Falling From Grace (28 page)

I placed my hand in hers, lulled, almost enchanted by her voice and beauty.
 
And as it had with Robert, the instant my skin touched hers, my mind was flooded with her thoughts.

Though she had been intrigued to see me, she had also been unsure of what type of person I would be.
 
She had no faith in human girls, no faith in their honesty or their hearts.
 
Time had only made them worse, more self-centered and superficial.
 
She had tolerated so many previous indiscretions by her son, so many faithless, useless girls.
 
She had expected me to be the same:
 
Beautiful and empty, like an expertly wrapped gift box.
 
She was surprised to truly see that my features were plain, and my affections were sincere.

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bellegarde.”
 
I told her, my voice squeaky and nervous.
 
I meant the words, but still felt fearful that she’d think I was lying.

“Please, call me Ameila.
 
I am no more a married woman than you are, my dear,” she laughed, her voice sounding like notes plucked off a harp in rising and falling harmonies and melodies.

She stepped aside then so that I could meet the other member of this trio of Bellegardes.
 
But we had already met.
 
And her face was still cold.

“H-h-hello, Lark,” I stumbled, unable to contain the shakiness in my voice.

“I’m not going to kill you, so quit acting like it,” came her biting reply.

Robert’s body stiffened behind me and I almost choked when she smiled and I saw fangs.

Ameila released a deep growl of admonishment, her daughter’s name sounding sharp and dangerous when tossed out so angrily.

The fangs quickly retreated, and I blinked, as if to wipe away the vision from my eyes.

Scared, are you?
 
You should be.

Her voice echoed through my head and I knew that Robert had heard it too because I was soon stumbling back, no longer supported by him; he was in front of me, hissing at his sister like some deranged cobra, one hand braced against my front, the other clenched in a fist at his side.

“Oh come off it, Rob.
 
I was just playing with the girl.
 
Really, if she’s going to be your girlfriend, she’s going to have to develop a spine.
 
Far better she grow one from dealing with me than discover she has none when the time comes,” she said out loud, a smirk teasing the corner of her beautiful mouth.

I wanted to pay attention to the part where she said I needed to develop a spine but the necessity of one was the furthest thing from my mind because when Lark said “your girlfriend”, my ears began to buzz with such intensity, I nearly took off floating all on my own.
 
But, in an instant, self-consciousness took a firm hold of me and tied me down.
 
Robert was responding.

“Who or what I date is none of your concern, Lark.
 
She’s in no more danger than any of the others were, and I trust you’ll do nothing to prove me wrong.”

In that moment, I remembered something from the thoughts his mother passed into my mind:
 
All of his “
previous indiscretions
” and “
so many useless girls
”.
 
How many had there been?
 
And if I was so different, why would I be in the same boat as all of the “
others
”?
 

The familiar feeling of complete and utter inadequacy rolled over me as I realized that I wasn’t different at all.
 
Despite my claims of wanting just that, it hurt to know that I truly was exactly the same, and I’d end up exactly the same.
 
And what did that mean exactly?
 
He wasn’t with them, so that could only mean one thing…

Impossible, improbable, irrational.
 
It truly was.

Lark snorted.
 
“I don’t have to do anything, brother, for your reputation precedes you.”
 
She nodded towards me, and Robert turned to look at me.

He could see the hurt and confusion written on my face, but made no move to comfort me
—
he knew there was nothing he could say to make me feel any differently at the moment.
 
His mother’s words had condemned him and his own had been the writ that made it official.

Ameila came to stand between us, knowing what both of us were thinking, and knowing that she had been the catalyst to the growing canyon between her son and I.

“Robert, I have a gift for Grace in the gazebo.
 
Could you please go and get it?” she asked, more a suggestion than a request.
 
It seemed ridiculous, this semblance of privacy knowing that he would still be able to hear us, hear our thoughts, but the gesture comforted me somehow.

“Grace, I know that what I said has upset you.
 
It wasn’t mea
—
no.
 
It
was
meant to upset you.
 
I’m concerned for you and though I adore my son with as much love as a mother can give, I cannot deny his faults,” she said as she watched him leave while taking my hand and leading me to a familiar bench.

I sat down next to her, trying to grasp what she was saying to me while also trying to understand what had already been said that could not be taken back.
 
I looked at Ameila and felt immediately awkward.
 
It was easy to do so when someone so beautiful was looking at you the way she was looking at me.

“Ameila, I know you’re concerned for your son, that you’re worried that I’ll expose him…that I’ll take advantage of his secret.
 
I won’t.
 
I can’t.
 
There’s not much that I can guarantee about anything, especially to an angel, but I can do that.
 
You don’t have to pretend to be concerned for me,” I said carefully, trying very hard to not think about anything but the fact that I meant those words.

She brought my hand to her heart.
 
“Oh dear.
 
You poor, poor child.
 
I forget how much you don’t know.”
 
She shook her head as if the thought that I was so woefully ignorant was a tragedy in and of itself.
 
She looked at me, her eyes full of both amusement and sadness.
 
How incredible to be able to feel both without any confliction.

