by Nicki Elson
“Don’t worry,” he said, walking over. “I know this doesn’t happen every day. Your skepticism in this case was rational, even admirable. But you listened to me, you followed my instructions, and now you believe.”
She relaxed her position down to sitting and nodded. “I do.”
It only took a few quiet moments of silently watching each other before the questions started. “Have you figured out why I can see you?” Maggie asked.
“No. Have you?”
“Me? I…no, I only just started believing you were real. Wait! Did you know the whole time that I was real? Did you never question it?”
“Angels only know reality.”
“Yet you don’t know why you’re here.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her. “Has anything unusual been going on in your life?”
“Well, two years ago—”
“Not the divorce. Your immediate present.”
“Oh.” She scanned her mind. “I assume you mean other than a wingless angel showing up in my bedroom?”
He answered by tilting his head and casting an admonishing look at her even while a smirk played at one corner of his mouth.
Maggie wrinkled her nose and almost laughed, but was stopped short by a sudden thought. “Hold on—you know about the divorce?”
“Of course.”
“Of course? Does this mean…are you my guardian angel?”
“Yes and no. The human understanding of a guardian angel isn’t completely accurate, but I’m the closest thing to your definition.”
“So you’ve been watching me my whole life?”
“I’ve seen your whole life.”
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“It’s a no.”
“What’s the difference between watching and seeing my whole life?”
“Watching would imply that I’ve been lurking in the background at every moment—I think stalker is the word you’d use for it. Seeing means I’m given the knowledge of your life when I need it.”
“Need it for what?”
“For various reasons.”
“Including…?”
“Including times when I’m needed to intervene for protection or comfort.”
“Intervene how?”
“Different ways. Most often it’s through a gentle transfer of…energy is the best way for you to understand it. We don’t have the power to change a person’s heart, but we can plant the tiniest seeds of an idea or temper, anger, and distress.”
“And sometimes you appear in front of them.”
“Rarely.”
“Have you done it before—with others?”
“I think so.”
“You think so? Can you not remember?”
“It’s…” He scowled and lifted an arm, bending it to rub the back of his neck. “It’s difficult to explain.”
Maggie sighed and readjusted to sit cross-legged. Patting the mattress in front of her, she said, “I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a while and you might as well get comfortable.”
The angel considered her gesture for a moment and then moved onto the bed, mirroring her position so that they sat nearly knee to knee. “Angels don’t remember,” he continued. “That is to say, we have no need of remembering because we don’t forget. We know what we’re meant to know, nothing more, nothing less.” He lifted his fingers to brush them over the deep creases in Maggie’s brow. “I’m sorry; it’s not an easy concept, and it doesn’t matter anyhow. You wouldn’t understand. Not completely. At any rate, the moments I referred to were quick flashes of danger. I stepped in to intercede and lead the people to safety. They seemed to be able to see me and followed, but they may have been obeying an inner voice and not my physical form.”
“So you didn’t speak to them.”
He shook his head. “You’re the first I’ve ever spoken to.”
“Really?” She liked the idea of that. “Well, besides talking to other angels, of course.”
He shook his head again, and his pale eyes sparked. “First ever to anyone. We don’t need to speak in the other realm.”
Maggie took a moment to absorb this before asking, “You read each other’s minds? All the time? Are you reading mine?”
He let out a laugh. “No. It’s not mind reading. We know what we’re meant to know.”
“Ah, that stuff I won’t understand.”
“Exactly. But in this case I obviously need to speak for you to get the information you seek. You’ve given me my voice.” As he said this, he reached his hands over to grab Maggie’s where they rested on her knees.
She felt again as if their flesh was melding together, and a calming reassurance seeped into her. “It’s a very nice voice,” she quietly told him.
“Thank you,” he replied softly.
The angel was perfectly visible to Maggie’s eyes and gave no indication that he had any trouble seeing through the darkness, so she hadn’t thought to turn on a light. But now the intimacy of the darkened scene occurred to her, and she slipped her hands from his touch while shifting her mind to a different direction. “Earlier today at work I was thinking, the accounts in the Bible are only summaries, really, so for all we know, it took Mary and Gabriel weeks to figure out what was being asked of her. We can do this. Maybe we should start with what we do know.”
His slight nod indicated he was game.
“Okay,” Maggie continued, “I’ve seen you twice outside of my drea—out in public. At the coffee shop and at Somme Park. That was you, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what could’ve drawn you out both times? At the coffee shop…” Her mind drifted back as she put the scene together, and she snapped her fingers. “I’d just told my friend about seeing you in my dream! Was that it? Were you coming to warn me not to tell people about you? Is this supposed to be a secret?”
He pulled his eyebrows together and shook his head. “I didn’t know you’d told her about me. I felt…it was an overwhelming need to protect. There is evil in this world, all the time, and part of what we do on Earth is ward off those spirits with our presence. The evil that day was intense, apparently concentrated enough to draw me out far enough to be visible to human eyes.”
A chill prickled up Maggie’s arm. “Are you protecting me now? Is it, is it lurking closely right now?”
