Angel Unaware (30 page)

Silence surrounded Dora like an oppressive blanket. Unheeded tears cascaded down her cheeks and dripped on her hands. She made no effort to wipe them away. An unrelenting ache encased her entire body.

Absently she looked around the room that had been hers for a few short weeks. It had become so familiar, so right. From the first day she’d walked into it, she’d felt as though it truly was hers, as though she belonged here. But she’d been fooling herself from the beginning. Nothing on Earth would ever be hers. Quite simply, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, she just didn’t belong here. She was an angel, and she knew the rules. Angels guided and protected the mortals, but they had no permanent place in their world.

Her gaze fell on a box Penny had planned to use to hold the angel she’d gotten Millie for Christmas, but the box had been way too big. Dora smiled as a mental picture of the little girl struggling to wrap her presents drifted through her mind. Following swiftly on its heels came a picture of Penny delivering her winning essay.

No sooner had it taken form in Dora’s mind than her gaze shifted back to the empty box. She grabbed it, put the lid on, and wrote five words on a plain sheet of paper.

To Tony. Love always, Dora
.

Careful not to make a sound, she tiptoed down the hall and set the box outside Tony’s door. For a moment she remained there, tempted to open the door and fling herself into his arms. But she knew it would solve nothing and only prolong the pain of parting. She kissed her fingertips and laid them against the cold wood, then returned to her room.

By the time Dora got back, she could feel the changes beginning to manifest themselves in her body. She glanced at the clock. Eleven fifty-eight. Turning her attention to the other mirror over the dresser, the one in which she’d always appeared as she did to Penny and Tony, she watched as her reflection slowly morphed from Dora DeAngelo, the nanny, to Dora, the angel assigned to Celestial Maintenance.

The jeans and sweater she’d put on that morning melted away like snow on a sunny day and were replaced by a long, flowing white robe. A golden cord encircled her waist. The ends of her dark hair lightened, and seconds later, her entire head was covered in blond curls. A soft popping sound preceded the appearance of a halo and wings. The transformation was complete. It made no difference what mirror she looked into. Dora DeAngelo was no more.

Oddly, she felt no differently inside. The love she felt for both Tony and Penny was still there, mixed with the agonizing pain of parting. If only she could wave her hand and make that vanish, as well.

A noise behind her drew her attention from her sad thoughts. She swung toward it, hoping it might be Tony coming to say good-bye again. But it was only Jack. She’d forgotten all about him. Forgotten what would happen when Penny awoke in the morning to find not only Dora gone, but also her beloved dog.

Jack sauntered into the room, head down, ears flattened, and his tail unusually still. With his nose, he nudged the door closed, then turned to Dora. A ball of blinding light appeared, obscuring him from her sight. It pulsed and shimmered for a few seconds, then vanished, leaving behind Calvin as Dora had always known him.

His sad eyes surveyed her from head to toe. “It’s time, Dora. Are you ready?”

She shook her head. “I’ll never be ready, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and held out his hand, and she took a step toward him, then stopped. “What about Penny?”

He frowned.

“When she wakes up, she’ll look for Jack.”

Calvin smiled. “Not to worry. I’ve seen to it that Jack will be waiting downstairs for her, just as he always does.” Dora didn’t bother to ask how he planned to do it. Knowing Penny would have one less disappointment, one less heartache, was all she cared about.

“We have to go,” Calvin softly reminded her.

“I know.” She looked in the direction of Penny’s room. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.” Calvin arched an eyebrow. “Calvin, I know what I have to do, and I promise I will follow you shortly. Besides, do I have any choice?”

For a moment, he studied her, perhaps assessing her sincerity. “Don’t be long.” He shimmered out of sight.

Dora stared at the place where Calvin had stood seconds before. No trace of him remained Just as in a few seconds, there would be no trace of her, no hint she’d ever lived here, loved here.

Before the tears could start again, Dora closed her eyes, readying herself to be torn away from everything she loved.

Tony lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, trying not to think or feel. But there was no respite from the pain. It tore at his soul and shredded his heart. If it was possible to bleed to death emotionally, then it was happening to him.

He’d thought the pain of losing his sister had been more than he could bear, but it was nothing compared to losing Dora. Rosalie was gone for good. Dead. But Dora was out there somewhere in the cosmos, alive. Yet even alive, she was beyond his reach.

He glanced at the bedside clock. Twelve-o-three. Dora was gone. The injustice of it burned through him.

Who in hell was this phantom
they
who had decided to play god with his life?

How dare
they
do that? How dare
they
allow him such complete happiness, then snatch it away at their whim? How dare
they
let a little girl attach herself to Dora, only to subject her to the loss of another loved one?

The same helplessness he’d experienced in Dora’s room swamped him. Frustrated at being left without a weapon with which to fight, he bolted from the bed and began pacing the floor.

There had to be something he could do. But what? He had nothing but words of protest, pleas to change their minds. But to whom did he go to voice the words? He was fighting a phantom enemy without a prayer of win—

Prayer. Part of
their
job was to listen to prayers, right?

Tony sat on the edge of the bed and folded his hands. His lips moved in the first prayer to pass his lips in many years.

I don’t know who you are, and I don’t really care. All I know is that you sent Dora here to help us, and she did. Penny and I fell in love with her. We want her here. You have plenty of angels up there, but we only had one Dora. Please, if you have one ounce of compassion in your hearts, send her back to us
.

Over and over, he repeated the last five words. He had no idea if his words fell on deaf ears or if his pleas were so much smoke in the wind, but he didn’t want to take the chance that they were. He didn’t want any one of
them
to feel he hadn’t bothered to plead for Dora’s return. If there was the slightest chance he could change
their
minds, he’d sit here all night and repeat those five words.

