Falling From Grace (27 page)

I reached for the warmth when my arms were free, the tugging snapping
,
shredding threads here and there, weakening the ribbon as the struggle for dominance grew more desperate.
 
And then suddenly I was falling.
 
The ribbon had been severed, one end whole, the other frayed and torn.
 
I was falling, not from the sky, but from the earth.
 
I remembered believing that my world had been thrown off its axis, but this was different; I was right side up, while the world was upside down.
 
I was falling…up.

No.
 
Not falling
—
floating.

I opened my eyes
—
his name came out in a sigh because I knew the fire had me.
 
“Robert…”

He smiled at me, his arms cradling me to him; my arms were around his neck and my head leaning against his chest as I held him to me just as securely.
 
Perhaps even more so.
 
We were…we were flying!
 
And we were surrounded, it seemed, by wisps of smoke, gray mixed with white tufts:
 
My angel on a cloud.

I looked down and saw the lights of homes and street lamps twinkling like upside down stars, as if to make up for those that were missing from the sky.
 
And in the cold, starless night, I felt nothing but warmth.
 
I felt no fear of falling, I felt no chill.
 
I was safe with him no matter where we were heading.
 
If nothing else, I was sure of that much.

I watched him, his face serene, his smile satisfied.
 
He was content.
 
In his arms, I felt more than that.
 
I felt
—
no, I knew without an ounce of doubt in my soul
—
there was no one who had ever been closer to heaven than I was right then.
 

I knew it by the way my blood warmed when he pressed his lips against my hair in a reassuring way.
 
I knew it by the way my skin sang when he pressed his mouth against my ear and whispered in French how glad he was that he had been able to steal away sooner than he had originally thought.
 
I knew it by the way it felt as though I would simply float higher if he were to let me go.
 

When I saw his liquid eyes rippling like a disturbed pool of molten metal, I knew that he could hear my thoughts and it pleased him.
 
He pulled me closer to him, I held on tighter, and neither of us felt satisfied, my human frailty and his divine strength finding no compromise in such an awkward and unyielding position.
 
I finally asked him where we were headed when he started his descent.
 
The gray wisps around us slowly dissipated, and then we were on the ground, his landing so smooth I only realized it when my sock-covered feet curled over cold gravel.

I looked around at the familiar surroundings and knew we were at his family’s retreat; a large white tent had been set up on the greens while the gazebo had been decorated with flowers and gauze.
 
There had been a wedding here recently, I surmised, but the guests had long gone, and the bride and groom were off celebrating their first night as husband and wife together somewhere.

The remnants of the celebrations were chaotic, but recorded completely the quick progression and celebration of two individual lives joining together and starting out as one all in the happenings of a single day. The gazebo was calm and serene, where the vows till forever were given.
 
The table where bride and groom had been central figures still contained two champagne flutes; both still half full of the now flat golden liquid, lipstick smeared on the lip of one of them.

All of it was symbolic, in a way, of how things were now with Robert and I.
 
In one day, we’d gone from virtual strangers to tied for life.
 
His secret, which he had shared so willingly, was now mine, and would be until the day I died.

There had been no cake and no gauze, no band playing big band standards, no flower girls asleep on someone’s lap, and definitely no champagne.

But there was chili.

I laughed.
 
Yes.
 
There had been chili.

“Why did you bring me here, Robert?”
 
I asked finally, feeling suddenly melancholy as I acknowledged that the circumstances would not allow for any more similarities.
 

He sensed my mood before he’d heard my thoughts.
 
He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the center of the tent.
 
“I brought you here because I wanted you to meet my family.”
 

I jerked my head around quickly, wondering if I had missed something.
 
There was no one here but us.
 
I looked up at him, puzzled.
 
“Are they going to show up?
 
Are we meeting them here so late?”

He laughed.
 
“They’re already here.
 
Watch.
 
Pay attention.
 
Do. Not. Blink.”

I frowned.
 
I had been paying attention.
 
When he pointed towards the bride and groom’s table, I took in the glasses of champagne once again, the flowers that had been scattered on the tablecloth in a rush to start dancing, and the tiny stains of food and drink that made for a marvelous harlequin overlay on the bright white linen.
 
I blinked as suddenly, instantly, magically there were no glasses.
 
As if they had disappeared.
 
The only evidence that they had even been there were the rings of moisture they had left on the tablecloth.

I walked awkwardly over to touch the two circles, to reassure myself that those, at least, were real.
 
I was an inch away from feeling the cool moisture on my fingertips when a light, sweetly fragranced breeze rushed around me, touching me gracefully as though someone were hugging me, causing me to jerk back; and then the damask cloth was gone, leaving a bare table in its place.

I whipped around to stare at Robert.
 
He was laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement.
 
I must have looked pretty funny as a partially immobilized, soon-to-be heart attack victim because all around me, the tables that had once been covered in dishes and cloths, flowers and napkins, were all bare, and my eyes kept growing wider, my jaw dropped lower, my heartbeat growing far more irregular.

“Oh.”
 
I turned around and saw no movement, just things disappearing.
 
“How…?”

I watched, dumbstruck, as one by one, the tables were removed in the blink of an eye.
 
No.
 
Faster!
 
