Walking on Air (3 page)

Michael looked at him, and the unexpected compassion in the angel’s eyes punched Gabe in the gut like a mule’s hind hoof. It hurt. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Looking back over my life, I haven’t done much you could consider, you know, saintly. I guess I’m what you fellows would call a lost soul.” A lump had grown in his throat, and he struggled to speak past it. “I . . . didn’t live a very good life. I wanted to. Trust me on that, but most times, when I tried for something better, I got a kick in the teeth. If that happens enough, you quit trying, you know? That’s how it goes for some of us down there. If we don’t have bad luck, we don’t have any luck at all.”

The angels conferred for a moment, then turned in tandem to regard Gabe with thoughtful eyes. The golden-haired Gabriel assumed the role of pronouncing sentence. “It is clear to us, after reviewing your life history, that you actually were among those rare individuals who truly weren’t given many opportunities to redeem themselves. Abandoned after your mother’s death, unacknowledged by your father, forced to live in poverty on the rough streets of Kansas City as a boy, you never had much of a chance to be anything but what you became, a worthless individual who lived his entire life without leaving a good mark on the world or improving it in any way.”

Gabe opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t think of one damned thing to say in his own defense, so he just closed it again, braced his shoulders, and prepared to face his punishment. Worthless? As much as it rankled to admit it, maybe they were right about that.

“In rare instances,” Michael said, “we angels have the authority to offer people one more chance. Would you be interested in going back down there for a specified period of time to give life another try?”

Gabe could scarcely believe his ears. Given his recent encounter with hellfire, he figured only a fool would say no. “What would I have to do?”

Gabriel replied, “You will be given an opportunity to save a lost soul. If you succeed in your mission, if you manage to drastically alter that lost soul’s life, then you will have earned salvation. It won’t be easy. You may have to sacrifice a great deal, and self-sacrifice has never been one of your strong points. Are you willing?”

Willing? After standing there with his feet on fire? Of course he’d be willing. “Yes,” he said firmly.

The golden-haired angel swung a hand to part the clouds again. He gestured for Gabe to peer down through the hole. “There you see Tyke Baden, a lonely, embittered old man who has lived most of his adult life in Random.”

Gabe bent at the waist to have a peek and got the eerie feeling that he had fallen into the old man’s sitting area. He could smell the stench of an unwashed body, rotten garbage, and newly cooked food, a blend that turned his stomach. The room was a maze of trash piles—stacks of newspapers, periodicals, and all manner of other stuff that only someone out of his mind would keep.

“Tyke was once happily married with several children,” Michael said. “He lived and worked hard for the welfare of his family for many years. Then, when his children were nearly grown, disease struck his household and only Tyke survived. After grieving, he grew angry at God and everyone else in town who hadn’t died from the contagion. Sadly, his only solace was found in a whiskey bottle. He is now alone, lost, wishing for just one person to care about him, but when kindly townspeople attempt to enter his home, he yells, uses foul language, and frightens them away.”

“Foul language don’t make my ears burn.” Gabe winced. He’d done it again, allowing nerves to push him back through the years to a time when he hadn’t known how to speak proper English. “If all he needs is someone to care, I could clean him up and make him feel better.”

“But could you love him?” Gabriel asked. “Truly love him? That is what Tyke needs in order to find salvation, to love and be loved again.”

Gabe’s nostrils burned from the stench, but he figured a little elbow grease would set the house right. “How long do I get to learn to love him?”

“A month.”

“A month? Isn’t that a pretty tall order?” Gabe gestured downward. “It’d take me a month just to clean up that rat’s nest.” Then, hearing what he’d just said, he backtracked. “I’ll take him. No worries. I found a dirty, stinky dog once that I learned to love real quick. He up and died on me, but it wasn’t for lack of caring on my part.”

“Don’t choose hastily,” Michael interjected. “There are many lost souls in Random. We’ve selected three for you to consider, and then you can reach a decision.”

With a flick of his fingers, Michael changed the scene below, and Gabe saw the boy who now spent half his life huddled under the whorehouse stairwell, waiting for his mother to return. Before he thought, he said, “He’d be a tough one to save in thirty days. He’s bitter, suspicious, and been done wrong so many times he has no faith in human kindness. Boys like him don’t normally turn to melted butter just because somebody’s nice to them.”

