Angels Walking

by Karen Kingsbury

  The implied message was that her grandparents were maybe more important to Arnie than she was. But even that didn’t bother Sami. She felt more relieved than angry. “I’m sure they’d love that.”

  “Did they know this was coming?” He seemed to doubt the possibility.

  “They had no idea.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Arnie nodded slowly. “I have to believe they’ll be upset with your decision.”

  Sami stared at him. His ugly side was appearing again. “It’s a chance I’ll take.”

  Arnie stood and tossed his empty coffee cup in the recycling bin. When he returned he offered Sami his hand. “I’ll drive you back to your apartment.”

  She wanted to find her own way back. But she didn’t want to make things worse. “Fine.” When he dropped her off that night, his eyes were dry. A slight smirk stayed on the corners of his mouth, as if he could hardly believe she was really doing this. Like if Sami wanted to make this mistake, he wasn’t going to stop her.

  Sami couldn’t breathe until she was back in her apartment. She slid down the door and fell to the floor in a heap. Only then did she let the laughter come. Not because there was anything very funny about the evening. But because she was free.

  The feeling was better than anything Sami had felt in years.

  SAMI WADED OUT into the Pacific Ocean trailing behind Mary Catherine. Each girl had a boogie board tethered to her wrist.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Sami’s heart pounded, the ocean water cold against her skin. She’d walked on the beach a hundred times but never, until now, had she gone in past her ankles. “You’re sure it’s perfectly safe?”

  Mary Catherine tilted her head back, her red hair spilling down her back. She looked back at Sami. “Of course it’s not perfectly safe! That’s why it’s fun.” She waited for Sami to catch up. “God meant for us to experience life. It helps us have faith.”

  “Faith.” Sami’s teeth chattered. “If I drown, write that on my tombstone.”

  Again her friend laughed. “Come on. We have to get out a little ways.”

  “Not over our heads. You promised.” The water was up to her waist now. Sami felt her breath catch in her throat. “How much further?”

  “There.” Mary Catherine pointed to a spot just ahead of them where smallish waves were constantly forming. “It won’t be over our heads. Not this close in.”

  They kept walking. Sami felt panic well up, but she remembered her roommate’s advice: Pray. Have faith. She tried to breathe. God, be with me. Keep the sharks away. Please. As she uttered the silent prayer, something strange happened. Her fear faded. She was standing in the Pacific Ocean, water lapping against her chest, about to ride a wave for the first time. How great was this?

  “Okay. This is good.” Mary Catherine slid the boogie board beneath her so she was lying on top of it. “Do this.” She looked over her shoulder at the waves coming their way. “Hurry!”

  Sami did as she was told. She eased herself on top of the board and pointed it toward the shore—same way Mary Catherine did. A squeal came from her. “This is crazy!”

  “Here it comes!” Her friend began to paddle. “Use your arms. Come on!”

  “I’m doing it! I really am!” Sami began to stroke the water, positioning herself directly in the path of the wave coming up behind them. And then—with a rush of power and force unlike anything Sami had ever felt, the wave grabbed her boogie board and propelled her toward shore.

  A few feet away Mary Catherine was having the same sort of ride, laughing out loud. “Yahoooo!” she screamed as loud as she could. “I love this!”

  Sami was still holding on, still trying to remember how to inhale amidst the exhilaration of the ride. But when the wave died on shore, Sami stood and raised her board in the air. “I did it! I rode a wave!” She danced around in a little circle. Then she jogged back toward the deeper water. “Let’s do it again!”

  Yesterday she and Mary Catherine had stayed up late talking about Sami’s breakup. But instead of the conversation being sad and depressing, it was full of hope. Together they wrote a list of everything Sami needed to do. Things that weren’t safe or predictable or grown-up.

  Skydiving and horseback riding, hikes in the Santa Monica Mountains, and serving at the homeless mission downtown. Crazy wonderful exciting things.

  Like riding the waves at Zuma Beach.

  “Look at you, Sami Dawson!” Mary Catherine laughed, her voice carrying above the sound of the surf. “You’re learning to live!”

