Dream Angel : Heaven Waits (9 page)

***

Wrapped in a towel, I sat damp and steaming on a stiff hotel bed. If the clock was right, it was noon. It was too early for a long, deep sleep, but my eyes burned anyway, and I rubbed them as I yawned. I glanced to the doorway. What kind of woman can so easily tempt one of God’s angels? I scowled. Tossing the towel to the floor, I crawled into the fresh sheet. Goosebumps spread over my bare skin in a cooling rush. The crisp, cold sheets were comforting. And when the heat from my body began to melt the iceberg linen, I shifted, searching for yet another frosty landscape in which to lounge. This routine continued until my exhaustion overcame me and my eyelids, too heavy to hold, closed.

I slipped off to a blissful sleep. The soft, but distinctive scent of lavender my mother wore filled my senses. I inhaled slowly and deeply over and over, as if breathing in her very essence. I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a field of flowers. Purple petals on green strands surrounded me. I reached out and softly laid a finger against waxy petals.

This was a field made for my mother, and everything about it was as real as could be. I slowly turned in a complete circle, fully expecting, needing, to see her standing before me. She was nowhere to be seen. I squeezed my eyes closed and held back more tears of disappointment. The ache in my heart was no less than the day she died. I whispered an inaudible prayer to leave this place, and the field slowly melted away. I mercifully sank back into deep slumber.

I woke to the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar. Each melancholic note enamored me, supporting my mood like a sympathetic friend. At first I refused to open my eyes, afraid the beautiful serenade would fade. Eventually, and only when I felt ready to face the world, did I reluctantly peek.

To no surprise, I saw Elvis sitting across from me in the room’s only easy chair. He had changed clothes, and looked refreshed in a navy blue suit, his white shirt crisp and stark against the dark fabric. With his eyes closed, his long fingers finessed each note. A single swatch of black hair drifted lazily across his forehead, and I dared not breathe, for fear of disturbing the moment.

“Rested?” His soft baritone all but hummed the question.

“Yes, except for the dreams.” I stretched under the covers.

“Hmm… yes.” He struck a bluesy twang on the guitar.

“Do you watch my dreams?”
Where did he get that guitar?

“Yes… and from a store down the street,” The music abruptly stopped and Elvis rose from the chair. “I have something I’d like to show you.”

He laid the guitar against the armchair and crossed the room in three strides. I sat up, my mouth poised with an apology, and or question. I couldn’t decide. I never got a chance to sort it out, as he interrupted with a sudden about face u-turn back in my direction.

“Listen, honey, about earlier,” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing back that stray strain to its rightful place. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Right away, a tear collected in the corner of my eye.

“Yes, it was.”

“No, sweetheart, it’s not. Look, w-we just got caught in the middle of a rivalry older than time, that’s all.”

I only knew of one battle older than human existence, and instantly visions of tormented souls swarmed my imagination.

“And that sadistic bastard, he loves to use our weaknesses against us,” Elvis’ words rattled with rage. “He’s just waiting to catch me off guard.”

As he spoke, his eyes were scanning over the room and I found myself looking as well, fearful of what I could not see. My heart pounded and my stomach turned. The mere thought that Lucifer, the first fallen angel of heaven, had inspired such insatiable lust was almost too much to comprehend. It was other-worldly. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew what Elvis had said was true. The devil was real, and he was forever close.

“W-what does he want, me?”

“Oh, he’d love that,” Elvis chuckled and began to pace the room. “No darling’ he’s taunting me and laughing about it. He wants to see me fall to my desires and prove myself unworthy.”

His words tumbled out on what seemed like one breath.

“But, he forgets he’s nothing but an occupational hazard to me, that’s all.” He said, holding his arms straight out at his side, palms up and in a challenging gesture. “I’m not the same man!”

My eyes were fixed on the dark corners of the room. I wanted to scream at him to keep it down. An angelic battle was not what I wanted to see. I was fragile human flesh!

When he refocused to me, the frightened look in my eyes gave him a jolt, and his temper visibly cooled, but only a notch. Red from the neck up, he was fuming just under the line.

“It won’t happen again,” he growled.

Overwhelmed, I managed only a nod.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to ready yourself.” His voice was softer now, but he pointedly slammed the door behind him when he left.

As if someone had yelled “Go!” I sprung off the bed and grabbed my travel bag. I wanted out of that room! I dug out a pair of jeans and a blue cashmere sweater. I held them up the mirror. This was just going to have to do. It was far too cold for anything more feminine.

