Dream Angel : Heaven Waits (5 page)

“We’re stopping?” Heather whispered with a hint of wishful thinking in her tone.

My eyes suddenly flashed to the gated steel pressing against my cheek.

“This is the way in.” I pointed through the gate, briefly sizing up the odds of scaling the fence.

I wrapped my fingers around the cold chain link, and gave it a quick, firm yank. The fortress was solid.

“What now?” Heather demanded.

I bent down and my hands flinched over the pointy edges along the metal seams of the iron gates. I stood up and let out a sigh. It just couldn’t be that easy. Not for me. With my hands on my hips, I turned toward Heather and started to speak. As I twisted, my elbow hit the gate hard enough to make me wince, adding injury to the ongoing insult.

“Crap!” I spat out, not caring anymore if anyone heard.

Click.

I stopped rubbing my throbbing elbow and looked at Heather. I judged by the size of her eyes that she, too, had heard the gate open behind me. I gave it a gentle push with one finger, and it slid smoothly open.

“I don’t believe it!” Heather gave me a sideways hug.

“Me neither,” I mumbled under my breath.

The bottomless shadows of night enclosed us as we glanced up to the heavens. A blanket of white clouds painted the night’s sky over our heads. The thick cover whisked by in a persistent stream that stirred my emotions, swelling the fervor like the opening score of an anticipated epic movie.

Heather and I watched in silence. We were like small fish dropped into a big pond, neither of us knowing where to go first. We were out of our league. And other than a few minor speeding tickets, neither of us had ever been in trouble with the law. The simple fact that we were standing on private property like some cat burglars should have been a sobering reality. But we were not ourselves, and both of us seemed bent on our own personal agendas. I knew what mine was, but with Heather things were a little more unclear. Granted, I had pushed her pretty hard, but she rarely did anything she didn’t want to. And, if this act of insanity was strictly for me, out of friendship, how long could I keep allowing her to put herself in harms-way? No doubt, I cared about her more than I cared about myself, I thought while glancing back to the church with my first twinge of sadness for the night.

“If anything unfortunate should happen, promise me you’ll save yourself first.” I spoke softly. And when I looked back, Heather’s who-are-you look made me smile, if only lightly.

“No,” she said.

“Then how about we run like the devil is chasing us and meet at an agreed location?” I squinted through the thicket towards the boulevard. “Like the first hotel south of Graceland?”

She grunted and then sighed. “Fine."

It was a short walk, and except for the dull sound of our footsteps, the night was hushed. No tiny eyes glowed back to us from within the shadows that circled. Even the light breeze seemed to blow without a sound. It was as if Mother Nature held her breath.

When we emerged from the woods, I stopped to admire the grand manor off in the distance. Every window was filled with an ominous darkness that aroused sadness within me despite its beauty. Just like the church, nobody dwelled inside Graceland’s walls. A soft glow of light beamed up on the outside of the house illuminating it like a precious piece of showcased art.

In contrast, while the front of the manor glowed soft and peaceful the property behind the home was surprisingly bright. I wondered how I had never noticed the spotlights during past visits. They shined across the pasture, highlighting the field as intensely as the light of day. And except for the trail along the fence line, virtually no shadows existed for us to hide. I glanced over to Heather who stood expressionless, dazed by the same sight.

He won’t let anything bad happen
, I barely heard my thoughts of reassurance over the rushing of my heart, surging an echo like that of a raging sea inside my ears.

“Let’s do this.” Heather suddenly refocused.

Inch by inch, we shuffled along the back of the estate, and followed an aged white picketed fence. Our progress was slow, and I could hear Heather breathing close behind. I had never realized how far-flung thirteen acres could feel before that night. The plan, as I had thought out thus far, was to circle around back, behind the barn, and arrive at Meditation Gardens on the opposite side, the south side, of the property.

This would prove to be harder than one might think as the ground was hard from the winter freeze, and rolled under my feet. In what seemed like my every step, I stumbled only to catch myself before tumbling to my knees. No wonder Elvis rode around Graceland in golf carts. The terrain was dangerous. Horses, go-carts, cars and motorbikes were all better adapt than strolling around the back forty on two feet.

I reached the tall white barn first. A pungent smell of soiled hay drifted over me on a breeze. And though I believed my steps to be of stealth like silence, a horse nickered from inside causing me to flinch and gasp a breath of stinging cold air in to my lungs. Instantly, I began cooing in low purring sounds but it didn’t help. The animal was pounding the barn floor, expressing annoyance with every solid thud that vibrated the dirt under my feet.

