The Angel Whispered Danger

by Mignon F. Ballard

  And Beverly. Dear God, I didn’t even want to think about the possibility that my cousin had something to do with our old friend’s death. Their breakup years before had had a traumatic effect on Grady. Had she rejected him again? Or maybe he had confided in her about what happened to his father, just as he had to me.

  I could be next. Instinctively, I stepped back, putting the small tree between us. What was the matter with me? This was Grady! The same Grady who had helped me to build a treehouse, taught me to ride a bike. How could I think he would intentionally harm me—or anyone else?

  Grady was quiet, and I wondered if he guessed what I was thinking. Finally he spoke. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to get out of here anytime soon. I think we should try to find a place where we can at least close our eyes and rest a little—maybe get a few minutes of sleep.”

  I wasn’t about to close my eyes, and there was no way I was going to sleep with my child cowering and afraid somewhere in this wild, rugged place, but I let my cousin take my hand and lead me to a place where he said he thought the terrain leveled off a bit.

  “I’m sure we passed a place just a little way up the hill where we might be able to stretch out—looked like a few small pines in sort of a clearing. There, when somebody comes looking, they’ll be able to see us better.”

  Grady’s words were comforting and he gave my shoulder a reassuring pat, just like the old Grady would—the one who could always think of something fun to do, and who never failed to make me laugh. Guilt overwhelmed me. What was I thinking? Just because my cousin knew Beverly had lived in a small apartment, didn’t mean he had been there. Bev had probably told him about it.

  Then my foot slipped as Grady helped me over a log, and when I reached out to steady myself, my hand brushed the front of his shirt. It was an old shirt of Uncle Lum’s that Grady had put on for protection against brambles and insects, just as I wore one of Uncle Ernest’s, and the pocket drooped low on his chest.

  I recovered quickly, said something lame about being clumsy and tried to pretend I hadn’t felt the flashlight battery in my cousin’s shirt pocket. Had Grady removed a battery so we wouldn’t be able to see?

  I had to get away! Even if I stumbled about in the darkness, surely I could find a place to curl up in and hide until light. I had to!

  “This should be okay, don’t you think?” Grady shoved aside the branches of a sapling blocking our way, then stomped in a circle, kicking stones and limbs to the side. “It’s not the Hilton, but at least we don’t have to worry about falling into the river—ouch! Watch out for that limb—almost took off the top of my head!”

  Then why don’t you put that damn battery back in the flashlight so we can see?

  “It’s fine,” I said instead, “but first I have to have a little privacy. Guess I drank too much water.”

  “You mean you have to pee? My God, Kate, I’m not going to look. Couldn’t see even if I wanted to.”

  “But you could hear. Come on, Grady, I’m modest. Give me a break!”

  He snorted. “Since when? I remember when we used to go skinny dipping out at Periwinkle Springs.”

  “Yeah, back when we were kids.” I waited. “Just go a few steps away and turn around. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Oh, I guess not,” he said finally. “But you’re going to be sorry if I fall and break my neck.”

  He turned and went back the way we had come, and I listened, counting his steps: twelve . . . thirteen . . . fourteen . . . then waited until I couldn’t hear him anymore. I had no idea where to go, which way to turn, but I had to do something fast.

  Then, on the other side of what looked like a huge rhododendron bush, something moved, pale and ghostlike in the darkness. It seemed almost filmy, flitting among the branches, and I was about one breath away from a scream when I caught the fragrance, subtle and sweet.

  Strawberries.

  “This way. Hurry!” Augusta reached out and took my hand, and at her touch I wasn’t afraid anymore.

  “It’s about time!” I said as I followed her, dipping under overhanging limbs, skirting stumps and stones. “Where have you been?”

  “Never far away, Kathryn. You should know that by now.”

  “And where’s Josie? Is she all right?”

  But Augusta didn’t answer.

  Behind us, I could hear Grady calling my name.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Augusta moved so quickly I almost walked headlong into a tree while trying to keep up.

