©2017 Nell Weaver Lyford. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
ISBN: 978-1-54391-260-9 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-54391-261-6 (ebook)
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
For Bob
The story begun in Heaven’s Missing Wing continues because so many friends and family members said “I wish you would write a sequel.” Your wish has been granted.
The volunteers and recipients of Green Groceries, a fresh food pantry sponsored by Christ Episcopal Church in Little Rock, have also inspired me. The pantry exists for families in need and also supports local growers. All proceeds from Heaven’s Missing Person and Heaven’s Missing Wing go to this program.
My editor, Dave King, was, as always, excellent. Going to heaven with him again was a fascinating learning process.
I also want to thank my friends at Wordsworth Community Bookstore in Little Rock. Tom, Lia and Jean work to encourage writers and readers. Their labors do not go unappreciated.
Children always teach their parents. So, Kate and Charles, hopefully, this reflects your teachings.
So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what can not be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what can not be seen is eternal.
— II Corinthians 4:16-18
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills. . .
—William Wordsworth
Hannah and I were sitting on the edge of a Cumulus cloud, our legs swinging in the cool air. We both had on our everyday jumpsuits—hers made of faded, fraying denim, mine, crafted from the softest of white linens.
“Do you ever think about the monks, Claire?”
Did I ever think about the deadly serious, extremely intelligent, excruciatingly caring men—and one incredible woman—who had saved our lives about a year ago? How could she even wonder?
But she was just thirteen. I sighed. “From time to time.”
She bit her lip. “Yeah.”
“And Brigid. Can’t forget her.”
“I meant her, too. She’s a lady monk.”
I squeezed her hand. I kept forgetting that she had never experienced life on Earth. “That’s one of those things. Back when they were all alive, there were . . nuns, not really lady monks. But they weren’t allowed to live with the men. But, yeah, they are all hard to forget.”
She shrugged. “Nothing much has happened up here since then.”
I fell back on the cloud, trusting it would support me—it did.
Her perfectly oval face framed by curly strawberry blonde hair leaned into mine. “What’s up?”
I started laughing, first a little giggle, then a louder laugh. Hannah kept watching me, then, she, too, started to giggle. She poked my side and rolled back on the cloud with me. We lay there for about five minutes, waiting for our laughter to subside, but each time we thought it was over, a little giggle would start up again.
“Is this what it’s like to be drunk?” she said at last.
I snapped back up. All laughs were finished. “What? Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. Tif and I were talking about how you’ve told us sad stories about people on Earth and alcohol.” She turned her back to me and looked down at the remnants of an electric-hued rainbow. “Just wondering.”
I rubbed her shoulders and upper back. Sometimes this Heaven thing was more work than I had imagined during my previous life. Especially when raising a cupid—someone who had died as an infant and needed to be raised to adulthood up here. It involved explaining things like temptation and danger and evil to someone who had never seen them before. It helped me to understand these things better myself, but it wasn’t always easy.
Of course, that was kind of the point.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I said. “Caught me by surprise, is all. Sometimes people who are drunk do laugh a lot. For a while. Then if they keep drinking more and more, the fun kind of goes away. There’s so much I wish I could teach you, but maybe you don’t need to know everything about Earth.”
“I’ve got Advanced 21st Century Culture this term. It’ll be in it. I think I’ll be okay with 21Cs, it’s the World of Work and Leisure that I dread.”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Why would you fear that? They’re not actually putting you to work, are they?”
She looked at me like thirteen year olds have always looked at me when I said something dumb. “No. But I always get confused with the money thing.”
Oh good grief, it’s not like she had to earn it. “Ask Joe. He was an econ major.”
She picked up a bit of cloud fluff and blew it away. “There’s the college thing, too. The way Earth kids get so . . . so obsessed with it.”
“Listen, if anyone can figure all of this out, it’s you, no sweat. Guess we should be heading back? Told Laurence we’d be home by dinner.”
“Going to movies with Tiffany and Jeff, after.”
“Oh. What’s on?”
“Back to the Future. Class assignment.”
“You’ll like that.”
“Race you!”
I stood up, but before I could dust off my suit, she was gone.
Laurence poured my after-dinner coffee. I blew on it out of habit, although I knew it was a perfect temperature, and would remain the perfect temperature to the last drop.
“The salmon was delightful, Cloud.”
