Juliana, ever so intuitive, catches on and says, “I know where we can go.”
“I’m all ears.”
“It’s private and quiet,” she says and stops.
I read the sign painted on the window. “This is perfect.”
She opens her shoulder bag. “I hope my keys are in here.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say and add, “Hold this.”
She takes the bag of food and I disappear, then re-appear inside Native Naturals and unlock the door of the medicinal herb shop where Juliana works.
“Handy trick,” she says as she steps inside.
“Is there an alarm we should be concerned about?”
“Seriously, no. Someone would have to be pretty hard up to steal a bunch of dried herbs and bottles of tincture.”
“Just checking. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.”
“Jeez, thanks,” she says and whacks me playfully across my stomach.
Her touch sends ripples of pleasure through my insides and I have a vision of teasing her mercilessly so she’ll beat me some more. I shake off the thought and take the bag from her.
“Give me one minute,” I say, and walk across the shop, leaving her standing in the middle of the store surrounded by shelves of herb-filled jars.
A moment later I lead Juliana into her grandmother’s office and ask, “Is this all right?”
Between the desk and some bookcases, I arranged a small blanket on the floor. The chenille throw had been draped over the back of a chair in the corner. It looked ideal for our impromptu picnic. I placed the takeout containers in the middle and lit a beeswax candle I found on a shelf. The overhead light is off, but the small desk lamp gives the room a soft glow which makes the room more intimate.
“It’s good,” she whispers as she finds a spot on the cozy blue blanket.
I settle across from Juliana and neither of us reaches for the food.
When the silence starts to feel oppressive I say, “Marcus may force me to stay away.”
“Can he do that?”
“Probably. I’ve never been in this type of situation, or even heard of one like it.”
“I don’t want to get you into trouble,” she says as she fidgets with the edge of the blanket.
“Don’t even think any of this is your fault. But you need to know getting involved with me may bring more of the unknown. I don’t want to see you scared ever again.”
“I already said it just surprised me. I’m fine now.”
She won’t look up and I can tell she’s still shaken from witnessing the argument. I slide over so she’s within arm’s reach and gently place my hand over hers.
“I may not be able to control Marcus, but I can help calm you. It’s agonizing seeing you stressed out.” With my touch, the flow of energy is almost instant. The more she needs the easier it is to give.
“Can I refuse what you’re doing to me?” she asks.
“Of course. Do you not like it?”
“I do. It’s warm and soothing like hot chocolate after playing in the snow. But nicer, and more calming. I was only wondering how you’re affecting me.”
“There’s a force which powers everything in the universe. You can’t see it, but it’s still there. I pull the energy to me and give it to you in a concentrated dose. Your body does what it needs with it.”
“My Grandma is always telling her patients the body, mind, and the spirit want to be healthy and in balance.”
“Sounds about right,” I agree as the pulse of energy slows to a crawl. “Feel any better?”
“Yes,” she says.
She doesn’t take her hand back. It feels good tucked under mine.
I wish I could say the same. I shouldn’t have punched Marcus, but he shouldn’t have removed me the way he did. And what about Jared? When we were talking in the café, I got another blazing reminder of what it felt like to be alive. It felt so real, and there was a connection with Jared, similar to when we were back at the house. He seemed not to notice, but it was nearly as staggering as the fight with Marcus.
“You never finished telling me what a mountain lion’s favorite food is,” Jules says, not having forgotten our earlier conversation.
Instead of answering, I regretfully remove my hand from hers and reach for the top container of food. “This one is yours,” I say, handing her the soup and a spoon.
She smells the pureed squash mixed with cream and spices and takes a mouthful.
I open the next box. “Ahh,” I say agreeably. “This will help get me through the humiliation.” A brownie roughly the size of Texas fills the entire takeout container. “We have a caramel pecan brownie, and half a pound of fudge, a slice of triple chocolate cheesecake, and some chocolate decadence. Which one do you want?”
“It’s all yours, including the diabetes.” She parks her spoon in the soup bowl, does a visual survey of all the chocolate and says, “Oh wait. You don’t have to worry about that last bit, do you?”
I shake my head and take my first bite. Every time I eat chocolate in the afterlife it’s like an explosion of gooey sweet fireworks inside my mouth.
“Umm, I think you’re blushing over your brownie,” she says.
I waggle my brows at her. “I’m already in deep. May as well show you all my colors.” I break off half the brownie and take another sinful bite. “Is chocolate a proven mood enhancer?” I wonder aloud before stuffing more into my mouth.
She nods as she takes another spoonful of the soup.
I chew silently and carefully absorb the different tastes. Dark chocolate chunks with swirls of melted milk chocolate and caramel. It creates a blend of bitter and sweet, roasted buttery, and creamy paradise. The pecans add crunch, but they’re not really necessary. “This is my energy pick-up.”
“Really?” she asks with skepticism and humor playing across her features.
“Chocolate. It’s…” I take another bite and close my eyes. “It’s a rush. And it’s like, well, it’s better than anything. If I ever get to heaven, there had better be plenty of it.”
Juliana laughs at my afterlife indulgence. “You look like a kid with his first candy bar.”