In the time it takes most people to blink in astonishment, the entire floor had been cleared of tables, linens, and service.
 
I tried to see if anything had been missed, but nothing had.
 
Not even a grain of rice lay on the portable flooring beneath my feet.
 
It was as if nothing had been here, and the wedding had never taken place.

All that remained were the tent and the floor because in that moment, the lights under the tent and those in the gravel parking lot went out.

It was nearly black as pitch and I felt the slight trembling of fear creep up in me as the realization hit that I was very alone.
 
Robert had disappeared when the lights went out and now, abandoned in the darkness, I was more afraid than I had ever been in my life.

“Robert?” my shaky voice called out, the cold of the September night becoming more apparent in my loneliness.
 

“Look up,” he said softly from behind me, but rather than obey, I turned towards the direction of his voice.
 
He wasn’t there.
 

He chuckled.
 
“Look up, Gee.
 
Trust me.”

So I did.

And the sky suddenly appeared, the starlight bursting out from nothing, like someone had just thrown diamonds across the black velvet night.
 
“Oh!”
 
I gasped, in awe of something so simple, yet so beautiful.
 
It felt as though he, himself, had given me the sky for my keeping.

“It’s so beautiful,” I sighed.
 
“You never see the stars like that at home; the street lights kind of turn everything yellow.
 
I think I could look at this all night…”
 
Awestruck, I just stared upwards, completely content in the quiet magic of a starlit sky.

I could say the same thing.

I blinked, and looked around again.
 
He was standing by a small table that had been set up near the gazebo.
 
I hadn’t noticed it before, but as he had in the visions he had shared with me that first day, Robert was now giving off a very visible…glow.
 
It was a pale golden light, soft and comforting.

“You’re a glow-in-the-dark Robert,” I mused.

“I’m also a mood glow-in-the-dark Robert.
 
Our colors change with how we’re feeling.”

I hobbled towards him and saw with my own eyes that he was right.
 
Whatever his mood was before, it had changed, and the once golden glow was now a brilliant white.
 
“So what are you feeling now?”

He reached out his hand to me, and pulled me very quickly into his arms.
 
“I’m feeling blissfully happy.”

“Why?” I asked, my tone hesitant but hopeful as I landed squarely against his rock solid chest, my cast making a solid thunking sound as it hit him.

“I’m happy because you know my secrets, you know what I am, and you have not once asked me to do something that goes beyond the human limits.
 
Quite honestly, you haven’t asked me for anything.

“You’re perfectly content to stare at the stars, happy with me showing you the sky, as if I had just gifted you with jewels.
 
Like I said, you’re
very
different from the other girls.
 
It’s an amazing thing, and that makes me happy,” he said, pushing back a lock of hair from my face.

 
 
“Oh.”
 
I tried to mask my disappointment.
 
He was happy because I was
different
?
 
That did nothing for my ego.
 
Or, it would have done nothing for my ego, had I had one to begin with.

He sighed, a little exasperated.
 
“I thought we’d been through this already.
 
Different doesn’t mean bad, Grace.”

I looked at him.
 
Could he really be so obtuse?
 
His glow changed from white to green, and his arms loosened around me.
 
“Are you annoyed now?”

How did you guess?

“Because if I had to pick a color that would personify annoyance to me, it’d be green.”
 
I replied

Why do you think I’m obtuse?

I cocked my head to the side.
 
“Now I
know
you’re obtuse.”
 
I straightened my head out and then shook it, amazed that he could read my mind, yet could not figure out what I was feeling.

Well, enlighten me.
 
Be my Yoda.

I stepped out from the circle of his arms and held my own out, my right arm stiff in its cast.
 
“I was hoping that this
—
what I am, who I am, the fact that I’m here
—
would be what made your glow…white.
 
Instead, it’s because I’m ‘different’.
 
Whether different is a good or bad thing isn’t the problem.
 
I know I’m different.
 
It’s a fact that’s been pointed out to me every single day of my life.
 
But when you say that you’re happy right now
because
I’m different, well…that doesn’t make me feel all that great about myself.
 
Especially when the last thing I ever wanted to be was
different
.”

Robert reached for me again and slowly pulled me back into the circle of his embrace.
 
“Silly girl.
 
You’re so much more than different.
 
And there is much more that I’m happy about than just your differences.
 

“Yes, I’m happy that you are here.
 
More than mere human words
—
in any language
—
can express.
 
And yes, I’m exceptionally grateful that you are who you are, and that you are a part of my life.
 
But, when I said that I’m happy you’re different than those other girls, a great deal of that has to do with my family who can, and will, appreciate you so much because of it.”
 
He kissed my forehead then and turned me around.

I choked on whatever it was I was going to say.
 
Then, I gasped.

Standing before me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
 
And she was also eerily familiar.
 
Her face was pure porcelain, smooth and perfect.
 
Her long, black hair was braided and pulled over her shoulder, the end unencumbered by any type of hairband, and yet the braid held.
 
Her thin, graceful hands reached forward, an offering of welcome.
 
“Hello, Grace.”
 
Her voice was soft, melodic.
 
“My name is Ameila.
 
I am N’Uriel
—
excuse me—I am
Robert’s
mother.”