I almost poked my eye out with the tip of a mascara wand when a knock at the adjacent door startled me.

“Samantha, are you decent?” he called out impatiently.

“Coming,” I hurried, adding the finishing touches.

I yanked opened the door and raced to get my knee-length black jacket. I could feel him watching me from behind. He stood with his weight shifted heavily to the right, and in a stance more relaxed than before. I was happy to see he was not wearing ancient Roman armor, geared up and ready to slay the three headed dragon that I feared was still in my room. And me, without a Mr. Jigs!

In one erratic motion, I jammed one arm through a sleeve while leaning precariously over furniture to reach my scarf.

“It looks cold outside,” I said, as I straightened my jacket’s lapel and fastened the buttons.

With a toss of a dark red scarf around my neck, I was finally ready. My chestnut hair flowed across my shoulders as I turned and almost bumped into Elvis.

“Ready?” He extended me his hand, and an easy smile flickered across his face.

While he carried a black wool coat, matching gloves, and a hat in one hand, he held me in his other. He drew me close as we walked. I admired his jet black hair, combed perfectly straight back and not a single hair out of place. I pondered why God would create a man so handsome, tell me not to touch him, and then say it loud enough for the devil to hear? Even I knew that Satan couldn’t resist opposing God. And I was sure the dark angel was having a good laugh at how easily I was led astray.

Elvis was right. The fight between good and evil was like a game of cat-and-mouse. And, it went so far back one couldn’t help but wonder if anyone really knew what they were fighting about. The point was lost to me, I thought as we exited the room, and I watched Elvis pull the hat down low around his face. The Bible says the Devil loses in the end, I reminded myself. I guess Satan doesn’t read, I chuckled and then looked around.

“Where are we going?” I moved closer to my protector.

“It’s a surprise.”

***

In the faint afternoon light we strolled. I leaned against his sturdy frame and followed his even strides, not bothering to watch where I was going. Instead, I looked up at the sky that hung over our heads like an abstract work of art. Safe by his side, I became lost in the colorful strokes of orange and purple signaling the sun’s last hurrah of the day. Soon the night’s shadows will have their turn at splendor, and judging by how quickly the sun was sinking to the horizon, it was destiny that I enjoy it with an angel.

God is a talented artist, I thought. And as I was considering if I had ever walked in a more prefect evening, with a more wonderful escort, my cell phone beeped. Elvis moved back, and I reached for my bag, keenly aware of the odd mix of curiosity and impatience that radiated by my side. Though he had once owned the first cell phone, I don’t imagine he'd have ever guessed they would one day be small enough to get lost in a lady’s purse. And I was flipping my cell phone open even before it was fully exposed. The word “Steve” flashed in and out of focus. I hit read.

You leave town without a word
?

My heartbeat skipped. Instantly, my thoughts flashed to that unidentified car drifting so unassumingly in the shadows as we fled Memphis last night. And if that wasn’t enough to rattle me, there was always Tupelo.

“I-I will return this later,” I looked around, forced a smile, and snapped the phone shut.

The park was only a few short blocks, but Elvis’ gate was now more of a march than his normal easy glide. As I walked in double-time steps, battling his stride, my mind spun with worry. Ahead, I could see a cemented path, lined with trees, and filled with pedestrians. He headed straight for it.

“Who do people see walking next to me?” I hoped to discuss anything outside of Steve or the happenings back at the hotel.

“They see what they want to see,” he said pointedly.

It was impossible to miss the vibe of a troubled Elvis. Alive, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. And though he was an angel, this hadn’t changed, and I knew better than to push. We were well in to our walk before I felt his arm muscles relax, and that centered angelic demeanor return.

All around us, cars filled the streets. They whisked by as workers, freshly released from cubicles all over town, got a reprieve for the day. And just like in Tupelo I couldn’t help but tense up. I repeated, under my breath, God is in control — another one of my daddy’s tips — and after saying it ten times, I began to feel that circle of warmth that meant God was close.

Soon, my senses sharpened and the night came alive. I enjoyed the sweet smell of a tulip poplar tree, filling the early evening air. And while I drew in a deeper breath, relishing the comforting scent of nature, I heard raised voices. Like the teenagers who loudly played field games in the last moments of daylight.

“In case you’re wondering, Steve is the man I met while looking for you back at Graceland,” I explained. “He’s a fan of yours.”

“I’m aware of who he is.” Elvis turned to face me.