Not far behind me, I could see Heather wobbling down the path I had just traveled. The sight of her stumbling, her arms instantly out at her side for more balance, made me smile. It felt like forever, but once at my side, I grabbed Heather and we both crouched down. The barn provided the only real protective shadows in which we could hide. We were almost there.

Meditation Gardens, Elvis’ final resting place, was only half a football field away. And, looking out in to the wide open space between us and the gardens I felt my heart sink. It looked to me as bright as Turner field before opening pitch, and still no sign of my angel.

“This is ridiculous, Samantha. If he is
your
hard working angel, why are
we
sneaking around?” Heather hissed.

I closed my eyes and longed for that serene feeling a visit to the Gardens usually brought to me but tranquility refused to settle.

“He won’t come now. You know why? Because he’s pissed we broke in to his home.” Heather continued to fume.

My eyes flew open. I stood straight up, alarm rising in my chest like a hot air balloon suddenly cut free from the grounding ties of safety. I looked up to the nights grey backdrop, and the clouds churned just like my stomach. Thoughts of abandoning my mission began to chip away at my bravado. I was taking one retreating step backwards when over head a white veil parted to divulge what it selfishly concealed all night — the moon.

The fully illuminated planet was high in the sky, brilliant and proud. Under this sign of encouragement, my confidence stirred. I was reconsidering my desire to retreat when the wind gusted, and a new aroma was carried in the breeze. I inhaled a fragrance as original as the man himself, and a smile spread across my face.

“Sam, are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Heather squatted by my side.

“He’s in the garden.” I whispered.

“He is buried there! This is crazy.” Heather plopped down onto the ground. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this.”

I could hear her ranting, but I remained focused on a bouquet that had traveled an impossible length just for me.

Now that we were positioned at the back of Meditation Garden, I could see the gazebo’s stepped-brick wall, built in the shape of a horseshoe and curving around the gravesites like a protective barricade. Because it was open at either end, entering the garden would be easy. And the side closest to me seemed the obvious path, but the field I had to cross to get there looked as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. Placing one foot in front of the other, I moved towards my heart’s desire. Grass crunched under my feet.

As I drew closer, the sound of splashing water from the Garden’s twelve-foot fountain centerpiece grew louder, escalating my anticipation. And when I reached the back of the garden’s brick wall, I turned and leaned heavily against its cold hard surface, my chest heaving from the thrill.

Heather followed my path across the field, and when I looked back, I could see her lips moving as she walked. I couldn't help but smile over the sight. I imagine she was asking herself why she was following her crazy friend on a journey that she could never tell another living soul. She was a trooper, I had to give her that, and I admired her all-for-one-and-one-for-all attitude. The mere thought of her devoted friendship lifted my smile into a wider smirk. That is until I heard a thud, followed by cursing.

“Are you ok?” I whispered as loud as I dared.

“Shit!”

I held back my laughter only to hear hers let go.

“Shhhh…” I tried, but I was already giggling out of sheer edginess.

“Oh, who cares, Samantha,” Heather said, crawling on her hands and knees. “We’re going to jail any minute now, anyway.”

Before I could argue, the smart
click-clack
of hard-soled shoes sounded from the other side of the wall. I pushed my back flatter against the brick, and a second later, the footsteps paused.

My heart was pounding as I waved to Heather, desperate to stop her progress, but she never saw my warning. She was already up, and walked with eyes cast downward, carefully monitoring each step. My fear quickly escalated as I strained to hear every sound in the night — a sparse rose bush rustling here, a dead leaf grazing the cement there — while also considering if I shouldn’t just make a run for it, grabbing my friend along the way. And the moment I shifted my weight forward, ready to flee, the smell of a sweet cigar floated lazily over the wall. That was no security guard on break. I knew exactly who smoked that very cigar.

“Y’all realize you’re trespassin’.” His familiar drawl sent a chill down my spine.

I took one self-controlled step in the direction of his voice, and then stopped, briefly reconsidering his tone. His words sounded scolding but not heated.

“Beggin’ your pardon
sir
but the owner of the house will gladly make our excuses I’m sure,” I said, adding an extra twang to my already southern bell tone.