The angel tilted his face to point upward as he turned his palms out and held them slightly away from his body, staying silent for a moment before answering. “No. There’s always a presence, but I don’t feel anything particularly strong right now. Not strong enough to warrant my appearance. I haven’t felt it the other nights I’ve been here either.” He lowered his chin and leveled a steady gaze straight into her eyes, as if to embed the truth of what he said. “Neither have I come with a warning to not speak of me, but I do think it would be wise to keep it between us for now, at least until we’ve figured it out. Curiosity from others will likely only prove to be a distraction.”
Maggie nodded. “I agree. I pretty much regretted saying anything to Sharon the second I opened up my mouth. Now, what about the garden? Why did you run away?”
“I wasn’t running away. I was leading.”
“To what?”
“Not to, from.”
“From what?”
“The wicked forces again.”
This time the hairs on Maggie’s arms practically jumped out of their follicles. Something in the urn had been reaching for her. “Is something after me?”
“Difficult to say. There are concentrated pockets of supernatural malice here and there under normal circumstances. You may have just stumbled upon them. I’d say that’s the most likely scenario since the two episodes occurred months apart and haven’t progressed. Have you had any other sensations—instances of a strong feeling of foreboding that you can’t explain?”
Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I hadn’t felt anything like that at the coffee shop either.”
She hadn’
t realized that the angel had been tensed, but she now noticed the hardened muscles at his jaw relax as his shoulders sloped downward. “That’s good,” he said. “Either it was just coincidence, or your prayers and spiritual life are strong enough to have discouraged it. It would be best for you to remove yourself from any influences that don’t feel right. But don’t be overly concerned—fear will only lead you to a dark path. There’s no need for worry as long as you have faith.” His mouth spread into a smile. “Besides, it seems I’ll come running to your rescue should it happen again.”
Maggie returned his smile and gestured toward his internally-lit form. “My angel in shining…whatever that is.” Her fear of the lurking evil subsided, but her curiosity hadn’t. “So this brings us back to our dilemma—why are you here?”
He pressed his lips together and shrugged but didn’t seem as agitated by the situation as he’d been the previous night. He touched his fingertips to the back of her hands and slid his hands around hers, folding them together. Bending his face downward, he closed his eyes and said, “Father, we ask you to grant us patience as we try to determine the path you wish us to follow. Help us trust that all will be revealed in your time. Meanwhile, may our words and actions be pleasing to you. Amen.”
“Amen,” Maggie repeated.
“It’s late. You should sleep.”
“You’ll be back?”
“It’s for him to decide, but I have a strong sense that I will.”
“Well then, I think it’s only right that I should know your name.”
“Are you going to give that to me too?”
“What?”
“As with my voice, we have no need of names in heaven. They’re a human thing.”
“But…Gabriel, Michael…do they have names because they’re archangels?”
“No. They were given their names because humans needed them. If you need me to have a name, you must give me one.”
She chuckled, thinking back to all the baby name books she’d poured over when it had been time to choose names for her children. “No pressure, right?”
“None whatsoever. You’ll come up with something.”
“Any requests?”
“No.” He pushed back from her and stood, walking toward his traditional corner of the room, but before he reached the spot, he was gone.
Over the next few weeks the angel returned many times, but not every night. Sometimes Maggie never fully woke, but was only aware of him standing there. Other nights, she couldn’t stop herself from pelting more questions at him, trying to solve the mystery. But his continued prayers to grant patience seemed to be working, and she found herself content to simply accept him as a new friend, a heavenly gift, and became satisfied with waiting for the Lord reveal his plan.
“What do you think of Evan? For your name?” she asked one night. “It means ‘God is gracious.’ I was thinking it’s also short for evangelic, and it rhymes with heaven. Too cheesy?”
He smiled. “Not too cheesy. I like it. It’s nice to meet you, Maggie. I’m Evan.”
Chapter 6
WITH EVAN’S VISITS CONFINED to Maggie’s alone time at night, she found it wasn’t difficult at all to continue with life as normal while keeping her secret. The only difference was her greater sense of satisfaction as she moved about her days. The riddle of the angel’s appearance had been successfully set aside for the time being, and without Maggie realizing exactly how it had happened, she’d begun opening up to him regarding certain personal struggles, namely Melissa.
Talking it out had helped Maggie accept the new woman in her children’s lives as more than simply the price she’d have to pay for refusing to fix her marriage. Evan’s patient listening and wise counsel led her to be truly happy that Carl’s girlfriend had taken an interest in the kids. It was much preferable to the alternative—a shrew who tried to separate them from their father.
On a Sunday evening in mid-May, Carl brought the kids home after a weekend at his place. When Kirsten and Liam ran upstairs to dump their bags, he walked into the kitchen and took a seat by the island, waiting for them to come back down to give him a kiss goodbye. As usual, Maggie offered him a drink.
“A water would be great,” he said.
