Dream Angel : Heaven Waits (16 page)

I was standing on a jetty. A thick fog surrounded me, and my hair was damp from the mist. The planked floor below my feet gently swayed with the rhythm of the water as it lapped the sides of the dock. The air was fresh, and I felt revived. I was unfamiliar with my surroundings, but I was not scared.

I started walking. Slow at first, dawdling really, then an overwhelming sense of urgency overcame me. What world lay at the end of this plank? From my position, it seemed endless. Intrigued, I walked faster — a trot now — cutting through the dense fog like a boat moving steadily up a river, smooth and on course. As my body warmed, I kicked into a full stride, arms pumping the air and legs extending fully forward. I found a comfortable pace and held it.

The brisk air stung my cheeks and my lungs burned. I had to get to the end. And just as I started to question if the path even had an end, I saw it. The light was brilliant, like a beacon in the night guiding the lost at sea. I ran for it as hard and as fast as I could. Only focused on the light, I was oblivious to what was happening beneath my pounding feet. Before I knew it, I raced right off the dock, arms stretched out at my side and my head tilted upward to the heavens. I landed on sand, hard, and stumbled before catching my stride.

I raced along the water’s edge. The dense, gray fog had melted away, and rays of summer sun sparkled over Carter’s lake like diamonds against glass. Its beauty was so awe inspiring, I trotted to a stop, eager to enjoy it. I gasped for a breath as the suns warmth caressed my skin and the trees rustled around me.

“I thought I might find you here young lady.” Her words were carried to me on a breeze.

I dare not move. I dared not to hope. And with my excitement barely in check, I slowly turned to see my mother walking along the sandy bank. She strolled, holding the hem of her violet colored dress away from the waves that splashed over her feet. She was as beautiful as her last healthy day on earth. As she laughed and kicked at the water like a child at play, strands of her chestnut hair — long and with a gentle wave like mine — lifted into the wind, and her eyes were filled with such joy; she out-shined the vast beauty around her.

With tears in my eyes, I ran to her.

“Shush… baby girl, don’t cry.” She said as she drew me into her arms, cooing and hugging me tighter. “Let me look at you.”

Tenderly, she pushed me out of her arms. She looked at me in that adoring way that always made me feel like I was her greatest miracle.

“You’re so beautiful.” She crushed me once more to her chest.

I hung on tight, afraid to let go. Inhaling her essence deep into my lungs, I never wanted to forget how she smelled, how she felt — so alive and thriving. And after so much time apart there should have been so much to say, yet neither of us spoke. No words could have made the moment more special. We simply walked arm in arm along the water’s edge. It wasn’t until we reached the picnic bench on the far side of the grassy knoll that my emotion’s settled and I found my voice.

“Daddy and I miss you so much.” I said, while lying in her lap with my cheek to her thigh and my gaze drifting out across the lake.

“I’m with you both, always.” She spoke so softly that I had to strain to hear her words over the sounds of nature.

While she braided the ends of my hair we talked, just like we used to when I was small. I loved it then and I loved it even more in this moment.

“Things have been hard since you—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Died? It’s ok to say the word Samantha.”

“I’d rather not.” I rolled over and looked up to her.

My spirit soared at the sight of her rosy red cheeks. And her skin, so creamy and flawless, showed no signs of the sickness that had once plagued her. She was beautiful, perfect.

“What
would
you like to talk about?” Her green eyes sparkled over me, and I frowned like a reluctant teenager, to which she returned a motherly insightful grin. “Elvis, maybe?”

I groaned with real pain.

“You were pretty hard on him, don’t you think?” She asked, allowing a moment to pass before continuing. “You know, sometimes life changes directions, Sam, but God always has a plan.”

“What’s God like?” I switched gears, needing to work up to the subject of Elvis slowly.

“That’s a big question.”

“Well, is he a man or is he a woman? Is he from the North or from the South?” I kidded, and we both laughed.

It felt good to laugh.

“Baby girl, he’ll be whatever you want him to be,” she leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“I knew you’d say that.” I sighed dramatically.

“You did, did you? Well, the important thing is that you know he loves you, no matter what.”

“I love him too.” I hadn’t said those words out loud since I was a child, but I did mean it.

And now looking up to a sky as real as any on a clear summer’s day, I admired the deep color of blue streaked with a few stark white clouds. And I could smell Georgia’s wild ginseng lingering in the breeze. Everything was so vibrant; I was astounded by what God could do when given a blank canvas.