“To serve you is my distinct pleasure, Madam.”
I curled up on a cloud-couch near Laurence, who peered at me over the top of his newspaper.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hannah, but where’s Joe?” His voice was low, and his soft brown face had a hint of concern. Although he looked like he was about thirty, he was, in fact, about a hundred and sixty—more than a century older than me. And he wouldn’t stop until he had the right answer.
I placed the coffee on a side table and sighed.
“Sorry. I do seem to have strayed from the script.” It was a little unusual to be so down in the dumps. Might as well deal with it. I stood up, stretched, and turned to face Laurence.
“It’s just—where is Joe?” I said. “He should have been home hours ago. Just like last night. And a couple of nights ago.”
“When did you last see him?”
“This morning. I was leaving to take a book to Marie and he scooted out in a hurry. Said he had an appointment.”
“Where?”
“Something about wanting to see William argue a big case.”
“William, your younger son? That sounds like Joe. He would want to keep up.” Laurence went back to his paper.
“Still, I can’t say I’m not worried. I mean, why wouldn’t he invite me along? Why does it feel like he’s sneaking around?”
The paper came down again. “Sneaking? Maybe he was just running late? Claire, we had so much drama last year. It’s calm now. Let’s not get upset over Joe’s missing a meal or two.”
I walked over to the huge floor-to-ceiling window that Cloud had recently installed. Everywhere I looked, low-slung, soft cottages glowed in cool evening hues. Each one was anchored on a lawn of pastel cloud, with each cloud shimmering after the evening’s soft, twenty-minute rain. Two majestic peacocks paraded slowly by.
“I love what Cloud did to this place.” I said.
“Yes, but the best part is having us all together.”
I sank back on the sofa. “Maybe that’s it. Perhaps Joe and I came here before he was ready. “
“Oh, now . . . “
“No, I’ve been thinking it over. Sure, I missed you and Hannah terribly, but he had just been in Heaven a week or so. Then I talked him into coming here.”
Laurence folded the paper and put it away. He was taking me seriously, as he always did.
“He did pass through to this side right in the middle of the wing hullabaloo,” he said. “What with you and Hannah traveling hither and yon, following clues, focusing on that one thing—getting her wing back.”
“That’s all any of us were focused on.”
“Well, not him. He hadn’t been here long enough to know what it meant. It could have been disturbing to him, made his Homecoming perhaps a bit, uh, uncertain.”
“Then just when he thought he was settling in, we leave him alone and go off with you—a man he had known for about 30 minutes—on an overnight trip to . . . well, the gates of Hell.”
“Okay, that must have been a jolt.”
We looked at each other. I smiled.
“Cloud, could we have a couple of brandies?”
“Certainly, Madam. And I have delectable iced sugar cookies. I followed the Community Bakery recipe. I know how much you love them.”
“You spoil me.”
“Go, ahead, spoil, her, just as long as I have some, too.”
A plate of pale blue, lime green, and bright yellow frosted cookies shaped like stars, moons and suns arrived on the coffee table, along with two sniffers of brandy.
“Will there be anything else?”
“No, thanks, this is perfect.”
We each took a sip. I picked up a blue moon.
“Back to Joe.” Laurence put his glass down and pressed his lips together. “I’ll talk with him tomorrow, see if he’s happy here.”
“Okay. I think it’s best if you’re the one. He could blow up with me.”
“He could blow up with me, too. I’m just bigger than you. And black.”
I laughed and leaned back. “And older. By a hundred years or so.”
Laurence took a drink and waved it away. “Please, I need no reminding.”
“I really can’t imagine moving out.”
“Well, it may not come to that. How about a good old song and dance while we wait up for Hannah?”
“And for Joe.”
But Laurence didn’t hear me. He was already scanning through our huge list of movie choices and humming songs as he tried to decide between “Meet Me in St. Louis” or “Cabaret. “
When I came down for breakfast, I heard voices in the dining room. Joe and Laurence were huddled over a large map.
“What’s up?” I said.
Joe turned to me with a big grin, his coffee’s cream smeared over his top lip.
I leaned over and wiped it clean with a nearby napkin. It was so good to be with him again. He looked like he did right around the time we had our first child, Jamie. He even combed his blonde hair over to the right. So many memories.