“Yeah. But it’s even better than that.”
“Now that your chocolate fix has been satisfied, are you going to tell me what a mountain lion eats? Because if it’s really embarrassing I have to know,” she says, grinning.
Why delay the pain? I’m the one who brought it up in the first place. “The porcupine is a favorite food of a mountain lion.”
“Porcupines?”
I can see her holding back, and I have to wonder what sarcastic remark is on the tip of her tongue. “They’re gentle and curious and a reminder to trust. They’re totally misunderstood.”
“They do a little dance, too,” she adds.
“Yeah. They do. Don’t ask me to show you. Dancing requires the right music.”
“Oh right. We have no music. Darn,” she says, as a gorgeous smile lights up her face.
“They don’t attack, but will defend themselves when aggravated. And porcupines can be too intense when assaulted, even if they don’t mean to be,” I finish this last part and I feel the self-condemnation buried within me.
Searching inside the bag so I don’t have to watch Juliana’s response to my crazy comparison to the porcupine, I find the rest of her supper and lay out the sandwich in front of her before moving onto the chocolate decadence. It’s cakelike in appearance and has layers of chocolate pound cake, mousse, dark and milk chocolate, and ganache. I take the first forkful and lay the fork back down.
“You have to try this one,” I say. “It’s a chocolate fantasy in your mouth.”
I decide to move on to the box of fudge and toss squares of it into my mouth like popcorn.
“You’re intense,” she finally says after trying the sandwich. “But it’s not a bad thing.”
“I don’t want to be. I’d like to relax more and quit worrying so much. The porcupine is alwa
ys a reminder to be playful, and keep my quills from hurting anyone.”
“Maybe we all need to learn that?” she says. “Except Jared. He doesn’t seem to have a problem forgetting the world and having a good time anywhere.”
“It’s one of his gifts.”
“It is,” she says with a sigh. “Jared has always been able to make anyone smile, and to just go with the flow. We clash at times, but that’s not who he really is.”
Juliana chews on more of the sandwich.
“Is it cold?” I ask.
She shakes her head at me and swallows. “Grilled eggplant, baby portabellas, marinated peppers, avocado, and secret sauce. It’s perfect. So what’s with all the animal folklore? Do you know every animal’s hidden lesson?”
“My mom liked to read me stories, especially fables and legends. There were always animals getting into some kind of trouble, or causing it. I liked listening. In college, I took this class about animal mythology and I realized that all over the world, and in all times, people have been fascinated by relating to the animal kingdom. I read a few books and the information stuck.”
“Nathaniel, can I ask you something?”
“Anything. I can’t guarantee you’ll like the answer though.”
“If you think it will change anything between us don’t tell me, okay?”
She sets the last piece of her sandwich down in front of her and I begin to think this may be something she has been thinking about for some time.
“What year did you die?”
“1987,” I say without hesitation. If she wanted to know if the Bermuda triangle really existed I would do everything in my power to give a truthful answer. My death year is an easy one. “If I hadn’t been shot I would be, err…quite a few years older than you. Is it too weird for you?”
She nibbles at the edge of her lower lip for a second before answering. “No. It’s not. I don’t care about age. You are who you are and I am who I am. I was wondering if you were, like, alive during medieval times or something.”
“Nothing nearly so interesting. I was born here in Colorado. My father was a cop and my mother was a housewife. I’m a baby when it comes to this angel stuff. I don’t even know why I was chosen to do this kind of work.”
“Didn’t Marcus tell you?”
“He says it’s an honor to serve and I’m good at it. He says my fate was determined long before conscious record. If you want to know about history though, you should ask him. I think he’s been in his position for at least a couple hundred years, possibly longer.”
“Wow,” she says as if considering a whole new scope on reality. “He’s really old and you don’t look old at all.”
“This is how I looked when I died,” I say. “But if you want, I can modify some things for you.”
Her nose sort of twitches as she gives me a questioning my sanity kind of look.
“Modify?”
“Watch this, and tell me what you think.”
I remember a recent client of mine who had a closet full of expensive suits. He was meticulous to the umpteenth degree on his choice of suit, tie, cuff links, and shoes, and keeping up his skin, hair, and fingernails. I think it’s strangely fascinating what people focus on in their life, but I’m not assigned to them to pass judgment.
I close my eyes for a second and concentrate on a particular look he was wearing one afternoon and picture a similar suit on myself. Black wool double button jacket with vest, matching pants, white shirt, a steel-blue tie, and shoes that cost as much as a car. When I open my eyes Juliana is staring at me bemused. She looks me up and down and squinches up her face and laughs with disapproval.
“Uh-uh,” she says. “Too stiff.”
“Let me try again.” I can’t change my foundation, but I can change the outer appearance. It’s helped with past cases, even though I usually stick to my basic casual American male look of jeans and T-shirt.
This time I go in the opposite direction. Thinking of her brother and his friends, maybe she prefers grunge or emo, or whatever’s in style right now. I conjure up a black rock band T-shirt and jeans that are too tight with a studded belt and add some thrashed leather boots. I envision my hair hanging down in front of my eyes, put on a nose ring, tattoos all over my arms, and throw on a leather strap around my wrist.
