In the Cards, page 3
The twenty-fifth was still a couple of weeks away but the weather was already picture perfect for a traditional white Christmas. Snow covered the ground; stars sparkled like diamonds in the night sky. The air was cold, nipping at noses and reddening cheeks.
The city was decorated for the festive season, too. Wreaths and bows adorned the lamp posts while stately pines sported strings of lights. Snatches of Christmas carols drifted from passing cars and late-night shoppers hurried along the sidewalks, arms loaded with packages.
Yes, Emma thought, it was a picture perfect night. Just like the man beside her. Dark blond hair with disorderly curls, clear grey eyes that twinkled with laughter. And his body…she gave a little shiver as she recalled the feel of it, hard against hers, the previous night.
Her lips curled into a smile as she recalled how they’d started the evening by making a simple meal together; pasta, salad, a bottle of wine. Then they’d begun to decorate her Christmas tree and had ended up tangled in tinsel, kissing under fake plastic mistletoe. How they’d ever made it to her bedroom, she still didn’t know, but once they were there…
“What are you thinking?” Alex chose that moment to speak and when she glanced up at him there was a certain knowing look in his eye. She felt her face growing warm. There was no way he could know the direction her thoughts had been taking, and yet…
“Stop.” He grabbed her shoulders and stepped in front of her.
“What?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
He sighed. “Just trust me.”
She hesitated and he prompted her further.
“There’s something I want you to see. A surprise.”
Giving in to his urgings, she complied. Eyes shut, she waited for his instructions.
“It’s only a little ways away. Hang on to my arm. No peeking!”
Emma shuffled along at his side, surprised at how difficult it was to move about when you had to depend totally on someone else to guide you.
“You’re doing fine. Remember, I’ll always keep you safe.”
The sound of his voice and the weight of his arm around her shoulders helped her relax. He’d always keep her safe. She liked the sound of the word always.
“Almost there. When I tell you to stop, I want you to count to ten and then open your eyes. Can you do that?”
She nodded and they walked a few more steps.
“Okay. Stop.”
Following his instructions, she counted to ten before allowing her eyes to flutter open. A gasp escaped her. They were at the city park and a miniature Christmas village had been set up complete with tiny houses, decorated trees, snowmen, reindeer and Santa.
“It’s adorable.” She smiled up at him and he squeezed her shoulders.
“I knew you’d like it. They just finished setting it up today. Come on, we can walk through it.” With his hand returning to its customary place in the small of her back, Alex led her through the streets. She laughed at the tiny train that chugged around the perimeter of the town, ooh’d and ahh’d at the mechanical Santa’s workshop and marvelled at the stained-glass windows of the tiny church.
“This is my favourite part.” Alex paused by a Nativity scene.
“Oh, look at the shepherds! And the angel.” She pointed at a figure with a silver wire extending from its head and ending in a loop that roughly resembled a halo. Feathered wings tinged with pink stuck out from its back and slowly flapped in time to the music while it raised and lowered the candle clutched in its hands. Eyes raised to the heavens, its mouth was in a perfect ‘O’ shape.
Emma reached out and stroked the satiny robes edged with lace, then giggled at the glimpse of bare toes that peaked out from beneath the hem. “Isn’t it adorable?”
“Do you really think angels look like that?” He gave her a sideways glance.
Emma shrugged. “I don’t know. I do like Christmas angels better than chubby cupids and cherubs, though.”
“Yeah, the cupid image…” Alex’s voice trailed off and he made a face.
She gave a gentle laugh. “I bet you looked like a cherub when you were little. All those golden curls.” Reaching up, she brushed his hair from his forehead.
Their gazes locked and the smile slowly left her face. The atmosphere between them changed. Her breath quickened. She slowly trailed her hand around to his neck. A gentle tug had him leaning closer. “Alex, sometimes I feel like I’ve known you forever.”
“Really?” He gathered her close, his head beginning to tilt to the side for a kiss. “I feel the same way. Emma, I—”
He froze, his expression drastically changing. Spinning around, he shoved her behind him. “Emma, get down!”
“Alex? What—”
A loud popping sound filled the air. Alex jerked and fell back, knocking Emma to the ground, a cry of surprise escaping him.
Somewhere, someone screamed. “Oh my God, he’s got a gun!”
Shouting, yelling, squealing tires… A cacophony of noise filled the air, obscuring the carols that had, just moments ago, been such a seasonal backdrop to the fairy tale scene.
Dazed, Emma pushed against the weight that pressed down on her. Somehow she managed to move it, only to realize that it was Alex.
“Alex? Alex!” Frantically she called his name, horrified at the rapidly spreading stain that was marring his coat. Oh God, he’d been shot!
What to do? What to do? First-aid training finally kicked in and she pressed her hands to his chest trying to stem the blood flow.
“I need help! Please! Someone call 911!” She shouted the instruction over her shoulder.
“Police and ambulance are on the way.” Someone spoke behind her. “Is he breathing?”
“I…I…” Her voice trembled. She looked at his face. It was so still. There was no flickering of his eyelids. No vapour rose from his parted lips. Could she feel the rise and fall of his chest?
