ILET MYSELF IN the side door of my sister’s home, eager to get my mind off my weird experience with Mike by focusing on my niece. I hadn’t seen him in the parking lot after school today. I wished I’d gotten his address before we parted. Then again, if I had, I’d become the stalker.
“Hey, Diane,” I called out as the screen door slammed behind me.
Petey, the family beagle, bounded into the kitchen and greeted me with high-pitched barking and enthusiastic tail wagging. I reached down and petted his velvety soft ears. “Hello, boy.”
My three-year-old niece came running into the kitchen, golden curls bouncing, and wrapped her arms around my legs. “I missed you, Livvy!”
Tessa’s smile showed the gap between her two front teeth. With a slight lisp, she whined, “I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“It’s only been a week.” Every Thursday, while Diane and Brian went on a date night, I played with Tessa, then put her to bed and flopped on the couch to watch TV and eat junk food.
“Hey, Sis.” Diane entered the kitchen, putting in her left earring. “We’ll be home by ten, as usual. Tessa’s already had dinner.” She glanced in the mirror by the back door, smoothing her shoulder-length brown hair.
I always felt like a buffalo next to a gazelle in her presence. Diane had a petite frame and was poised and feminine, always knowing the right thing to say in any situation. I was five inches taller, twenty pounds heavier, and a borderline tomboy who felt awkward around strangers. Side by side you’d hardly know we were sisters, except we shared our father’s sharp jawline and slightly slanted nose.
Brian walked in tying his tie, his tailored short-sleeved shirt straining against his large muscles.
“Fancy restaurant tonight?”
“I’m taking your sister to the country club.” He put his arm around his wife. “You ready, sweetheart?”
I loved my romantic brother-in-law. He was the typical tall, dark, and handsome type. The two made a stunning couple.
Diane grabbed her jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. “I’m all yours.”
“Have fun.” I watched them leave, hoping I’d have a marriage like theirs someday.
After a fun evening of games and cartoons, then taking Petey for a short walk, it was time to tuck Tessa into bed.
“Will you pray with me this time, Livvy?”
The one thing I dreaded about Tessa’s bedtime was being asked to join in prayers. I didn’t like praying out loud. It wasn’t something my family did much. “Why don’t you start?”
Tessa closed her eyes tight. “God bless Mommy, Daddy, Gee Gee and Geepa, and Olivia. Oh, and help Petey to stop eating Mommy’s slippers. Amen.” She looked up at me with her big blue eyes. “Your turn.”
I spotted a little winged statue on Tessa’s dresser. “Do you ever think about angels?”
“Yep. There’s one right over there.” Tessa pointed to a corner of the room behind me.
Goose bumps returned to my arms, and I resisted the urge to turn around and look. “What do you see?”
“My guardian angel. I always see him after I pray. He smiles a lot. That makes me feel good and helps me fall asleep.”
“Are you scared of him?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“Have you told your Mommy and Daddy about him?” I could only imagine what my parents would say if I told them I’d seen an angel.
“Yep. They say it’s a nice thing for me to pretend.”
“But you’re not pretending, are you?”
“No.” Tessa’s eyes opened wide. “Do you believe me, Livvy?”
“I do. And I don’t think angels are anything to be afraid of either.” I said it more for myself than for Tessa.
I tucked the covers around her shoulders. “I’ll see you next Thursday.”
As I headed for the door, I glanced at the corner but saw nothing. I felt both relieved and disappointed. “Tell your angel I said hello.” I flicked off the light switch. “Good night, sweetie.”
“Night, Livvy. I love you.” “Love you too.”
Instead of turning on the TV I sat on the sofa in silent contemplation with Petey curled up beside my feet. Three-year-old Tessa knew more about angels than I did.
I bowed my head and closed my eyes. If I was going to figure out the mystery of Mike, I’d need God’s help. I also had to figure out how to keep a calm head and not panic.
