Alice offered a weak smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Penny grabbed the portfolio. “Come on, I’ve lined up some display boards in the library. Let’s go set up these gorgeous illustrations.”
Joy. Alice should have been filled with it. Instead, every sketch she hung reminded her of Luke. He should have been there celebrating with her.
Minutes later, the doorbell rang and then Michael Goodman stood in the foyer, wishing them both a hearty Merry Christmas. After gifting Penny with a bottle of champagne and removing his coat, he clasped his hands. “Where are they?”
“I suppose we shouldn’t make him wait.” Beaming as if she’d toiled over them herself, Penny led them into her library.
Stepping closer, delight showed in Michael’s face. “I couldn’t imagine any illustrations capturing the essence of the story any better.”
“So it’s a success.” And success would be her downfall. What a cruel lesson. To gain every material thing she’d desired, she’d lose the most essential thing in life: love. Dizziness caused her to swoon.
Penny caught her by the elbow. “Are you all right?”
Michael guided her to a chair.
“Sorry. It’s been the longest day.” If they only knew she meant it literally.
“You poor dear.” Penny patted her hand, and said to Michael, “She stayed up all night to finish, you know.”
He assessed her. “You must be exhausted.”
“I am. I apologize, but I need to go home.”
Michael helped her to her feet. “I’ll drive you.”
To refuse would be rude, so she thanked him and put on her coat. Penny saw them to the door, but the arctic wind sliced through to the bone.
Shivering, Alice watched out the window of Michael’s Lexus. People moved inside their lighted homes, drove their cars along streets where traffic lights changed from red to green to amber. Everything had returned to normal.
But nothing would ever be the same.
When they arrived at her building, she grabbed the door handle. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
“I’d be happy to see you in.” Resting his hand atop hers, his thumb stroked gently.
She tensed at his touch. “No need. I’m exhausted.”
He withdrew and held the steering wheel. “Of course. We’ll speak soon.”
Hurrying inside and up the stairs, she slammed the door and listened for any noise, any sign of Luke. Archimedes turned and blinked sleepily.
“Is he here?” she whispered, but already knew the answer. The cat’s sad moan confirmed it.
“Oh, Archimedes.” She cradled the cat to her chest and stared out the window.
Christmas had ended, taking its magic with it.
Chapter Seven
Luke swung his leg over the cloud, unable to gather no energy to perform the smallest task. Riding his beloved Harley held no appeal. It only made him wish Alice were sitting behind him.
On great gilded wings, Peter approached across the skies. “Hello Luke.”
“Peter.” Too bad he couldn’t add, good to see you. Seeing Peter made him think of Alice too. As if Luke needed a reminder. All he did was think of her.
Peter settled beside him. “If I’m not interrupting, we need to talk.”
“About what.” He didn’t have to phrase it as a question; he couldn’t avoid this conversation if he tried.
Peter’s long white hair flowed as he raised his head to send Luke an admiring smile. “First, congratulations on your first assignment. Splendid job. So good, in fact, I have another for you.”
A wince and a groan. Double slip. “No.” Make that triple.
“Pardon?” Peter steepled his fingers.
No matter the punishment, they couldn’t force him. “I’m not going back to Earth. I want nothing to do with humans.”
Peter nodded. “I see.”
“Do you?” Anger surged up. “Why did you send me there? You knew what would happen.” Of course Peter had known. The assignment had been a test. Luke had failed. Was still failing.
A slow burn gained strength in Peter’s eyes as he glared.
The heat of it sent a chill down Luke’s spine, until Peter spoke.
The archangel slowly cocked his head. “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me?”
“Cut the De Niro.” He’d like to insult Peter and say he did an awful impression, but Peter must have been practicing.
“Come now, Luke. You can’t sit here for all eternity.”
“Yes I can.” Now he sounded like a petulant child.
Peter snapped his fingers. “Why not join me on the Welcoming Committee?”
“At the Pearly Gates? No thanks.” Then he’d search every incoming face for hers, waiting to see her. He might even wish for her demise to happen sooner, and he wouldn’t wish her ill. She deserves happiness. Pampering. Then he imagined a man taking her to dinner, kissing her, and Luke dug his fingers into the cloud, sparking lightning.
Clasping his hands behind him, Peter floated. “Oh dear. This presents a dilemma.”
Perhaps for the saint. Luke had no problem idling away the eons.
With a mischievous gleam, Peter turned. “Would wings brighten your outlook?”
Luke shrugged. He used to yearn for them, envy those angels with magnificent pairs of them. Now, he didn’t want them. All he could think about was returning to earth. To Alice.
Peter sighed. “I have an appointment. I’ll get back to you.”
“I’ll be here.” He nestled back and closed his eyes. An image of Alice loomed in his mind. The night she’d fallen asleep in his arms. The best night of his existence. He’d watched her, more angelic than any of his contemporaries, so beautiful it made his soul ache. That was when he realized he’d fallen for her.
Wonder what they do with fallen angels? He had no idea; he still hadn’t read the Ground Rules. He’d endure whatever punishment they meted out. He wanted to be with her.