  “Slow down a minute, will you?” I whispered. “I can’t see where I’m going.”

  She paused to look back at me and her halo of bright hair was a light unto itself. “I thought you were in a hurry,” she said.

  “I am. Of course I am, but some of us don’t have angel vision. Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.” She waited for me to catch up and we walked close together, her necklace making a glittering arc of gold and green with every step. “And I don’t have ‘angel vision’ as you say. It’s simply instinct and experience. This isn’t the first time I’ve explored unknown territory, Kate McBride.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, pausing to listen. I couldn’t hear Grady calling anymore but the sounds of the river seemed closer, louder, somehow swifter.

  Together we sailed over a shallow ditch, then, weaving in and out among trees, followed the line of the hill.

  “Why, if it weren’t for my help, Lewis and Clark might never have found that overland route to the Pacific Ocean,” Augusta informed me.

  “Really? I thought Sacagawea showed them the way,” I said.

  “Who do you think guided Sacagawea?” Augusta’s eyes held a teasing glint but I didn’t think she was joking.

  “Is Josie all right?” I asked. “Where is she?”

  “I’m taking you there, and other than an injured ankle, she seems to have survived her impromptu adventure very well.” Augusta put up a hand to warn me as a snake—or I think it was a snake—slithered inches from our feet. Too terrified to move, I latched onto the angel’s arm until she assured me we were in no danger. And I learned she wasn’t above giving me an urgent little poke when I didn’t move fast enough to suit her.

  “Tell me why you’re suddenly so afraid of your cousin?” Augusta asked. “I sensed you were frantic to put distance between you. How did this come about?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I dislike to eavesdrop. Was it something he did . . . or said?”

  “Both.” I told her about Grady’s confession and my suspicions about his being involved with Beverly’s death. “And what’s more, I think he took a battery out of the flashlight so we couldn’t find our way back,” I said.

  “Now, why would he do that? Are you sure about these things?” Her voice had just a tinge of angelic judgment in it, I thought.

  “The part about Grady killing his father—yes. I don’t know about the rest.” I held my injured hand close to me as I walked. I wanted to stop for water, but was afraid it would slow us down. The sound of the river had intensified into something like a roar.

  “Please tell me we’re getting close,” I said. “Seems we’ve been walking for miles—and I don’t understand why some of the searchers haven’t found her yet. They should’ve had time to cover every inch of this place by now.”

  “It’s a big mountain, and as you know, it’s not easy to see in terrain like this—especially in the dark,” Augusta said.

  “But shouldn’t we have at least heard them?” I said. We were climbing again and the slope was slippery with leaves and pine needles.

  “It’s difficult to hear over the sound of the waterfall,” Augusta said.

  “Waterfall?” I could tell we were getting even closer to the rumble of its thunder. “Did Josie—”

  “No, Josie’s all right. Now, watch for a large expanse of rock just ahead.” Augusta reached back to guide me around it. “From what Penelope tells me, Josie didn’t enter the woods where everyone thoug
ht she did, but wandered along beside it for almost a mile before she came to what she thought was a path.”

  “Penelope?”

  “Penelope was the one who found her, Kate.”

  The ground seemed to be leveling out now and Augusta paused to part the branches of a huge tree, dark and feathery, with a fresh green scent. “Watch your head,” she said, stooping under the canopy.

  I followed, and even in the darkness I could make out two figures sleeping there, nestled close together with some kind of animal between them. On closer look, I saw it was a fawn. One of the figures was Josie; the other, the apprentice angel Penelope, who slept with one arm over my little girl’s shoulders, and I knew I would never, never criticize the young angel’s awkwardness again.

  If Augusta hadn’t stopped me, I would have run to Josie at once. I could hardly wait to throw my arms around her, hold her safe against my heart—and I didn’t plan to let her go any time soon, either.

  The angel lightly finger-touched my arm. “Shh! Don’t wake them! It’s been a long night and they’re both worn out.”