His deep voice was flatter than usual, leading Maggie to take a closer look at him. He exhibited all his usual vitality as he perched on the stool, and nothing in his handsome features seemed drawn or tired, but his eyes, which almost always glinted with a hint of mischief, were dull, and something about him looked lost.
“Rough week?” she asked as she handed him a bottled water.
“Mediocre.” He downed half the bottle in one swig.
The kids reappeared and gave their dad a hug before Liam barraged Maggie with an account of what he’d done all weekend. It seemed to come out in a single, indecipherable word. Ever since he’d started speaking full sentences, Maggie and Carl had joked that he must somehow absorb oxygen through his freckles, because he rarely stopped to take a breath.
“We went to the batting cages, and Liam here has a wicked swing,” Carl translated.
“Yeah, wicked boring,” Kirsten grumbled.
Maggie wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulder and pulled her close. “Don’t worry. Liam’s outnumbered by the girls now that you’re back here. What do you say we all go get our toenails painted this week?”
“Cool!” Liam shouted. “I’m gonna get Yoda painted on mine.”
Maggie’s eyes moved to Carl, who she knew would rather be publicly flogged than have a drop of nail polish touch his precious son’s toes.
Her ex-husband cocked a teasing eyebrow. “I think we’re going to have to revisit our custody arrangement and stipulate what is and is not allowed during our respective visits.”
As if on cue, Kirsten’s phone buzzed with a text message. “Yeah, I’ve got a few retroactive stipulations I’d like to get in there,” Maggie retorted. The cell phone had been an unauthorized purchase during one of the weekend visits with Daddy. But that battle had been fought and was over, as reflected in Carl’s smile, and Maggie thought about how nice it was to be able to joke about these things rather than scream at each other, as they’d done for so long. Kirsten disappeared into the next room, returning the text, and Liam asked to use the computer.
“Half an hour for both of you,” Maggie called out loudly enough for Kirsten to hear. “Then it’s up to bed. School tomorrow.”
Maggie turned to Carl as Liam scampered down the hall to the computer cabinet in the front room.
“Did they get their homework all done?” she asked.
“Yes, chief. Kirsten’s got that big reading project due at the end of this week. We started, but she’ll probably need to spend a good two hours on the diorama she decided to make. And don’t forget, Liam’s third-grade sing is this Thursday, so I’ll see you then. Do you want to maybe go out for pizza or something after?”
“That’d be nice.” She watched Carl polish off the last of his water and smiled. “You’re a good dad.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Sorry,” Maggie said. “I’m sure I don’t tell you that often enough, but I mean it.”
“Thanks.” He flashed a sincere smile without an ounce of cockiness in it, and then the grin faded. “Look, I may as well tell you before the kids do. Melissa and I called it quits last week.”
Maggie was stunned. As far as she’d known, all had been well in paradise. She didn’t know what to say—what was the appropriate response when one’s ex-husband announced he’d just broken up with his girlfriend?
She settled on a simple, “I’m so sorry.” And she meant it. She didn’t like to see him so sad, and she worried about her children’s reactions—would it be too much for them to handle after seeing their parents split? But she decided against laying that guilt on him at the moment. Eyeballing his empty water bottle, she said, “Perhaps I should have offered you something stronger, like I don’t know…rubbing alcohol?”
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Carl let out a dark chuckle. “I’ll settle for a glass of wine. Thanks.”
“Oh, okay.” She’d only been joking, but okay. “Red or white?”
“Red.”
She grabbed a bottle of trusty merlot and opened it. When she set a single glass on the counter, Carl said, “Please don’t make me drink alone.”
In addition to Carl sounding completely pathetic, Maggie noticed her arm shaking slightly and thought perhaps she could use a little nerve-soothing too. “Two glasses it is.” She poured and handed one to Carl. As he took a long, slow sip, she decided her best approach to the situation was to not try to say the right thing. He’d see through her anyhow and might even appreciate a little honesty.
“I’m surprised,” she said. “You two seemed pretty serious.”
He shrugged. “Nah. I wasn’t serious, anyway. She’s a great girl and a lot of fun, but the fun doesn’t last forever, as you well know. When it stopped being fun, there just wasn’t enough substance to make it worth the trouble. She’s pretty broken up, but I thought it was better to end it now instead of stringing her along, you know?”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
Silence lingered in Maggie’s small kitchen. She stared into her un-sipped half-glass of wine, feeling bad for Melissa and wondering about the kids. They hadn’t seemed upset when they’d come into the house, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be repercussions. While she was still lost in her thoughts, Carl spoke. “You’re the only girl I’ve ever been serious about.”
Her eyes snapped up to him. He was looking straight at her wearing a small, sad smile. She recognized the expression—it was the same one he’d used so many times before the divorce to tell her he was sorry. She lifted her glass and took a gulp. Immediately after swallowing, she asked, “How’d the kids take the news?”
“They seem okay. Kirsten asked if she could still call Melissa sometimes and I told her she should wait a little bit, give Missy a bit of time, and then we’d talk about it again. I wanted to get your thoughts before saying anything definite.”
