Falling (The Falling Angels Saga) (35 page)

Roxanne and I were seated alone in the kitchen at the dinette table that was several odd shades of green. I’d come to love that dinette set. Aunt Jaz had placed piping hot bowls of soup in front of each of us before vacating the room.

It was decided that Roxanne and I should talk in private. After all, we were the two women in Guy’s life.

“Eat,” Roxanne said, gesturing toward my bowl.

“How can I eat after what I just heard?”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” I said, my heart beating faster. “The angels can really cure him?” I asked.

“I believe they can. But Guy gave up his right to heaven and heavenly things when he chose to pursue a life on earth with you. There’s no way the angels will intervene, unless…” She left the sentence unfinished.

“Unless he tells them he’s changed his mind and renounces his decision.” I felt exhausted. It was as if all the hope that had invigorated me when I discovered Guy was still alive was slowly fleeing with this news.

Roxanne nodded slowly. “And you know Guy as well as I do. He’d rather die than renounce his decision to be with you.”

I did know Guy. I knew his decision to give up heaven didn’t come easily. It was a great sacrifice. I also knew Roxanne was right. Once Guy had made the sacrifice for love, he’d never go back on his word.

“What a crappy choice. He can stay here with me and die, or he can return to heaven and live… with you.”

“You can’t look at it like that.” There was a hint of desperation in her voice.

I picked up my spoon and began stirring my soup. “You do love him, don’t you?” My eyes were on my soup. I couldn’t look at her. On the one hand, I wanted her to say “Yes, with all my heart,” and on the other hand, I wanted her to say “No.” Either response would kill me.

Roxanne was silent for a several minutes, and just when I thought she wasn’t going to say anything, she did. “If you’d asked me that question before I spent time on earth with you, I wouldn’t have known what you were talking about. I would have dismissed love as some weak mortal thing.”

My eyes moved from my soup to her face. The lines around her mouth had softened, almost into a smile.

“But because of you, I’ve witnessed love and the kind of sacrifice that goes into truly loving someone.” She sighed, reached across the table and grabbed my hand, stopping me from stirring the soup. “I do love him, Megan.” The words came out parched and dry, and they tore into my heart like a dull blade. “And if you can convince him to come back to heaven with me, I will honor the love you share with him every day. I promise,” she whispered. She was squeezing my hand a little too hard, and I pulled it away.

“There’s always a price to be paid for love,” I said, trying to create some distance between my heart and my words. “I guess this is mine.”

“It’s the right choice, Megan.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t move. I knew it was the right decision, but I kept asking myself “Right for whom?”

“You’ll have to be sincere. If you’re not, he’ll sense it and refuse to go. You’ll have to mean it, and you’ll have to convince him that it’s what
you
want.”

An ironic smile appeared on my lips, and I wagged my head because it wasn’t what I wanted. Guy returning to heaven forever was the last thing I wanted. But I did want him to survive. Back at the castle, when I thought he was dead, I felt I had no reason to go on. Knowing he could survive, even though it meant he’d never be with me, was a lousy consolation. Yet it was far better than allowing him to die.

“Take good care of him, Roxanne.” My tears were falling again.

“You know I will,” she replied shooting me a grateful smile. “And one more thing. Please call me Rocky.”

I smiled as best I could and nodded. “Let me know when he’s awake,” I said, and I went back to stirring my soup because I didn’t know what else to do.

*

The first thing I noticed when I entered the room was how warm it was. It felt as though someone had turned up the heat, but I knew the warmth in the air was coming off Guy.

He was lying in Aunt Jaz’s bed, with the green duvet folded down at the foot, surrounded by frilly pillows. It was laughable, really. Guy would never have chosen to lie in a bed that looked so girly. He was facing away from me, toward the window, his shiny dark hair in a tussle on the pillow.

“Guy,” I said softly, and his head began to move.

He faced me. His skin was white as parchment paper and glistening with perspiration. He smiled. It was
his
smile. Even in the throes of death Guy had found his arrogance. I fought back tears. I didn’t want him to see me cry.

“I’ve been asking for you,” he said. “Where’ve you been?” His voice was weak. I moved in and sat on the bed, picking up his hand. It was damp with sweat.

“I’ve been right here. I was waiting for the doctor to finish,” I said.

He snorted. “That Nephilim doctor doesn’t know anything. I feel fine. I just need to rest is all.”

“Yes,” I said and squeezed his hand. The dull blade turned in my chest.

“I can rest at your place, right? Now it’ll be your turn to watch over
my
dreams,” he said with a smile. His lips were chapped. “In a few days I’ll be as good as new.” He winced ever so slightly, and I realized he wasn’t just weak, he was still in tremendous pain.

“Guy,” I rasped. “We both know that’s not true.”

“We do?” he asked, struggling to keep his game face on.

I nodded, my head moving slowly up and down. “Yes. We do,” I said firmly.

His eyes turned sad. He leaned back heavily against the pillow. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

“You’re dying.” I don’t know how I was able to choke the words out without tears, but I did.

He closed his eyes for a few minutes. I thought he was drifting off to sleep.

“Guy?”

“If that is so, I want to spend my last days with you,” he said, his eyes still closed. He opened them, wanting to see my reaction.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

“Yes, of course I do. And I love you equally as much,” he said, sounding pained, as if I’d insulted him.

“Then don’t do this. Do you know what your death would do to me? It would ruin me forever! Is that what you want?” My voice rose as my emotions spiraled.

“No. No, of course not!” he said, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Then leave! I need to get on with my life, Guy. I need to look for my-happily-ever-after. And if you die, my chance of ever finding a sliver of happiness dies with you. Is
that
what you want?” The words seared against the back of my throat, it hurt so much saying them.

“No,” he said, wagging his head back and forth. “But—”

“The angels can cure you, Guy.”