  It was true. Sami almost felt guilty for not being more broken up, for not allowing an appropriate amount of time to grieve the loss of her relationship with Arnie. But she couldn’t bring herself to feel sad. If this was what life felt like, she could only breathe it in and savor every moment.

  Life had just begun.

  She could hardly wait for whatever came next.

  25

  BECK WORE THE WHITE uniform of one of the hospital orderlies, his pace determined. He’d learned this much: when angels walked, one thing was crucial—confidence. He set his jaw and kept his eyes straight ahead.

  A minute later he reached her room, stepped inside, and moved straight for the TV. Like a man on a mission.

  A nurse was in the room, preparing for a patient’s arrival. “Can I help you?” She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly trying to place him.

  Beck smiled, his voice quiet, “Just changing the channel.” He reached up and manually switched the television from a Western to ESPN. The sound was muted and Beck left it that way.

  “Why?” Again the nurse looked confused.

  “Request from the family.” Beck nodded at the nurse and left the room. Halfway down the hall he stepped into a supply closet.

  And like that he disappeared.

  THE CALL CHERYL had dreaded for most of the last decade came at three that Sunday afternoon. The one she’d expected since her mother’s health began to decline. Lately her mom had been doing so well Cheryl actually stopped expecting it. As if love could prolong the life of even the most worn-out heart.

  She dried her hands on a dishtowel and answered the phone on the third ring. The caller ID read Merrill Place. She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Hello?”

  “Cheryl, it’s Harrison Myers.” He paused. “I’m sorry . . . I’m afraid your mother might’ve had a heart attack.”

  A heart attack? The room began to spin and Cheryl struggled to stay focused. She gripped the counter with one hand and pressed the phone to her ear. “Is she . . . conscious?”

  “Yes. Paramedics are getting her into the ambulance now.” He sounded upset. “Meet us at the hospital. Get there as fast as you can. Please.”

  “I will.” She hung up and then closed her eyes. “Chuck! Please . . . come here!”

  He was in the next room reading, but her tone must’ve told him something was very wrong. He was at her side immediately. “What is it?”

  “It’s Mom. They’re taking her to the hospital. She . . . she might’ve had a heart attack.”

  “Honey.” He hugged her. “I’m sorry.”

  She rested her forehead against his. “I’ve dreaded this for so long.”

  “We both have.”

  Cheryl pictured her mother the last time they talked, sitting in her room a few nights ago. She had looked so happy and healthy. But at her age a heart attack could mean the end. Cheryl waited while Chuck grabbed the keys. “We need to go.”

  “I’ll call the girls from the car.” Cheryl wasn’t sure how they made it to the car. The details seemed to blur as Chuck drove to the hospital. Both their daughters wanted to meet them there. The sad thing was everyone had planned to go to Merrill Place this afternoon. “Now we won’t have that time.” Cheryl blinked back tears. “It’s so sad. Mom would’ve loved it.”

  “Maybe she’ll be awake.” Chuck kept hope alive with his tone. “We need to pray.” And with that Chuck spoke the most beautiful prayer, asking God to breathe life
into Cheryl’s mother. “If her time is coming, Lord, please give us the chance to say good-bye. Thank You, Father. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Of course they should pray. Why hadn’t Cheryl thought of that? God . . . forgive me. Go ahead of us. Please let her live. I want to say good-bye. But before she could chastise herself any further, she thought of a thousand times when her mother had given her grace. Perfection was never expected. Peace worked its way through her, erasing her anxiety. Her mother was right.

  They met one of their daughters in the hospital lobby and then quickly were led into a private room where a doctor came to them. “She’s definitely had a heart attack.” He looked deeply concerned. “She’s stable, but critical.” He hesitated. “We’re watching her closely.”

  An hour later they were allowed back to her room, but she didn’t wake up until the next day.

  “She’s ready to see you.” The doctor smiled at Cheryl. “Your brother’s already there.”

  Cheryl caught the surprised look on her daughters’ faces. Tyler Ames must be here. “It’s okay. I’ll explain later. Let’s go back.”