I walked into the school cafeteria, ignoring the line of students picking up the usual Friday special: greasy pizza. Grasping my sack lunch, I scanned the room to find my friend Christina. She was at a table with Tommy and one of his friends. Christina giggled over something Tommy had just whispered in her ear. Probably one of the crude jokes he was famous for.
I slipped into the seat beside her. “We have to talk.”
“What’s up?” Christina turned to me, flipping her curly red hair with her hand. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Actually, I think I might have. But it’s too long a story to tell here.”
“I can’t wait to hear it.” Christina’s dark green eyes opened wide. “But I’m slammed with so many tests next week I have to study all day Saturday. Can you come to my house on Sunday after you get home from church?”
“Definitely.” I felt better about going to Christina’s house than Christina coming to mine. Her parents didn’t hover like mine did, so we could talk more freely.
I opened my bag lunch and pulled out a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a bottle of water. Christina returned to chatting with the boys. She laughed again at something Tommy said, and the high-pitched sound grated on my nerves. But at least she wasn’t laughing at me. Not yet, anyway.
Greg Monahan sat down beside me, tucking his jaw-length auburn hair behind his ears. Greg was close friends with Christina. Their relationship was totally platonic, but I wondered if he’d been feeling left out since she started dating Tommy two months ago. I hardly got a chance to talk to her much anymore either.
“Hey, Christina,” Greg said. “I was wondering if you—”
“Just a second.” After a quick glance at Greg, she turned back to Tommy.
Greg slouched, looking crushed.
Maybe I needed to talk to someone more empathetic. I noticed Eden sitting a few tables away, her nose in a book, as usual. Eden was more grounded and focused than Christina. Plus her father was the pastor of my church.
I tapped Christina on the shoulder. “I have to talk to Eden. Catch you later.”
She didn’t seem to notice that I’d said anything. She was too focused on giggling at whatever the boys were saying.
I squeezed Greg’s arm as I got up to leave. Then I leaned in close and said, “Hopefully this Tommy craze will wear off soon and we can all hang out together like we used to.”
He looked up at me. “That’d be nice.” He rolled his eyes.
I grabbed my sandwich and my drink and headed toward Eden. The book in her hands was from one of the vampire trilogies. I’d long since tired of such books, but other girls couldn’t get enough.
I didn’t see any food in front of Eden. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember ever seeing Eden eat. Maybe she was a vampire and didn’t need human food. I chuckled to myself.
“Eden?” I tapped my finger on the edge of her book.
She looked up. “Hey, Liv!” She inserted her bookmark and closed the cover.
I sat opposite her and set my sandwich and drink on the table. “Have you ever read anything about angels?”
Her face brightened. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m thinking of writing about them for our English composition paper.” Not entirely untrue.
“Actually, I’ve read some really interesting things about angels.” Eden leaned in and whispered, “I’ve also read about fallen angels and demons.
It creeps me out.” She ran her fingers through her spiky dark brown hair.
“Do you think all that stuff is real?”
“I don’t know. But it’s fun to think about. It sure would explain a lot of the strange happenings you always read about, like ghosts and”—she glanced at her novel—“all that paranormal stuff.” Her fair complexion seemed to pale further.
I took a sip of my water. Talking to Eden had definitely been a good choice.
Eden took off her reading glasses and set them on the table. “My mom took a class in anthropology at college, and she says every culture in the world has stories about spirits. Some cultures interact with the spirit world as if it’s as normal as you and me talking right now.”
“I wish I knew more about them.”
Eden looked around, then said, “My grandmother claims she saw my dad’s guardian angel once.”
“Really?”
“He had a fever that was causing seizures. While Granny was praying for him, a light appeared near the top of the bed, about two feet behind him. The glowing orb touched my dad while he was sleeping, and then it disappeared. His body temperature dropped almost immediately. Just that morning, Granny had asked God to show her His angel, and she believes He answered her prayer.”
