Dream Angel : Heaven Waits (4 page)

The sun was peeking out from behind the dark clouds as we sped through Memphis on the forever-renovating Highway 55. Neither Heather nor I spoke. Both at ease with the silence, Heather scanned her messages on her cell phone while I gazed at a rainbow cast against the stone sky. So vibrant, so lively, I considered, remembering my father’s bedtime Bible stories.

The Ark would have been a nice perk earlier
, I smiled at the thought.

The cabbie took our exit. We wound through the streets of downtown Memphis and up Union Avenue. I kept watch on the rainbow as it followed cheerily behind. While the soft sound of a street trolley rung somewhere in the city, we rolled to a stop at the historic Peabody Hotel. I grabbed my purse and stepped out.

Returning to the thirteen-story Italian Renaissance building had my heart skipping a happy beat. Like an old friend, the hotel and I had history. It was not too long ago that I’d celebrated a milestone birthday here. It was a small gathering, really, just Heather and me. At the time a party away from home seemed like the perfect plan. After all we were two adventurous thinking 21 year-olds with plane tickets to anywhere. The combination was hazardous, but not deadly.

Standing next to the building, I reminisced as I craned my neck to get a good view of the flashing neon sign perched at the top. It flashed the hotel’s famous name in scarlet letters over the city. Who would have thought The Peabody Hotel, built in a time when cotton was king, and the South was in its glory, would be a fundamental adult lesson for why booze and I should never mix?

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Heather snickered next to me also gazing upward.

“Probably.”

“Remember when you—.”

“Don’t say it.”

“But it was so darn funny when—.”

“You promised.” I sighed and then Heather laughed.

“Yeah, ok.” She said.

“Ok.” I walked away.

Memphis residents believe the Mississippi Delta starts in the lobby of the Peabody Hotel. It was… is, a place to see and be seen. No matter the memory of my alcoholic inspired antics, best left in the past and never to be repeated, my trip was never complete until I had enjoyed her Southern hospitality at least once during a visit. I was pleased Heather had suggested it.

***

As I stepped through the brass-plated French doors, a mix of old- and new-world extravagance greeted me. From the caramel-colored marble that swirled in soft patterns below my feet to the crystal chandeliers that hung majestically over my head, I felt like the belle of the ball. I imagined myself a princess, only without my prince. An inopportune problem soon to be rectified.

Following Heather down a long sandstone hallway, I seemingly glided on air. While admiring the out-of-season flower arrangements, placed along the corridor, it wasn't long before we found ourselves standing in the middle of a grand lobby set in the middle of the hotel like a town square. No matter how many times we’d entered this well crafted indoor village, my first glance always awed me. There were trees growing in over size planters, reaching upward to a lofty wood beamed ceiling, as well as plush russet color carpeting, and a fountain lightly showering water in to a basin at the room’s center.

On this day, the hotel was all a-buzz. Patrons strolled around the perimeter, enjoying long standing businesses within the hotel each with window dressings full of colorful textiles. And, stationed in the middle of this indoor piazza were deep, comfy couches looking as though they’d been dipped in dark chocolate. My shoulders relaxed at just the thought of sinking in to their luxurious mounds.

“I see a spot, over there.” I gestured and began walking toward an empty corner for four. Heather followed close behind.

A few guests were sprinkled throughout the room, spaced a socially acceptable distance apart. They spoke softly, illuminated with soft bedside lighting. Their collective conversations blended into a low, soothing murmur while soft music flowed from a black baby grand piano close by.

Sinking in to the deep cushions, I crossed one slender leg over the other, my attention drifting to Lansky’s store front. I wondered if Elvis knew his favorite clothing store, once on Beale Street, had moved and couldn’t wait to tell him.

“Look at that packed bar.” Heather had her own idea about the important ingredients of tourism.

A large slab of hand-crafted mahogany made as the bar’s top and shined from the far end of the room. Patrons sat along its glossy dark crest, enjoying expertly made potions.

“Let’s order a drink.” I politely waved at a passing waitress, and she nodded in return.

“One vodka, dirty, martini please, and one large unsweetened iced tea when you have time. Thank you.” Heather rattled off our order before I could speak.

The waitress smiled politely as she wrote. I watched Heather with great amusement.

“What?”

“Were you thinking about that order on the drive over?”