She laughs hysterically when I’m finished with this one and I have to laugh with her. I feel ridiculous and I don’t even have a mirror.
“That kind of works for me, and kind of not?” she says, sounding unsure.
“Okay, one more. Tell me when I’ve got it right.”
She giggles and nods for me to go on. It takes me a second, then I have the perfect image for my nature-loving girl. I mess up my hair and visualize smears of dirt on my face and chest. I add a broad piece of leather tied around my waist and leave everything else off.
Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “What’s this?” she says while trying not to cough from laughing so hard.
“A caveman. What? I thought you were into the outdoors kind of guy.”
I thump my chest like a gorilla and make an idiot of myself as I call out like Tarzan.
“Please stop,” she begs as she tips over in a fit of giggles and clutches her stomach. “Your regular clothes, or my side is going to split.”
I bring back my short brown hair which never lays perfectly flat, blue jeans, shirt, and the sneakers I’m the most comfortable in. She lies on her side staring at me. I’m suddenly more self-conscious than I have ever been before.
Reaching forward I move the candle to the desk and push the food containers aside, clearing the space between us. I lie down, resting on my elbow with my fist propped beneath my jaw. It’s all too easy to imagine her like this, but between the sheets of our bed, for the rest of our lives. Her lashes flutter as she breaks eye contact with me. I see heat creep up her ivory neck and flush her delicate cheeks with color. Perhaps I’ve given myself away unknowingly, or maybe she’s having similar thoughts? Eighteen inches of space separate us. I let the gap stay, even as I inwardly long to close it. She doesn’t shy away or sit up.
“How about a uniform? Military or fireman?”
She shakes her head. “The clothes don’t really matter to me. Besides it’s still you underneath.” She uncurls, letting her long legs stretch out.
“Afraid I can’t change my face.”
“I’m glad you can’t,” she says.
“What if I could come back, Juliana? Would you be glad?”
She pauses before answering, then says, “What do you mean by come back?”
Her fingers begin to toy with a wrinkle in the blanket as her green eyes implore mine. I wish I could fully explain how there is no future for me without her. How the universe stops, completely ceasing to matter when I’m not with her. She asked me to take things slow and I see the value in that. I have to be smart and not scare her away.
“There are stories about angels coming back to live on the Earth. They give up their immortal soul and come back to experience free will as a human again.”
Her eyes widen, lips parting slightly, but she doesn’t speak for a full minute. “That doesn’t sound very good,” she says with hesitation. “I mean, it sounds like a lot to give up.”
“There’s a lot to gain,” I say, and wonder if she has any idea that she’s worth the sacrifice of a hundred-thousand souls?
“But what happens exactly? What does giving up your immortal soul really mean?”
“I need to find out. I have a good idea, but I don’t know if it’s fact, or myth and legend. I have so many questions and Marcus refuses to answer me.”
“Why wouldn’t he tell you? Could he be looking out for you?”
“I’m not sure what his motivations are, but there is someone who knows. I’m going to try to find him. He’s actually done it, so I hope he’ll talk to me.”
“Nathaniel?” she says and I can see the heat in her face again.
“What?”
“It a
ll sounds so drastic. Are you sure this is a good thing to go searching for?”
“I know you’re worth it. I’ve never been so sure of anything.”
She flips over on her back and rests her hands on her stomach. “I could never ask you to give up something like your soul for me, or heaven, or whatever happens after you die.”
“I know you would never ask. I’m volunteering.”
“I guess I should tell you something else,” she says as she slants her gaze over to me. “I’ve been doing some reading and it’s only made me question everything more.”
“Reading about what?”
“Angels and stuff.”
“‘Stuff?’” I ask, wanting clarification.
“Well, what I want to know is if it can go the other way? Has anyone ever died and requested to become what you are?”
She rolls over onto her side again.
“No. Definitely not. They cross over and that’s that.”
“But how were you chosen? The idea isn’t completely absurd, is it?”
I start to argue, but she doesn’t let me.
“You come and go as you please. You help people. And your soul is still intact. Has Marcus ever told you how you were chosen to serve?”
“I know my personality and my past are part of it. And I can’t just go wherever I want, and do what I want. Look at tonight. What if every time I see you, Marcus tries to stop me? No, I have to get some answers then I’ll feel better about falling.”
She pauses for a beat too long. “Falling for a girl seems sort of silly to me.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “It’s the only thing worth falling for.”
∞
Juliana
His reward for being so sweet is a kiss. With my heart pounding, I scoot a few inches closer. When did I become so bold? It’s because of him. His perfect clean smell and his voice alone are enough to drive me insane in a way that’s directly connected to my hormones. His serious gray eyes begin to smolder as he watches me lean in.
“Don’t hurt yourself for me, okay?” I say.
“I don’t intend on getting hurt.”
I breathe him in, feeling a rush of intoxication from his scent and nearness. I see the smooth curve of the muscles of his shoulder and down his arm and immediately remember what he looks like shirtless. I feel slightly out of control being this close to him, but I don’t want to stop. “You’re sort of incredible, you know?”
Haunting Me (An Angel Falls Book 3) Page 8
