Providence: On Angels' Wings

by Lauren Wynn

  “Is this…?”

  He nods.

  “He loves you, Providence.” Tears flow down her cheeks and she hugs Grant, leaning her ear against his chest.

  “He called you, and you heard him,” she whispers. “Did you give him light, you know, to ease his pain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was he in a lot of it?”

  How am I supposed to answer that, Zan?

  Honestly.

  “Yes. I did everything I could.”

  “What was the last thing he said?”

  Grant cringes and exhales, shaking his head no.

  Be honest.

  He takes a deep breath, and she looks up at him, staring into his teal eyes. “I don’t deserve to have you here.” Grant glares at me. “And Providence, I’ll tell you the same thing I told your dad, it’s not something you earn; it’s something your given. He went peacefully. I promise.”

  Providence shifts her eyes to me.

  Is he telling the truth?

  I nod.

  Providence grabs the trim of Grant’s shirt pulling it up.

  What the?

  Just let her.

  Grant’s blood-stained shirt represents the last living piece of her father, one she’s not willing to part with, even if it means leaving Grant shirtless.

  Providence plops down on the makeshift bed propping her head on a pillow facing the sliding glass door and curls up under an old quilt. Grant’s shirt is balled up in her fists resting under her chin. Her bottom lip quivers.

  Call Taylor.

  I lean against the doorway of the bedroom watching Providence sleep, searching for dreams or nightmares, but all I see is darkness, deep pockets of emptiness.

  There’s a knock at the front door. Taylor.

  “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs. In the bedroom, sleeping.”

  Taylor races up the spiral staircase. On the bridge she stops and turns back to me.

  “She won’t go home now, Zan.”

  “And she doesn’t want to stay here while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll talk to her. I’ll stay here with her until you come back or she can stay with me.”

  Part of me wonders if Taylor knows more than she’s letting on. I step down into the sunken living room and stare out the screen door, taking in a deep breath of the moist, warm night air, heavy with honeysuckle and wet asphalt. Rainwater puddles and seeps through the cracks in the deck. Leaves on the trees hang heavy. There’s growth in suffering. The trunk, branches, and leaves must endure the weight of the downpour in order for its roots to become saturated and grow. Circle of life, except the life of a tree seems inconsequential compared to a person’s.

  “She wants you.” Taylor snaps me out of my reverie. “I’m going to head out, but I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Taylor.”

  She nods.

  Providence lies on her side, in the same position as when I left her.

  “Lie with me.”

  I pull off my belt and curl up behind her, resting my palm over her heart. She rolls over and tosses her arm over me, scooting until there is no longer space or air between us.

  “You are my only family now,” she whispers, her eyes still glassy.

  I should know how to respond, but I don’t. And it doesn’t matter because her lips are flush with mine before I am able to speak. She presses her body closer and harder. The piece of her heart that mourns for her father is destroyed, cracked and severed, but the pain begins to melt away with every kiss she lays on my lips. And the part of her heart that loves me swells, seeming to make up for the loss in the other. And I oblige, unwilling to feel the gut-wrenching agony she felt moments ago.

  I get lost in the overwhelming heat that courses through her veins, pulsing in her core, and the pocket of relief it brings her to turn the weight of her grief over to me. A burden I will gladly bear to ease her anguish.

  She slips my undershirt up over my head separating our lips for an instant. My heart overpowers my mind telling me not to stop her. Her finger pulls the white strings of her dress, and they flop, untied, off her shoulders. We roll until Providence is on top of me, she untangles our legs letting hers falls to the outside of mine. She rocks back pulling me into the sitting position, our lips part only when she gently bites my bottom lip. She stretches back, lifting her dress inside out over her head. Our bare chests press together, smooth and warm.

  “Providence.”

  When my eyes register that all she is wearing is a white-satin, strapless bra and white cotton underwear, my mind kicks in. But I don’t stop. I clench her hips and my eyes catch her olive-toned flat stomach. I rub the pad of my thumb across her belly button before peering back into her hazel eyes.