Michael nodded. “He is a difficult one, if not impossible. Which is why we’ve given you three lost souls to choose from.”

The angel Gabriel flung his hand to change the scene below. “Here is our final lost soul for you to consider. Nancy Sullivan, now using the surname Hoffman.”

Gabe almost lost his balance when he looked down and saw the young woman who had stood at the hat shop window, watching him as he lay dying. Now she was in her bedroom, wearing only a thin chemise, bloomers, and corset as she prepared to change dresses for church. Shooting a furtive glance at the angels, Gabe inched closer for a better look. Great legs, tight little ass, breasts to make a man’s mouth water. She had a very interesting freckle—or maybe a small mole—on the swell of her right breast that peeked at him over the low scoop of her chemise. Without intending to, he leaned so far over the parting in the clouds that he nearly lost his footing.

“That’s the one!” he proclaimed loudly. Hell, if he had to save a lost soul, he might as well have a little fun while he was at it.

The angels frowned in disapproval. Michael spoke up. “You’re free to choose whichever mission you like, of course, but looks can be deceiving. Miss Sullivan, currently known as a widow, doesn’t exactly cotton to gentlemen, and of all the souls you might choose, she will probably be the most difficult to save. She distrusts men, has sworn never to let herself love one, and abhors the institution of marriage. In short, she is a lonely, unfulfilled spinster who has denied herself the joy of marriage and bearing children because she is terrified of letting a man, any man, have authority over her. She has no true friends and ventures from her shop only for necessities and to attend church. She also has a weak sense of humor. Her only pleasures in life are her little sister and her work, the latter of which she engages in from dawn until well after midnight, seldom taking a moment for herself, not because she enjoys being exhausted, but because building her business has been a constant struggle and she is afraid to sleep.”

Gabe shrugged. “I have great respect for people who work hard, and I’ve yet to meet a person who can’t learn to laugh. Why the hell is she afraid to sleep?”

“Nan Hoffman may not give you an opportunity to teach her how to laugh. She lives in fear of discovery. And if you take her case, you will learn only from her why she has trouble sleeping.”

“Discovery of what?” Gave demanded. “You say she lives in fear?”

Michael sighed. “It’s a long story. Nan wrongly believes she has a murder charge hanging over her head, and she is consequently running from her past, which will make it extremely difficult for you to gain her trust. Are you still interested?”

Gabe gave Nan Hoffman’s tantalizing figure another long look and flashed a grin. “I love a challenge, especially when it comes packaged like that.”

The angels folded their hands and studied Gabe with somber intensity. Michael said, “This isn’t a game you’re engaging in, Gabe. Nan Hoffman lives in a prison of her own making, and it will be your assignment to help her escape from it. It is heaven’s standard policy that lost souls be given only a month to redeem themselves. Judging by your record, you aren’t exactly an expert in affairs of the heart, and making a woman like Nan Hoffman fall in love with you may be beyond your ability.”

For a moment, Gabe thought he’d misunderstood the man. “Wait a minute. If I only have a month to be back on earth, why in hell would you fellows want me to make some poor woman fall in love with me? Isn’t that unfair to her?”

“Because,” the blond inserted, “experiencing true love, however briefly, is the only way Nan Sullivan will ever be convinced to risk falling in love again. It will be your job to help her heal in the month you’re allotted, so that after your second death, Nan will be able to lead a normal life, remarry, and have children of her own. If she doesn’t do that, her life will count for far less than it should, and that is a waste that our heavenly Father simply can’t countenance.”

Gabe threw up a hand. “Whoa, there. Did you just say
remarry
?”

Both angels raised their eyebrows. Michael took over again. “Your marrying Nan will be absolutely necessary if you hope to completely banish her fears. As it stands, she abhors the institution of marriage, convinced that once a man gains authority over her, he will turn domineering and possibly become abusive. It will be your mission to show her how wrong she is.”