“Do you believe it?”
“My grandmother is pretty normal. I don’t think she made that up.”
I stared at my half-eaten sandwich. A glob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of my mouth. If Tessa and Eden’s grandma had both seen angels, was it really possible that I’d seen one too?
“My dad took a course in seminary that had a section on angelology. I looked through his notebook one time. There’s some pretty cool stuff in there.”
“I’d love to see his notes. It’d make great research for my paper. Could I come over tomorrow?”
“Sure. We could do a sleepover and you can ride to church with us on Sunday.”
“Sounds great.”
Just then Ty Hudson passed close to where we sat. He was the star quarterback of the football team, gorgeous and very popular. Eden fell to pieces whenever he was near.
“There’s Ty!” she squeaked, fanning her face with a small spiral notebook. She turned her body away from him but glanced sideways, watching his every move.
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
“Are you kidding? Anything I said would end up sounding like some clumsy stutter. Oh—he’s looking this way!” She quickly opened her novel and hid her face behind it.
“That was stupid. He looked right at you.”
“Yeah, sure. He doesn’t even know I exist. He was probably just looking at the clock behind me.”
“I doubt that.”
The bell rang. I had to get to math class. “Talk to you later.”
I left the cafeteria, dropping my empty lunch bag in the trash can by the exit. Two doors down was my classroom. I took a seat next to the window, which was opened a crack, providing me a slight break from the stuffy air in the room. Nate Ryan slid into the seat beside me and let out a loud belch.
“Gross!”
“Better for it to come out the attic than the basement!”
I grimaced. “Keep both doors closed, would you?”
I shuffled my desk and chair a little closer to the window and stared at the oak tree in the lawn outside while Mrs. Gleason copied equations onto the blackboard.
Is Mike really an angel? When will I see him again?
“Miss Stanton?”
I jerked to attention when I realized Mrs. Gleason had called on me.
“Is there something interesting outside the window that you’d like to share with the class?”
I dropped my pencil, which I’d been frantically tapping on my desk while in my fog. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
Several students stifled giggles.
I retrieved my pencil, then sat up and looked at my teacher.
Oh gosh, I hope she isn’t going to ask me a question I don’t know the answer to.
“Welcome back.” Mrs. Gleason gave me a mocking smile, then returned to her scribbling.
Whew. No one is looking anymore. How embarrassing to be caught dreaming. But I can’t help it. Mike intrigues me. I have to know more.
While listening to the tap, tap, tap of the chalk, I gazed at my textbook, hoping it would look like I was studying the information on the page. The words and numbers blurred as I checked out again.
Would Mike be in the parking lot again today? I hoped he would be. If he were, I had to ask him how he pulled off that disappearing act and why he was standing around in the parking lot. Part of me hoped he was a guy who’d heard about me and went out of his way to meet me. But what if he really were an angel? How cool would it be to have a real live guardian angel taking care of me, even when I did something stupid?
At volleyball practice my distraction made me miss several easy passes. I fumbled almost every serve, sending the ball straight into the net.
“You OK, Liv?” Coach asked.
I faked a limp. “My ankle is feeling a little stiff today.”
“Maybe you should rest a bit.”
“No, no. I’m sure if I keep moving it’ll loosen up.” If I sat out, our backup setter, Vicki Beecham, would fill in, and she always gloated when Coach put her in to replace me. I decided to drop the bad-ankle act. If Coach told me to rest the next couple of days, I could lose my position at the next game.
Coach waved his arm in the air. “Carry on!”
I did my best to keep my mind focused on my performance. The rest of the drills went much better. I almost forgot about my good-looking stranger.
But as soon as Coach blew his whistle to end the practice, I dashed to the locker room, grabbed my things, and raced down the hall. I pressed the metal crossbar on the door so hard a tiny shock of pain shot up my arm.
When I got outside I scanned the parking lot for a red Camaro.
I froze when I spotted a red bumper just past where my car was parked.