“What?” he said. “Oh, thanks. Just looking at this Civil War battlefield. Laurence knows so much more than I do, and it’s always fun to talk about these old sites. We’re at Gettysburg, you know, the Boy Colonel.”
“I can’t believe you two have any battlefields left. You bug him all the time.”
Laurence put down his pen. “I don’t mind. Besides, it’s an even trade. Joe’s still filling me in on the late 20th Century.”
“Where are you exactly?”
“I think Mr. Reagan is president.”
I groaned. “You’ve got a ways to go. I’ve gotta have some coffee if this is part of the morning’s conversation.”
Joe wiped his mouth and stood up. “Actually, I’m running down to Earth now.”
“What? Joe, I don’t—“
“It’s okay, Claire,” Lawrence said, “Just let Joe and me chat.”
Joe folded his arms in front of his chest. He slowly tilted his head. Familiar husband posture, usually when he was tense.
“Are you two ganging up on me? What’s the matter with going there? Angels zip around there all the time, I’ve seen them.”
I dropped into a nearby chair. “They have reasons to be there. They’ve been sent.”
Laurence gave me a warning look. “Claire, it’s lovely outside. Why don’t you have your coffee on the patio? Joe and I can talk.”
Yeah, friend, butt out. A mocha latte appeared on the table. I grabbed it and walked to the patio doors, more than grateful to be dismissed.
Sitting in the shade by the open doors, I tried to listen, but only caught snatches of what was being said, mostly from Joe when he raised his voice. Lawrence was a quiet, calming rumble.
“. . .not getting to be a habit.”
“. . .be dangerous, unknown consequences for. . .”
“. . .know what I’m doing!”
I shut the doors. Now only the cool, brisk day greeted me. The sky was glowing with soft blue and mint green pastel clouds. Occasionally, a neighbor would fly by and shout out a greeting. Marie stopped and hovered when she saw me.
“What’s up, friend?” She brushed back a stray braid from her immaculate cornrows.
“Want some coffee?”
“Sure, just out for exercise. It can wait.”
“Cloud, an espresso, please.”
“Immediately, Madam.”
The drink appeared in a creamy taupe, gold-rimmed cup. Marie landed and sank into a chair beside me. “Your cloud is so good with his special touches. “
“I know. That’s actually my wedding pattern. Hadn’t seen it in years.”
Marie sipped her coffee. “Haven’t seen lots of things in years, but really, do you miss anything?”
“No. Well, the people.”
“Sure, most of mine are here. But your kids—”
“—are still there, except for Jamie. We’re so happy to be with him, but it would be nice to see the grandkids g
row up, too.”
“Jamie must have been a struggle.”
“It was tough, all those years, not able to hear him talk, or see him walk. Now that he’s here with us, he’s so perfect—hard to believe sometimes.”
“And you and Joe have really gotten to know him.”
“It’s fantastic. We went to him and apologized for leaving him alone while he was so sick, you know, unable to talk. We all just broke down and realized we loved each other and wanted to start over.”
Marie leaned over and touched my hand. “I’m so happy for you, and for Joe.”
“Yeah, well . . . “ The argument inside had quieted down, but it was still going on. “Joe is not exactly content these days.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. Does he know he’s in Heaven?”
“He keeps running down to Earth, for the silliest reasons.”
“That’s so dan—“
“Dangerous. Yes. Unsettling.”
We sipped and watched the Altocumulus clouds in a distance. I knew one of those was the cloud for the Heavenly Host, which drifted around through Zion, Beulah, and Gideon, singing their celestial harmonies.
“Can you pick out the Host?” I said.
“I try sometimes, but unless I’m close enough to see them, I’m hopeless. But, occasionally, if I’m out on my patio, I hear them, and oh, my, it’s so, so—
“—Heavenly?” I said and we both broke into laughter. “Oh, Marie, I do love it here so much, don’t you?”
The doors burst open.
“What’s not to love?” Joe said. “Hi, Marie.” Marie nodded and looked at me. “What’s happening, ladies?”
I decided staying calm with Joe was the best policy.
“Oh, we were just talking about the Heavenly Host, and how much fun it can be to hear them, when their songs drift into our neighborhood.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Joe said. “They’re really pretty.”
He didn’t seem particularly interested, which was a little hard to imagine, given the breathtaking beauty of the Hosts. And Joe had always loved all kinds of music, especially blues. “So what have you been doing to keep busy?” I said.
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