“Hey, you bake when edgy, I drink.” Heather forced a smile.

“I’m not tense.” I feigned confidence, and she rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to argue.

“If this chasing of angels keeps up, I’m going to need stronger therapy than booze,” Heather shot back good naturedly. “Where are we meeting your angel tonight anyway?”

“
We?
”

“Surely you didn’t think you’d leave me behind?

“You can’t go Heather, he…,” I cut my sentence short and pressed my lips together as the waitress reappeared and set our drinks to the table. I waited for her departure before I continued. “He asked me to come alone.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Heather took a sip of her drink and squinted from the potency.

I opened my mouth to argue, but then paused. It was useless to fight her. I could see that glint of determination sparkling in her glare. My body sank deeper in to the plush couch. With an accepting sigh I lifted my cold beverage to my lips, my focus shifting, and my hand stalling before I could ever get a taste.

The immense lobby seemed to shrink before my eyes as my focus became glued to Steve sauntering along the outer edges of the room in which we sat. He was chatting mindlessly on a cell phone, and my mind spun a web of indecision. Should I pretend I didn’t see him, I wondered, looking at Heather who was already following my gaze. Her eyes flickered, squinting with a perceptive glimmer before settling further in to tiny slits. I shifted nervously.

When Steve met my gaze, he paused in his conversation, and a spark of surprise turned his business-like expression into a wide grin. I gave a light smile in return, my chest swelling with remorse. I was drowning in my continence when he glanced to Heather and his happy expression cracked. Guilt aside, my curiosity peeked.

“How lucky am I to find you here?” Steve snapped his cell phone shut, and his green eyes held mine a little too intensely. He never once looked back to Heather, who was inspecting her shoes in a display of strong-willed indifference.

He was handsomely dressed, his fashion flair evident in the black suede suit jacket he wore boldly and with confidence. I could not help but admire his deep purple shirt left to drift lazily over the front of his designer jeans.

“Heather, this is the gentleman I spoke of earlier, Steve.”

My cheeks hurt from my forced smile, and I prayed her Southern manners would present themselves soon. I didn’t want trouble. But, with Heather one never knew what they might get. Her moods were shifty.

She coolly looked up at Steve, who extended his hand. She took it in a swift but polite shake.

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Please join us.” I patted the seat next to me.

“Thank you. I do prefer the company of such lovely ladies to work any day.” Steve smiled at Heather, who remained unimpressed.

“I didn’t realize you were here on work?” I nervously cleared my throat and scooted over to make room, strategically remaining out of arm’s reach.

“I was here tending to unfinished business, but as of right now I’m officially on holiday.” Steve dropped his briefcase to the couch and took off his jacket.

“How convenient,” Heather spat.

My mouth dropped open and my head snapped to my discourteous friend so quickly I felt a neck muscle twinge in a form of self-induced whiplash.

“What she means is how
nice
it must be to work so close to Memphis.” I glared in Heather’s direction.

Normally a fiery look would have softened Heather’s attitude, but she remained cold as stone.

I turned back to Steve and displayed the Southern belle simpleton look I had been perfecting since I was ten years old.

“What do you say we order some food?” I waved at our waitress, who was in no better humor than when we first sat down.

“And another martini please,” added Heather.

I watched with great dread as Heather set her chin in that familiar challenging expression that always meant trouble.

“Sam secretly hopes food will keep me sober for when she takes me on her date later.” Heather grimaced at Steve.

My mouth again fell open, and shock rendered me mute.

“Oh, you have another engagement tonight?” Steve slowly leaned back seemingly unmoved by Heathers behavior.

“It’s a secret.” Heather placed a finger to her lips.

“I’m meeting my friend I mentioned to you earlier.”
I wish I was home making brownies
.

“Ah, the gent you were waiting for last night? What was his name?” He asked casually.

“I’ll give you one guess. It starts with an E.” Heather winked at him and Steve cocked his head in bewilderment.

“I-I’m not sure if he’ll be there, no.” My tone fell to almost a whisper.

“Will you be joining her?” He nodded at Heather, who only grinned while rolling her booze around as though it were fine wine.

Was this for real? Had I fallen into a really bad comedy skit? I found myself actually looking about for the hidden cameras.

“Heather will be joining me seeing as I can’t leave her with the way she’s downing martinis like iced tea,” I said with a dawning realization I had played right into Heather’s plan.

