by Taylor Hart
Instantly, tears spilled down her face. Her father could always do this to her. His tone reminded her of when she was little, when she’d felt like he was her personal hero. He was always a soft place for her to put her head when she needed comfort. She wiped at the tears. “Fate is gone. There’s no healing from that,” she whispered, turning to her father. “I’m sorry.”
But her father pulled her into his arms. Then her mother was hugging them, too.
Destiny felt guilty. She’d been awful to them. All of them. Even at the wedding, she’d barely spoken to anyone and then slipped out early, saying she had a headache.
Her mother softly kissed the top of her head. “I know, baby. I miss her, too.”
“Me, too,” her father said through a quiet whisper. “You two were peas in a pod. I always wished we could have lived here so you could have grown up together.”
She’d wished that, too. More than anything, Destiny had always wished she could have grown up next door to Fate. But her parents had chosen to live in California, so she’d only been able to spend a week or two with Fate in the summers. Those weeks had been what both of them had lived for, and they’d almost had their dream of being together—going to college and sharing a dorm room—until the accident.
She and her parents stood there, huddled together. It was the first time in a long time that they’d had a moment like this. Destiny hadn’t allowed a moment like this to happen. Softening, she sniffed and pulled back. “You guys need to catch your flight.”
Her mother blinked and shook her head. “I don’t want to leave you.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Maybe we could stay for a few more days.”
“No.” Destiny held up her hand. “No. You both have jobs to get back to.” Her father was a surgeon, and her mother was an attorney. They were busy people.
“You’re important to us.” Her mother took her hand. “I mean it. We’ll stay.”
She hugged her mom again. “I need to do this, okay? To be here.” At this moment, she realized she really meant it.
Releasing her, her mother let out another round of tears. She wiped them away and nodded. “Okay. I’m proud of you.”
Her dad hugged her one more time. “So proud.”
“Go,” Destiny whispered.
He hesitated. “Two things,” he said as he pushed his glasses back and slipped into father mode. “We checked the grades online last night and saw that you have a B in your computer science class?”
She frowned, thinking of the jerk of a TA who wouldn’t let her have extra credit to make up for missing labs. She’d handed in all the assignments, but hadn’t realized she had to physically be in class. “Look, I went to see the stupid TA before I left, and he’s a jerk.”
Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “Well, that’s not going to work if you want to go to Europe. You know that.”
She stifled her anger, realizing it was her fault. “I’ll figure out how to get my grade up.”
Her father nodded. “I know you will.”
“What’s the second thing?”
Her father swallowed and looked to her mother, then back to her, like he didn’t want to tell her. “I checked into the college you’ll be going to next semester in Paris, and it has an art program.” He flashed a nervous grin. “It’s actually one of the best. I contacted them and—”
“What?” She was mortified. “Why would you do that?”
“Honey.” Her mother put on her attorney face and crossed her arms. “You gave up your art when Fate passed, but you’re good. We think you have a shot at—”
“Just stop!” Her voice jumped an octave. “Go.” She pointed to the door.
Her mother held her firm look, but her father sighed and shook his head. “You have so much potential.”
She didn’t speak, but another round of tears threatened to surface before she blinked them back. How dare they do this to her!
He took her mother’s arm and shook his head. “We love you, Destiny.” He nodded to the door. “C’mon, we have to go catch our flight.”
Her mother’s bottom lip trembled, and she ran and hugged Destiny one more time. Unwillingly, Destiny surrendered to the hug. “Love you, baby,” her mother said softly before letting her go and rushing to her father’s side.
They walked out of the shop and her father turned back, raising an eyebrow. “The deadline to submit your portfolio is this Saturday. Think about it.”
But Destiny wasn’t listening; she was already headed back to the refrigerators. She gave him a parting wave. “Be safe; love you guys.”
The door dinged, signaling their complete departure, and she turned back, watching them get into the rental car. Fingering a tulip, she let out the breath she’d been holding since her father had said “art program.” She didn’t paint anymore. That was just the way it was.
* * *
She worked straight through the next eight hours. She greeted patrons and provided the “Yes, that was such an amazing wedding” and “Yes, I’m Janet’s cousin” speeches repeatedly. At five o’clock, she was tired. But, she reflected, the business of the day had kept her mind off her parents, and especially the art comment. Pshaw, like she needed an art program. She was done with that.
She decided she would finally scan the inventory. Sitting beside the stack of boxes, she realized how good it felt to get off of her feet. One of her guilty pleasures in life, what her father would call her vanity, was her pair of high-heeled clogs. What her father didn’t know was that wearing heeled clogs actually wasn’t as hard on the feet as some men would think. She loved them: they gave her an extra three inches, which, when added to her five feet six inches, really made a difference in how she felt.
Getting on her knees, she began scanning the boxes one by one. Each time, she made sure it connected to the computer before going to the next one. The process was tedious, but no big deal. Granted, she wasn’t a computer genius, but she considered herself technical enough to get by.
Then, without warning, the computer started beeping. Really loudly. It sounded like an alarm of some kind was going off. She stood and ran to the computer, then gaped when a creepy skull popped up on the monitor, its jaw moving up and down like it wanted to eat her.
