Scars and Songs (62 page)

Grunting in anguish, I softly ran my fingers through her tangled bloody hair and leaned my forehead against hers.  Bringing my mouth to hers, I kissed her through the pain, “Not even death could keep me from you.”

Raising my head, I glanced at Michael and Raphael.  They both stood over us, smiling.  Clearing his throat, Michael asked, “Do you still want time here, brother?”

I looked back to Grace, her silver eyes watching and waiting. My heart tightened in my chest, all its shattered pieces coming back together, hammering blood through my body, “No, Michael.  I
need
more time here.  As long as we possibly can have here,
and then an eternity after that
.”

Raphael knelt down beside us, laying his hands on our shoulders.  “Gabriel will be cast back to the abyss he clawed himself out of, and you both will have weeks of healing to do.”  Leaning forward, he touched his lips to my forehead, as Michael bent over Grace to touch his lips to hers.

The images were harsh, they were painful, but I knew in the end that the angels did whatever they needed to do to keep our human bodies there.

How do angels leave
half-dead humans on earth after promising them a full life and a high place in heaven?  They had to create a scenario to cover up our little fight with the demons.  They couldn’t leave us in Grace’s living room with the amount of damage to our bodies and say it was an intruder or a fall down the stairs. Oh, no.  Not my
wonderful
brothers.  They put us on Grace’s motorcycle.  There was way too much damage to our bodies.  The angels had to make it look horrific.

I gripped at the handlebars tightly as the Harley’s engine vibrated and roared beneath us.  Grace’s thighs were clutched firmly around my
hips; her arms wrapped snuggly around my waist.  The sun was warm on our backs, the first warm day of an early spring.  We zipped down Fifth Avenue, both of us wondering how the hell we got from the living room with Gabriel to the seat of the bike.  But, I kind of guessed, and I knew it was going to be bad.  So damn bad.

It was nothing more than a dark blur that slammed into the side of us.  There was no sound of tires
screeching. There was nothing but a loud metal crunch and the pounding of my heartbeat hammering in my ears.  My body tore itself over the steel handlebars and I was airborne, hitting the ground with a wet slap and sickening roll.  It skidded alongside the blacktop of the street, my leather jacket shredding and dissolving into nothing as it scraped along the ground. 

There was no feeling at first, and then the agony thundered through every cell of my body with a vengeance.  My limbs shook violently, and I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs to breathe.  I looked around wildly for Grace, trying to lift my head, but my helmet felt so
heavy, I couldn’t hold up its weight.  Looking up, the sky and buildings above me spun and blurred.  Warm thick liquid spread on the pavement under my body, soaking my clothes.

I could hear screams and sirens as if they were on a muted television.   Then Michael’s form stood above me.  Kneeling down next to my shoulder, he laid his hands against my face and turned my head to the side.  H
is touch soothed the fire burning from the pain like a drug.  Thick metallic tasting blood poured past my lips, helping to clear my airways and making it easier to breathe.  With my head tilted on its side, I could see Raphael in the distance, cradling a limp and broken Grace in his arms as the ambulance arrived and people crowded around.  Voices were everywhere, but my heartbeat pounding in my ears drowned them out.  “Grace,” I tried to call.  It came out garbled and wet.  “Grace, not even death could keep me from you,” I choked out as my world faded to black.

The good thing about the blackness was
that when it arrived, taking over and devouring me completely, it also took away the pain.  I felt nothing.  I just wandered in the darkness waiting until I would see Grace again.  There was no sound, no feeling or sense of time.  There was nothing, not even a string of thoughts completed; the only thing I could remember of it was just waiting for Grace.

Then the blackness shifted and every so
often, I heard a sound or felt a slight pull or tug somewhere on my body.  After some time, the sounds and the feelings became more frequent until my body drew itself from its hiding spot and I opened my eyes. 

People dressed in scrubs ran to me, their voices monotone and barely understandable.  Behind them, through the sea of scrubs across the large expanse of stale hospital air
laid Grace.  Her eyes were closed, skin battered and bruised; her dark hair matted in clumps against the white of her pillows.  My insides rolled and the vomit spurted dark, acidic and pungent from my throat. There were so many damn tubes attached to her, so many tangled and weaving over her body, it made the bile rise again, scorching my esophagus.  Thick tubes plunging down her throat to breathe for her, through the veins of her bruised and bandaged arms to hydrate her, tubes that were shoved up her nose and dozens more sneaking and twisting under her blankets. Every one of them straining to keep her alive.

Reaching
up, I gripped my hands tightly on the safety rail of my hospital bed and tried to haul myself up.  The nurses were frantic, shushing me and shoving me back, but all I wanted to do was hold Grace.  I slapped back at the nurses hands. I just wanted to touch Grace, because I needed to know that she was okay.  My chest was heaving with the strain of my movements and a low wail passed through my lips.  One of the nurses gently ran her hands over my hair, and sighed, “Miss Taylor will be just fine, Mr. Maxton, but you both need to stop trying to kill yourselves by getting out of your beds to be near each other.”  I looked up into the nurse’s golden brown eyes.  Her skin was thin and crinkled together with deep wrinkles, but her expression was soft and kind, so I stopped trying to pull myself up, trusting her words.  Then the old cow shoved a needle in my arm and the world turned dark once again. 
I hate hospitals
.   All I wanted to do was whisper in Grace’s ear, just to tell her how much I loved her. 
Dumb old nurse
.

Road rash shredded the layers of skin off my legs, and almost every bone on the entire right side of my body was broken.  My ribs
were fractured, splintered and my internal organs punctured. In addition to all of that, my jaw needed to be wired shut while I spent time in and out of consciousness.