  When they reached her room, there he was, sitting at her mother’s side, holding her hand and talking to her. A baseball game played silently from the nearby television.

  At the sound of the group at the door, Tyler looked up. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. He nodded at them and then turned his attention to Cheryl’s mother.

  She looked frail and sickly, a decade older than she had just a few days ago. She turned to them and a smile lifted the weathered corners of her mouth. “Hello.” She barely motioned with her free hand. “Come in. Please.”

  Thank You, God. Relief flooded Cheryl’s heart. Whatever else happens, at least we have this. She led the group into the room and took her place next to Tyler. “We’re all here, Mother.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at Tyler and then took in the entire group. “All of you.”

  Tyler released the old woman’s hand and moved discreetly toward the wall so Cheryl could have his spot. She nodded at him, then took hold of her mother’s hands and tried not to cry. “How are you feeling?”

  “Mixed.”

  Cheryl felt Chuck’s hand on her shoulder. She was thankful for his support. “How do you mean, Mom?”

  “Well.” Her chin quivered, her emotions gaining ground. “I’m so happy to have you all here. You and your brother. And I’m glad we’re watching baseball together.” She glanced at the TV and then smiled at Tyler. “But I can hear Jesus calling me home.” Her eyes had never looked more lucid. “Your father’s there, you know.”

  It was the first time in years she’d acknowledged their father’s death. Tears blurred Cheryl’s eyes as she nodded. “Yes. Daddy is there, waiting for you.”

  Her mother’s smile was the sweetest thing ever, half sorrow, half joy beyond measure. “So you see”—she released a few weak coughs—“I’m mixed.”

  “I understand.” Cheryl looked around the room. “The girls are here, Mom.”

  “Yes.” She held out one hand toward them. “I see that. I’m so glad you could all come.”

  One at a time each of the girls came closer, giving Cheryl’s mother the chance to acknowledge them and bid them good-bye. “But only for now,” she told them. “Good-bye for now.” She looked at Tyler, who remained as much out of the way as possible. “Heaven will be wonderful. Right, Ben? I feel you might know that more than the rest of us.”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’ll be perfect.” Tyler looked out of place. Cheryl motioned for him to stay. It was okay. She wanted him to be here. What sort of warm-hearted young man he must be to stay here like this, to care about a dying ninety-year-old woman. God, remember that miracle I asked you for? Please make it happen. His kind is rare.

  “I want . . .” Cheryl’s mother tried to sit up a little, but the effort fell short. Winded, she tried again from her lying-down position. “Ben?”

  “I’m here.” Tyler slid closer to Cheryl. “We’re all here.”

  “Okay.” Peace settled over her. “There is one thing I want to say. Especially to you, Ben.”

  He looked around at the others, an unspoken apology in his eyes. As if the last thing he wanted was to intrude on this private moment. Cheryl nodded in his direction, willing him to keep playing the part of Ben Hutcheson. Tyler nodded in return. He looked at Cheryl’s mother. “I’m listening.”

  “I think about . . . our talks lately.” She smiled at Cheryl and Chuck and the others. “Ben comes by every day. He brings me flowers.” Her eyes turned to Ben again. “We’ve had the best talks.”

  “We have.” Tyler looked at her, sincerity ringing in his voice.

  “Ben’s shoulder is hurt and sometimes”—she looked straight at him—“sometimes you talk about your mistakes and your past like . . . like you think you need to be perfect.”

  “Yes.” Tears filled Tyler’s eyes. “I wish that. I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

  She shook her head, though the movement was miniscule. “You have to leave room for God’s grace, Ben.”

  Cheryl silently mouthed the next words as her mother spoke them.

  “Perfect is God’s job.” She released Cheryl’s hand and reached for Tyler’s. “You’ll live your life a lot happier if you stop trying to be perfect. Do your best for Jesus. When you fall short, He’ll carry you.” She smiled at the others. “The way He’s carrying me right now.”

  Her eyes closed for a moment. Slowly she blinked them open. “I’m so tired.” She looked from Tyler to Cheryl. “Thank you. The two of you are the best kids I could’ve had.” Another couple slow blinks and she was asleep.