“Is this real, mama, are you really here?” Hope flashed.

“Oh, baby girl, sometimes God uses our dreams to reach us, and other times it’s just our imaginations.”

I grinned, aware that mother was being as cagey as my angel.

“Elvis told me about your visits with Daddy, in his dreams.”

“Did he? Well, you know how he can’t keep a secret.” She lowered her voice as if wanting to keep this knowledge just between the two of us.

“Oh mama, I treated him so horribly.” I covered my face. “I was so angry, so hurt, I don’t know why I said all those nasty things. I wanted to do everything right, and I ended up doing everything wrong.”

“Now, now, Mr. Presley will recover.” She sighed. “Besides I warned him you could be a handful.”

I dropped my hands. “Mama!”

“Oh, baby girl, he knew what he was getting into.” She swept my hair back, away from my face. “Besides, we have more important things to talk about right now like Steve.”

Steve! I sat up, eager to hear what she had to say. The mere mention of his name triggered my alarm, but nothing brought me more worry than the look on her face. Her eyes went cold, her expression flat. She no longer looked at me but rather through me. And when I softly touched her arm, my hand pressed almost through her as though I was pressing on a cloud. She was beginning to fade away.

“Promise me,” she started to say in a distant voice.

I reached out for her, grabbing her hand, but her fingers slipped through my gasp. She was gone.

The unwelcome sharp slam of a nearby car door penetrated my subconscious. I fell through the gap of time, tumbling and landing to the ground with a thud. A spasm shot though my hip. I had fallen off the couch, and whimpered from the pain. All was pitch-black except for a single beam of light piercing through the living room window.

Light flooded the room, flickered, and then went out. I strained to listen, but heard only the rain pelting the metal roof. Nothing more stirred. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but I guessed more than a few hours, though it felt like only minutes. And after a quick physical inventory, I stood. My vision had not fully adjusted, so I moved cautiously and with my hands out. I told myself the car lights were nothing more than a lost tourist, but I knew better. People just didn’t accidently end up here in the winter, lost. If someone was here, they were here for a reason.

My palms began to sweat ever so slightly. Shuffling to the window, I parted the blinds and peeked. The storm had escalated. Dark clouds blackened the sky, and the rain came down in sideways sheets. I could see a dim reflection off a small lake that was forming in the back lawn. I grimaced. Looking to the opposite side of the property, I saw only trees and low woodland shrubs thrashing in the storm. I could see nothing that would account for what had seemed to be headlights coming through my window. So I believed, until I looked west towards the dark churning waters of the lake. Movement caught my eye.

At first it was but a vaguely outlined figure on the move. As it drew closer, I could see by the build that it was a man. I quickly calculated that I had four more seconds before he would be knocking on my door. I sucked in my breath and drew back from the window, and a rush of adrenaline flooding my body. I felt dizzy, and for a moment considered if I wasn’t still dreaming. This had none of the usual comforting qualities, though, and my fear was far too vivid for this to be a dream.

My imagination ran wild. What do I do? What could I do? I’d seen enough horror movies as a teen to guess what happens next. Bottom line, the woman never makes it! She just runs around screaming and tripping over her own two feet.

On the verge of a full-out panic, and two second away from succumbing to tears, I leaned in for another look. The stranger bounded up my front steps, his body in full motion as he flipped off his hood. I held my breath as he stood for a moment just out of the shadows. It was Steve. Automatically, and without much thought, I exhaled a sigh of relief. When one feels as if they’re hanging over a 100-foot drop, they don’t question the person who holds out a hand. They only see a chance for help.

After all I knew, I should have questioned Steve’s presence that night, but I was overcome with a sense of reprieve that he was not the midnight killer I had imagined. To me, he was a man whom I had just been told had asked me to marry him. Most importantly, he was the man with all the answers to my many questions. Only he could tell me what I no longer remembered.

Still, I hesitated to answer his knock.

“Samantha, we need to talk.” He knocked again. “If nothing else I think you owe me an explanation, and I’m not leaving until I get one.”

He was right. I did owe him something, didn’t I? If anything I owed him an apology, I told myself, and my hands shook as I released the lock and opened the door.

A warm familiar grin greeted me. “Thank you.” He glanced past me, hesitated, and then entered.

As he walked past, I paused for a moment in the doorway, staring out into the unsettled night. Even in the dark of the storm, I could see the shapes of trees as they bent at the fierce wind’s supremacy. Just at the edge of the forest line I caught a glimpse of an old, black truck decorated with too much chrome. It sat menacingly in the dark, occasional glints of light reflecting off the metal grill.