Heather conveniently avoided my glare by intently studying the lone green olive floating lazily in her martini.

This can’t be happening; I shook my head, already scanning the area, desperate for an easy escape. A red lounge sign glowed from across the room. The hideaway called out to me like an oasis in the desert. And, I’m not ashamed to admit, I paused to consider just how long I might be able to hide amongst the white porcelain and flower scented soaps before one of them came looking for me. It could not have been long enough.

Time crawled forward in tortuous minutes, and then the food arrived, shattering all hopes of me forming an escape. An uncomfortable quiet hovered, and not because our mouths were full of food. A large elephant could have sat down to join us and nobody would have noticed.

“Have you ever been to Atlanta?” Heather finally spoke and almost craned cross the table as if wanting to not miss Steve’s response.

“No.” Steve said.

“You’re sure?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sure.”

“Oh well, my mistake then,” Heather sighed rather dramatically.

Though I was aware Heather often took months to warm up to most strangers, I had not seen her so challenging. Her instant dislike for Steve puzzled me especially when I had told her very little about this afternoon. Why was this different? The question nagged at me and yet I had to shake it off. There was no time to deal with this craziness; I had an angel in waiting.

“You know…” I laid down my food and grabbed a napkin. “We really must be going.”

While I began to dig into my purse to pay the bill, I kept one eye on Heather to be sure there was no chance of her ordering a drink on the fly.

“No, here, let me. I crashed your little gathering. It’s the least I can do,” Steve said, as he reached into his wallet.

Heather’s mouth parted to speak and daggers flew from my eyes. She wisely went back for one last sip of her drink.

“Steve, I believe I’ve caused enough conflict to your day, and now to your evening.” I forced a polite smile to my lips, and gathered my personal effects before rising to leave.

“It’s no problem, really.” He stood.

“Trust me, problems are abundant these days.” Heather muttered while gathering her belongings.

Steve gave no sign of having heard Heather, much to my relief. I hesitated briefly, unable to look Heather in the face for fear my anger would surface and I would cause an un-ladylike scene in public. Unlike my friend, I saw no reason for such a blatant display of rudeness. It was better to just leave, quietly.

“Well, if the lucky fellow does not show up, you ladies know where to find me.”

“Steve, do yourself a favor, the next time you see me, just run the other way.” I smiled before turning to leave, dragging Heather along with me.

We left Steve sitting around three plates of virtually uneaten finger foods. My cheeks burned with anger as I stomped each foot step to make my agitation known. Heather, on the other hand, surprisingly walked a straight line as we left the hotel. I observed her closely. I knew that somewhere inside that martini-fogged brain of hers, she knew something I did not.

***

The cab ride back to Graceland was quiet. Heather napped against the car door, and I gazed out at the flashing of street lights as Memphis blazed passed us in the night. The evening air blew cold against the glass, and I rested my head against its surface, enjoying the rousing chill on my skin.

My mind was circling around the day’s mystery when we pulled up next to Graceland with a jerk that woke Heather. She rubbed her face clumsily and blinked. Heather had been so still, I had almost forgotten she was there. Her rousing woke my remembrance and a tiny flame of anger sparked again. I stared out the window, fuming while simultaneously admiring the soft glow of illumination that highlighted the dark stately manor. The driver tapped his pencil against the steering wheel.

Heather spoke first. “We’re at Graceland?”

I nodded and took note that Heather sounded like her sober self. At least if Elvis did show, she would be aware enough to remember the encounter. However, my gut feeling told me that only two of us would be standing in the cold tonight. Important chat or not, he was not coming.

“Are we not talking to each other now?” Heather sighed.

Without responding, I reached over the seat, paid the fare, and let myself out. I left the door open for Heather.

“Fine, don’t speak to me, but really Samantha, Steve’s a vulture,” Heather said, slamming the door shut for emphasis.

“How do you know?’ I spun around.

“I just do!”

“Just because he’s pushy in his desire to be with someone, to break his loneliness, doesn’t mean he’s a monster.” My voice trailed off as I realized Steve and I had a lot in common.

The cabbie’s tires spun against the wet pavement and he jerked out onto the empty street. We stood side by side in the still night and watched as the red tail lights grew smaller, drifting off in to the night.