  Cheryl stared at the TV. How her mother had loved baseball. Because Ben loved it. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see who was playing. It was the Dodgers. And the man on the pitcher’s mound was . . .

  She smiled. It was Marcus Dillinger.

  How long had it been since she’d watched him pitch?

  After a few minutes the doctor came in and suggested they let her rest. Once the family and Tyler Ames were out in the hallway, the doctor allowed his expression to grow grim. “Your mother’s oxygen levels aren’t good. Her heart’s giving out.”

  Cheryl leaned into Chuck. “Will she go back to Merrill Place? Are we talking weeks or months?”

  “We’ll keep her here for now. And as for her time . . . no one can say.” He checked her chart. “Could be a few days or a few weeks.”

  Cheryl nodded. “Thank you.” She held out her arms and her daughters and husband all came close. Cheryl motioned for Tyler to join them. “This is Tyler.” She looked at each of them. “I’ll explain about him later. For now I need to talk to Tyler alone.” A pair of empty chairs sat in the hallway outside her mother’s room. “I’ll meet the rest of you in the waiting room in a few minutes.”

  Chuck studied her. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I am.”

  They hugged, Chuck’s eyes searching hers. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. She’s not afraid.”

  Before he left, Chuck shook Tyler’s good hand. “Thank you. Your time with Virginia . . . you’ll never know how much it’s meant to her. To all of us.” Cheryl smiled at the young man. He had even put the ball game on in her room.

  “She’s a special lady.” Tyler clearly meant every word. When Chuck and the rest of the family left, Tyler turned to Cheryl. “I’ve been looking forward to this talk.” He glanced back at the hospital room. “I didn’t picture it like this.”

  “None of us did.” She sat down and Tyler did the same. “She’s been so well since you came into her life.”

  “I have so many questions. But I guess the biggest one is about Ben.” Tyler shook his head, bewildered. “Wherever he lives or whatever he does, he should be here.”

  “You’re right.” Cheryl felt fresh tears in her eyes. “Ben loved our mother very much. If he could be here, he would.” She hesitated. “Tyler, Ben is dead. He was a soldier. He died in 197
2, killed in Vietnam.”

  The news seemed to take Tyler’s breath away. His head dropped and he stared at his hands. For several seconds he stayed that way before he looked at Cheryl. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  “Ben wasn’t perfect, but he loved God . . . and he loved our family.” Cheryl barely noticed the tears on her cheeks. Her heart was back in 1970—the week before Ben left for Vietnam. “Love. That was his strong suit. He would bring my mother daisies every day. They grew wild in our backyard.” Cheryl pictured her brother, tall and strapping, thoughtful to a fault. “My mother loved those daisies.”

  “She asked about them.” Tyler looked heartbroken. “That’s why I started bringing the flowers.”

  “You’ve made her so happy.”

  Tyler looked down again. “The loss must’ve just about killed her.”

  “Yes.” Cheryl felt fresh tears in her eyes. “None of us were ever the same after we got the news. My dad’s easy laugh, the sparkle in his eyes—they changed with Ben gone.” Cheryl stared straight ahead, falling into that long ago yesterday. “Ben and his men were trapped. If he’d waited, he might’ve been rescued. The others were.” The sorrow was as real as it had been back then. “But that wasn’t Ben’s way. He cared too much for everyone else. He set out to get help.” Cheryl looked straight at Tyler. “Two minutes later he was caught in the crossfire and killed.”

  Tyler shook his head. He worked the muscles in his jaw. “So sad.”

  “After Ben died, my father brought my mother fresh daisies every day. In honor of Ben. After Dad died, I tried to get over there and bring her daisies, but it wasn’t the same. She would talk about heaven—long before she was sick. With Ben there, she could hardly wait.”

  “Then she lost her memory?” Tyler seemed to easily understand.

  “Exactly. At first we kept photos at her bedside—the last one we had of Ben was one of her favorites. He was in uniform, so handsome.” She wiped her tears. “But eventually the pictures confused her. She couldn’t understand why Ben didn’t visit, why no one would let her see him.”