Now fear rose up like a cold wave inside my chest, and I squelched a scream. Though not a sound escaped, I still covered my mouth. And like a freight train, set on a collision course, the pieces from the last 48 hours crashed together in my mind. The headlights that followed me outside of Memphis, the lingering truck in Tupelo, the notes and text messages all formed a very frightening puzzle. And I had just welcomed the last piece through my front door.

“H-how did you find me here?” Though I tried to appear calm, my voice shook.

“You brought me once, two summers ago.”

I had no memory of that trip, but for a moment the mere knowledge of it allowed for some comfort. To have shared such a treasured part of my life with this man suggested a sentiment that I no longer remembered, but must have felt at one time. What happened that change my mind?

Considering the circumstances, Steve's self-assurance baffled me. The lights were still out, and the fact that we were engulfed in shadows didn’t seem to bother him, as he removed his jacket smoothly and tossed it to a chair. He moved deeper into the room, and I waited until he took a seat before I opened the fuse box near the door. Seeing how this was not a candlelight moment, I prayed the storm had only tripped a breaker. And with a flip of a switch the lights came on, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I turned to discover Steve relaxing on the couch with his legs crossed, and my mother’s handmade blanket spread over his lap. My face flushed at the sight of him handling my mother’s things.

“Here let me get that out of your way.” I took the blanket, clutched it to my chest like a shield, and sat in a chair across from him. My reaction surprised and worried me at the same time.

“Your mother made that, I remember.” Steve muttered in what was his first sign of wavering confidence.

“I wish
I
could remember.” I stared at him desperate for a clip of a memory but none came.

Steve looked terrible. He hadn’t shaved for a while, and his green eyes were red around the rim as if he hadn’t slept in days. He wore a pair of tired old blue jeans. Until this moment, I’d never seen him look anything less than stellar. His disheveled appearance unnerved me.

“Prior to Memphis, I have no memory of you.” I cut to the chase.

“I gathered that, yes.” He pushed back his wet and matted blonde hair, shaking the water from his fingers.

I waited, hoping he’d take the lead, but he neither spoke nor looked at me.

“So, you knew yet you said nothing?” I could feel my anger rising, that rollercoaster ride ready by my side.

“At the time, I didn’t see the point.” His gaze rested on me now, cold and scrutinizing.

I ran a hand through my hair attempting to calm the blaze that burned hot in my chest

“How did you know I’d be at Graceland?”

“It was January 8th.” He said simply.

The predictable habits of a fan, I’ll have to remember that, I told myself.

“I had gone hoping we could talk, but obviously that was out of the question. Was I that easy to forget?” he asked, and as if a bucket of water had been dumped over my head, I instantly unruffled.

I averted my gaze to my hands, clasped together in my lap.

“I wish I knew how to answer that, but I-I don’t understand it myself.”

When I looked up to Steve, his expression was hard. I empathized, recognizing that dull look of heartbreak. Sadly, we were similar. We both were chasing something that was clearly out of our reach, only he resented what he couldn’t have, and I had accepted my fate.

“Yes, well, it’s possible this other gent has clouded your mind,” He sighed, stood, and began to pace around the room.

I wanted to bombard him with questions and accusations, but my intuition told me to choose my words carefully.

“Heather says we parted ways weeks prior to my accident, long before I met—” I caught myself just in time, “the new man in my life.”

“Heather talks too much,” he paused to straighten a photo on the wall, and then stood back to consider it, “I wasn’t privy to any
accident
.” He added with a hint of cynicism, and it was in this display of disinterest and genuine disconnect, that lay my first hint of hopelessness.

As it became clear that only I was interested in finding some common ground to our problem, the need to put some space between us swelled. I stood and began to move towards the kitchen.

“I-I’m told we weren’t in contact at the time that I was ill, so I suppose you wouldn’t have known,” I tried, “but I’m sure if I could just explain.”

“No!”He suddenly snapped.

Steve slowly turned around from where he had stopped pacing near the front door. He shot me a seething look that chilled me to my core. Nobody had ever looked at me with such pure rage. I could hear his ragged breathing from across the room, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. I couldn’t stop myself from looking beyond him at the small table where I had carelessly tossed my car keys earlier.

“No explanation is needed,” he said, “because nothing has really changed luv, now has it?”

Every muscle in my body instantly tensed as Steve reached behind with his right hand. He pulled out a pair of worn, black leather gloves from his back pocket. Methodically, and never taking his eyes off of me, he worked his right hand into the first one.