It was Gabe’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “With only a month to gain the woman’s trust, how can you possibly expect me to convince her to marry me? And after I manage that, I’ll need some time to prove myself. A measly month?”

Despite Gabe’s objection, which he felt was reasonable, the angels remained firm. “One month,” Gabriel repeated. “It’s standard policy. If you take this assignment, you’ll simply have to work fast. How you go about it will be entirely up to you. By fair means or foul, all that matters is that you accomplish your mission. It will be difficult, yes, but not impossible. If you decide to take this assignment, you will be armed with enough ammunition before you return to earth to coerce Nan Hoffman into marrying you.”

“Coerce? Did you say
coerce
? I’ve never done that to a woman in my life!” Whether his own redemption hung in the balance or not, Gabe was no longer sure that he wanted to tackle this project. He liked the ladies willing, thank you very much. “What kind of angels are you fellows, anyway? It sounds to me as if you’re giving me free rein to turn that poor woman’s life topsy-turvy. What if I bungle the job and leave her more afraid to trust men than she already is? What if . . . Well, the possibilities are endless, and none of them make you look too good. Do you guys pull this kind of shit very often? If so, it’s little wonder so many people down there walk around asking, ‘Why me, God? Why me?’”

The angel Gabriel smiled. “It isn’t God who turns people’s lives topsy-turvy on a regular basis. It’s the influence of evil and the actions of humans who make the lives of other people miserable.”

“But this time, in Nan Hoffman’s case, it will be God raining misfortune on her head,” Gabe pointed out.

Michael nodded. “Yes, this time it will be our heavenly Father helping to orchestrate events, but I assure you, this sort of measure is taken only in extreme cases. As for your making things worse than they already are, if that should happen, we will simply erase from Nan’s memory all that occurs during your visit back to earth. Things will return to the way they are right now, with you dead and doomed to hell, and Nancy Hoffman living a pathetically sad life without any hope of ever leading a fruitful one.”

“In short,” Gabriel interjected, “if you fail, Nan will recall nothing of what transpires and no damage will be done. Except, of course, to you, Gabe. For you, failure means eternal damnation.”

Gabe resumed gazing down at the Hoffman woman. She seemed to be frozen in place, as if time down there had stopped. He mourned the fact that the angels had turned her motionless
after
she’d finished dressing. She had a body to make any man salivate, and Gabe had been enjoying the view. Absently, he asked, “Exactly what kind of ammunition were you referring to when you said I’d be able to coerce the woman into marrying me? I’m not pushing any woman around, no matter what you say.”

Gabriel smiled slightly. “Before we get to that, you must first commit to the assignment, and to do that, you should be made aware of everything you will be expected to accomplish.”

“Shoot.”

“First of all, you must agree not to die intestate the second time around. You will be expected to leave all your worldly goods to Nan so she will no longer have to work so hard to make ends meet after she is widowed.”

“I have no problem with that,” Gabe said honestly. “My father’s money has never meant all that much to me, and I don’t really care who it’s left to.”

“Second,” Gabriel went on, “you will be expected to free Nan from her past, which still haunts her and from which she is still running. Unbeknownst to her, Horace Barclay, the man she believes she killed, survived being stabbed with her knitting needle and is alive to this day.”

“She went after a man with a knitting needle?” Gabe glanced down at Nan with new respect. “She doesn’t look like she’s got it in her.”

“Normally, she doesn’t,” Michael said. “You of all people should understand how it feels to be backed into a corner. Nan was trying to ward off the unwanted physical advances of Horace Barclay, a much older man to whom she’d been affianced by her father, and she threatened Barclay with the needle to hold him at bay. Unfortunately, Horace tripped on the edge of a carpet, fell on top of her, and impaled himself. Nan couldn’t feel a pulse or see any sign that he was breathing, so she believed the man dead. After emptying her father’s coffers, she fled with her younger sister, assumed another name, and ended up living in Random, where she’s been hiding from the law ever since.”

“So she still thinks they’re trying to find her and put a noose around her neck?” Gabe asked.

“Precisely,” Gabriel replied. “How you impart to Nan that Barclay didn’t die and chose to press no charges because the incident was an embarrassment to him—well, that will be entirely up to you.”