Diary of an Angel
Page 13
“Aren’t you just at little worried?”
“Only that I’ll have to send you back before Angela even wakes up,” she said, teasingly.
“You can’t send me—”
“Oh, she’s waking up. Time to get to work, Miss Worrywart.”
“Worrywart! Hmm...” I tried to act offended, but it was useless. We both started laughing. Then Clairus put her arms around me.
“You can do this,” she insisted.
Angela’s morning passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. She dressed, breakfasted, read the morning paper, then busied herself about the house with a few chores. Despite my anxiety for Angela’s welfare, having Clairus by my side was such a joy. It felt like my junior-guardian-angel days all over again. If only the whole family were together again! After lunch, Angela sat down to read, which promptly put her to sleep. She woke an hour later, rubbed her eyes, looked at the clock on the wall, then took up her reading again.
It was mid-afternoon before Angela rose from her chair and got herself ready to leave the house. She’d plan to visit a friend, who had just returned from the hospital to recover from hip-replacement surgery. But first she wanted to pick up some flowers, as a homecoming present. And so we set out, I in the passenger seat, Clairus in the back seat, and Angela behind the wheel of her old Buick. It had been a faithful car to Angela, but didn’t have much more life to give. It was a pity Angela had to drive. I would have happily been her chauffeur.
I felt exceptionally anxious while on this outing in the car. I couldn’t keep the vision of a car accident from entering to my mind: my poor Angela unconscious—or worse—, hunched, face buried in the steering wheel of a twisted piece of metal that used to be her car. The streets, however, were calm as we drove along on that sunny afternoon. It was a pleasant drive and put Angela in a happy mood We arrived at the flower shop without difficulty.
In recent years, Angela had frequented this little flower shop so often that she and the shop’s proprietor had become good friends. Mrs. Johansen, who almost never left the shop with an employee, was behind the counter when Angela stepped inside. The shop owner’s face lit up when she saw Angela.
“Angela,” she said in her faint German accent, “how good it is to see you.”
“Good morning, Abigail. How are you?”
“Oh, well enough, I suppose. My little shop keeps me busy, as you know. But that’s nothing new. How about you, then? How are you getting along? And what brings you to my little shop today?”
“Can’t I visit my friend without needing a reason?”
“Sure, just so long as you buy something while you’re at it. What will you be needing today? I hope you’re buying for a happy occasion—not a funeral. You know, I’m thinking of giving up the shop. At my age, all I seem to hear about are funerals. Sure, folks come in here wanting flowers for birthdays and weddings, but more and more they seem to say funeral. But, then, I just can’t go through with it. I love the flowers too much. And then, besides, you wouldn’t come to see me.”
“Of course I would, Abigail.”
“Bah! People only love me for my flowers.”
Angela glanced admiringly around the shop. “You do have beautiful flowers.”
It was true. Mrs. Johansen’s shop was like the Garden of Eden. Every inch of its small space was bursting with color. Her roses came in every hue, and mingled with clusters of brightly clad tulips, daffodils, and lilies, occasionally dappled by touches of sunflowers and other lemon-tinted blossoms. Orchids and ivy hung leisurely from the ceiling, letting fall long vines of green leaves.
“A friend of mine just got out the hospital,” Angela explained. “I’d like to bring her some flowers as a homecoming present.”
“Ah, now isn’t that like the angel you are! I hope it wasn’t anything to serious? No one I know, is it?
“Oh, no. A hip replacement—routine enough operation. Still, at her age, it’s not something she can recover from quickly. Margaret Bowers—”
“Margaret, was it? She’s been in here more than once. You will have to send her my regards. Now, about those flowers, what would you like?”
“Whatever you think would look best, Abigail. You are the master florist.”
In no time at all, Mrs. Johansen had created a miniature masterpiece that was easily lovelier than all the flowers in the gardens of Versailles.
“I thought lilies would be nice,” she said.
“It’s perfect, Abigail. I’m sure Margaret will love it.”
The pair chatted a few minutes longer before Angela said goodbye and returned to her car, breathtaking flower arrangement in hand. As soon as we left the shop, I became alert again to Angela’s imminent death. Could this really be the day? Everything seemed so calm and normal. What torture it was! It could scarcely have been worse had I woken up one morning and received a note: “Today you’re best friend is going to die. Have a nice day.”
I suppose it was easier knowing what awaited Angela, the immeasurable happiness, the end of mortal pain and anguish, the beginning of everything. But my heart yearned for her to be reprieved from death. In the Bible, the entire city of Enoch was taken up into heaven. They never tasted death, why should my Angela? Still, I knew He would not let her suffer beyond what was needful. Oh, but let it be gentle!
Once again, we were on the road, driving back down the streets we came on. I looked over at Angela and sighed. How content she looked. A remote smile brightened her face. Her spirit full after seeing a dear friend. Her mind was at ease. I wondered how she would feel if she knew what was coming.
“I think she’d be happy to know that she will be reunited with Jack and Lily very soon,” said Clairus, reading my thoughts.
I smiled. “Yes, how could I have forgotten about that? But she’ll miss Catherine and Justin and Kailey.”
“That will be a different kind of longing, though. Forenica, do you remember me telling you that nothing about what we do is easy?”
I did, and it was all too true sometimes.
“I know I teased you before, but this is not going to be easy. Had I not gone through this before I’d probably be feeling like you do right now.”
“You’ve gone through this before? With who?”
“I’ll tell you about it another time. Let’s try to focus more directly on Angela, and perhaps she won’t have to die in a car accident.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny.”