“Grace, you don’t understand.
 
I cannot be dishonest with you.
 
No angel can.
 
With a few exceptions, we are bound by our laws to be honest.
 
When I said that I was concerned about you, I meant it,” Ameila said, smiling sadly and patting my cheek.

“Why would you be concerned about me?
 
You don’t even know me.
 
Robert doesn’t even know me.”
 
That statement couldn’t be any more truthful, I told myself, leaning my head into my free hand, my elbow resting on my knee.
 
It all seemed so crazy.

The beautiful woman sitting next to me patted my hand still enclosed within her own.
 
“You sweet girl.
 
You seem to be under the misconception that angels are bound to the same rules and laws as you humans.
 
We are not.
 
Robert knows more about you than you could dream; we all do.
 
Our minds are open to each other, and what he sees in you, we do as well, just as what we see, so, too does he.

“He’s so hungry for information about you that he has delved unbelievably deep into your mind; he knows your entire life, from beginning to present; even the memories your mind isn’t capable of recalling due to age, time, and…trauma are known to him.
 
You intrigue him, Grace, and after seeing your life in his eyes, I admit you intrigue me, too.
 
It is because of this that I cannot accept him wanting to be with you; it would hurt you too greatly when the time came where he’d find himself bored with you, as he has with so many others.

“I have seen the broken hearts that he has left behind, Grace, and while I have understood all of them, and have even hoped for them on occasion, I cannot say that I would feel unmoved if the same thing were to happen to you.
 
You are different, as my son says, and in the ways that truly matter.
 
It gives me hope, but it also causes me to fear greatly for your welfare.
 
You’ve already suffered tragic losses in your life
—
the depth of emotions I feel and see in you that you possess for my son; to lose him would be like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and I fear that you would no longer be the same person when that time came.”

Listening to her speak, I felt the sadness within me seep out, like a stain on my heart.
 
She did not want me to be with her son because she was certain that he’d hurt me in some devastatingly painful way.
 
That she would care enough about me to want to prevent that, that maternal sense of protection that she displayed was enough to cause me to lose my hold on my emotions.

Oh great, now you’re going to use the waterworks?
 
Please.
 
Like he hasn’t seen that a thousand times.
 
Lark’s voice was in my head, icy in its mocking.

The great part about losing control over your emotions is that when someone angers you, even if they are an angel, you can no longer be held responsible for your words and actions.
 
And the moment I had heard Lark’s voice intruding into my head, I knew that if I did not say something, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.

Well?
 
Are you going to sit there and think about saying something, or are you actually going to do it?
 
Fickle, idiotic humans;
 
Always believing yourselves to be so superior because you’re human, and yet still wanting to be like us and the others.
 
It’s pathetic.

I couldn’t have stopped the words from leaving my mouth if I had wanted to.
 
But I didn’t want to…

“How difficult it must be for you Lark, to always know that even with your ‘
limitless’
powers, you’re still just as imperfect and flawed in your world as you are in mine.”

Her sightless eyes showed no reaction to my statement.
 
Her face was like stone.
 
Even her mind did not lash out with the venom that I expected and braced myself for.

The reaction that I had to my own words, on the other hand, I had not braced myself for, had not expected.
 
I felt ashamed and ever the hypocrite.
 
So much for not being held responsible for your actions; I was now my own judge, jury, and executioner.

“I…I’m sorry, Lark.
 
That was wrong.
 
I shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have thought it,” I apologized, staring at the ground, not knowing if she was even there anymore, much less listening.

As corny as it may sound, I suddenly heard angels singing.
 
It was a curious thing, with two voices that were similar in so many ways.
 
I knew immediately that one was a distinct alto, the other a soprano.
 
The song they were singing was charismatic, lively.
 
It almost sounded like…laughter!

And so it was, but not the laughter coming from two different voices.
 
No, it wouldn’t be something as simple as that.
 
I listened very carefully, focusing on the similarities, and realized that the voices belonged to the same person.
 
And that person was singing in my head, her thoughts
—
a duet in my mind singing of regret and folly.
 
It was an amazing feat, and I couldn’t help but be awed by that.

“You have an amazing gift, Lark,” I whispered, my eyes stinging at the threat of tears.
 
I did not want to cry in front of her but knowing that she’d hear my thoughts as soon as they formed, I almost felt like it was pointless to even fight it.

I was right.
 
You humans are fickle.
 
One minute you’re picking on what you perceive to be a disability, and the next, you’re apologizing and crying as though you’ve crushed my poor, fragile self-esteem.
 
News flash, honey; I’m an angel, not a flower.
 
You’re not going to cause me to wilt by pointing your spotlight on my flaws.

I turned to look at Ameila who I knew had heard every single word her daughter had said, and was surprised to see not a grim expression, but a pleased one.

“You have impressed her,” she said to me, smiling.
 
“Few humans ever do.”

Well.
 
I had impressed Lark, the ice angel.
 
I felt much better.

The duet filled my head again.

Don’t think that I like you any more now than I did five minutes ago.

Oh of course not.
 
I knew better than to be hopeful.
 
Especially after…