Mr. Corban, I promise to take great care of your daughter.”

  He sighs. “She loves you too. I could see it in her eyes.” He pauses staring out the window again. “You seem like a good kid. I’m not sure a father is ever ready to give his daughter away, but I’m not going to stop her from being happy. You have my permission to ask her. The decision is up to her.”

  I exhale. “Thank you.”

  “I know I haven’t been the greatest father in the world, but I truly want her to have the best. She deserves the best.” He stares at the photos on the refrigerator or stares through them, I can’t really tell.

  “Providence loves you very much.”

  I nod. “I will do everything in my power to give her exactly that.”

  “When do you intend to…”—he waves his hand around—“do this thing?”

  I smile. “I’m still working out a few details, but sometime in the next week or so.”

  “Wow, that quick, eh?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Yes, sir. I have no reason to delay.”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I felt the same way about her mother.” He hesitates, “Give me a minute. I need to get something.”

  I stand up in the kitchen, peering out the back window at the cardinals sitting on the branches of an old, partially leafless tree in the backyard. Footsteps traipse back down the stairs. I turn to face the doorway.

  “Here, she should have this.” He hands me a small, white-leather jewelry box. “Go ahead. Open it.”

  I slowly pry it open, revealing a beautiful, incredibly sparkly, round diamond with two pear-shaped diamonds on either side of it. “Sir…” I gasp.

  “It was her mother’s ring. If you haven’t already purchased a ring for her, I know her mother would like her to have this one.”

  “I haven’t…are you certain?” The sparkle draws my eyes back to the leather box. I’m astonished. I had been thinking about the ring I was going to buy her with my first paycheck, but this one couldn’t be more perfect.

  “Yes. She always loved it.” He smiles. “When she was little she always begged her mother to try it on. ‘Please, Mom, just for a minute. Someday a man as amazing as daddy is going to give me one exactly like this.’” He mocks in a feminine voice. “Of course, her mother always gave in. Providence would bat those long black eyelashes of hers, making it too hard to say no.”

  “Ah, yes. I’m well aware of the power of the lash.” I grin. She’s batted those lovely eyelashes at me a number of times.

  “Well…what are you standing around here for? Go, work out your details. I’m sure Providence will let me know when it’s official.” He waves the back of his hand at me as if to say “get outta here.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Corban. It was nice to meet you. And thank you for this, it’s absolutely perfect.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I already gave you permission.” He chuckles to himself.

  I leave her father with confidence, not only that he gave me permission for Providence’s hand, but that during our rather brief conversation some chunks of the wall he has built up since his wife passed away have crumbled.

  Outside the front door, I reopen the white-leather box to admire the ring one more time, three stones representing the past, the present, and the future.

  Looking up at the large, very old tree that stands in the front yard, I sigh in relief. Curls of green leaves have begun to sprout from the branches. The ground is mushy from the past few days of rain, and the scent of tulips lingers in the air. The flower bed that circles the tree is blooming with red, orange, and yellow tulips. Spring is here. Time for new beginnings.

  I spin around toward the house, noticing an odd shadow, tall and slender, cast from the sunlight that shines just over the pitched, black-shingled roof covering the front bedroom. But no tall and slender figure is there, I dart my eyes back and the strange shadow is gone. I’m certain there was something up there, and no bird makes a shadow that human.

  Pocketing the leather box, I jog down the street. I curve around the bend focusing my eyes on the sunset, defined layers of blue, purple, pink, and orange line the sky in front of me. I lower my gaze back to the street and that’s when I see him. He stands in the middle of the street, facing me just long enough for me to recognize him.

  Gabriel is here.

  The Night

  Big night.

  I walk to my closet and grab the tan, letter-sized envelope from the top shelf. Flipping through my papers, I scan over them for about the fifteenth time in two and half days. Luke brought them to my office on Thursday afternoon. It’s surreal seeing a birth certificate with my name on it.

  Alexander Addison.

  At lunch yesterday, Luke took me to the bureau of motor vehicles so I could get my driver’s license. They made me take a driving test, a written examination, and an eye test, all of which I passed with flying colors. Luke said I probably should have tried to get at least one wrong. I told him I would keep that in mind for the bar. He laughed and said he would gladly have me ace that one.

  I open my passport again and scan over my Social Security number another time even though I have already memorized it. And finally, my diploma from the university his friend works at in Illinois, complete with a full transcript of courses, some of which sound quite interesting. Luke’s assistant already submitted all of the required paperwork for the bar exam. I am scheduled to take it in three weeks, the middle of May.

  It has been several days since my Gabriel sighting. Grant and Leo have me convinced he will not escort me away as long as I do my duty, which I have been and will continue to do to en
sure I am able to take my exam. They also drilled me about my “behavior” with Providence, although, I’m certain it was more for their entertainment. They enjoyed watching me squirm my way through the conversation.

  I pull my license out of the sport coat I wore to work yesterday and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. I haven’t shown it to Providence yet. I’m waiting until tonight, not sure why, but it seems like a momentous occasion. At least for me it does. She will be thrilled to see that angels do actually show up in photographs. I thought she was joking. Turns out she was legitimately concerned. The thought never occurred to me, perhaps because my first picture ever taken was for my passport at Luke’s request, and I typically don’t question him.

  In my bedroom, I rest comfortably on the wooden chair. A warm breeze blows in the window through a hole in the plywood board that covers it. I attempt to imagine the floral essence that surrounded me the last time I left Providence’s house. Unfortunately, all I really smell is wet wood coming from the hole in the board. I clasp my hands together and sit in a prayerful posture.

  I know You didn’t create me to be a husband and Your plan was never for me to have a wife. And I would say I’m sorry for defying You, but You know that isn’t true. I’m actually grateful to You for leading me to Providence. And I pray for Your forgiveness. I ask for Your guidance along our journey together. Please give us the courage to openly communicate with each other and strength during times of stress. I pray that I am able to make tonight her most memorable evening yet.

  Thinking I need more time, I struggle to bring myself out of this posture. I feel as if I have barely scratched the surface with my conversation, but if I’m being completely honest, I have been talking with Him constantly over the past several weeks. Sometimes I flat out scream at Him for being in this situation and not sheltering me and for putting Providence through it. Sometimes I ask for strength, usually to control my behavior. And other times, I ask for forgiveness. No matter how angry I am or how unfair I feel my situation is, I refuse to turn my back. And I pray He doesn’t turn His on me. But I fear that may not be possible. It would be deserved if He did.