Angel Burn

by L. A. Weatherly

  “Yep. It’s not far.” Alex grabbed one of the boxes, and Willow did the same. There was a thin deer trail leading steeply up through the rocky underbrush to the north. They started climbing, winding their way through the pine trees.

  About a hundred yards up, they came to a clearing with a stream running through it. A small, dilapidated cabin sat nearby, leaning slightly to one side. “Oh!” gasped Willow, stopping short. “Alex, what is this place?”

  Shifting his weight to open the door with one hand, Alex entered the cabin and dumped his box on the table. Willow followed him, wide-eyed. “Jake and I built it, sort of,” he said.

  “You — really?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes we used to go off camping on our own for a couple of days, on the way back from a hunt. When we found this place, it had half fallen down. We came back here a couple of times, fixed it up some.” Glancing around him, Alex realized that he’d forgotten how basic the cabin actually was. There was greenish moss growing on one of the walls, and the ancient camping bed looked like something had been nesting in it. Still, it was better than being shot at.

  Willow’s eyes were shining. “You’re a genius,” she said fervently, dropping her box down beside his. “Nobody will ever find us here.”

  He smiled. The cabin was pretty much their only option, but he was glad that she didn’t mind it. “Just don’t breathe too hard, or the roof might cave in.”

  They started moving the rest of their things inside, hiking back and forth from the truck. Willow took her sweater off, tying it around her waist. “I wonder who used to live up here, anyway?” she said as they started up with another load. Her cheeks were pink with exertion.

  “Probably a prospector,” said Alex. He was carrying a box on his shoulder as he moved up the trail. “There’s a sort of wooden contraption behind the cabin, like you’d use to pan for gold.”

  “What, like the forty-niners? Do people still do that?”

  “Yeah, I guess . . . just drop out of life and go off panning.” Out here in the middle of nowhere, with only the mountains and the sky around them, Alex could see the appeal. If there weren’t any angels in the world, he’d be tempted to do something like that himself.

  When all their things were finally in the cabin, Alex got the camping ax from one of the boxes and they went back down to the truck, where Willow helped him camouflage it so that it couldn’t be seen from the air. First they hacked off slim, prickly branches from the surrounding pine trees, then wove them into a screen on the truck’s roof and hood, securing it all in place with twine.

  “Look at us: we should start a camouflage business. Do you think it’ll hold?” said Willow finally, taking a few steps back and studying their handiwork.

  Alex replaced the ax in its leather case. “Should be OK. We’ll keep checking on it to make sure.”

  She shook her head, her green eyes admiring. “You know, I really don’t think disguising the truck would have even occurred to me.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, but if it breaks down, you’re the one who gets to fix it — I bought you a tool kit, just in case.”

  They climbed back up the narrow trail to the cabin. Inside, the small space was overflowing with boxes and bags. Alex started shifting them into some kind of order, glad to have something to do. All at once he was very conscious of the fact that he and Willow were out here alone together, sharing the same small, intimate space.

  Willow helped him stack the food boxes at one end of the cabin. She had fallen silent since they’d gotten inside, and he saw her give him a troubled glance when she thought he wasn’t looking. After several minutes, the quiet felt like it might choke him. He cleared his throat. “I got a camping stove and some gas for us to cook with . . . I mean, it won’t be great, but —”

  “No, it’s perfect,” said Willow. Her eyes flashed to his and then away again, her face reddening. She turned quickly and put her clothes bag in the corner, rolling down its plastic top. Alex started to say something, but stopped as the realization thundered through him.

  She felt the same way about him.

  He hadn’t been sure. Even when he’d almost kissed her, he hadn’t really known what she was feeling — apart from that somehow she liked him, even after what a jerk he’d been to her to start with. But now . . .

  It doesn’t change anything, Alex told himself dazedly. It’s still a really bad idea. Even so, he stood frozen, staring at her as the world seemed to shrink around them.

  Straightening, Willow self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not meeting his gaze. “Listen, is it possible to . . . ? I mean, I’d sort of like to get washed off and changed, but —”

  Alex came abruptly back to himself. “Yeah, there’s the stream, but it’s pretty cold. And . . . I didn’t get a towel.” Damn. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  “That’s OK,” said Willow. “I can just use a T-shirt or something to dry off with.”

  Alex grabbed one of his old ones from his bag. “Here, use this.”

  Their fingers touched as she took it from him. “Thanks.”

  He turned away, pretending to be fiddling with the camping stove as she rooted through her shopping bag for fresh clothes. There was nothing to fiddle with; all you did was hook up the gas lead to it. Finally, Willow hesitated by the door. She was holding a neat pile of clothing with a bar of motel soap perched on top of it; his T-shirt was under her arm, along with one of the rolls of toilet paper he’d bought. At least he’d remembered that much. “I guess the facilities are outside, right?” she said awkwardly.

  “Yeah. Sorry,” said Alex, rising to his feet.

  “God, don’t be sorry! This place is amazing. You’re amazing.” Red swept her face again. Ducking her head away, she said hurriedly, “So, anyway, I’ll just go to the stream.” Then she was gone, the door shutting softly behind her.