“You tossed me aside once, and it seems you’ve tossed me aside again. Old habits are hard to break, are they?”

I was standing in the kitchen still wondering what he could possibly need gloves for. It took a moment, and then I realized by his expectant stare that he had asked me a question.

“I-I’m sorry if it appears that I’ve tossed you aside, but if I owe you an apology for anything it’s for allowing you to initially believe that I was available.” I’d hoped to de-escalate the situation, but instinctively I inched towards the back door. “My behavior in Memphis was not my true self, and I genuinely hope you can forgive me.”

“Well, it’s all water under the bridge really, I mean we might have had a chance to start anew in Memphis, but then Heather showed up and everything changed,” he paused to tug the cowhide low around his wrist, “I reckon she told you about me, did she?”

I paused in my retreat, and looked at Steve incredulously as in three short sentences his accent completely transformed. He was almost smiling now, and without raising his head looked up at me as he continued to adjust the glove. A breath caught in my chest. At first I thought I must have heard wrong, and then he spoke again.

“The way I figure it, darlin’, she told you I’d been
harassing
you,
stalking
you,” He kept one eye on me while he worked to put on the other glove. “She never did take a shine to me.”

My mouth fell open.

“Ah-h, the accent. Yes, well, your reaction was similar the first time,” He fluttered his gloved hands in the air, eyes wide with crazy, “shock and dismay.”

The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, or what I was seeing.

“Oh s-u-r-e I played the game for months, trying to fit in with your high falutin’ friends, always the perfect gentlemen. Boring! You wanted a saint not a man, and I ain’t your daddy.”

Steve kept his head down now, and obsessively tugged at one glove, then the other. He had begun taking slow, stilted steps toward me, and at least for the moment was clearly putting more attention into his ramblings than where he was going. I shuffled towards the back door. Though my heart was in my throat, I moved in firm but measured steps.

“So the way I figure it, honey, I should get something for all my trouble. Don’t ya think?”

Steve sighed deeply, and then slapped his leather clad hands together. I flinched and tried to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. I was almost to the back door, eager to make an escape, when Steve slowly lowered his hands to his sides and raised his head. His face was almost unrecognizable to me. My options were limited, but obvious.

I spun around and flung the door behind me open. My gaze flickered out into the night, to freedom, and for a split second hope surged. I took that first step at a dead run. I got one foot out the door, and a hand grabbed me from behind. My head snapped back as I was jerked to an almost instant stop and swung around by my blouse. Steve slammed me, back first, up against a solid object in the kitchen. Pain discharged across my collar bone.

“It’s not polite to interrupt when I’m talking!” Steve spat in my face.

“Please…” I whimpered.

His body was pressed against mine, and his breath was heavy with the smelled of alcohol and mint. I turned my head away, but he roughly grabbed my chin and turned my head back to face him.

“What I’m
trying
to say baby doll… is,” he pressed harder into me, “you owe me and I’m here to collect.”

“Get off me.” I croaked as his hand tightened around my throat.

I drew in a quick breath through my nose and on the exhale spat in his face. Grinning menacingly, he closed his eyes, and allowed the wet substance to drip down his face.

“You ought’n have done that. See, I hadn’t made up my mind what I was going to do with you when this unfortunate business was over,” Steve paused to lick my spit from where it hit near his mouth. “Now, I have.”

As my need for survival swelled, the world around me muted. I could hear only the sound of my heart pulsating in my ear. Desperate and determined, I lifted my foot, and drove my knee into Steve’s body. Like the key to my shackles, his hands fell away from my throat. I drew in a life renewing breath as he shrank away clutching his groin. He swore venomously, but I never heard a word. I was already out the door.

A mix of rain and snow fell. The slush soaked into my clothes and I was instantly drenched, cold to the bone. My breath blew out as steam in the night. I ran barefoot across the back yard. I trampled through the pooled water, slipping once but catching myself. I hit the gravel driveway at a full sprint oblivious to the numbing pain of tiny pebbles digging into the bottoms of my feet. I jumped over partially frozen pot holes, clearing some and missing others.

I glanced back. Steve was up and headed down the back steps. I pushed harder. Part of me wanted to keep an eye on his every move, but that was silliness I knew. It was unlikely that his intentions had changed. He was surely headed my way, and as scared as I was my steps were solid. Endorphins rushed through my veins like a drug. I could have run until dawn, but vast acres of forestland stood between me and help.