It’s him! And he wasn’t clear across the parking lot this time.
My breathing quickened as I walked toward my Honda. Was he sitting in his car this time instead of leaning against it? Would he get out when I reached my vehicle? I tried to remember the lines I’d come up with to say to him, but none of the words I recalled congealed into any kind of intelligent sentences.
As I drew closer I noticed a few small spots of rust on the front bumper. My heart sank. It couldn’t be Mike’s car. His had a new paint job.
Then again, if Mike were an angel, maybe the rusty car would suddenly turn glossy, the rust spots would vanish, and he would magically appear.
No such luck. As more of the rusty red car came into my view, I saw it was a ’66 Mustang. Vicki Beecham’s car. She and her dad had begun restoring it.
I shuffled to my Honda, turned the key in the lock, and opened the door, all the while staring at the dull red car beside mine, still half expecting it to transform into a shiny Camaro.
I slung my purse and backpack onto the floor on the passenger side and slumped into the driver’s seat.
Why hadn’t Mike shown up today? Apparently, whether he was an angel or a human, he enjoyed watching me from a distance for a few days, but after talking to me once, he stopped coming around. Was I that boring? If so, I’d probably never see him again.
Eden and I spent all Saturday night talking about boys and volleyball, then watched The Princess Bride like we’d done during every sleepover since grade school.
I kept waiting for Eden to mention her dad’s notebook about angels, not wanting to push it. Besides, after thinking about the subject some more, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to read about angels. I didn’t want to be convinced this was all real.
But then I thought about Mike. The image of him, seared into my memory, was enough to make me want to know more.
When I woke up on Sunday morning, Eden stood over me, a thick spiral notebook in her hand. “This is it,” she whispered. “You can take it home, but bring it back as soon as you’re done. He’s really picky about loaning things out.”
I stuffed it in my overnight bag. At home, I’d hide it in my closet in the box on the top shelf behind a stack of books, where I kept all my secret things. I’d keep it a week, then give it back to Eden—whether I got up the courage to read it or not.
Soon after the organ began to play, the church choir came out of the doors on either side of the stage. But they weren’t the same people I was used to seeing, and instead of the usual burgundy choir robes, theirs were a brilliant white. It must be a guest group.
They sat in the choir loft during the service and sang hymns along with the congregation, but they didn’t sing a special number. I wondered why. They stayed on the platform the whole service, even during the sermon Eden’s dad gave.
As my family was leaving the sanctuary, I said, “I really liked the choir’s gowns. But how come they didn’t sing anything by themselves?”
“What are you talking about?” Mom asked. “The choir had this week off.”
I shivered. “Dad—?”
My dad wrinkled his forehead. “Olivia, there was no choir this morning.”
They really hadn’t seen the choir!
“I gotta go.” I rushed to the restroom, my stomach churning.
“Olivia?” I heard my dad call out. I dashed across the foyer and burst into the bathroom, racing past the first person in line, and grabbed the first stall that came open. I closed the door and leaned against it, nearly hyperventilating.
What would I say to my parents on the way home? Should I tell them I had a guardian angel—and that he was good looking?
They’d never believe me. Dad was pretty open-minded, but Mom would think I was even crazier than usual.
God, help me!
After opening the stall door I smoothed my hair in the mirror, then fled the restroom, avoiding the curious glances of the women in line.
I managed to slip out the front of the church without Eden’s dad noticing me. I didn’t feel like entering into the usual Sunday morning pleasantries with the pastor.
As I crossed the parking lot, my Sunday school teacher, Miss Beverly, cornered me. “Olivia, honey, how are you doing?” I was relieved to see her. At seventy years old, she had spunk unlike any other elderly person I knew. She gave me her usual wink.
“I’m good. How are you?”
“Blessed, as always. How’s school?”
“Fine.”
“That’s wonderful. You’ve been in my prayers, dear.” She reached out and gave my hand a squeeze as she always did when she greeted me. I squeezed it back.