“That’s unlikely,
ma’am
.” He mocked and I smiled wider.

Even when he was annoyed, I believed him to be adorable. And though I couldn’t see him, he sounded so close that my stomach quivered, and Goosebumps broke out over my arms as I anticipated being in this handsome man’s presence.

I forced myself to meander along the wall, listening to the sound of my downed jacket rustling against its rough surface. And when I finally reached the end, I peeked around the corner, and found Elvis, at the far end of the gazebo, leaning against one of the four Ionic columns of the pergola. Even in the shadows of the night, his majestically famous outline was unmistakable. And as he stood there, with the tip of a cigar glowing red in his hand, he had an extra measure of ease about him.

“Old habit,” Elvis said while turning the cigar around to inspect it before lifting his foot, and extinguishing its embers against the hard soul of his boot.

A golden radiance of back lighting filtered through the stained-glass window behind him, caressing his face while also highlighting something new. Was that facial hair?

“You’re as spirited as ever, I see.” He pushed away from the stone column, and that minuscule challenging grin of his was almost lost when in direct competition with the twinkle in his eyes.

In the dimly lit night, I forgot myself, and allowed my gaze linger down his dark slacks. And because he never missed a thing, he cleared his throat, and my attention quickly returned to his smirking face.

“I simply trust you to keep me safe, sire.” I crossed my legs and politely curtsied hoping Elvis’ humor would over shadow his displeasure.

“Smart-al-lick.” His eyes narrowed in a playful retort.

He strode my way in smooth elongated steps that continued to captivate me. And as I held my breath, he glided into the light, drawing nearer, and finally standing so close he was but a kiss away.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re mulish?” His lips molded around the word, pursing forward, and closer to my own.

Without rebuttal, I laid a hand against his scratchy two-day growth of a beard, enjoying the feel of his skin, so warm, and most importantly, so alive under my touch. And I was busy caressing his cheek while he placed his hand over mine, and pressed my touch deeper against his skin.

“
You
were late.” I sighed rather dramatically.

“
You
brought company,” he returned, and that animated left eyebrow of his rose.

Still holding my gaze, he slowly turned into my hand and kissed the inside of my palm. My heart fluttered as his warm lips lingered, and the stirring of emotion I saw in his eyes told me he could feel the throbbing of my pulse that gave away my excitement. I have no idea how long this moment lasted, and I truly could have stood in that very spot held only by his gaze, but I was jarred back to the present by a clattering nearby, on the gazebo’s cement floor.

“Y’all are like bulls in a china cabinet,” Elvis dropped my hand.

I had forgotten all about Heather, and when I turned, she was regaining her composure from tripping up the gazebo step. Her eyes grew wider, and her mouth fell agape, as one of the most famous men in the world sauntered her way.

Soon she will understand, I thought.

“Hello. I’m Elvis Presley.” Elvis extended her his hand and spoke as though Heather had no idea who he was.

Unable to believe her own eyes, Heather looked at least three times from me to Elvis and back again. Elvis’ hand hung in the air while Heather blinked rapidly. I could not recall if I had ever seen her completely speechless.

“Does your friend speak?” Elvis timidly rubbed the inside of his empty palm with the thumb of his other hand.

“Sadly, yes.” I watched Heather’s face closely.

When she suddenly turned toward me, her eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and I braced myself. Her mouth opened to fire a retort, but then unexpectedly she clamped it shut, and her lips became a single line once again.

“I think she’s comin’ around.” Elvis leaned in closer.

Heather’s heated stare turned back only to melt like molten lava in cool ocean waters.

“You’re dead!” She exclaimed, and her outburst so startled me that I involuntarily laughed out loud, and then quickly covered my mouth with both hands.

“Yes ma’am, last I looked, I was.” Elvis chuckled and once again extended her his hand.

This time she took it.

“Friends?” Elvis asked, as Heather looked down and I wondered if she understood she was touching an angel.

“Friends,” she smiled.

Suddenly, the snap of a twig sounded. My heart leaped up into my throat while Heather and I both turned, as if something or someone approached outside of the garden.

“What was that?” I whispered.

“Security,” Elvis dropped Heather's hand, and coolly folded his arms across his chest.

“Security!” Heather and I spoke loudly and in unison.

“I-I thought you would handle that?” I lowered my voice.

“Do my job, you mean?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ll do it alright. I should turn you over my knee right here.”