  I sat as close as I could to my daughter’s side without nudging her awake. The fawn twitched an ear but neither girl moved. “Where did Penelope find her?” I asked.

  “About halfway to the river. She’d wandered onto that trail in the woods—to get out of the heat, I suppose, as it was still light then. Penelope was playing leapfrog, she said, with some young foxes in the meadow and followed, hoping Josie would turn around and start for home.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t,” I said.

  “I think something or someone must have startled her,” Augusta said. “Penelope says that’s when Josie fell.”

  “Fell?” Once again I reached for my daughter, and once again, I was stopped by Augusta’s touch. “Fell where?”

  “The hill gave way to an abrupt drop—it wasn’t far, mind you, but Josie took a tumble of sorts.” Augusta’s smile reassured me. “I think she might’ve twisted her ankle in the process, and the fall probably stunned her, as well. The child was already disoriented and by now it was getting too dark to see.”

  “So how did she get here?” I took off my outer shirt and tucked it around my sleeping child. The sound of the swift, cascading water seemed almost soothing now.

  Augusta smiled. “I imagine Penelope managed that somehow—probably with the help of her friends.”

  “Her friends?” If there was another around like Penelope, surely I would have heard her.

  “You must have noticed, Penelope has a way with animals. The little fawn’s mother can’t be too far away.”

  Surely I must be dreaming! My eyes felt heavy. If I closed them for a minute, I would wake up in bed back at Bramblewood.

  I blinked. The umbrellalike branches of the great hemlock tree spread over us like a spring-scented tent where my daughter lay curled in sleep with a baby deer and an adolescent angel. My own angel offered me a bed of leaves and pine straw. “You need to sleep,” she said. “You’ll be able to find your way out when it’s light.”

  “You’re not leaving?”

  “I’ll be here as long as you need me.” Augusta, sitting beside me, reached elegant arms over her head, leaned from side to side and executed an angelic little shimmy-stretch. “Ah, that’s better!” She sighed. “This is a delightful little nook, don’t you think? Our Penelope did well for us.”

  “She most certainly did,” I said, noticing the pride in her voice. “But Augusta, I’m afraid. What if Grady finds us here?”

  “Ponyfeathers!” Augusta wiggled a pink-tipped toe. “You let me worry about that.”

  “What?” I laughed, then tried to cover it with a yawn. “But how are we going to find our way home?”

  “Just follow the flowers,” she said.

  The pine straw bed looked more and more inviting. “Follow what flowers?”

  “You’ll see,” Augusta said. I could tell she was sort of peeved with me for laughing, but I had my Josie back and nothing else mattered just then. Besides, she’d get over it in time.

  Just before I dropped off to sleep, I watched the fawn nuzzle Penelope’s cheek and give her a lick of a kiss.

  The next morning the angels were gone.

  Dark green branches filtered pale yellow sunlight when Josie stirred next to me and I drew her into my arms and held her close.

  My daughter clung to me and cried and we sat swaying, saying nothing for a while until Josie finally spoke.

  “Mom! I thought I’d never see you again . . . but how did you find me?” she asked.

  “I had some help from a couple of angels,” I whispered, stroking the fine hair from her face. She had a bruise on her forehead, I noticed, and an angry-looking scrape on her cheek. “How’s your ankle, honey?”

  She made a face. “It hurts. And I’m thirsty—haven’t had anything to drink since—How long have I been here?”

  “Since late yesterday.” Thank goodness I had saved almost half my bottle of water and I gave Josie what was left. Her ankle was swollen, but she still wore her socks and sneakers, so I made a figure eight with my bandanna and tied it around her injured foot, shoe and all. “Do you think you can walk?” I asked.

  “I’ll try. Mom, I’m so glad to see you! I just want to go home!”

  I peered through a limb of the tree that had sheltered us. Although the woods were spotted with sunlight, fog clung to the earth in patches, making it difficult to see the ground. The waterfall that had lulled us the night before seemed threatening in its nearness. What if we wandered too near the edge?