Days
passed.  Weeks went by, and when the tubes and machines were taken from our bodies, our bones were still bruised and aching.  But we didn’t care.  The instant all the tubes were removed, and all that was attached to her was one lonely IV in her hand, Grace crawled out of her bed and into mine.  We spent days wrapped around each other, still healing, while our friends visited and the scent of get-well flowers decayed in our noses.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I woke one morning to Grace quietly staring out the window next to our bed, a lone tear streaking down her beautiful face. 
“Hey, beautiful,” I whispered, running one of my bandaged hands along her arm.  “What are you thinking about?”

She gently shifted her body and looked up at me, smiling and smoothing her fingers through my hair.  “I just keep thinking about everything that was said and how happy I am lying in this horrible hospital bed with you.  Makes me wonder where we go from here.  I mean, our lives are open unwritten books,
so we could do anything together from here, it’s just…”

My throat tightened and I had trouble swallowing.  I loved this girl so much I had difficulty breathing
when around her.  I lifted my hand to her face and softly ran my thumb along the bottom of her lips. “I know where I want to go from here,” I whispered quietly to her.

Her eyes narrowed and she bit at my thumb, “I swear if you say Boozer’s I will break whatever is left not broken on your body right now.”  The hospital bed shook with our laughter, which kind of freaking hurt like hell, but like everything else with Grace, it was worth all the pain.

I leaned forward and kissed her lips gently, then leaned my forehead to hers.  “I want to wake up every day I have left to the warmth of your lips on mine, the sound of your voice singing next to me, the feel of your fingers on my skin and your heart beating music with mine.  How about becoming my wife?”

Not even a heartbeat passed before she gave me a breathy, “Oh, hell, yes!” 
Then her lips were on mine and my hands were slipping under the bed sheets to feel the warmth of her skin.  Running my fingertips up her inner thighs, I hooked a finger into her undies and started yanking them down.  I didn’t given a damn where we were. I hadn’t been inside her for weeks and my dick was planning to hold a protest to get back into his favorite place.  She even scooted her plump little ass to help me pull them down.  That is until throats were cleared and my whole damn family stood in front of us, arms crossed and laughing. 

We never get a break
.  However, a few days after I asked her to marry me, we were released from the hospital and we were finally free to be together.  Still bruised and scarred, we locked ourselves in her bedroom with our guitars and didn’t come out for days.  There were centuries of things we needed to catch up on, and damn, did we.

She found her engagement ring entwined in the strings of her guitar and cried when she realized that I had bought it before everything came to a head with Gabriel.  I felt like a dick, not being able to ask her in some epic glorious romantic way, but Grace didn’t care.  All that mattered to her was that we would be spending the rest of our lives together. 
As I said before, she’s perfect.

I’m a man, so I don’t really think about weddings and crap like
that. I was more excited about the marriage than the wedding, but I think our wedding turned out to be pretty freaking awesome.  We waited until that Fall, because Grace refused to limp down the aisle. We rented out a small bed and breakfast in the small town of New Hope, Pennsylvania.  It was October 18, the leaves on the trees were bright red and orange, and the air was crisp and cool.

I stood outside on the old stone patio
in my black monkey suit next to my best men Conner, Ethan and Alex (since I couldn’t decide on one) framed in the bright hues of Autumn surrounded by the Delaware Water Gap.  Tucker, the douche rocket sat in the first row of seats, arms crossed and looking down at his shoes. 
Loser
.  Ethan elbowed me in the ribs and nodded in Tuck’s direction, “You’re breaking his poor heart,” he chuckled.

I smiled, laughing back, “Yeah, I guess I am.  Since I’m marrying the girl who was supposed to be his first wife, huh?”

Conner almost choked while laughing and Alex gave me a serious grimace, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

With lightness in my chest, I gave Alex a wink, “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

Alex shook his head, “You know we could still run, dude.  There’s time,” he whispered with a smile on his face.  We all burst out laughing, knowing how untrue his statement was, because I wouldn’t run from her for anything.   Even the minister who was there to marry us laughed and shook his head.

Then
the music started playing, my palms started sweating, and I felt like a little boy in the biggest freaking toy store in the world.   Mollie and Lea slowly made their way down the aisle and smiling at me, they stood on the other side of the minister.  Gradually, the music changed into a song that made my damn eyes want to tear and I held in my breath so they wouldn’t show.  Grace wanted walk down the aisle to
Hallelujah
by Rufus Wainwright, the song I had played for her when she was sick.  I completely understood, because she was my Hallelujah, after everything, and with every breath I ever took, she was my salvation.  She was my fall and she was my saving grace.

Then Grace stepped onto the white carpet
sprinkled with red and violet rose petals rolled out before her.   My heartbeat raced, drumming wildly in my chest and I bit down hard on my bottom lip.  She was beautiful, stunning, exquisite…she just…completely took my breath away.  Michael wrapped his arm in hers and they began their walk towards me, and the world around me just melted away and all I saw was Grace.  My gaze ran slowly up her flawless body sheathed in her elegant lace dress and then we locked eyes, and I couldn’t stop the tears for the life of me.  I didn’t even want to, so yeah, I cried big wimpy tears on my wedding day; screw it,
she was
my Hallelujah.

Then with a giant smile, Michael kissed her on the head and Grace let go of him. 
Next, she surprised me when she literally ran down the aisle to me
.  Breathless and smiling, with tears in her eyes that matched mine,
she ran to me
. 

Then
I married her.

Two Years Later

I have no idea how the two of them planned it so perfectly.  They both denied having anything to do with any planning, plotting or scheming of anything remotely to do with the situation we were in, but as I ran through the doors of the emergency room with Conner next to me, both our wives gave each other a knowing smile. 
How would it even be possible?