Diary of an Angel (13 page)

*   *   *

The years passed by in Angela’s life like the passing of a day. Before I knew it, Angela and Jack were preparing to be empty-nesters. Their once waist-high six-year-old was a month away from her high school graduation. Justin was preparing to graduate summa cum laude with a degree in electrical engineering. Catherine was married and expecting her first child in a few short months.

It was during this time, on a Saturday, that a knock at the door interrupted Angela’s afternoon reading. When she opened the door, she found a stranger standing on the door step. She was a dark-hair woman, just shy of fifty, with a rosy complexion and warm smile.

“Hello,” the woman said with kindness in her voice, “I’m Olivia Barnes, Patsy Mapleton’s daughter.” The woman gave Angela a look, as if to ask,
do you know who Patsy Mapleton is?

“Oh, I didn’t realize Mrs. Mapleton had any children. Yes, how can I help you?”

“Are you Angela Higgins?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Well...were you aware that my mother passed away last week?”

“No, I had no idea.
I’m very sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. She’d been slowing down. It was her time.” The woman hesitated. “Did you know my mother well?”

“Well, we’ve been neighbors for many years. I think everyone in the neighborhood knew her. Did I know her well? No, I wouldn’t say I did.”

The woman seemed to expect this reply.

“I apologize for all the questions. You see I’m the executor of my mother’s will. And you were included.” The woman held out to Angela a black leather-bound book. “My mother wanted you to have this. It’s her Bible. Don’t ask me why. That wasn’t the only strange request she put in her will.”

Angela stood, stunned.

“I can’t take that. You should keep it. It belongs to your family.”

“Thank you. But it’s really alright. This Bible holds little sentimental value for me. Please, take it.”

Angela reluctantly took the Bible from Mrs. Mapleton’s daughter. The two exchanged a few more words, Angela offering some words of condolence, and the woman departed from their door step. Angela closed the door and walked slowly back to the living room, staring at the book as she went.

“Who was that?”

Angela turned around to see Jack standing in the threshold of the kitchen, wiping engine grease from his hands with a rag.

“I saw a woman walking away from the house,” he explained.

“That was Mrs. Mapleton’s daughter.”

“Her daughter?”

Angela nodded. Then with gravity, she said, “Mrs. Mapleton passed away.”

“Oh,” Jack replied, as if she just told him they were having meatloaf instead of pizza for dinner. “Well, I imagine she was getting pretty old. I guess she won’t be calling you anymore.”

Angela did not respond, her thoughts were still going over her conversation with Mrs. Mapleton’s daughter. She said nothing about the Bible. Jack left, returning to his work outside. Angela sat down on the couch and stared at the cover of Mrs. Mapleton’s Bible. It was well-worn. The corners and edges bent and frayed. The gilded letters rubbed dull, now scarcely visible but for the embossing.

She opened it and began thumbing through its ruffled pages. Many passages were underlined or marked with a highlighter. Obviously, Mrs. Mapleton had read it often, and paid attention to what she read.

Angela was about to set the book down when one of the pages fell open, revealing a bookmarker. At first she thought nothing of it. Just a slip of paper. She vacantly picked it up and turned it over. On it she discovered some writing. She looked at it more closely.

Almost instantly, her heart began to pound audibly in her chest. Her eyes grew wide. She couldn’t believe what she saw. A yellow slip of paper, and on it a verse of scripture was written. She looked at the place the marker had been set and realized it laid where the actual scripture was found.

With trembling fingers she scoured through the rest of the Bible, finding one slip of paper after another. In the end, she held twelve yellow slips in her shaky palm.

A New Life

T
he dim glow of the lamplight illuminated Angela as she sat reading in the dark living room. The light touched her silver hair. It revealed the numerous age-worn lines in her face. This was not the Angela I first met those many years ago.

Now she was old. Time had wrinkled her skin, faded her golden hair, weakened her bones and muscles, slowed her walk. Yet, to me, she looked more beautiful than ever. Indeed, this was not the same Angela. For, while Time wore away her body, God purified her soul. Her light shown brighter than ever.

Angela closed the book she had been reading, removed the glasses from her face, and placed the book on the end table. It was Mrs. Mapleton’s Bible. During all those years she never read from a different Bible. It reminded her of those important lessons she learned decades before.

With tired limbs she rose from her seat and crept across the living room floor. The house, which she and Jack had lived in for most of their marriage, where they raised their children, was now only home to her. The children moved out long ago, coming to visit often—especially Catherine. Jack had come Home five years previously, leaving Angela and me to keep each other company.

How she had grieved over Jack’s death. Though she now knew better how to accept comfort and didn’t doubt God’s love, the loss had brought her great pain. The passing of time had eased some of her pain. Still, bouts of loneliness occasionally seized her. Keeping busy helped with that. She especially enjoyed baking meals for individuals in need.