  But Augusta would never had left us if she’d thought we wouldn’t be able to find our way out. Follow the flowers, she had said. Well and good, I thought, if only we were able to see them.

  “Josie, I know you’re eager to get back, and believe me, so am I, but we’re going to have to wait a while until this fog lifts a little,” I told her.

  While we waited, I found a Y-shaped stick and padded it with the bottom half of Uncle Ernest’s shirt to make a crude crutch for Josie.

  “I had the funniest dream last night,” she said, resting against my shoulder.

  “Funny peculiar or funny ha-ha?”

  “Funny peculiar.” She raised up on an elbow to look at me. “A girl was with me . . . she looked like that girl I saw in the ocean, and she had a fawn—the sweetest little deer.”

  “Really? What did she do?”

  “Mostly she was just there, and I think she sang—hummed, really—songs without words. She brought me here in my dream, and Mom, she was so real! I remember her beside me when I went to sleep, and I wasn’t scared or anything.” Josie reached up to pluck a piece of hemlock from my hair. “Do you really think there are such things as angels?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” I said.

  When the fog had cleared enough, Josie and I crept carefully from beneath the branches of the hemlock tree and looked about. Somewhere in front of us the river plummeted from what sounded like a great height, then roared along its way. Instinctively, I stepped backward. “Do you see any flowers?” I asked with a protective hand on Josie’s shoulder.

  “What kind of flowers?”

  “I’m not sure.” I put one arm around her waist and we made our way to the other side of the hemlock where the trees thinned into a small grassy meadow.

  “I see them!” Josie pointed to a winding pathway of pastel flowers in pink, yellow and blue. “How did you know they’d be here?”

  “Guess I must’ve dreamed it,” I said, but I don’t think she believed me.

  The going was slow and tedious even over the more-or-less level ground, and when the pathway wound into rougher, steeper terrain, I carried Josie on my back, using the crutch as a walking stick. I rested, panting, at the top of each hill and tried not to think of water. The flowery trail, although beautiful, seemed to go on forever.

  “Mom, we’ll never get there at this rate. I’m too heavy! You can’t carry me forever.” Josie sat b
eside me on a rock and stretched her legs in front of her.

  “Oh, yes I can, and I will. It just might take a little longer. Look, the hill slopes downward in front of us, and it looks like the path winds around it. You should be able to walk for a while.”

  Half rolling, half sliding, we made it to the bottom of the hill, and with my help, Josie hobbled along for probably another hour until we came to a stream. It was a clear, shallow brook and even the sound of it refreshed us, but we knew better than to drink. Kneeling, we dashed water on our arms and faces, and I filled the water bottle to cool us later.

  We seemed to be in the bottom of a ravine, and from there the path zigzagged up the side of a hill with what seemed an impossible height. I took a deep breath and bent to help Josie on my back. We would just have to take it in stages.

  What had started as steps became crawls as we made our way over rocks and between saplings, and I was terrified that I might put my hand on a snake—or even worse, slip with Josie on my back and injure both of us. And where, I wondered, were Augusta and Penelope? Probably back in my parents’ kitchen stuffing themselves with pastries and coffee! The flowers are a nice touch, but would it have broken some heavenly law to lead us back an easier way? I thought.

  “Mom, wait! I hear something.” Josie rolled from my back and crouched beside me.

  “What?” A bear? A snake? I stiffened, ready to throw myself on top of her.

  Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, and minutes later, Amos bounded out of the underbrush and threw himself upon us in a frenzy of licking.

  “Amos, wait!” Someone called from the top of the hill. A man. Grady. “Thank God!” he said. “I thought we’d never find you!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tousled and dirty, my cousin didn’t look any better than I felt. Had he really been searching all this time? I put my arms around Josie and drew her to me, putting the dog between the two of us and Grady as he approached at a run.