So she did the only thing she could: she called the guy Janet had told her she shouldn’t call.
PURCHASE HERE!
Two favorite authors of mine are Jennifer Youngblood and Sandra Poole—keep reading for a sneak peak of their latest release…
Candlelight Kisses
Chapter 1
Candlelight Kisses (Book 1 in The Almost an Angel Series)
She was floating, drifting without a care in the world. It was the feeling of being caught up in a glorious dream where time and space were irrelevant. “Wow! This is incredible!” Gracie sighed contentedly, not wanting to wake up, but her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they popped open. She glanced around, expecting to see the familiar surroundings of her bedroom but then realized with a jolt that her favorite overstuffed chair and other comfy furnishings had been replaced with a metal chair, nondescript walls, and some sort of medical device. There was a solid red line going across the screen, and this annoying beeping kept wailing like an opera singer who’d gotten stuck on the same note. Her mind whirled in confusion as she realized that she was hovering in midair, her back pressed against the ceiling.
Then she noticed that the room was full of people, gathered around a hospital table, frantically working to revive someone—a woman. She looked down, only mildly curious about whom the person could be. She was too busy enjoying being weightless and the carefree feeling that had overtaken her. All of her problems seemed obsolete, and she felt free and unencumbered, a happy balloon sailing in the air. Something about the scene below drew her attention, and she realized that the people scurrying about were doctors and nurses. Their faces were pinched and drawn. She wondered why they were all so sad.
The doctor, a middle-aged man with graying te
mples shook his head. “We’ve done all we can do.” There was a note of finality in his voice as his hands fell limp to his side. A nurse nodded and began pulling a sheet over the woman’s head. It was only then that Gracie caught a glimpse of the lifeless girl on the table. A soundless scream wrenched from her throat as she recognized the face. It was her!
In the next second, a curious numbness settled over her. She’d heard of near death experiences, but this was really freaky! This was like something off the Syfy Channel. As her mind tried to grapple with what was happening, she realized that if it had been a near-death experience then she wouldn’t still be floating up here. The doctors and nurses left the room, leaving only the still figure on the hospital bed, covered with a sheet. That couldn’t possibly be her. It was strange. She didn’t feel anything. Shouldn’t she feel sad … or something?
The room faded away and whiteness took its place until she was standing in a building so large that the space seemed to be endless. She looked up but couldn’t see the ceiling, as if it extended up forever. Then she saw it—the shimmering door in the distance. It was gleaming white with dazzling light streaming from underneath it. It was so bright that it almost hurt her eyes to look at it. Warmth filled her breast, and she felt a burst of exultation. Somehow, in a way she couldn’t fully comprehend, she knew that everything she’d ever wanted was just beyond that door. It was the feeling of home, comfort, and love—all rolled into one. She began making her way to the door, and then she was running. It took her a moment to realize that no matter how many steps she took towards it, the door seemed to be growing farther away. What in the heck was happening? Panic gripped her. The door was impossible to reach!
She felt a hand on her arm. “Hello,” a woman said in a brisk voice, “I’ve been looking for you.”
Gracie turned, annoyed that someone was detaining her from her objective. “I’m sorry. I have to reach the door,” she mumbled, looking towards it. To her dismay, it was growing farther and farther away.
“Gracie, look at me.”
It was more of a command than a request. She turned. “You know my name,” she said more to herself than to the woman.
“I know everything about you.”
Gracie gave her a doubtful look. Then she took a good look at the woman. It only took her a second to determine that she’d never before laid eyes on her. She was older, late sixties maybe, with steel gray hair that was bone straight and cut in a severe bob that came to her angular jaw. She was wearing pink cat-eye glasses, the retro kind, worn in the fifties. Her face was devoid of a single speck of makeup, and she had on a gray business suit and sensible black flats. Tall and thin, she had a rather stern expression on her face as she looked Gracie up and down. “We must do something about your clothes.”
“My clothes?” Gracie looked down and realized that she was wearing a hospital gown. Her cheeks went warm as she self-consciously rubbed her hands over the gown. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”
The woman waved her hand. To Gracie’s amazement, the gown changed to a pair of white pleated slacks and a white cable knit sweater. Certainly not the outfit Gracie would’ve chosen, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Wow! That was incredible.” She shook her head, not fully comprehending all that was occurring. “Is this heaven? I’m dead, aren’t I?”
A hint of amusement crossed the woman’s features. “Yes.”
Okay, this was some doozy of a dream. Time to wake up now! Gracie pinched her arm and winced. “Ouch!”
The woman was eyeing her with compassion. “It’s no dream.”
In those three words, it all came together in a sucker punch that nearly took Gracie’s breath away. Hot prickles covered her as a sweat broke across her forehead. Her chest felt like someone was squeezing it to the size of a potato. “Oh, my gosh! This can’t be happening! I’m dead!” Tears sprang to her eyes, and then everything started to spin. “I can’t be dead! I have so much left to do! I’m too young to die!” she wailed. It became hard to breathe. Her legs gave way, and she toppled backwards, her hands clutching for something to hold onto but finding only air. To her surprise, she landed on something soft. She looked down. A chair? Where in the heck had it come from? It certainly hadn’t been there before! She fought to understand what was happening. The chair had appeared out of thin air. The woman seemed to be reading her mind.