Angela made her way back to the bedroom. After saying her prayer, she turned out the lights and soon was sleeping soundly. I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Those days I hated to leave her side. Sometimes I didn’t, but would stay by her and talk to her in her dreams. Had I only known that that would be the las
t night I would be with her…

*   *   *

The shining spire of Angel Command came first into view as I approached the hill on which it stood. A wholesome breeze swirled around me, catching my hair in its invisible fingers. I smiled involuntarily, breathing in the sweet fragrances which surrounded me. What a day! Every day is always better than the one before in heaven.

Inside Angel Command, I found Glendor and Anawin, and the others. They greeted me w
armly with hugs. Those two had become so dear to me; it was sometimes hard for me to believe they weren’t my real parents. Anawin smiled at me with all the warmth of the summer sun. Then she took my hands and cupped them together with hers, staring into my eyes intently.

“Forenica, dear, I have something important to tell you. Today will conclude your labor with Angela on earth.”

“What!” I said, furrowing my brow.

“It’s time for you to move on, my dear,” she explained.

“Move on? You mean I’m getting a new assignment? But I can’t leave Angela now. She’s so close. I couldn’t bear to part with her.”

“You won’t have to part with her, Forenica,” she said. Then, very solemnly, “She’s coming Home.”

I just stood there, unable to comprehend. Angela’s was coming Home? It was beyond belief. Though I had ever looked forward to and prepared for this day, its dawning took me completely off my guard.

“What’s going to happen to her?”

Anawin’s face became grave. “It will not be easy for you. But you mustn’t attempt to intervene. It will only make it harder for you.”

“Intervene! How is she going to die, won’t you tell me?”

She smiled. “Forenica, I have told you as much as I know. Don’t worry though, I know you can do this.”

“Won’t you come with me?” It was the first time I’d ever asked Anawin to make the descent to earth with me. I felt that I couldn’t bear this weight alone, especially if I had to watch Angela suffer. Jack’s death had been difficult, but not sudden or unexpected. The whole family had been there to offer support and comfort to Angela.

Anawin shook her head—I wasn’t surprised. “I cannot come with you, dear. But
she
can.” And she pointed to someone behind me. I turned, unsure who to expect. I nearly cried when I saw who it was.

“Clairus!”

“Hey kid, how have you been?”

I ran over to her, throwing my arms around her neck. “You’re coming with me?” I asked, as if I couldn’t believe that it wasn’t a dream.

“Angel Clairus, reporting for duty,” she said with a salute. “Here to keep you from passing out.”

All I could do was smile. It was more than I could have hoped for to have Clairus with me again.

“Shall we descend?” she said. And we parted company with Glendor and Anawin. But as we exited the room I heard Anawin call out, “Bring her Home!”

Angela was quietly sleeping when we arrived. She looked just as well as when I had left her the night before.
Could this really be the day she dies?
I wondered. Aside from arthritis and a temperamental hip, Angela’s health was excellent. I began to imagine all the terrible, painful deaths which she might have to endure. Surely, she deserved to die peacefully.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful!” said Clairus. “Only prettier with age.”

Angela was in her thirties the last time Clairus saw her. It was true that she had only grown in beauty.

“What do you say we bring her back right now?” I suggested.

“Oh sure, and have her miss the exciting day ahead of her? Where’s your sense of adventure, Forenica?”

“I hardly call waiting for Angela to die some unknown—and possibly horrific—death adventurous or exciting.”

“I think you watched too many movies on earth,” she said, as she jabbed me softly with her elbow. “Don’t worry, both you and Angela can handle whatever’s coming. And I’ll be right by your side.”

“Aren’t you just at little worried?”

“Only that I’ll have to send you back before Angela even wakes up,” she said, teasingly.

“You can’t send me—”

“Oh, she’s waking up. Time to get to work, Miss Worrywart.”

“Worrywart! Hmm...” I tried to act offended, but it was useless. We both started laughing. Then Clairus put her arms around me.

“You can do this,” she insisted.

Angela’s morning passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. She dressed, breakfasted, read the morning paper, then busied herself about the house with a few chores. Despite my anxiety for Angela’s welfare, having Clairus by my side was such a joy. It felt like my junior-guardian-angel days all over again. If only the whole family were together again! After lunch, Angela sat down to read, which promptly put her to sleep. She woke an hour later, rubbed her eyes, looked at the clock on the wall, then took up her reading again.

It was mid-afternoon before Angela rose from her chair and got herself ready to leave the house. She’d plan to visit a friend, who had just returned from the hospital to recover from hip-replacement surgery. But first she wanted to pick up some flowers, as a homecoming present. And so we set out, I in the passenger seat, Clairus in the back seat, and Angela behind the wheel of her old Buick. It had been a faithful car to Angela, but didn’t have much more life to give. It was a pity Angela had to drive. I would have happily been her chauffeur.

I felt exceptionally anxious while on this outing in the car. I couldn’t keep the vision of a car accident from entering to my mind: my poor Angela unconscious—or worse—, hunched, face buried in the steering wheel of a twisted piece of metal that used to be her car. The streets, however, were calm as we drove along on that sunny afternoon. It was a pleasant drive and put Angela in
a happy mood We arrived at the flower shop without difficulty.

