Divine Temptation (15 page)

“No, but I’ve been wanting to get down to the city to see the Art Institute’s refurbished Impressionist wing. The kids have never seemed enthused to go, so this seems like my best opportunity.”

“Well, I guess that’s fine with me now that our files are all organized. We’ll be barraged with registrations for religious ed. next week, so you might as well have your fun now.”

By late the following morning, Maggie stood in the Impressionist gallery at the Art Institute of Chicago, hoping to see Evan, but unsure whether he’d appear in such a populated area. If he didn’t show up by the time she was through with this room, she planned to try her luck in a more isolated area of the museum.

It was as she examined a Renoir that she sensed his presence. Nodding toward the painting at a rower dressed all in white, she said over her shoulder, “Nice outfit, huh?”

“He’s got panache,” Evan answered, making Maggie smile. His rare and subtle dashes of humor always did. She turned and flicked her gaze around at the other patrons in the gallery, looking for an indication that anyone else could see him. She thought a woman gave a sideways glance at his unusual apparel, but couldn’t be sure.

“Why don’t you go talk to someone?” she suggested. “Just step up behind them, like you did to me, and make a comment about the painting they’re looking at. See if they respond.”

He pursed his lips into a small frown. “Is this why you brought me here?”

“No. But while we’re here, what’s to lose? If they don’t hear or see you, no harm, right?”

“What if they hear me but don’t see me?”

“Then I’m going to get a good chuckle out of it. Still a win.” When he tilted his head and raised a chiding eyebrow, she added, “They’ll just think whoever said it walked away.”

Evan scanned the room and nodded toward a pretty young woman standing alone in front of a Degas. “Shall I try her?”

Maggie shook her head and pointed in the opposite direction at an older, balding man. “Him.”

Evan sauntered over, stopping about a foot behind the man, slightly off to his side. Maggie couldn’t hear what Evan said, but saw his mouth move. The man looked over his shoulder and responded. Evan stood at the painting a bit longer, and then he and Maggie subtly worked their way through the wall of paintings to each other.

“Well, now we know that I won’t look crazy talking to you in public.” Maggie smiled.

“He can see me. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that everyone else can.”

Maggie huffed. “Nothing’s ever cut and dried with you, is it? Can we just assume, until it’s proven otherwise, that everyone can see you? Please?”

“That sounds reasonable.”

They wandered out of the Impressionist gallery and through other rooms, with nothing in particular catching their interest until they came upon a special exhibition of the institute’s collection of prints and drawings. At first Maggie only glanced at the grayscale sketches and nearly moved on, but then she noticed an etching of a group of cherubs carrying a kneeling woman up to a haloed woman in robes. Behind the women, a man sat on a cloud, holding a crown, and in the background was a dove. The description indicated that this was a depiction of a saint being greeted in Heaven.

There were only a few other people in the room, and they weren’t close, so Maggie asked in a quiet voice, “Is this what Heaven looks like?”

“It conveys the feel of the place in a—”

“Yes or no.”

“There’s more to it tha—”

“Evan…”

“No. If you’re looking at it strictly from a visual perspective, then no, that’s not what Heaven looks like.”

“Thank you,” Maggie said and meant it.

They moved along, and Evan pulled Maggie’s elbow to direct her to a pair of lithographs by Odilon Redon. They were obscure black and white drawings, with the only readily discernible figure being that of an angel holding a sickle. Maggie would have labeled the drawings “modern art,” but they were both dated 1899.

She read the inscriptions. “It’s from Revelation. These are part of a set.” The longer Maggie looked, the more figures made themselves known among the lines. “Those look like—are those aliens?” she asked.

Evan tilted his head to examine from a new angle. “Sinners, I think. Frightened and repentant ones.”

“Why are you showing me these?”

“These are a better representation of the true nature of the ethereal world.”

Maggie scrunched her face. “You’re telling me this is more accurate than cherubs and fluffy clouds? Come on—are you messing with me?”

“I’m not. These pieces don’t capture it literally, but essentially. All art comes from God, but this artist opened himself up more fully to the transcendent parts of the message.”

Maggie looked back at the pictures and frowned. “It’s so…bleak.”

“The end of the world will be. But don’t worry—this was Redon’s last set in
noir
. After this he painted only in color, and I think you’d quite like some of his heavenly images.”

“So his images of the afterlife are fairly accurate?”

“
Essentially,
” they both said at the same time.

“Jinx!” Maggie pinched his arm and spun to leave the room, but stopped near the door when she spied the word “angel” in the title of a geometric piece with a gray shaded rectangle in the center and two more rectangles lying down on either side. When Evan came up behind her, she joked, “Shouldn’t that say ‘angle’?”

Evan stayed silent and when she glanced over her shoulder at him, she saw that he was staring wide-eyed at the etching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He waved his head from side to side. “Quite the contrary—everything’s right. This is exactly what heaven looks like. Literally.”

Maggie jerked her head back and turned to again examine the sparse drawing. She felt utter confusion until Evan lowered his lips to her ear and murmured in a teasing growl, “Now I’m messing with you.”

Maggie jabbed his chest with her shoulder and laughed. “Naughty angel. So have you had enough art for the day? Want to get out of here?”

“If you do.”

A few minutes later they emerged on the sunny steps leading down to Michigan Avenue, still smiling and teasing each other. As they reached the bottom step Maggie heard a familiar voice.

“Maggie Brock?”

Maggie whipped her head toward the voice. “Sharon? I can’t believe I’m seeing you—this is crazy! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Sharon moved closer, and Maggie saw that she had her daughters with her so she and the girls exchanged hellos. “Thanks for the phone call,” Sharon said as soon as the pleasantries were over.