  “You need to see me, all of me. This is what you’re getting. This is what you are trading eternity in for,” she says with a tone that sounds almost fearful that I’m going to change my mind.

  Unlike every other time when I’d spin and face the corner, this time, I don’t turn away. I don’t even so much as blink an eye. I stare at her, not like a high-school boy gawking at a bikini-wearing supermodel, but with utter love and respect.

  I trace my finger along her jawbone and kiss her moist lips.

  In the midst of spiritual brokenness, emotional destruction, and the terrible gut-wrenching loss and emptiness, she bears it all to me, while I can still hear her every thought, sense her every feeling, and see her for all that she is, and all that she isn’t.

  Naked, unashamed, and beautifully imperfect.

  And despite her imperfection, I love this woman and I’m not sure it’s possible to ever love her more than I do in this very moment. Vulnerable and broken, loving and hopeful, a magnificent creation. And she chose me and my imperfection.

  Our life together, our marriage, it’s not about finding the right person, it’s about becoming the right person. And I will spend every moment for the rest of my life becoming the right person for her and serving that which is greater than all of us.

  And I know that if tears could fall from my eyes right now, they would.

  * * * *

  Providence wakes up, squinting, opening one eye at a time. My arms are tangled around her stomach, my internal light warming her bare skin. The mid-afternoon sun pours in through the windows. Last night’s storm has passed, leaving a cloudless blue sky, a pile of fallen leaves and branches in the backyard, and a fatherless bride.

  I spent the better part of the morning with Luke, working through the legal matters. Mr. Benedict, Taylor’s father, hired a moving company, which has already loaded every piece of large furniture from the Corbans’ house and unloaded it here, scattered throughout in no apparent order with the exception of the couch, chair, and ottoman, which made it into the living room. In the foyer I had to swerve around the dining-room table, mattresses, and daybed frame to get to the stairs. Lily and Taylor have been packing and driving between homes with carloads of clothes, kitchen appliances, and other stuff. It almost feels like a house that can be lived in now.

  “Zan…” Her voice is raspy. “Did He take my dad because I chose you?”

  “Providence…” I turn her head back toward me. “No, no.”

  “Then why? I don’t understand.” She faces forward.

  “I don’t know, Prov. I don’t have an explanation for you. But I do know this: He doesn’t bargain or trade. He wasn’t swapping me for your dad. He doesn’t work that way.”

  She closes her eyes and laces her fingers together in a prayerful position.

  Look, I know you are real. I know you are there and hearing me. If I hadn’t met Zan, Leo, and Grant, the angels, I might be in a very different place with You right now. I don’t doubt that you exist, but I am doubting your power, what you are capable of. Because right now I am trying with every ounce of my being to understand why, how you could take both of my parents. I mean, I’m not even twenty-five yet. How could you take my family away? You’ve performed miracles before. Why
couldn’t you this time? If you didn’t do this because of Zan, because I fell in love with my angel, then why?

  Providence sits up and screams at the top of her lungs, “Now would be a good time to respond.”

  Lily and Taylor rush into the room.

  “Prov, babe, I’m so sorry!” Lily sits down next to her smoothing her matted hair.

  Providence takes a deep breath, exhaling in a slow stream. “I need a shower,” she whispers.

  “I’ll take you,” Lily offers.

  “I’m going to make you something to eat,” Taylor adds.

  Providence nods and we all stand up. She shuffles forward and wraps her arms around my waist, shoving her face in the crook of my neck.

  “I love you, Providence.”

  “Love you.”

  She hangs her head and Lily escorts her off to the enormous bathroom with the glassed-in shower.

  “Well, you look hot. Nice bra and undies.” Lily winks, achieving a hint of smile in Providence’s face.