“I know this is a lot to take in. Panicking won’t do you an ounce of good. Take deep breaths. I promise, I’ll explain everything.”
All Gracie could manage to do was nod, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The woman waved her hand. Another chair appeared, and she sat down. “My name is Gertrude Benedict. You are an angel in training, and I am your mentor or guide.”
A hysterical laugh bubbled in Gracie’s throat. Angel in training? Was the woman for real? She shook her head. “You’re telling me that I’m an angel?”
Gertrude held up a finger. “Almost. You’re almost an angel. You have many things to learn and much work to do before you can become a real angel.”
“Okay, and what happens after I become a real angel? Do I get a set of wings and a harp that I sit around and strum?” The comment came out sounding catty, but she was beyond the point of caring! This whole thing was starting to tick her off! How could she be dead? It wasn’t fair! She didn’t give a flying flip about becoming an angel! She wanted her life back! She wanted to live!
Gertrude gave her a censored look. “No one has wings up here. That’s only for the movies.” She looked thoughtful. “I suppose I could get you a harp … if you really want one.” She peered over her glasses. “Although from what I read in your file, you don’t seem like the musical type.”
Gracie’s eyes went large. “My file? I have a file?” This was getting crazier by the minute!
“Yes, everyone does. Some call it the book of life, but a file seems more fitting.”
“Where is this file?” she demanded.
Gertrude reached in her pocket and pulled out a clear device that was roughly the size of a paperback book, but it was almost as thin as a sheet of paper.
“You use iPads … up here?”
“No, it’s not an iPad.” She laughed. “We would never use anything that archaic. Put simply, it’s an instruction manual, your guidebook or instrument for becoming an angel. Angel 101, if you will.” She held it out. “This one is for you. In it you’ll find all the rules, along with pertinent information about each assignment.”
Gracie just sat there.
“Go ahead. Take it,” Gertrude prompted.
Reluctantly, Gracie reached for it. It was ultra lightweight. “What did you mean by assignments?”
“The people you’re going to help.”
“I’m sorry,” Gracie said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid I don’t understand a thing you’re saying.” Tears pressed against her eye sockets. All she wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare.
Gertrude sighed. “As I said, you are an angel in training. You will be given various people to help.”
Gracie thought about this for a minute. “People to help, huh? Well, what if I don’t want to help anyone?” She waved a hand. “I mean, this is heaven, isn’t it? Why can’t I just do whatever I want to?”
“You young recruits are always so impertinent,” she snapped. “Youth! Why can’t anyone simply do good deeds because it’s the right thing to do?”
Gracie crossed her arms over her chest and eyed Gertrude. “Sorry, you’ll have to do better than that. I just died today, and I’m not too happy about it. If you want me to do these assignments …” she made air quotes “ … then I need to know why.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you can progress to the next level.” She gave her a smug look. “You want to find out what’s behind that door you were so eager to get to … don’t you?”
Gracie’s head popped up. All of the longing came rushing back with a vengeance that she could scarcely control. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“Very g
ood. Then you’ll first need to complete the assignments I give you.”
“How many of them?”
A look of frustration registered on Gertrude’s face. “As many as it takes!”
Gracie mulled over the situation. Maybe being an angel wasn’t such a raw deal after all. She could help a few people and then be on her way. Even though she didn’t know what lay beyond it, something told her she had to get to that door. If being an angel were the first step, then so be it! “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Gertrude looked relieved.
She leaned forward. “So, what will I be doing? Saving the world from a nuclear meltdown or finding the cure for cancer?” Even though she was trying to play it cool, there was a twinge of excitement creeping into her voice. Who would’ve thought that she would end up doing something important? If only her mother could see her now, she wouldn’t think she’d been such a failure, after all.
Gertrude tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “No, not exactly. You’re what I like to call a relationship mender.”
“A what?”
“You help fix relationships.”
She frowned. “What kind of relationships?”
“The romantic kind.”
Gracie pointed to herself. “Me?”
Gertrude rolled her eyes. “Yes, and not only will you mend relationships, but you will help others find true love.”
She started laughing. “Yeah, right. That’s a good one. Now tell me what I’m really doing.”
A furrow appeared between Gertrude’s brows. “That’s what you’ll be doing.”
“If you’re giving me that assignment, then you obviously don’t know as much about me as you thought you did,” she said dryly.
“Your full name is Gracie Louise Andrews. You grew up in the small town of Scottsboro, Alabama. After you graduated from high school, you attended The University of Alabama for a couple of years and then decided that you’d had enough of the academic world. You dropped out and went to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career. You’ve spent the last three years, trying to get a foot in the door. You’ve worked a series of odd jobs—let’s see—receptionist, call center rep, substitute teacher—and most recently, a server in a restaurant. You were engaged to one Christopher Stevens, and you were killed when you—”