In recent years, Angela had frequented this little flower shop so often that she and the shop’s proprietor had become good friends. Mrs. Johansen, who almost never left the shop with an employee, was behind the counter when Angela stepped inside. The shop owner’s face lit up when she saw Angela.

“Angela,” she said in her faint German accent, “how good it is to see you.”

“Good morning, Abigail. How are you?”

“Oh, well enough, I suppose. My little shop keeps me busy, as you know. But that’s nothing new. How about you, then? How are you getting along? And what brings you to my little shop today?”

“Can’t I visit my friend without needing a reason?”

“Sure, just so long as you buy something while you’re at it. What will you be needing today? I hope you’re buying for a happy occasion—not a funeral. You know, I’m thinking of giving up the shop. At my age, all I seem to hear about are funerals. Sure, folks come in here wanting flowers for birthdays and weddings, but more and more they seem to say
funeral
. But, then, I just can’t go through with it. I love the flowers too much. And then, besides, you wouldn’t come to see me.”

“Of course I would, Abigail.”

“Bah! People only love me for my flowers.”

Angela glanced admiringly around the shop. “You do have beautiful flowers.”

It was true. Mrs. Johansen’s shop was like the Garden of Eden. Every inch of its small space was bursting with color. Her roses came in every hue, and mingled with clusters of brightly clad tulips, daffodils, and lilies, occasionally dappled by touches of sunflowers and other lemon-tinted blossoms. Orchids and ivy hung leisurely from the ceiling, letting fall long vines of green leaves.

“A friend of mine just got out the hospital,” Angela explained. “I’d like to bring her some flowers as a homecoming present.”

“Ah, now isn’t that like the angel you are! I hope it wasn’t anything to serious? No one I know, is it?

“Oh, no. A hip replacement—routine enough operation. Still, at her age, it’s not something she can recover from quickly. Margaret Bowers—”

“Margaret, was it? She’s been in here more than once. You will have to send her my regards. Now, about those flowers, what would you like?”

“Whatever you think would look best, Abigail. You are the master florist.”

In no time at all, Mrs. Johansen had created a miniature masterpiece that was easily lovelier than all the flowers in the gardens of Versailles.

“I thought lilies would be nice,” she said.

“It’s perfect, Abigail. I’m sure Margaret will love it.”

The pair chatted a few minutes longer before Angela said goodbye and returned to her car, breathtaking flower arrangement in hand. As soon as we left the shop, I became alert again to Angela’s imminent death.
Could this really be the day?
Everything seemed so calm and normal. What torture it was! It could scarcely have been worse had I woken up one morning and received a note: “Today you’re best friend is going to die. Have a nice day.”

I suppose it was easier knowing what awaited Angela, the immeasurable happiness, the end of mortal pain and anguish, the beginning of everything. But my heart yearned for her to be reprieved from death. In the Bible, the entire city of Enoch was taken up into heaven. They never tasted death, why should my Angela? Still, I
knew
He would not let her suffer beyond what was needful. Oh, but let it be gentle!

Once again, we were on the road, driving back down the streets we came on. I looked over at Angela and sighed. How content she looked. A remote smile brightened her face. Her spirit full after seeing a dear friend. Her mind was at ease. I wondered how she would feel if she knew what was coming.

“I think she’d be happy to know that she will be reunited with Jack and Lily very soon,” said Clairus, reading my thoughts.

I smiled. “Yes, how could I have forgotten about that? But she’ll miss Catherine and Justin and Kailey.”

“That will be a different kind of longing, though. Forenica, do you remember me telling you that nothing about what we do is easy?”

I did, and it was all too true sometimes.

“I know I teased you before, but this is not going to be easy. Had I not gone through this before I’d probably be feeling like you do right now.”

“You’ve gone through this before? With who?”

“I’ll tell you about it another time. Let’s try to focus more
directly
on Angela, and perhaps she won’t have to die in a car accident.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

Angela pulled into Margaret’s driveway. Two down, one to go. We had now only to get Angela home, and death by car accident would no longer be an option. We could do it. Of course, it wasn’t really my choice, or Clairus’. I could hope, though, couldn’t I?

It was past five o’clock before Angela left Margaret’s house. The v
ernal sun sat low in the sky. Angela looked noticeably tired as she returned to her car. But her spirits were high. The visit to Margaret succeeded in bringing some cheer and comfort to the convalescent. Like Angela, Margaret was a widow, but unlike Angela, Margaret had no family nearby to care for her. Friends like Angela were her only family.

Angela stood outside her aged car, rummaging through her purse for her car keys.
This is the home stretch,
I thought. After some difficulty, Angela successfully retrieved her keys. But before she could manage to unlock her car the key escape her grasp and fell with a clink on to the driveway. She sighed and wearily leaned forward to pick them up. Her feeble fingers dropped the keys twice more before she succeeded in snatching them from the pavement. By the time she unbent her tired body, she was panting. Cautiously, she located her car key and fitted it into the keyhole of her car door. Then she turned the key, extracted the key from the key hole, and lifted the door handle.