  The sun begins to set and the hardwood floor reflects an orangey glow. Providence rests curled up against me on the brown leather couch in the living room and we listen to Falls and Knox argue about hanging the television, tangling cable cords, and who’s going to get shocked first. So far, the five of us say Falls will.

  Hours later, we are still on the couch. Our guests have gone. The television is up and in working order but turned off, and Providence and I stare at the bare white walls.

  A golden figure hovers outside the screen door.

  “Come on in, Grant.”

  Grant transitions and walks in.

  “How are you holding up, Providence?”

  “I’ve had better days.” She sighs and forces a smile, one that clearly states “no more questions please.”

  Grant sinks down into the large, leather, cushiony chair, flopping his legs onto the ottoman.

  “This place is a little more cush than the loft.”

  A real chuckle spills from Providence’s mouth.

  “Just a bit.”

  Grant glances toward the hallway and leaps out of the chair in one smooth motion, standing as though he’s a soldier lining up for a general. I follow his eyes and take in a deep breath. I kiss Providence on the forehead and stand up.

  “What’s going on?”

  I look into her beautiful hazel eyes. “I love you.”

  “No.” She rapidly shakes her head and stands up. “No,” she chokes out again and struggles to take a breath and her eyes fill with tears.

  “Grant.”

  He moves over to her side.

  “Providence keep talking to me, okay. I’ll be right back. Please just keep talking to me.”

  Gabriel places his golden hand on my shoulder. Heat flows from where his hand rests, spreading throughout my body. My golden skin slowly appears, my human body fades from her sight, starting with my feet, creeping up my legs, to my abdomen, chest, arms, and finally head until I am fully angelic and glowing gold, invisible to Providence.

  “No!” she cries and collapses, reaching her arms out for me.

  The Reassignment

  “Let me help her!”

  “No, Alexander. It is no longer your duty.”

  “Then let Grant. She’s hurting. You can’t just let her suffer like this. Don’t take your disappointment in me out on Providence.”

  “Alexander…she’s been reassigned.”

  “To whom? Why haven’t they come yet?”

  “She’s right over there.” Gabriel points his golden finger to the far corner of the room where an angel stands peering down at Grant and Providence.

  “Don’t just stand there. Do something.,” I yell at her.

  She slowly transforms, leaving her golden haze behind for tanned skin. She glances at Grant as she makes her way across the room, bending down to take hold of Providence’s hand.

  “Providence,” her angelic voice sings, “I’m Dublin, your…angel.”

  “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me. You are not, you are not. Zan is my angel.” Providence rips her hand away from Dublin.

  “Shh, shh, shh,” Grant says, still cradling her in his arms, rocking her. “Providence, they had to reassign you. Dublin is your new angel.” Providence shakes her head in disbelief.

  “Why didn’t they assign you to me, or Leo, or even Lenox for that matter, somebody who knew him,” she chokes out loudly, struggling to sit upright. “Somebody who knows me,” she finally whispers.

  “I do know you,” Dublin sings in a calm voice. “I know you quite well, actually.”

  Providence stares at her, squinting as Dublin remains crouched down in front of her. “Yeah, how?” she barks.

  “Providence, I’m Taylor’s angel, have been for several years.”

  Providence drops her head shamefully and closes her eyes.

  “Don’t be ashamed. You didn’t know.”

  “She never told me that she had an…”

  “And you never told her about Ale…Zan.”

  “Does she know? About Zan, I mean. Does she know what’s happening to him?”

  “No. It was never my place to tell her. Talk to her, sweetheart. Taylor cares for you dearly.”

  Providence shakes her head in consideration, but words remain stuck behind the lump in her throat. She tucks her head against Grant’s chest and begins to sob. I try to move toward her, but Gabriel lays his golden arm in front of me.

  “Stop,” he orders, calmly. “I am only allowing you to watch this so you know she is being well cared for.”

  I start to yell, “Oh I know she will be. Grant assured me,” but I bite back my words, knowing Gabriel will take me away immediately if I say them.