Maggie groaned. “I’m sorry. The time went so fast. I finally got caught up yesterday and decided last minute to take today off.”

It became obvious Sharon could see Evan when her eyes not-so-subtly scanned him up and down. “The girls and I came down for Millennium Park and some shopping. What’s your story?”

“Art Institute,” Maggie answered, gesturing behind her.

“Okay. What’s
his
story?”

Maggie flushed. She wasn’t prepared to introduce Evan to anyone, much less her friend with the overactive imagination. “This is Evan. Evan, this is my friend, Sharon, and her daughters, Kate and Shelby. Evan’s also a friend. He’s an expert on spiritual art and has been enlightening me.”

“I’ll bet he has.” Sharon smiled shamelessly.

“Well, I’ll let you girls get on with your day,” Maggie said, narrowing her eyes at her friend. “We’ll talk back in the ’burbs.”

“You can count on it. Nice meeting you, Evan,” Sharon called as Maggie and he walked away.

Maggie turned east on Monroe and walked as fast as she could for the next few blocks, not slowing until they’d crossed Lake Shore Drive. She led Evan south, away from the crowded yacht club docks to where the view of the lake opened up into a wide, sparkling expanse.

“I’m sorry about that back there,” she said. “I never expected to run into anyone I know down here. I hope it won’t cause any problems for you.”

“Seems more like it’s causing problems for you.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know Sharon. She’s not going to let this go. And what am I supposed to tell her? Even if I wanted to tell her the truth, how do I explain it when even I don’t know what’s going on?”

“You did tell her the truth—we’re friends, and I was telling you about art. Won’t that satisfy her?”

“Not when I told her I had a dream about an angel and now I show up with you looking all—” she waved her hands in front of his white linen “—angelic! She’s going to think you’re my new boy toy and I’m making you play dress up.”

“She’ll think what she wants to think; your only responsibility is the truth.”

“And the truth is that we’re friends.”

“Yes.”

Maggie sighed and stayed quiet, letting herself be mesmerized by the flickers of sunlight as they caught on the tiny peaks of the restless water. She supposed Sharon seeing Evan might not be that big of a deal. Maggie had successfully fended off her friend’s continual innuendo for years, and could continue to do so.

Evan slid his hand around Maggie’s waist and guided her out of the bike lane as an approaching biker angrily tinkled her bell. “Thanks, guardian angel,” Maggie said and wrinkled her nose, letting Evan know she was over her snit. When she looked into his eyes, admiring the way they mimicked the glittering lake, he let his hand slide. As soon as it dropped away, she wanted it back on her. Their physical contact had been rare since the night his fingers had so intimately roved her face, and Maggie was now fully aware of how much she missed his always exhilarating touch.

“So,” she began as they continued their walk along the sunny lakefront, “while we’re somewhat on the topic, would that even be possible—a human and angel romantic entanglement?”

“Angels and humans aren’t meant for each other.”

“I know we weren’t created for each other, but is that all that keeps us—humans and angels—apart? There’s not a…physical reason?” When he peered at her sideways, she snapped her tentative gaze away.

“When we take on the form of man, we take on his entire form, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh.” They walked on in what felt to Maggie like an agitated silence. His answer had been too curt. “Should I not have asked?”

She turned back toward Evan as he lifted his arm to pull a hand through his hair, which seemed to be turning more golden as the summer progressed. When several strands sprang forward to hang nearly into his eyes, Maggie noticed something she hadn’t before.

“Is your hair getting longer?”

He directed his gaze upward and tugged at a section with his fingertips, examining it. “I suppose it’s a consequence of spending an extraordinary amount of time in this form.”

“Back to the form thing…”

“Maggie…” His voice lost some of the stiffness it had taken on a few moments earlier, and he pushed his mouth into a regretful frown that was echoed in his eyes. “As I said, it’s not meant to happen, so there’s no purpose in entertaining ideas of you and I being more than what we are.”

They’d stopped walking and stood staring at each other, with Maggie reading in Evan’s expression something between controlled lust and mild fear—yearning. Before her imagination traveled too far down the path that the angel had just told her was closed, she returned her focus to the spots of light and resumed walking. “Don’t worry, I’m not entertaining ideas. I’m obviously not in any emotional shape to get involved with a human man right now, much less a divine one. Besides, for all I know you’ve already got someone up in those not-clouds.” She stopped abruptly and jerked her attention back to him. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have a wife or something in Heaven?”

“There isn’t marriage or anything of the like in my Father’s kingdom.”

“Ah yes, that’s right.” She let out a sardonic grunt. “Poetic, isn’t it?”

“There is something poetic about a happy earthly marriage too. The freedom and felicity in Heaven is ideal, but it doesn’t diminish the beauty of a well-matched earthly husband and wife.”

“So heavenly beings don’t yearn for companionship the way humans do? You’re okay being solitary forever?”

“We’re not solitary. We’re all one. I don’t long for companionship because I have it, fully. Humans are only ever able to satisfy a part of each other’s need for intimacy. Only the Lord can satisfy it completely. Even the best matched husbands and wives leave gaps of need in one another. Humans seek to fill those gaps through children, friends—”

“Extramarital affairs.”

“Sometimes. It’s all part of yearning for what only the Lord can truly provide. No one is complete until he’s called them to his realm.”

Maggie stayed quiet with her thoughts until she broke the peaceful lull to ask, “Would you like me to make you an appointment with my girl for a haircut?”

Evan flashed her a smile more brilliant than the bright city. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ve got ‘people’ for that.” He’d accentuated his words with his fingers.