by Lauren Wynn
A smile brightens my otherwise gloomy face and Gabriel places his hand on my shoulder.
“Okay,” she says calmly. “I don’t know how much Zan told you or how much he even knew about this. Assignments are predetermined. The archangels were not ready to send Zan here when your mom died, so they sent me, your best friend’s angel. I guess they figured I was the next best thing. I couldn’t influence you, until now anyway, but I could tell Taylor what to do to help you.”
“That’s what I meant by ‘it’s true,’” Grant says. “We talked about it once. We suspected as much, but we never knew for sure.” Grant pauses. “He didn’t know for certain, Providence.” He continues with an assured tone.
“I believe you.” She shifts her eyes away from her fingers long enough to look at Grant. “He would have told me if he knew. He always told me the truth.” She drops her gaze back to her fingers. “So, they knew, huh? They knew we would fall in love, didn’t they? They tried to delay it, but, they knew it would come,” she says, matter-of-factly.
Dublin nods. “Yes. I believe they did.”
“Why did they bother delaying it, then?”
“It was still a choice, Providence. You both still had a choice. They couldn’t predict that, for either of you.” Dublin and Providence look at each other. Dublin tucks a wisp of hair behind Providence’s ear. “Honestly, though, you were so broken after your mother passed away, and so young, my sense is they feared that if he had come then, you two would have instantly fallen in love, and there wouldn’t have been time for a choice. You didn’t have any boyfriends in your life until after that. I don’t think they wanted Zan to be your first.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I could have seriously done without some of those. Where were you then anyway? I could have used some help.”
“Oh, I tried. Remember Lily and Taylor had that little intervention?”
“The Providence-no-date-for-six-months intervention, I remember. They forbid me from dating anyone.”
“My idea.” Dublin pokes her thumb at her chest. “Didn’t work out as well as I had hoped.” She raises an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I guess I fell off the wagon a few times.”
“Well, just once. You needed a date for prom anyway.” Dublin shrugs. “There was a moment, though, when I thought you might choose Chance.”
“When was that?”
“Do you remember that morning—it was very early—you had just opened the Starbucks. Chance walked in moments later, earlier than usual. The two of you sat at the little round table in the corner by the front window. I remember the gray shadows under his eyes from a sleepless night. He looked as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And while he normally came in fully suited-up for the office, on this particular morning, his tie was hanging undone around his neck as he slouched against the wooden chair. His typically cheery smile was strained and fell away quickly as he spilled the stress of his life on you. I watched you sit and listen to him intently, concentrating solely on him. By the time he got up to leave, he was smiling, relieved of some burden, even if it was only to talk about it. I remember you tied his pink and navy tie for him before he left. I also recall your finger grazing his neck as you tightened it. You let it linger there a little longer than necessary.” Dublin raised her eyebrow and her lip curled up slightly at the memory. “You seemed to really connect then, and I wondered…”
“I remember.” Providence nods her head. “That was before I officially met Zan.”
“That’s right. After the night when your dad…when you met Zan, you never looked at Chance the same.”
“I thought he was a cop.” She laughs. “I should have known. It was glaringly apparent no doughnuts had ever passed his lips. He’s all muscle, or whatever angels call it.”
She laughs. “I will say this, though, Providence…Zan made his choice long before he thought he did.”
“He did?” Her lips curve up at the corners.
“He contemplated other options, at least he seemed to, but I think his decision was made. He just wanted to make sure it was what you truly wanted.”
“He thought he would have been taking you away from a better life than the one he could give you. He thought Chance would have given you the life you deserved,” Grant adds, resting comfortably against the back of the chair, surrounded by pillows, feet propped up and crossed on the ottoman.