“I’m sorry.” Heather said.

I looked at her, but held back my words. I knew better to open my mouth when I was this upset. Nothing positive ever came out of a fiery situation. And, when I was ready to speak it would be without the urge to call her names like shit-head — I hate it when she makes me angry enough to curse — which of course meant she'd won. For now, silence was better.

Our breath hung in small white clouds as we walked up to the gates of Graceland. Heather shivered and blew on her hands as I wrapped mine around the cold green bars and glanced into the small white guard shack to my right. A gate security guard, dressed in full uniform blues, sat sipping coffee and reading the paper. I turned and leaned heavily against the closed gate. In rechecking my watch, for what had to be the hundredth time that night, my heart skipped as the clock ticked past midnight.

“He’ll be here,” Heather said, as she yawned and zipped up her jacket.

“No. He won’t.” I exhaled.

“What makes you think he won’t?”

“Because he said to come alone, and obviously I’m not alone,
Heather
.” I crossed my arms over my chest, and leaned my head back against the gate while looking up at the dark sky.

Street lights hummed over an empty boulevard. The cold cement glistened under the warm glow. Turning, I continued down the boulevard, passing a large green historic marker without stopping to read it.

“What am I, a Chest piece that everyone can move around as they please? Samantha, do this. Samantha, go here!” That feisty attitude I could normally curtail had arrived.

“Maybe something came up?” Heather tried.

“No, he’s watching,” I uttered mindlessly while scanning Graceland’s front lawn.

No signs of life stirred. Every other tree was softly lit by blue, yellow or green landscape lighting. It gave the grounds an overall peaceful look that normally I could feel, but the more I considered my situation, the more focused on my anger I became. Once again, he was just going to leave without a word, I fumed while pacing and nibbling on the tip of my thumbnail.

“If Mr. Elvis Presley thinks I’m walking away from tonight without him, he’s got another thing coming,” I huffed, turned and almost bumped into Heather.

“What are you planning, Samantha?” Heather asked wearily as I walked ahead of her.

“I’m going to find the easiest way in.”

“Graceland is closed, Sam.”

“He told me to meet him, and if he
won’t
come to me…”

Heather squinted, and then her expression fell.

“We are going to get arrested!” She screeched.

I waved my hands wildly and looked around.

“We won’t get caught.” I whispered.

Heather shook her head.

“Besides if protecting me is his job, let him get to doing it.” My stubborn reasoning sounded simple.

Heather turned a cold shoulder to display her disapproval.

“I’m going in with or without you.”

Heather studied the pavement and her shuffling feet. I bit my tongue to keep from saying too much as she looked up at the mansion towering above us. A strong gust blew, stinging my cheek.

“How do we get in?”

I smiled triumphantly.

“Let’s look at it from another vantage point.”

I was ready for anything. At least that’s what I told myself.

“Let’s get this over with.” Heather grumbled as she flipped the hood on her black jacket up over her head.

We walked north up Elvis Presley Boulevard like a street gang up to no good. The quiet night echoed with the sound of our shoes, lightly slapping against the wet pavement. I did not know exactly where I was going, but my daddy had always told me, “God cannot move an anchored boat.” I knew this was not what he had in mind when he shared that wisdom, but I could not allow myself to stay tied to shore while the boat to paradise passed me by. As it was, if God disapproved, I couldn’t hear him.

Next door to Graceland, and only a block up the road, we stopped in front of a small complex of businesses. Brick and looking very much like apartments I looked about the diminutive sized property measuring-up the obstacle that stood between me and my desires. A sign posted on the front fence captured my interest. “Chapel in The Woods”, it said. A thrill rushed over me.

With Heather following close behind me, I approached the building and pressed my face to the fence that separated me from my destiny. I could see the security cameras in plain sight, but I shrugged off the warning. Cameras mattered not if I was under an angel’s protection, I told myself. And as my vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, and even with night-blurry vision, I was still able to scan up the concrete driveway.

Plunging deeper, beyond the brick building, I could clearly observe the hint of a tiny grey church submerged in the darkness. Unlike the church from my childhood, it was not a public place of worship. Here, couples get married, and after the ceremony the newlyweds are allowed to walk to Graceland for pictures. I may not have known much about marriage, but I knew about the dream of marriage. If brides are strolling in white dresses then the walk had to be easily accessible.