Nine

She was walking away from him, back down the beach. His voice was soft, but in spite of the noise of the surf, she still heard him. "Don't you believe in angels, Sarah?" he asked.

She stopped. "Sure I believe in angels," she said, as she turned back toward him. "Theoretically. Not as in one walking up to me to say hello."

"Why not?" He asked, as if he really wanted to know.

"It just doesn't happen, that's why not. Angels don't just show up to take care of you."

"Sure they do, sometimes."

"Not me. They don't show up to take care of me."

"Why not? Don't you think you deserve taking care of?"

He saw her eyes fill as she turned away again.

"No," she whispered.

"What?"

"No!" She nearly shouted. "I said no, I don't."

"Why not?"

"I can't, I'm yours. You're stuck with me."

Just like a three year old. "Well, what if I don't want to be stuck with you?" Her voice became pleading. "Listen, please, just go away. I can't deal with this. You say you're an angel, fine, you're an angel. I believe you. Now go away and do angelic things, okay?"

She started walking back down the beach as he said, "Sarah, I know everything."

She whirled around toward him, as angry as she could ever remember being. She felt like the top of her head was going to explode.

"Oh, really?" she said. "Just what everything do you think you know?" She was very close to tears.

He put his hands lightly on her shoulders. "I know about Gaby and James. I know it all."

She shrugged off his hands. "Yeah, well, I imagine that's pretty common knowledge in quite a few places. It wouldn't be that hard to find out. That doesn't make you an angel."

"What about the feathers?"

That stopped her. She hadn't told anyone about that. It was her own personal mythology, her own way of convincing herself that there was something running the world, something larger than herself. She never really believed it, she sort of knew she was fooling herself, but as long as no one else knew, where was the harm?

Her eyes narrowed. "What about the feathers?" she asked.

"Why don't you tell me," he said. "What do you remember?"

"I remember . . ." She took a deep breath. "I remember walking down the street and a feather fell down through the air and I held out my hand and caught it."

"Yes."

"What do you mean, 'yes'? You mean that was you?"

"Yes."

"And you followed me here, from Chicago?"

"I don't have to follow you, precisely. I just think about you, and poof."

"Poof?" She was beginning to smile again.

"Poof. So what happened then?" They started to walk together, down the beach, side by side.

"About the feather, you mean?"

"Yes."

She thought for a moment. "I started seeing them everywhere. Every time I was worried or upset."

"And how did it make you feel?" he asked.

"Well, it made me feel like everything was going to be all right, that no matter what happened, everything was going to be okay."

"Good. That was my intention." He smiled at her.

She stopped, stunned. "My God. You are an angel!" She started to smile at him, then she thought of another question. "So if there are guardian angels, where was James' guardian angel? Where was Gaby's!?" Her voice was rising to a shout again. "Weren't they worthy of guardian angels? Who was taking care of them? Where were their guardian angels? Tell me that!"

He looked at her sadly. "I don't know. I don't know everything. I only know about you."

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© 2002 Willa G. Cline