“Yeah, he tried to talk me into going out with Chance again. Hmph…it’s funny, I had to talk my angel into believing that, in our case, love was enough. I know that’s not true in all situations, and that it takes much more than love to make a great marriage. But love was our foundation, and I could never love anyone else the way I love Zan. Love was our bricks and mortar.” She pauses for a moment taking a deep cleansing breath. “I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. I know you’ve been assigned to me now, and I appreciate you putting up with my tantrum, but you have to know, no one will ever replace him.”
“And I don’t intend to. However, hopefully you can make a place for me somewhere.”
Providence shakes her head up and down and tucks her legs up under her. “You talk like him, you know. Zan, I mean. Bit of the British accent. His English was always mixed. You do the same. It was charming. It is charming.”
“We studied a number of languages over the years. There was no America when we first learned English. I think it just carried over for some of us more than others.” She tilts her head to Grant.
“Like me. I got sloppy,” Grant says, still resting in the chair with his eyes closed.
Providence yawns. “I’m exhausted.”
Dublin turns to me and then glances back to Gabriel who is still standing behind me. I peer over my shoulder and catch him nodding at her.
Dublin places her hand on top of Providence’s. “You can’t see him anymore, but if you have anything else you want to say to Zan before he…”
Providence’s eye shoot open, wide. “Where? Point to him.”
Dublin points to where I stand near the entrance to the foyer. Providence jumps up and walks slowly over to where she pointed. She stops every few steps and closes her eyes. I can see the rise and fall of her chest as she inhales deep breaths. A foot in front of me, she stops, closes her eyes and takes a deep cleansing breath through her nose.
Pine.
She glances down at the diamond ring on her finger, twisting it this way and that. She bows down before me, on her knees, bows her head in a prayerful posture, hands clasped together. I feel the pain shooting up through her knees from the ceramic tile flooring, but she doesn’t wince. I drop down in front of her, placing my radiant golden hands on her cheeks. I feel her face tingle as heat rises to the surface and with her eyes still closed, she smiles showing her brilliant white teeth.
“Zan,” she starts in a low voice, “I choose you. You have had me since the first time I met you. I promise to love you every day for the rest of my life.” She swallows the lump that builds in her throat. “And when you get back, I will marry you, I will be your wife. I will take your name.” I stop breathing. “I will take care of you, as you will me. And together, we will be one, we will be a family. I love you with all of my heart!”
Tears stream down her face, but I can’t take them away. She sniffles. Gabriel lays his hand on my shoulder and begins to pull me away.
“Please come back soon. Come back to our house soon. It isn’t home without you here.”
Tears flow down her now-reddened face as she sobs and just as Grant and Dublin take hold of her, Gabriel and I make our ascent.
The Storm
The grassy green carpet grows beneath my feet, creeping up in between the massive, flat, triangular stone floor, just as it did before my decent. Tiny yellow and white flowers sprout and bloom, coloring the gray, circular, stone structure surrounding me, a structure that could be something out of medieval times. The beautiful starry night still looks as though someone threw silvery, dust-like flecks into the dark, navy sky, leaving them suspended. I ta
ke a deep breath, clean cotton with a hint of pine, a friendly reminder of my past.
Gabriel moves toward the long, stone-walled hallway. The golden light passing through each arched window reflects off his long white robe, which he changed into only seconds ago. I follow him. The grass carpet grows and rolls with me as I pass through the long hallway. At the end, Gabriel continues, gliding along without looking back, his dark hair curling over the collar of the robe.
“Gabriel, what am I supposed to do?”
“Make a choice,” he yells back to me.
“What? I have. I’ve already made my choice,”
“No, you haven’t.”
And with that he disappears leaving me alone and thoroughly confused.
I sit under my old oak tree, my grassy carpet growing beneath me. I rest my head against the tree and wrap my arms around my bent knees.
Choose. He told me I haven’t chosen yet.
I choose Providence, I scream out in my mind and lay my head on my knees.
Zan…Zan, if you’re there. We buried my father today. I need you, please come back.
Even in my mind I can hear the pleading in her voice. My heart breaks like a jagged, deep crack down the center of a cement sidewalk.