  Alex let out a breath. He found himself rearranging the cardboard boxes, so that a few that had been on the bottom were now on the top. He thought he’d give anything for some really hard, physical work right then — about ten miles on the treadmill would do it, or a hundred reps of the biceps press.

  After twenty minutes or so, the door opened and Willow came back in, her green eyes dancing. “OK, I’m feeling invigorated now. You seriously weren’t kidding; that was cold!” She was wearing jeans and the red sweater; a pale blue T-shirt peeked out from the bottom of the sweater.

  Alex grinned, relieved to feel the mood ease. “Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I hung your shirt over a branch outside,” she said, tucking her things away in the bag. “It can be our designated towel, OK?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “So . . . ” She stood up again and gave a small, smiling shrug.

  It was only about ten a.m.; they had a whole day to fill. Eager to avoid that sort of tension building again, Alex said, “Hey, do you play cards?” He dug in one of the boxes. “I bought us a deck.”

  Willow raised an eyebrow at him as she sat down at the table. “Are you sure you want to risk this, when I almost beat you at quarters? I play Go Fish. Does that count?”

  “Go Fish?” He held back a laugh. “Yeah, I think I’ll risk it.” Sitting in the rickety chair to her right, he took the cellophane wrapping off the cards; the plastic made a crinkling sound as he put it aside. “Is that all you play? How about blackjack? Or canasta?”

  She shook her head with a grin. Her hair was loose, falling past her shoulders. “Sorry. I think I must have had a disadvantaged childhood.”

  “Gin rummy?”

  “Barely.”

  “I’ll teach you blackjack first,” he said, thumbing through the deck and pulling the jokers out. “It’s really easy.” The deck rattled as he shuffled it. He dealt them two cards each, one face up and one face down, flipping them expertly across the table.

  “So, why am I not surprised that you’re a card shark?” Willow lifted her facedown card, peering at it.

  He shru
gged as he looked at his own card, trying not to notice the way her face lit up when she smiled. “We used to play a lot, back at the camp. There wasn’t much else to do at night without a TV, apart from listening to the coyotes howl. . . . OK, I’m the dealer this round, so you’re trying to beat me. The goal is to get as close to twenty-one points as you can without going over. Wait, we need something to bet with —”

  Shoving back his chair, he delved into one of the grocery boxes and found a large bag of M&M’s. Cully had always had a sweet tooth, he remembered with a pang.

  “Great,” said Willow when she saw them. “That can be breakfast, too.”

  She had a point; suddenly he was starving. Alex opened the bag and scooped out a handful, then slid it across to her. “OK, the face cards are ten points each, the ace is worth either one or eleven, and the rest are what they say they are.” He popped a brown M&M into his mouth.

  Willow seemed to think this over, munching a few candies as she gazed at her cards. “And we’re supposed to be going to twenty-one, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Cool.” She had a king showing. She flipped over her other card, and Alex groaned, laughing, as he saw that it was an ace. “I’d like the ace to be worth eleven points, please,” she said, dimpling a smile at him. “What do I win?”

  “Oh man, you asked for it. What you win is me taking my gloves off and wiping the floor with you.” Scraping the cards toward him, Alex shuffled the deck again and slapped it in front of her. “Your deal. Though I’m not really sure why I keep putting myself through this with you.”

  She gave him an arch look as she picked up the cards. “Glutton for punishment, obviously.”

  They played for hours, sometimes stopping to talk. As if by mutual agreement, neither of them mentioned anything about angels. They just talked, sharing stories from their lives. Alex found out that Willow liked to cook and that she even made homemade jam in the fall; he told her about his secret love of astronomy, and how in the camp he used to lie on the desert ground at night and stare up at the stars. After a while, they heated up a couple of cans of chili for lunch, eating straight from the cans with metal camping forks. Remembering that there were a few six-packs of beer in one of Cully’s boxes, Alex went outside to put one in the stream to chill.

  “We’ve got a fridge,” said Willow, drifting out after him.

  “Yeah, all the modern conveniences.” Alex straightened up from the stream and stretched, feeling stiff from sitting still for so long. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

  They put on their hiking boots and explored the area around the cabin for the rest of the afternoon, following the different deer trails. Willow was very relaxed company, easy to talk to when either of them felt like talking or just as happy to stay quiet, lost in her own thoughts as they climbed. Glancing at her profile as they sat on a boulder looking out at the view, it suddenly struck Alex that he’d never felt so comfortable with anyone in his life. It felt as if he’d known Willow always.

  No. It felt like she was a part of him.

  He was silent as they hiked back to the cabin. When they got to the stream, Willow walked ahead of him, bending down and touching the beer cans. “You’ll be happy to know that the fridge works,” she said over her shoulder with a grin. “Do you want one?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” She handed him a cold beer, then carefully nestled the rest of the six-pack back into the stream, resting it against a rock. “You don’t want one?” he asked as they headed into the cabin, stopping to take their boots off.

  She shook her head. “I don’t really drink; it just makes me fall asleep. I might have a few sips of yours, though.”