In an instant, Luke stood beside her bed. Her hair spread across the pillow like a halo, but even though she slept, she had a pained expression. He wanted to reach over to ease the crease between her brows.
He settled for tugging the comforter over her exposed foot. Not before he admired the pale pink polish on her toes. Drat, he shouldn’t have looked. It only made him miss her more, if that were possible.
He had to stop this. It was the third time in her week he’d transported here. Archimedes acknowledged him with a purr.
Would Alice still see him, too, if she awoke? He fought the urge to curl himself against her. The night during his assignment when he had given into the very same temptation, he’d experienced a bliss better than any in heaven.
He leaned close to her ear. “I miss you, Alice,” he whispered.
She stirred, clutching the pillow. “Luke?”
Her soft voice tore at his heart. He glided to the shadows in the corner of the room and waited for her to close her eyes again. He’d have to content himself with watching, though he no longer held that title.
Officially, he no longer held any title. If the former pope thought he’d done away with limbo, then that meant Luke couldn’t even claim to be in that state.
He was more hopeless than ever, lost to this earthly world and the next. Only the memory of Alice made him feel real.
She wasn’t supposed to remember.
But if she called out for him, she must.
His heart twisted in his chest. Something else that shouldn’t happen. But most definitely did.
*~*~*
“Luke?” Alice dreamed so vividly, she thought they must be real. Awakening, she still had an awareness of his presence, and could swear he’d been there. Maybe her memory played tricks on her.
He was the last thing she thought of before falling asleep, and the first thing when she awoke. She thought of him all day, no matter what she did. Against all reasonable line of thought, she expected to find him at the grocery store, in the library, in the art suppl
y store. She went to every church within walking distance to sit in the back pew and listen. And beg: Please send him back.
The number seven held power, Luke had said. Magic.
Seven must hold the key to bringing him back. She made seven origami motorcycle ornaments. Seven snowflakes. Seven angels. Though she only wanted one angel, in reality: Luke.
She hung the ornaments on the tree, hoping each set would multiply the power of seven. Every night, beginning at seven o’clock, she wished seven times.
She tried everything she could think of to summon him, with no result. Each failure seemed more futile than the last.
One day, she returned to her apartment to find the window open enough for Archimedes to slip through. He lay in the sunshine on the fire escape. When she opened the window to stroke him, the cat turned slitted eyes toward her.
“Was he here? Did Luke open the window for you?” She picked up Archimedes and cradled the cat against her. Why hadn’t Luke stayed?
Within minutes, Penny called with another project, again from Michael. “A lovely story about a fallen angel who gets lost on earth. It’s called Ground Rules.”
Alice barely croaked out, “What?”
“Hello? Our connection’s gone bad. I’ll email you the information.”
Hanging up, Alice’s hand trembled. Was this a sign? Or some cruel joke?
Turning on the computer, her nerves jangled, waiting for the email to arrive. She clicked on it the moment it appeared. She’d heard correctly. Michael wrote the most beautiful tale about an angel who couldn’t bear to be in heaven, away from loved ones. So he returned to earth.
Her breath caught in her throat. Another sign? If so, what did it mean?
After pressing print, she caught each page as it came through. Maybe they’d granted her another gift. Another chance. Maybe she had the power to make her own wish come true this time.
She rushed to the easel. Images rushed into her mind. Almost without effort, she rendered each illustration with loving care, and turned them in much sooner than the deadline.
Again, Penny loved them, and Michael acted overjoyed. So happy, he invited her out to celebrate.
Excuses ran through Alice’s head. “I’m seeing someone.” Much as she hated to hurt Michael, she had to spare his feelings now. She’d never love him.
“I see. Congratulations.”
Might want to hold off on the wedding toast. “You’re a very special friend.” If only she could talk to him about Luke. She ached to talk about him with someone. Anyone who might listen without thinking her insane.
Michael chuckled. “Ouch.”
“No, really. You’re a wonderful man. You deserve the best happiness.”
He flashed a tight smile. “Apparently not of my choosing, though.”
“Someday, you’ll understand.” Maybe she’d even understand the meaning. Why things happened as they did.
Right now, it all seemed a terrible, unsolvable mess.
*~*~*
Alice scowled out the window. Snow used to excite her. Make her want to run outside, kick up the fluffy newfallen layers with girlish glee. Throw her arms wide, twirl and catch snowflakes on her tongue. Where others saw drudgery, Alice saw magic.
Now snow, like Christmas, served only as a bitter reminder. She couldn’t wait for it to disappear. Like Luke. But when the snow returned next winter, would her heartache deepen?
A bitter chuckle erupted. How could it get any worse?
Every day, she walked through the cold snow, not caring when slush seeped through her shoes. She couldn’t get any more numb. Like the Christmas tree she couldn’t bring herself to take down. Each day she swept up more needles, like dried up bits of herself.
How could she dismantle the tree when her treetop angel had never returned? Its absence had to mean something.
When Penny called, Alice knew better than to ignore it. Her agent would only call and call.
“We’re having a huge celebration this Saturday. It’s Valentine’s Day, but thanks to you, we’ll celebrate Christmas all year.”