It’s been three days already there. I feel as if I just got here.
It was my duty to be there for her, as her angel. I should have been there for her. I’m her only family now.
I bury my head in my golden hands as shame radiates from my core, staining me.
What have I done? This never should have happened. I should not be here while she is there dealing with this alone. She was my responsibility, my assignment, not Dublin’s. I made the wrong choice. That’s got to be what Gabriel meant. I should be there as her angel. I should never have chosen her over my angelic duty.
In the distance, the murky gray clouds roll in, moving at the speed of a freight train, bringing a storm with them. Rain pours down in diagonal sheets, lightning strikes the tree I was leaning against a minute ago, and thunder makes the ground quake beneath me. The branches and leaves burn up in reddish-orange flames. The wind whips swirling smoke and flames and my tree turns into a pile of black ash. The scent of burning wood and muddy earth float through the thick air. The patter of rain sounds as it hits the ground, coming toward me until the sky opens above me in a torrential downpour and the patter becomes a roar. The grass retreats and my feet sink into thick, brown mud, stirring up the smell of rain and dirt. Lightning flashes across the sky. A clap of thunder echoes off the ground in front of me.
I can barely make out the streak of my golden hand through the monsoon. My clothes are drenched. Droplets of rain rush down my golden skin and drip like a leaky faucet from the tips of my hair.
The storm seems to last for days.
No part of my golden body is dry. My once-radiant golden glow now looks clouded and steam seems to rise off of me. I deserve this.
I pull my feet out of the thick mud and move as if I’m running above the muddy ground, as I did back in Cincinnati when I needed to think or, in some cases, not think. But no breeze blows against my face, and I know no matter how long or far I run, I will never turn up in the parking lot of the Starbucks, peering through the window at the beautiful, green-apron-wearing, brown-haired, hazel-eyed Providence. But I keep moving anyway with the gray cloud floating above me and rain washing over me.
I wish it to cleanse me of the guilt and shame, but instead I only feel weighed down by it and I relive memories of the storm the night of her father’s death. Heat sparks inside me and I stop, angry. Mud gushes between my golden toes, and I bend over, placing my hands on my knees for support, sucking in uneven breaths that I don’t need.
“I chose Providence,” I say, attempting to yell but unable to do so. I’m so sorry, but I do.
I stand and turn to my left. “I choose Providence.”
I turn again and again moving in a circle, yelling as loud as I can in every direction, “I choose Providence.”
“I shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve to be here.”
I fall to the ground and roll onto my back. Muddy water coats my side and molds around my body like a cradle.
“I don’t deserve to be there, to be with Providence either,” I whisper and close my eyes.
“Oh God, I want to go back,” I cry out.
The rain continues to fall and the muddy pool rises around me. The dark gray clouds hover above me as if they have no intent of ever leaving. I roll onto my side and close my eyes. Thick mud covers half of my face, side, and hands.
Oh please bring him back to me. It’s been a week. I need him. I know You have already given me so much and I’m sure Zan isn’t going to be the last thing I ever ask You for, but he’s the most important thing I will ever ask You for. And I know You believe he’s going against You, but he’s not choosing against You; he’s choosing to love something You created and something You led him to—me. I need him.
Her sweet voice, her uneven breath. I sink further into the muddy ground feeling the weight of her request. I listen hard for another word, but it’s my own words that fill the silence.
We are not forced to love You, but we do. I do. I choose You as much as I choose Providence.
I wait for a response, any response, but all I hear is the patter of rain as it hits the muddy puddles and an occasional drum of thunder.
I slowly open my eyes, squinting. I lie in the mud watching the murky clouds float away and the rain cease. I rise and take a few steps, close my eyes, and change into a white linen suit. And the familiar voice returns.
Why? Why? Why? You already freakin’ took my entire family. The least You could do is send Zan back to me. Two weeks, it’s been two weeks. Why haven’t You sent him back? Please send him back to me. Please. I beg You. I beg You.