“I’m a doctor. Move aside.” Someone nudged her and she complied, crawling so she was beside Alex’s head. She raised a hand and touched his cheek, leaving red streaks on his skin. Her fingers were stained with blood and she absent-mindedly wiped them on her coat, all the while thinking how cold he felt. Too cold.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your friend—”
She ignored the voice, somehow knowing what the man would say and wanting to block it out. “Alex? Alex, speak to me.” She got to her knees and brushed his curls from his forehead. Shock had finally given way to tears. They blurred her vision and she blinked rapidly trying to focus on his beloved face. “Say something. Please!” Her voice broke on the last word.
“Ma’am.” There was a touch on her back but she didn’t respond to the implicit command. Instead she took hold of Alex’s shoulders, giving them a shake. Panic grew inside her, making it hard to think clearly, causing her voice to rise, to become harsher. “Alex, you can’t leave me. Alex? Alex!”
Alex didn’t respond. A snowflake landed on his face. First one, then another and another.
Hands tugged at her shoulders. “Ma’am you need to move out of the way.”
She tried to shrug them off but she was forced to her feet, pulled farther and farther from Alex. Darkness began to close in on her and she fought to keep it at bay even as her knees gave out and she stumbled to the ground.
“No. No!”
Her screams echoed through the Christmas village while the mechanical angel slowly waved its candle and sang about peace on Earth.
Chapter 3
Alex stood in the shower, letting the water beat down on him. Dying was a messy business. He washed the blood from his chest and then grabbed the shampoo, squirting a liberal amount into his palm. Emma’s hands had been covered in his blood when she’d brushed the hair from his forehead. Now his curls were decidedly sticky.
His hands slowed as they worked in the lather. Emma had cried over him and he still felt guilty about it. He hated to see her cry, especially since he’d been the cause. True, it wasn’t his fault that he’d ‘died’, in fact he’d saved her life, but that hadn’t been foremost in her mind. She’d been grief-stricken and there had been nothing he could do about it. Once she thought he was dead, there could be no contact between them anymore.
Stupid rules. A combination of anger and regret filled him. His heart ached at the thought of never contacting her again. Even worse, she was still in danger and he wasn’t there to help her. That bullet had been intended for her, he was sure of it, given Michael’s pronouncement that she was scheduled to die. He scowled wondering how he could protect her because he certainly wasn’t going to stand by and watch her die.
His conscience gave him a firm prick. Saving Emma was going against the divine plan and that was not something a GA would do. He clenched his fists, his thoughts racing as he tried to find a solution to this untenable situation. A heavy sigh escaped him. He’d figure something out. He had to!
The water was growing cold. He flicked it off and stepped out of the shower stall and, grabbing a towel off the rack, began to rub himself dry. On the floor, his ruined clothes lay in a pile. Even if the blood stains could be removed the bullet hole through his coat and shirt were irreparable. Thankfully he kept a spare set at work. After dumping the damaged clothing in the trash, he padded to his locker and pulled out jeans and a t-shirt from behind his formal robes. As he dressed, he continued to puzzle over how to save Emma while still staying true to the vows he took as a GA. One fact was becoming increasingly clear to him. He loved Emma Campbell and he couldn’t stand by and watch her die. He slammed the locker door shut. To hell with what fate had planned for her!
Instantly, he regretted the curse and offered up an apology. Even without the expletive his sentiment remained the same.
“Hey Alex! Are you in here?” The door opened and a tall, dark-haired angel popped his head in. “Oh, good, you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Zeke.” Alex gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. Zeke was a guardian angel in training and from all reports more of a menace to his clients than a help. Rumour had it Michael was looking for someone with the patience of Job to take Zeke under their wing. So far, no one had volunteered.
“I heard you just came back from a big assignment.” Zeke stared at him, a look of awe on his face. “You were gone for almost a month! It must be—”
“Was there a reason you were looking for me?” Alex interrupted.
“What? Oh. Yes.” Zeke fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a piece of parchment. “Michael sent me to give this to you.”
“Thanks.” Alex took the paper and, when it appeared Zeke was going to stay, he raised a meaningful eyebrow and nodded towards the door. “You can go now.”
“What? Oh, sure. Well, it’s been great talking to you, Alex.” Zeke backed out of the room, managed to catch his robe on the door knob and then, finally, disappeared down the hallway. Alex shook his head wondering why Zeke persisted in wearing formal robes while in Heaven. It wasn’t like anyone else around him did. Maybe he hoped looking the part of an angel would improve his performance? Giving a shrug, Alex opened Michael’s message. He read it twice before crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it across the room.
Alex stared at his boss, his gut churning with hate—no, he wasn’t allowed to feel that emotion; rule number twelve in the guardian angel handbook. By sheer force of will, he toned it down to active dislike. Yes, at this moment he actively disliked the supercilious bastard he now faced. And he knew he’d have to do penance later for even thinking the word bastard. However, Michael had no idea what it was like in the trenches, the split-second decisions that had to be faced, the emotional toll it took. The fellow sat behind that desk as if he were some CEO of a major international conglomerate.
