Earth Angel (28 page)

Gwynne moved her arm off her face and turned onto her side and propped herself up. “Maybe I should do some more healing on the car.”

She was getting up? She shouldn’t get up. She looked so sexy lying down. And touching her, even if it was only leg against leg through their clothes, felt too good to stop.

“It’s an inanimate object, Gwynnosaurus. I don’t think more energy’s going to help.”

“I need to prove to myself that I can fix it.”

“Why?” Abby said. “It’s not a good test. Your skills are designed to work on people, not cars. You can’t expect a machine to behave like a living thing. If something’s broken, no amount of energy is going to conjure up the replacement parts.”

“The angels’ bridge isn’t alive, either. It’s more like a car than like a person.”

“It’s not a car. It’s not made of earth materials. And even if you
could
fix the car, we have no idea what the bridge will do. Even the angels don’t understand how it works. They know how to use it, but if they had to build a new one, they’d have no idea how.”

“That’s exactly how I feel about that car.”

“Gwendolyn…”

“I can fix inanimate objects.”

“You don’t have to prove anything.” Gwynne’s stubbornness was starting to worry her.

“Watch.” Gwynne waved one hand over the harp, not quite touching it. “Try playing it now.”

Indulging her, Abby played a few notes of the “Arran Boat Song,” and the notes were more clear, more haunting than before. Was it the power of suggestion? Her fingers went up and down the octaves, testing it out, relieved that Gwynne’s magic had worked and hopeful this meant Gwynne would stop worrying about the car.

“Better?” Gwynne asked.

Abby launched into an Irish slip jig. The difference in tone was amazing. She ran her hands over the frame of her harp. “What did you do?”

“It sounds better, right?”

“Noticeably so. You could get people to pay you for this.”

“I’d rather be able to fix our car. My skills are so…minor. Useless when it comes to things like not getting stranded in the desert, or…” Gwynne plopped down in the sand. Her voice cracked. “Or saving my mother’s life.”

Abby’s heart ached for her. “Your skills make people’s lives better. You ease their pain. That’s just as important as saving lives.”

“Is it?” Gwynne’s eyes looked pained. “If it’s not enough to fix that damn bridge, I’m going to lose you too.”

If something went wrong, it was far more likely that Gwynne would be the one to die and Abby would be left to take care of Gwynne’s rabbits. Or, because they were linked, they’d both die. And if they both survived, what would happen after that? Would Gwynne decide she’d had enough angel craziness, and leave? There were many ways this could end badly.

Abby hugged her harp to her chest. “You don’t have to save me.”

Gwynne’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. I do.”

* * *

Gwynne watched Abby’s hands fly confidently over her newly improved harp strings, turning them into blurs of vibration. Her head was bent over her harp like a mother holding a baby, and a shaft of desert sunlight backlit her hair, making it glow like a shimmering, golden halo. She made an unbearably beautiful angel.

Gwynne dropped her head to her knees, torn between the overwhelming need to memorize every curve of Abby’s body and her reflex to look away because it hurt too much to watch something that beautiful. She blinked away the moisture that blurred her vision.

She was going to lose her. They were going to fix this bridge and Abby was going to decide she wanted to stay in the Angelic Realm after all. Once she realized she really
was
an angel, what would stop her?

And it might not matter either way. Because once they had her, Elle and her bright, shining thugs were never going to let her go.

Chapter Twenty-One

It was dark when the tow truck dropped them off at the auto repair shop. Abby checked out the touristy Native American dream catchers adorned with dangling pigeon feathers displayed above quarts of oil stacked against the wall while Gwynne explained to the mechanic what happened to their car.

“I can take a look at it tonight, but officially I’m already closed for the day,” the mechanic told her, heedless of the stream of angels flying into the shop. Hundreds had returned en masse after having disappeared all afternoon.

“Didn’t this happen the last time we rode in a car?” observed one of the angels.

“Coincidence,” Elle said dismissively.

“What?” Abby said sharply.

“What do you think is wrong with it?” Gwynne asked the mechanic, covering for Abby’s outburst.

Abby sent her a mental thank you for her quick reaction, because rude outbursts weren’t going to get their car fixed any faster, and might leave them stranded instead.