There is panic, exhaustion, and pain in her voice, the sound that tells me she hasn’t slept in days, the sound that tells me she is at the fraying end of her very long rope and it isn’t going to take much before she snaps, the sound that tells me all her hope of my return is fading.
I did this to her.
I did this to her.
I’m surrounded by mud, thick brown mud, and it coats the hems of my linen pants. Not a single thing as far as the eye can see and not a single sound. The only voice in my mind is my own and I’m alone.
All alone.
I did this. I corrupted her. She’s where she is because of me. If I had been there, if she weren’t in our house, her father might still have been here today. They would have had dinner together that night and he would have been home instead of out driving. And she’d probably be with Chance. He’d be picking her up for normal dinner dates in his shiny, black Range Rover that he had paid for with his own hard-earned money, that was not some favor from a Fallen.
What did she give up for choosing me? I know what I’m gaining by choosing her, but right now I only see the pain I’m causing her.
What was the plan for her before I so selfishly took her for my own?
“Please talk to me,” I yell, throwing my golden hands into the air. “Should I leave her for the life You designed for her?” I stand staring up to a remarkably bright-blue sky. The murky clouds have finally retreated. “Answer me.”
The Desert
The flat, dry barren desert expands in every direction for miles. The sun beats down from the cloudless blue sky, cracking the dried-up dirt that was puddles of mud.
I drop to the hard ground and the dust browns my white suit. I sit with my arms draped around my legs, tucked against my chest, quiet, waiting for a voice, any voice, any sound that reveals there is something out there.
Doubts wrestle inside my mind and heart. Did I make the wrong decision? Should I have asked for a reassignment and let her move on with a normal, less complicated human life? Should I have remained true to my calling, to the duty I was created for?
Still nothing, not even an inkling of noise, not the sound of a gust of wind or a passin
g tumbleweed.
And as more doubt swirls in my mind, the distance between us grows. Why did I follow this path? Certainly I wasn’t led to this dry, barren, lifeless desert. Unless…
The sky darkens, blackening everything around me, nightfall. A gust of wind curls tiny tornadoes of dust.
Unless you don’t want me to go back. I deserve hell for my choice and this just might be my hell.
“I don’t know where you are,” I whisper.
“I know you are still with me.”
I’m not even sure whom I’m talking to anymore.
I need help.
The last time I heard Providence, she was so angry. What if she changes her mind about me? Should I risk my existence for her?
Hours of silence pass by me. Maybe days. I wait for a voice in the darkness.
She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t turn her back on me.
More silence. I begin to shiver in the darkness. I ache for shelter, for arms to wrap around me, for Providence. I move and stumble. I rise and stumble again. I fall to my side and tightly close my eyes as the dust and dirt sweeps over me. I roll on my back and open my eyes expecting to see at least one small star in the night sky.
Nothing.
Emptiness.
Pitch black emptiness.
“You were supposed to shelter me,” I scream.
“You were supposed to protect me from human emotion.” I sit up.
“You had expectations of me. Well, I had some of You too.” I flop back cracking my head against the hard dry ground.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I thought you would keep me from temptation.”
And after I say it, all I can feel is Providence. Her fingers brushing the hair out of my eyes, her lips grazing mine, the weight of her body pressing against me, the way her hipbones poke my waist, the heat that courses through her veins, the beating of her heart.
I close my eyes, halfway smiling. To feel her again even if it is my imagination.
A light illuminates the backs of my eyelids. A picture slowly comes into focus as if a ghost is shifting into a body. It’s her face, Providence’s face, as clear as though she were standing right in front of me. Her brown hair waves in the breeze. Her almond-shaped, hazel eyes curl up on the sides and a smile plays on her lips. She reaches out with her red-mittened hand and wipes the wild hair out of my eyes just as she did the morning I walked her to work. She giggles.