Actually, in a way he was. Or at least one of the major stockholders. A quick glance around the room revealed everything you’d expect to see in the office of a high-powered individual. A bookshelf filled with leather-bound tomes, a small meeting area to the side, plush carpeting, a platinum pen set neatly aligned in the middle of a gleaming desk top, the requisite laptop sitting next to a day-planner and, of course, large plate glass windows that provided a million dollar view.
Yes, Michael fit the bill for a high-powered executive and, at that moment, Alex would like nothing better than to thumb his nose at the man and announce he’d quit rather than dance to the man’s tune. He knew he couldn’t though. The job was his life; bailing out wasn’t an option.
“Do you have any idea how many rules you broke during the course of this assignment?” Michael glared at him across the polished surface of his desk.
Keeping his voice steady, Alex replied. “Yes, I know exactly how many and which rules I broke. It’s always been my opinion, however, that any law can be broken in order to save a life. It’s a creed I’ve followed throughout my career.”
“‘To save a life’! Emma Campbell was scheduled to die. You took the bullet for her, potentially interfering with the divine plan.”
“You never said when she was scheduled to die.” Alex countered. “It could be from old age, couldn’t it?”
Michael’s usually passive face suffused with colour and Alex idly wondered if the deep rose tint was going to darken to purple. After a moment, the man seemed to regain some control, the colour subsiding though his tone was still accusing. “And you had sex with the woman the night before!”
“That’s correct. I did.” Alex narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin. He had no regret for any of his actions where Emma was concerned.
“Damn it, man, you’re not supposed get that close to a client. What if she’d felt the skin flaps covering your wings? You’d have been exposed. We all would’ve been exposed.”
The fact that Michael was angry enough to swear shook Alex for a moment but he quickly recovered. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “There was no danger of exposure. I had a selective mind-wipe in operation. She thought she was making love with a human male.” Yes, Alex thought, they’d made love. What had happened between them wasn’t just sex. It had been two halves becoming a whole, a sharing of heart, mind and soul.
“A selective mind-wipe huh? She may not remember your wings but she definitely remembers you and some of the odd things that happened while you were around.” Michael pulled open a drawer and withdrew a folder. “Do you know what this file contains?”
“I doubt it’s a recipe for angel food cake.” Alex eyed the file with mild curiosity. Michael always had reams of information about clients but seldom deigned to share it.
“Your attempt at humour is not only weak but ill-advised.” Michael set the file down with a decisive thud, rose from his chair and walked around the desk only to lean back against the edge. “Now, not only is she still alive, she’s mourning your death. And, she’s been making some very inconvenient inquiries with the local police and hospitals. Seems she wants to bury you. We’re sending in Zeke to clean up the mess you left and to continue your assignment.”
“Zeke?” Alex rolled his eyes at the mention of the bumbling guardian angel wannabe. “He’s completely incompetent.”
Michael made a face. “I gave him a temporary power boost as he’s the only man available. Christmas is our busy season, you know. A lot of humans find this time of year stressful.”
“A power boost? Those only last for a few hours.” Alex shook his head. “Zeke can’t even protect himself let alone a human. You have to let me go back.”
“No. Protecting her isn’t the point. This GA assignment was solely to provide support and comfort until the scheduled event. And that will continue to be the mission. We did a global area wipe; no one involved in the incident remembers a thing. Zeke will go in, perform another complete mind-wipe on her as the first one obviously didn’t take and then hover until her ultimate fate occurs.”
He opened his mouth to protest and Michael shot him a warning look.
“I’m warning you, Alexander, keep your distance from Emma Campbell. Agree or you’ll be confined to a very cold, distant cloud.”
Alex slouched in his seat and gave the appearance of reluctantly agreeing. All he had to do was get through this interview and get out. Once free of Michael’s meddling presence he’d head back to the human realm and plan his next move.
Chapter 4
Emma stared at the fire trying not to cry and failing miserably. She took deep breaths and blinked rapidly but her vision of the merrily dancing flames in front of her continued to blur. Her chin trembled with suppressed sobs, her throat and chest felt tight as she shredded the tissue in her hands.
Beyond the crackling of the fire, the small apartment was silent. No one hummed in the background as they made coffee or sighed as they settled onto the couch. She was alone; the comforting sounds she longed to hear were gone forever, just like Alex. In the corner of the room, the Christmas tree they’d decorated together twinkled brightly, its baubles and tinsel sad reminders of what she had lost. Part of her wanted to take the tree down, to block out all thoughts of the approaching holiday, while the other half of her wanted to cling to the memory of their last day together.
Oh what the hell, she thought leaning her head against the back of the chair, let the tears fall. Who was she trying to impress? Alex was dead and she felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest. The man she’d loved… No. That wasn’t right. Had was past tense. She still loved him. He was gone but she’d never stop loving him. The pain might fade, eventually, but he’d always reside in a part of her heart, no matter what anyone else might think.
The doubting tones and pitying looks of the police played through her mind. When she’d contacted them today, they hadn’t found any records to corroborate her story. No shooting. No listing for an Alex Flint residing in the city. They thought she was crazy, that she’d made the whole story up, but she knew differently no matter what they might say.