Great, then the entire year would be torture. “Great.” Cupid didn’t seem a good bet either. Holidays in general seemed hazardous.
“So you’ll come?” Penny pressed.
Alice had successfully dodged her agent’s invitations for weeks. She wasn’t about to break that streak. “No thanks. I have plans I can’t break.”
“Is everything all right? You haven’t been yourself since Christmas.”
Christmas changed everything. Nothing would ever be the same. “Of course. Have a great time.” Alice had a date with a wish. Every night, with tomorrow night marking seven weeks. Surely tomorrow, her wish would be granted. Luke would return. They’d celebrate with margaritas.
Sinking into the sofa, she watched the Christmas lights until dawn. Excitement gave way to trepidation.
“Soon. Any minute.” She had to stay awake, be ready.
Sleep found her, finally. She awoke with a start.
Breathless, she listened, but heard only Archimedes’ low purr. “Luke?” Her throat constricted as she rose and went to the window. The world had grown dark except for the gleam of new fallen snow.
Magical? Bitterness surged through her. Hardly. Snow no longer held any promise. No magic existed anymore.
How could they possibly have been refused a wish so desperate? Because she’d already used her only allotment of wishes? Surely they must know how deeply she loved Luke. More than a wish, she needed him with every breadth of her being.
Sadness pinged within her. Maybe Luke had refused to come? No, she wouldn’t believe it. Not the way he’d held her. If anything held magic, his kisses did.
Why should Christmas be the only magic day? She’d leave her tree up all year, and beg the Christmas angel seven times seven times seven. More, if she had to.
*~*~*
Unable to stand his own company any longer, Luke wandered to one of the choir’s music rooms. Good, no one occupied it. He pulled the bench up to the piano and let his sadness roll over the keys. The melodies floated through the air like birds in springtime, free for the first time from their nests. Soaring and beautiful, or slow and tragic. He wanted to remember them all. Each was a tribute to Alice.
When Peter appeared beside him, Luke cut short a song, waiting for the inevitable.
Peter didn’t disappoint. “Play it again, Sam.”
Luke sighed.
“Too obvious?” Peter floated to the side of the baby grand. “Your songs are wonderful, Luke, but not enough to justify your status.”
Oh, tedium. Now what? “My status?” As a loaf?
With a thin smile, Peter continued. “Even here, dear boy, we must apply ourselves. Do our best. I’ve been monitoring you since you returned. I’m disappointed, to say the least.”
“My apologies.” Disappointing people was what Luke did best. Ask Alice. He’d left her broken-hearted, though not by choice. He’d like nothing better than to hold her again. Kiss her. Stay with her. Grow old with her. He deserved to have that at least once in his existence.
In his version of pacing, Peter floated back and forth. “Though you don’t apply yourself here, Luke, I suspect you applied yourself too liberally in your last assignment.”
Not as liberally as he’d have liked. “I’m sorry, Peter.” Sorry he ever came back.
“So you admit it?”
“Yes. I broke the primary Ground Rule.” He’d become involved with a human subject. But he’d restrained himself. Barely.
Peter’s face hardened. Beneath his flowing robes, his form grew rigid.
Luke had never seen Peter angry, but right now, the saint appeared full of wrath.
Peter pointed at him, and bursts of light shot out like bullets. “I know what you’re thinking. Did he fire six shots, or only five?”
Good Lord. He’d mistaken wrath for a bad Dirty Harry impression. With a sigh, Luke rolled his eyes. “Peter…”
“You have to as
k yourself, do I feel lucky? Well do you, punk?”
“No.” The retort burst from Luke, unable to contain his frustration. “I feel like the most unlikely person who ever lived.”
Peter’s expression softened. “You’re not alive, Luke. You haven’t been for two hundred eighteen years.”
Thanks for the reminder. Though a short while ago, he’d felt more alive than he ever had, even when he breathed and walked the earth. “I know.”
Peter sighed. “You violated the most important Ground Rule. I’m afraid you’ll have to make reparations.”
Oh, more tedium. “In what way?”
“The standard punishment is confinement to this realm for the next century.”
Alarm shot through him. A century? Alice would live out her life without him. “What happens if I don’t agree?” He couldn’t stand the thought of her heartbreak extending for decades.
Furrowing his brow, Peter said, “I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
So Peter intended to keep him imprisoned behind the Pearly Gates? No way. So as not to alert the saint, Luke nodded, and kept his head down.
“I’m sorry, Luke. It’s for your own good.”
Peter had no clue what did Luke good. “I understand.” Luke clenched his jaw, waiting for the saint to disappear.
“I must confer with the Subcommittee on Angel Assignments. I’ll bring you their final decision as soon as I have it.”
Whooshing air indicated Peter had taken off.
Glancing around to be sure, Luke released a breath.
Finally. He had to act now, or he might not get another chance.
*~*~*
The Harley waited like an accomplice. Luke straddled it and jammed his foot on the starter. Normally the loud growl of the engine filled his heart with joy. Now, it increased his fear. If they heard him leaving, they’d stop him.
Ground Rules Page 9