Angela pulled into Margaret’s driveway. Two down, one to go. We had now only to get Angela home, and death by car accident would no longer be an option. We could do it. Of course, it wasn’t really my choice, or Clairus’. I could hope, though, couldn’t I?
It was past five o’clock before Angela left Margaret’s house. The vernal sun sat low in the sky. Angela looked noticeably tired as she returned to her car. But her spirits were high. The visit to Margaret succeeded in bringing some cheer and comfort to the convalescent. Like Angela, Margaret was a widow, but unlike Angela, Margaret had no family nearby to care for her. Friends like Angela were her only family.
Angela stood outside her aged car, rummaging through her purse for her car keys. This is the home stretch, I thought. After some difficulty, Angela successfully retrieved her keys. But before she could manage to unlock her car the key escape her grasp and fell with a clink on to the driveway. She sighed and wearily leaned forward to pick them up. Her feeble fingers dropped the keys twice more before she succeeded in snatching them from the pavement. By the time she unbent her tired body, she was panting. Cautiously, she located her car key and fitted it into the keyhole of her car door. Then she turned the key, extracted the key from the key hole, and lifted the door handle.
Clink. Her keys struck the pavement. Her hand seized the top of the door, struggling for support. Something was terribly wrong. My heart instantly went into hyper drive. Angela’s eyes were wide with fear. Her breath came in short, quick spurts. Then she began to teeter, as if she were dizzy.
“What’s
happening!” I cried in agony.
“I don’t know...it looks like she’s going to fall.”
“Can’t we catch her? At least soften her fall?” I was already reaching out to catch her. Faster than light, Clairus snatched my hands in hers.
“Forenica, you mustn’t—”
“She’ll fall.”
I was frantic. The thought of Angela falling into a helpless lump on the pavement was too much for me. Clairus took my head between her hands and forced me to look at her. Her amber eyes penetrated mine, restoring me to my senses. With tears in both our eyes, we turned back to Angela just as her hand lost hold of the door and she collapsed on the ground.
I instantly fell to my knees by her side. Her head had struck the pavement, her eyes were shut. Her chest rose and fell, though. She was still alive.
“What can we do? She needs help,” I said in a panic. There was no one around to see her fall. Not a neighbor watering his lawn. Not a couple out for an evening stroll. “Oh, Angela! Somebody come and help her!” I grasped Angela’s frail, lifeless hand and held it tight. Like a sudden storm, the tears began raining from my eyes. I could no longer hold them back. “Angela, Angela!” I cried out through tears of desperation. “Soren, where’s Soren? He can find someone to help her.”
I felt Clairus’ hand touch my shoulder, and I knew there was nothing left to do but wait for Angela to pass. My sobbing erupted afresh at this realization. I watched helplessly as the life drained out of Angela’s crumpled form. How long she lay there alone, her life expiring, I know not. How it pierced my heart to have watch her die that like! Not a friend or family member to stay by her side. We would not leave her.
She was so pale now, her breathing barely perceptible. I stroked her silver hair and kissed her cheek.
“She’s near her last breath.” Clairus’ voice sounded soft and faint, as if spoken from far off. Clairus grabbed my hand and squeezed it lightly. “You’re almost there. It’s almost over, Forenica.”
At these words, I sank lower, letting head fall upon Angela’s chest, my arms wrapped around her. And I waited, counting pathetic heaves of her chest, the murmured beats of her failing heart, my tears never ceasing. Then, without warning, the heaving stopped, the beating ended, and Angela had died.
I sobbed.
Suddenly, a surge of light burst around us. It was a warming glow, sweet and peaceful. I looked up and found I could not see Angela’s car, or Margaret’s house, or the pavement, nothing but light, pure and bright. I looked down at my Angela, but it was not the Angela that I had cried over. Her cheeks were rosy, her hair like the summer sun, her skin smooth as silk. It was as if Time had rolled back fifty years, restoring to Angela her youth. But she was beyond Time’s reach now. This was the immortal Angela, never again to pass through Death’s dark doorway.
As I stared in wonder, her eyes fluttered open, revealing those sapphire eyes of deep beauty. They gazed straight up into the light.
“She can’t see us yet,” Clairus whispered. “We need to take her Home.”
Together, we lifted Angela from the ground. She did not seem to register the change in her position. It was as if she were still asleep, or just waking from a dream. The light around us intensified, and I felt that we began to rise, slowly. We were ascending, not by our normal mode, but by some portal of light. The intensity of the light continued to grow, stronger and stronger. His presence grew with every passing moment. Then we passed through the Veil of Mortality and brought Angela into the glory of eternity.
A figure standing in a crowd not far from where we arrived came running over, waving his arms waving excitedly. It was Jack, and he was carrying Lily. Angela was now fully awake. Her eyes lit up, and took off running to meet them. Outstretched arms, yearning for that long awaited reunion, wrapped around the united couple and their daughter. They swung around and around, dissolving into one.
“She’s home now, little one,” came Anawin’s voice from beside me. “You’ve done well, very well.” She put her gentle arm around me, Clairus joined her. Then I cried—a sweet, joyful cry.
THE END
Table of Contents
www.michaelmfarnsworth.com
I: Heaven
II: Angel Command
III: The Descent
IV: The Accounting
V: Morning Surprise
VI: Discovery
VII: Lily
VIII: Difficult Questions
IX: Storm Clouds
X: Angel Down
XI: Angel Tears
XII: Silas Rotwood
XIII: The Snowman
XIV: An Unexpected Arrangement
XV: A New Life