The mechanic shrugged like it wasn’t worth his time to explain stuff a city girl wouldn’t understand. “Electrical, maybe.”

“I wonder how
that
could have happened,” Abby said, giving Elle a hard look.

“I felt something spark,” volunteered one of the angels.

“Me too,” said another one. “Right when I was trampled and fell through the engine.”

Abby realized her mouth was hanging open and clamped it shut.

“It’s not our fault cars these days have so many electronic controls,” Elle said. “How about you call the rental company for a replacement car so we can get going?”

“Car won’t be ready until tomorrow,” said the mechanic, talking over Elle, clearly oblivious to the angels’ commentary. “Any chance you’re here for the yoga camp?”

“Just passing through,” Gwynne said.

“No hotels here. You’ll need a place to stay the night. My wife can drive you to the camp.”

“We’re fine sleeping in the car,” Abby said. She’d never be able to pass herself off as a yoga enthusiast—she couldn’t even touch her toes, let alone drape her leg over her head or whatever else it was they did.

“Replacement car,” Elle said.

What was the big hurry? Was she afraid the longer they delayed, the more likely they were to change their minds and back out of the plan? Even if they did get a replacement car, it would take several hours to reach them. And surely Elle didn’t mean for them to deal with the bridge in the dark. They might as well wait for morning and give themselves a few hours of sleep before they attempted to not get themselves killed.

“The yoga folks don’t mind visitors,” said the mechanic. “You’d be a lot more comfortable there than sleeping in my repair bay, but if that’s what you really want…” He trailed off like he hoped what they really wanted was to get out of his garage and let him start on their repair.

Gwynne’s elbow poked into Abby’s side. “If I don’t get some sleep, I’m going to be a grouchy-pants when we get to Elle’s house.”

Okay, so Gwynne didn’t want to sleep in the car.

“They serve food,” the mechanic said. “Vegetarian. Not exactly what I’d call food, but my wife likes it okay.”

Elle flapped her wings open and closed. “Replacement. Car.”

Abby distanced herself from Gwynne’s elbow. As long as she didn’t have to do any backbends…

Gwynne pulled her outside. “Yoga camp, here we come.”

* * *

The sea of closely-packed tents glowed from within, and random laughter and muted conversations filled the night. A woman sipping from a mug the size of a soup bowl emerged from a wooden shed marked Office.

“Namaste,” she said between sips that sent dozens of thin, gold bracelets tinkling as they slid up and down her forearms.

“Namaste.” Abby brought her hands to prayer position, hoping she looked like she knew what she was doing. “We were told we might be able to stay here for the night?”

“Of course. Welcome. Our restroom facilities—toilets, sinks and showers—are located at the northern perimeter. Cold water only.” She pointed to a corrugated aluminum shack strung with colored lights. “Did you bring a tent?”

“Uh…no.” Abby tightened the strap that secured her harp to her back. “Our car broke down and…it’s a long story.”

“No worries.” The woman led them into the office, which was jammed with stacks of shelving holding books, clothing, toilet paper, snacks and supplies. “We don’t have any extra tents, but we do have blankets. Here.” She piled several wool blankets onto their outstretched arms.

“Thank you so much.” Abby adjusted her grip as the thick blankets slipped. “Will we need this many?”

“It gets cold at night, especially if you’re not used to the altitude.” Her bracelets clinked against each other as she added several more blankets and a flashlight. “If you’d like to join us for evening chants, we’ll be meeting by the campfire in an hour.”

“That sounds fun,” Gwynne cut in, “but I think we need to turn in for the night.”

The yoga chick didn’t insist. They hiked into the desert, away from the tents, until the voices of the campers faded away and were replaced by the night sounds of the desert.

The moon was bright enough that Abby turned off their borrowed flashlight to conserve batteries. The city sky was nothing like this. The beach sky was nothing like this. It was almost like being out in space. She hugged her share of blankets against her hip to free one arm and slipped her hand into the crook of Gwynne’s elbow, something she’d longed to do that night on the beach after Penelope’s wedding. She wrapped her fingers around her arm and soaked in the warmth that seeped through her jacket. She watched the stars instead of her footing, and maybe Gwynne did too, because they stumbled over rocks and bumped into each other sort of on purpose for a long time until they found a spot that felt like a good place to stop.