  Providence’s heart still beats rapidly, her breathing stressed, and her stomach in knots. I look at Grant in desperation. “Please convince her to let Dublin help her,” I whisper almost inaudibly.

  Grant brushes back Providence’s brown hair, just as I would have done. He mops up the salty tears that cover her scarlet cheeks.

  “Oh gosh!” An exhausted whisper escapes her lips. “I can’t breathe.” She tries to sit up. “I can’t breathe. Grant, I can’t breathe without him.”

  “Providence, let Dublin help you. She can…”

  “She can’t…she didn’t know him like you do. She didn’t know us, Zan and me.”

  Dublin lays her hand atop Providence’s. “I did know him, Providence.”

  How?

  I nearly gasp at the sound of her voice in my mind. I haven’t lost it yet. They may have reassigned her, but I haven’t lost her yet.

  “I knew Zan for a long time before I came here. We studied together.”

  And that’s when I recognize her face, her tear-drop-shaped teal eyes that curve down toward her cheeks, her high cheek bones, wide mouth, the strong, curved point of her chin. Dublin came here a long time before Grant and Leo came here, but prior to that we all studied together. I remember she left abruptly.

  “When did you come here, before Zan?”

  “Yes.” She nods. Her eyes look deep in thought. “Providence, I came here...” She pauses and takes her hands. “…I came here right after your mother died.”

  Providence gasps, her heart jumps, and stomach falls. Grant braces her, still sitting beside her on the floor.

  “I was with Taylor all those nights she spent with you after your mother passed.”

  “You were.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t they send me an angel then? Why did they send you to Taylor? Why didn’t Taylor ever tell me?”

  Grant jerks his head up and his jaw drops. He looks over my shoulder at Gabriel, then back to me. “It’s true,” he whispers.

  “What’s true?” Providence asks, tilting her head back to look at his face.

  I turn back to Gabriel. Then it dawns on me. Grant, Leo, and I talked about this once. Assignments are predetermined. They knew this was going to happen. The archangels knew I was going to fall in love wit
h Providence, so they held me. They held me back until she was older, or until they thought I was, I don’t know, stronger or something, in a better place to resist loving her. They couldn’t send Dublin to Providence because she was assigned to me. But the archangels could send Dublin to her best friend and work as best as they could through Dublin, through Taylor. That’s why Dublin left so abruptly.

  My golden head hangs. I wonder if the situation would have been different if they had sent me here over eight years ago. Now I know. It wouldn’t have. I still would have fallen in love with Providence. The only difference is there was a chance we would have already been married by now, that I would have already fallen.

  The foggy vision clears at the sound of Dublin’s soothing voice. “Let me help you up. Let’s sit down on something a bit more comfortable.” Dublin pulls Providence up off the smooth polished wood flooring and Grant walks her over to the couch. She falls onto it, letting the cushions absorb the weight of her body. She brushes her fingers across the satiny, cherry-red, quilt-patterned pillow that accents the chocolate-brown leather couch. Then she rubs her fingers lightly over it, the softness tingles her fingertips. Grant sits down on the edge of the matching ottoman that rests up against the large chair with poofy-pillowed arm rests and back. Dublin situates herself next to Providence.

  “What’s true, Grant?” Providence inquires again as she scoots herself so her back is flush against the couch and her head rests on the pillowy back.

  Dublin clasps her hands together in her lap. “I asked Taylor not to tell you, a long time ago. The archangels sent me to Taylor because I was assigned to her. I suppose they sent me sooner than they had originally planned due to your mother’s passing, but…”

  Providence fumbles with her fingers. “What did that have to do with Taylor, though? I mean, I know she loved my mother, but… what do you mean sooner than they originally planned?”

  “She loved your mother very much.”

  “You’re dodging the question,” Providence says sternly. “Zan always told me the truth, even before he fell in love with me,” she mumbles under her breath, gazing at her ring, flopping it back and forth on her finger.