His face looked grim, worried even, and I was holding my breath, waiting for him to continue, but the moment was cut short by an object that fell from the sky. We both jumped as a football wobbled at our feet before settling onto its side.

“Hey, mister, can you get the ball for us?” Cracked the voice of a tall boy from across the field.

Smiling politely, Elvis bent down and picked up the football, rolling it around in his hands. Gripping it like a pro, he leaned back, and with a whip of his arm, sent the ball flying through the air. A crowd of teenage boys scrambled to catch it, all falling short, and miscalculating the power and distance of the throw.

“Ah, man,” they collectively moaned.

Elvis smirked, his satisfaction obvious as he bent over to pick up his stylish hat that had tumbled to the ground. Placing it firmly back in place, he grabbed my hand and guided me away from the game. In light of all that had happened, explaining Steve was never more important. And I tried to broach the subject with him, only to be shut down with talk about the weather and the distance of the drive that still lay ahead. Finally, I just gave up. What was one more day? It could wait till tomorrow. Our time together was precious and it was such a lovely evening.

***

Centered in the middle of town, the park was larger than I imagined. Of course that was of no concern for Elvis. Once inside the park, he knew exactly which way to travel. At every cross section, he moved without hesitation, and every turn always led to yet another well maintained path and another direction. I was beginning to wonder if he had a destination in mind until we finally arrived at a tranquil picnic area with a small lake just off in the distance.

Water gently lapped at the shore. We were not alone, but only a few couples lingered. They huddled close together for warmth and strolled along a tree-lined path around the water’s edge. They looked happy, and in love. And my own heart skipped, happy to share the last remaining hours of the day with my love. A romantic at heart, I wanted nothing more than to watch the sun as it slipped below the horizon, a real heaven on earth moment.

A green park bench sat at the edge of the moderate shore line, and Elvis motioned for me to take a seat. While I looked around for my surprise, he let out a grunt and sat down by my side, lifting his arm around my shoulder. A light breeze tousled my hair, and his. Still puzzled, I looked back over my shoulder to the children playing in the sandbox a short distance behind us and smiled. Each child sat digging with the passion of tiny gold miners. And when one turned our way, my smile widened even further.

“What is so special about this lake?” I continued to watch as the shy little princess stepped out of the sand. Her long blonde ringlets bounced, giving her the air of purpose as she walked our way.

She only briefly glanced to me as she circled around to her intended mark. I watched Elvis' eyes widen in surprise as the little miss crawled up on to his lap without so much as a word. Smiling broadly, he took her by the elbow and gave her a boost.

“Well, hello, sweetness. What can I do for you?” He glanced around, temporarily mystified. I nodded toward the direction from which she had come.

She lifted her tiny little hands over her mouth, and leaned in closer to his ear. As the tiniest whisper hummed next to his ear, Elvis’ smile was dazzling, and his teeth shined white against the paleness of her doll-like skin.

“She did?” He beamed.

“Yup,” said our small guest, folding her hands in to her lap.

“Well, I’ll be.” Elvis’ eyes twinkled as if the sweet child had just told him the most wonderful news.

“And…” The little blonde girl paused to look at me as if considering whether she could say what was on her mind. And after giving it some thought, she leaned back to continue her conversation with Elvis in private.

I instinctively longed to have a child as lovely as her, and I could not help but want to hold her. And while I drifted away, lost to a fantasy filled with bed time stories and afternoons spent baking cookies, Elvis’ laughter burst out into the evening, interrupting my dreams of motherhood.

“Ok darlin’. I’ll be sure to do just that.” Elvis hugged her to his chest and her little arms clutched his neck.

“Grace!” A distressed call rang out from behind.

The little girl’s eyes got wide as she slid off Elvis’ lap. I extended her my hand, but she sprung down all on her own. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see what I assumed was little Grace’s mom, displaying that look of fear all parents get when they cannot find their children.

“She’s over here,” I waved to a relieved looking woman who picked up her pace and trotted toward us.

“Sorry!” The woman called.

“It’s quite alright. She’s a doll.” I yelled back.

Pulling her knee-length jacket down like a well trained little southern lady, Grace circled around the bench. She walked back to mom slowly, which only caused her name to be bellowed in a tone that made even me flinch. And I couldn’t help but chuckle over the sight of Grace skipping along, and not the least bit worried.

Having gone just a few steps, Grace suddenly stopped, spun around, and raced back our way. My heart skipped a beat as this time she ran toward me, not Elvis. Out of breath from all the excitement, she stretched up onto her toes in order to reach my ear.