This woman knew the Bible really well. And she would give me an honest answer. “Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe in angels?”
Bev laughed.
Oh, no. She thinks I’m crazy.
Her countenance became serious. “I absolutely believe in angels. The Bible says angels attend worship services. In fact, they may have been here this morning during church to worship with us.”
Had Beverly seen the angels in the choir loft too?
She elbowed me in the side, and her cheeks dimpled. “Why do you ask, dear?”
“I have a writing assignment for English class, and I thought angels might be a good topic.”
Miss Beverly came closer and put her hand on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask anyone around here.” She chuckled. “It’s not that they don’t believe in angels, mind you. They just don’t think they have any effect on our lives. But just because someone doesn’t believe in something, that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“I want to be really accurate in my research. Do you know how I can find out more about angels?”
“Oh, there’s a lot of information about angels in the Bible. And I bet you can get on that computer of yours and find plenty of interesting things on the Internet.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think of that.”
Feeling I could trust Bev, and hoping she’d believe me, I asked, “What would you say if I told you I’d seen an angel?”
“I’d say you are a very special young lady. But I already know that.” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like to talk more about this?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
“Why don’t we have lunch next Saturday? Come over to my place. I’ll make you my special French onion soup. And you can meet my new dog.
She’s a chocolate Lab named Caramel.”
“I love dogs. I can’t wait!”
Bev hugged me again, so tight that I had to stifle a squeak. “I’ll see you Saturday, sweetie.”
Since Bev was willing to talk with me, I decided to cancel my get-together with Christina. She’d just want to talk about Tommy anyway, and that would be annoying.
After texting Christina I crossed the parking lot toward my parents’ car.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Mike leaning against his car across the church parking lot. His arms were folded, and he flashed me a grin. I sheepishly waved at him. He nodded back at me. Seeing him again gave me a feeling of reassurance. It had been at least four days since I’d seen him last.
Maybe he really was my guardian angel. I sure wouldn’t mind having someone like him close by all the time. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes.
Reaching my parents’ car, I got in. Glancing back at Mike, I noticed he’d done his disappearing act again.
Dad drove out of the parking lot. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence he asked, “What was all that about the choir this morning, Liv?”
“Nothing.” I stared out the car window, pretending to look at something interesting.
Mom stopped fixing her lipstick in the mirror and turned to look at me. “Really, honey, you have to stop with this crazy imagination of yours.”
“It’s not my imagination, Mom. Bev said—”
“Don’t believe everything that woman says.” Mom put the lipstick tube back in her purse. “She’s a religious zealot.”
“Mom—”
“I hope you don’t end up like your cousin Kathryn.” My mother adjusted the lace collar of her dress. “Her condition makes her think she sees all kinds of things.”
“I don’t have a multiple-personality disorder.” I hoped.
Dad stretched his hands as he held the steering wheel. “Now, honey, maybe we should give Olivia the benefit of the doubt.”
Mom crossed her arms over her chest and kept her freshly painted lips shut.
I appreciated Dad coming to my defense, although I sometimes wondered if he did it just to take the opposite side of Mom.
He peeked at me in his rearview mirror. “I think you should talk to Bev. She’s a good woman.”
“She invited me to have lunch with her next Saturday. Can I go?”
“Sure. She’s a much better person for you to hang around with than some of those boy-crazy friends of yours.” Dad shot a smile over his shoulder.
Mom’s posture stiffened. I knew she wouldn’t go against whatever decision Dad voiced. They may argue about it later between the two of them. But my father won almost every time.
“Thanks, Dad.”
As I glanced at my reflection in the car window beside me, I could see Mike’s reflection behind my shoulder. I shot around to look. Nothing there.
First chance I got, I’d get out that angel notebook Eden had given me and read it. I needed answers. If nothing else, I had to convince myself I wasn’t crazy.