When her transition back to heaven was complete, Dora was not surprised to find Calvin waiting for her on her favorite cloud. Her failures and her lost love riding heavily on her shoulders, she couldn’t meet what she knew for certain would be Calvin’s censuring gaze. Knowing how much the mere sight of her tears upset him, she fought to hold them back. However, the pain of leaving Tony and Penny was so sharp, she feared losing the battle and causing Calvin even more anxiety than he already had.

As she’d feared, before she could stop it, a lone tear slipped down her cheek. To her surprise, rather than becoming agitated, Calvin used the hem of his robe’s belled sleeve to wipe it away. He smiled at her, the gentle curve of his mouth taking a bit of the edge off the excruciating pain radiating everywhere inside her.

He smiled weakly. “The Heavenly Council has ordered us to come before them in the Hall of Prayers as soon as you arrive,” he told Dora, his voice filled with a compassion she’d never heard from him before.

Having expected the summons, she nodded. Normally, being called before the Council would have caused any angel great alarm. Only the Archangels and angels of the highest rank were allowed in the Hall of Prayers. When a lowly angel from Celestial Maintenance was summoned, it could mean nothing good.

However, today Dora didn’t care. She’d expected the reprimands to come. The Council could do nothing to her that would hurt more than the separation from the people she loved.

The main worry that dogged her was what would happen to Calvin. Would he be blamed for her failure, too? She must make sure the Council understood none of this was his fault. He’d given her explicit instructions not to allow anyone to see her as an angel and not to become emotionally involved with her charges, and he’d warned her of the dire consequences of not following those instructions. And what had she done? Not only had she let Penny see her angel reflection in the mirror and then told Tony who she really was, but also she’d fallen in love with Tony.

“I’m so very sorry, Calvin.”

He patted her shoulder consolingly. His hand trembled slightly. “I know.” Then he cleared his throat. “We’d better be going.”

Dora nodded. Calvin took her hand, and they shimmered out together.

CHAPTER 24

Outside the imposing, beautifully carved, double golden doors to the Hall of Prayers, Calvin straightened his robes, smoothed his ruffled wing feathers, and straightened his halo. Dora followed his lead. Not because she felt a well-groomed Dora would be less likely to feel the wrath of the Heavenly Council, and not because she cared, but because she wanted to look good for Calvin. After all, he’d done nothing wrong.

“Should we go in?” she asked in a soft whisper. Calvin shook his head. “They’ll let us know when they’re ready for us.”

The minutes ticked by with maddening slowness. Calvin had begun to pace in circles. Dora had found an out-of-the-way cloud to sit on. And they waited. Angels came and went through the big doors, but none of them even acknowledged Calvin and Dora’s presence.

Suddenly, the enormous doors began to swing slowly and silently open.

“Enter,” came a booming voice from inside. They both looked around and, seeing no one else, took their first steps into their uncertain future.

At first Dora couldn’t see anything but white swirling clouds from ceiling to floor. The only sounds were those of the softly murmured prayers drifting up from Earth.

Gradually, the clouds dissipated to reveal golden walls, a floor of the fluffiest white clouds, and a ceiling of twilight, cerulean blue sky studded with sparkling stars. Directly in front of them, a raised platform holding throne-like chairs dominated the room. Two very intimidating Archangels — the Heavenly Council — occupied two of the chairs. The third was obscured from view by the massive wingspread of the two Archangels. Angels of a lesser rank stood on the floor around the platform.

“Raphael and Michael,” Calvin whispered, using his eye movements to single out the two Archangels seated on the platform.

Both the angels on the floor and the Archangels on the platform were unlike any Dora had ever seen before. With the exception of one of the Archangels, they wore flowing, gossamer robes so startlingly white she had to squint against the radiating brightness. Unlike her generic version, their halos resembled small, golden crowns. The wings of the angels surrounding the platform were three times the size of hers and Calvin’s. But the impressive wings of the two Archangels spread so wide they blotted out everything else on the dais, including, if there was one, the occupant of the third throne, and they seemed to reach nearly to the ceiling.

Of all of them, the one Archangel who stood out most had to be Michael, one of the two highest ranking on the Council. The other angels who’d seen him had told Dora he was not like the other Archangels. Young, muscular, and very handsome, he wore a shining coat of mail and a sheathed sword. In his hands he held a shield and a spear. Despite his warlike dress, he was the Angel of Righteousness and Mercy. Dora hoped he’d remember that when he pronounced her punishment.

Dora absently noted that Raphael’s robe wasn’t quite as bright white as the others’ and had three sets of wings that needed a trip to Celestial Maintenance for a good feather-grooming. But his smile and the mischievous gleam in his startlingly blue eyes took some of the edge off Dora’s nervousness.

Just when she’d begun to feel a bit better about the whole situation, Michael and Raphael folded their glorious wings and stepped to the side. To Dora’s surprise, the third and middle throne was occupied by her friend Gracie. In contrast to the splendor of the Archangels she looked small, out of place, and very forlorn. Hopefully, Gracie was not about to feel the wrath of the Council for her part in helping Dora from time to time, and that they’d only brought her here to bear witness to Dora’s long list of transgressions.

Before Dora could even begin to guess at what that list would disclose about her ineptitude as an angel, a small ball of light seemed to burst from Gracie’s chest. It swelled until its brilliance blocked out everything else in the room. Unable to look at it any longer, Dora closed her eyes. Still the brightness seeped through her eyelids. Then suddenly it faded, and she heard Calvin’s whispered exclamation.