“Are there scorpions out here?” Abby asked, trying to decipher the shadows as she unfurled the blankets and spread them on the ground, one on top of the other.

“I’m sure our angel friends will make sure no scorpion interferes with their plans,” Gwynne said.

“That might be more reassuring if we knew what their plan really was.”

“True.”

Abby rolled one of the blankets into a long pillow they could both share. It was cold, so they removed only their shoes and sandwiched themselves between the blankets fully dressed. Gwynne tucked Abby under her arm and Abby stared up at the stars imagining atoms, with their random joy, birthing galaxies. The aliveness of creation was very close out here.

“I love sleeping outside,” Abby said after a while.

“We flew two thousand miles to sleep on the sand? We could have done this on the beach back home.”

“It’s illegal to sleep on the beach.” Abby tried not to laugh at how prissy she sounded.

Gwynne scoffed. “Tell me that’s not what’s stopping you.”

“It
is
what’s stopping me.”

“Sure it is.”

“It
is
.” All right, so she was totally lying. “If you must know, I don’t like getting sand in my clothes, okay?”

“We should do it when we get back.”

“If we get back,” Abby amended. If they got back, she would love to spend a night with Gwynne discovering whether the police patrolled the beach or not. If they got back, she’d let Gwynne rub sand in her clothes and make a whole list of fun, non-life-threatening things they could do together. “You touch that bridge, you could die.”

“So could you. Who knows what my energy field will do. I could blow up the whole thing.”

“Elle didn’t seem to think so.”

“Elle doesn’t know. She’s flying by the seat of her pants waiting for someone to bust her for not having a pilot’s license.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Abby said, even though it seemed futile to remind her. “You still have time to bail.”

Gwynne squeezed her close. “I’m not abandoning you.”

“It’s okay if you change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”

She believed her, but she couldn’t let it go. “If you want to later…”

“I won’t.”

Abby couldn’t take it anymore. “Why are you doing this? There’s no guarantee you’ll be safe.”

“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread?”

“I’m serious.”

Gwynne clucked her tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not supposed to be so serious—you being an angel and all. You know angels can fly only because they take themselves lightly.”

“Would you stop with the ridiculous angel quotations?”

“I’m kind of starting to like them.”

“You are not.” Was this what happened to Gwynne when she was nervous?

Gwynne’s eyes twinkled. She kissed the top of her head. “We won’t die. This is going to work.”

Still locked in Gwynne’s arms, Abby gave a push and rolled on top of her, because right now their relationship was the only thing that made sense. “You’d better be right.”

* * *

Abby felt great on top of her. Her movement opened a gap in the blankets, though, letting in a whisper of cold air. Gwynne sat up, pulling Abby with her, and rearranged the blankets that had slipped. She shivered at the cold air at her back.

“Holy crap, it’s freezing out here.” Gwynne buried her face in Abby’s shoulder and breathed in the familiar scent of her hair. It was a scent she dreamed about lately, a scent that made her whole body come alive. And on that note…

She dredged up the blandest tone she could get away with and met Abby nose-to-nose. “They say if someone has hypothermia you’re supposed to get under their blanket with them. Naked.”

Abby grinned like it was a worthy attempt, but it wasn’t going to fly. “You don’t have hypothermia.”

What…She didn’t want to get warm?

“Shouldn’t you check?”

Abby stuck her cold hands under her shirt and grabbed her waist. Gwynne flinched.

“Better?” Abby asked innocently, the deepening laugh lines at the corners of her eyes the only thing giving her away.

Gwynne snorted and hugged her tight. It was her own fault, after all. She should have known Abby’s hands would be cold.

Abby rubbed her hands vigorously against Gwynne’s lower back, and her hands—although perhaps not Gwynne’s back—did get a little warmer. Then she moved higher and found the back of Gwynne’s bra. She traced the whole length of it and paused in the center. “Uh-oh. A bra that closes in front.” She took a fun detour on her way to the front and found the clasp. “I’m not sure I know how these work.”