  They went back to playing cards, heating up another meal when they got hungry. As it started to get dark, Alex lit the camping lantern he’d bought, putting it in the center of the table. Willow slipped outside to use the “facilities” and returned wearing a pair of navy-blue sweatpants instead of her jeans.

  “A little bit comfier,” she explained. She dropped into her seat again, to his left at the small table. They had turned to gin rummy by then, playing for matchsticks after the M&M’s were all gone. Picking up her cards, Willow settled back into her chair and drew a knee up, her bare foot curled over the edge of her seat as she inspected her hand.

  Alex gazed at her. Her mouth was slightly open; she ran her fingernail against her lower teeth as she thought. She’d knotted her hair at the nape of her neck again, and a strand had slipped loose onto her shoulder, gleaming in the lantern light. Suddenly all of his objections seemed meaningless. Don’t, he thought. You’ll regret it.

  He didn’t care anymore.

  Slowly, unable to stop himself, he reached out and cupped his hand around her foot.

  Willow’s eyes flew to his, startled. They stared at each other. Her foot felt small under his hand; he rubbed it lightly with his thumb, feeling the silky heat of her skin, his pulse hammering through his veins. He felt like he was falling. All he could see was her.

  She looked close to tears. “Alex —”

  Leaning across the corner of the table, he cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

  Her lips were soft and warm. With a sob, Willow returned the kiss, throwing her arms around his neck. He opened his mouth, tasting her; felt her hair tumble down around his hands. Happiness burst through him, exploding through his chest. Willow. Oh, God, Willow.

  She started to pull away. “Alex, wait — are you sure about this? I’m half angel. I can’t change that.”

  He almost laughed. “Shut up,” he whispered.

  It was awkward with the table between them. Scooping an arm under Willow’s knees, Alex pulled her gently onto his lap, holding her close as they kissed. Her body was small, perfect. Her long hair tickled around his face; he stroked it back, twining his fingers through it. The feel of her lips on his, the warmth of her as she pressed against him — nothing had ever felt so right.

  At last they came apart, staring at each other in wonder. Alex could feel that he was smiling; he couldn’t stop. “You are so beautiful,” he said in a low voice.

  Willow shook her head, looking dazed. She touched his face; he shivered as she traced his eyebrow with her fingers. “I never thought this would happen,” she said. She swallowed. “I’ve really been wanting it to.”

  “Oh, God, me too . . . me too.” Pulling her back to him, he kissed her again, feeling their hearts thudding through the soft cotton of their shirts. There were no words for a while, just holding her, kissing her. When they finally paused for breath, he said against her lips, “I’ve been wanting to do that since practically the first time I saw you.”

  Willow pulled away slightly, her eyes widening in surprise. “But you hated me then.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he murmured. He kissed her neck, her cheek. “I never hated you. Even when I thought I should, I was so attracted to you that I could hardly stand it. I’ve been going insane these last few days.”

  She gaped at him. “You have? I couldn’t tell. At the rest stop, I — I thought I must have just imagined it.”

  All he wanted to do was keep kissing her, but she seemed so stunned that he started to laugh. “You’re supposed to be psychic; you really couldn’t tell what I was feeling?”

  “No!” She gave a short laugh, looking dumbfounded. “I was too — I could hardly even breathe when you were touching me, hardly think. I thought you were just comforting me, and that you only wanted to be friends.”

  Alex slowly ran his hand along her arm; just the feel of her skin made his breath catch. “Believe me, being friends was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to kiss you so much that it hurt.”

  She hesitated. “Why didn’t you? Because I’m half angel?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t cared about that in days. It was because . . . ” He could hardly even remember now why this hadn’t seemed like a good idea. “Because I’m an idiot, I guess.”

  Willow sat very still. Around them, there was only the
glow of the camp lantern and the velvet silence from outside. “It really doesn’t bother you, then? What I am?”

  Emotion tightened his chest. He took her face in his hands, feeling the smoothness of her cheeks against his palms. “Willow, all I care about is that you’re you, and — and that you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”

  “Really?” she whispered, her eyes bright with tears.

  Alex laughed suddenly, smoothing her blond hair back. “Hey, I’m the lucky one this time, don’t you know that? You are so — absolutely incredible. Everything about you.”

  He saw her throat move. “Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m pretty lucky, too, actually.” Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed — the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never.

  Finally Willow pulled back. “Wow,” she said weakly. “That’s even more amazing than I thought it would be.”

  Alex’s arms were still looped around her waist; it took a serious effort not to draw her back to him and start kissing her again. He managed to control himself and grinned. “You mean with me or just in general?”

  “In general,” she said. “But I have a feeling it’s especially amazing with you.” She leaned back in his arms, studying him. Shaking her head with a slight smile, she reached out and stroked the line of his cheekbone. “Do you even realize how gorgeous you are?”

  What he realized was that he was happier than he’d ever been. He gazed at Willow, drinking in her face, feeling amazed that this was happening — that she was here with him and that she actually felt the same way.

  “Come here,” he said softly. And pulling her toward him, he simply held her, cradling her against his chest.