“No.” It was a hopeless reply. His eyes began to moisten.

“You know they can. That is why you have to renounce this life and go back to heaven. If our love, if my future, means anything to you, you
must
do this.”

“I can’t.” He didn’t say the words. He rasped them as his tears began to fall.

“You have to. Do it for me, Guy. Please!” I said, my voice anguished. “I’m begging you. Go back to heaven and let the angels save you.” And now, I was crying, too. “Saving you will be saving
me
.”

Using whatever strength he had left, he bolted upright and took me into his arms. He felt frail and weak and wet all over, and yet, oh, so good. Oh, my God! He felt so good in my arms. I clung to him.

“I’ve worked so hard to get back to you. I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered in my ear. “It isn’t fair.”

“And I don’t want you to. But here are our choices: one way we both live, the other way we both die. Which do
you
want?”

He remained silent in my arms for several seconds, and then he began to tremble as if someone had turned up the air conditioning. He was literally shivering. “Okay,” he whispered, the word quaking from his lips. “For you.” He pulled back and peered deeply into my eyes. “But you must promise me you
will
search for that happily-ever-after,” he said, his tears flowing.

“I will,” I replied, my own tears running down my face, dripping from my chin onto my dress. You, too, okay? I want you to have a happily-ever-after, too.”

“I will. I promise,” he said, and held me tighter.

Several minutes later, I came walking back into the living room where I found Rocky nervously pacing in front of the coffee table, like an expectant father. When she saw me moving toward her, she stopped and looked up.

“Okay,” I said. “It’s done. He’s ready to go.”

*

That was the last time I saw Guy. I didn’t see the angels take him away. My heart couldn’t bear it. I wanted my memories of Guy to be of the arrogant boy who got me to ditch class to make out in the stairwell. I wanted to remember his dreamy eyes, his kind words, his bravery, and his kisses.

I wanted to remember our final night together. It wasn’t a night of passion. We lay there in each other’s arms like an old married couple. Content. That’s the best word I can use to describe it. There was nothing rushed or urgent about that night. I didn’t regret not making love. I would forever remember us lying there, confident we had a thousand nights just like it ahead of us.

I was standing in the corridor when the angels came. Rocky and I said tearful good-byes where she again promised to take good care of him. Then she and Harrison went inside Aunt Jaz’s room and closed the door.

After a while, I heard a soft crackling sound, as if someone on the other side were crinkling plastic wrap. A brilliant white light emanated from the crack under the bedroom door. It seeped out into the corridor. Maudrina, Aunt Jaz, and I stood away from the door, as if it might explode and we’d be killed in the explosion.

I remembered the first time the angels came. They were tall, with enormous puffy white wings, wearing biblical robes. That time I dared to watch as they came to rescue Guy. I remembered saying a silent prayer that I’d see him again. A prayer like that would be wasted this time. Instead, I silently said:
Get well, my sweet. I’ll always love you.

After a while, the light under the door faded and then went out, and it was as if the light of life that had been burning inside me had gone out as well. I could hear both Maudrina and Aunt Jaz softly weeping nearby.

Harrison came out of the room. He appeared haggard, as if he’d aged several years since he’d entered, and there were tears in his eyes as well. “They’re gone,” he said weakly.

“Terrific,” I replied. “I’ve been dying to get out of these clothes.”

My mother has an expression:
sleeping
the sleep of the dead
. I now know that expression very well, because when I got home, I crawled into bed and stayed there for three days.

When Suze knocked on my door Sunday morning, I didn’t stir.

“Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah.”

The door pushed open. “What’s the matter, Hon?”

“Sick,” I croaked.

“Can I get you—”

“Leave me alone! Please!”

She stood silent in my doorway for several seconds. “I’m not going anywhere today. I’ll be right downstairs if you need me,” she said, before gently shutting my door and tip-toeing away.

I lay there for what seemed like a week and eventually drifted off to sleep. I dreamed. In my dream I saw Guy and Orthon. They were in the meadow where Orthon had taken me to learn to harness my powers. They were laughing together, tossing a football around and roughhousing as friends often do.

I stepped into the meadow. They both stopped and grinned at me.

“What kept you?” called Orthon.

“Isn’t it like a woman to always be late?” teased Guy.

“Yep. This one would be late for her own funeral,” Orthon said, and they started laughing as if he’d said the funniest thing.

“Don’t just stand there,” Guy said after a few moments. “Are you playing or not?”

“Umm. Yes,” I replied. “I’ll play.”

Orthon tossed me the football, and it bounced off my hands, falling to the ground. “Uh-oh! She’s on your side,” he said, pointing to Guy.

“No way,” said Guy. “She’s all yours.”

“Uh-uh! You saw her first. She’s yours.”

Guy grinned at me. “I guess we’re both stuck with her.”

“Yeah. I guess we are,” said Orthon.

They were both grinning at me, mischief in their eyes.

“Megan,” a voice called from behind. I turned around, and there was no one there. “Megan.”

I opened my eyes.

Suze was standing in my room holding a bed tray. She was smiling at me, but caution lurked just below the surface. “I brought you some lunch.”

I sat up, tucking the dream away to analyze sometime later. I wasn’t hungry, but something on that tray was smelling really good.

“Thanks.”

She set the tray in front of me, and I discovered that what was smelling so yummy was my favorite chocolate chocolate chip pancakes.

I looked up at her, genuinely confused. “You went all the way to Sylvia’s for these?” She nodded. “Why?”

“Can’t I do something nice for my own daughter every once in a while?” she said, and I could tell she was pleased with herself, pleased to see the smile breaking on my lips.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, all of a sudden feeling like a little girl—her little girl. After all the lousy feelings I’d been having, it felt great. “Thanks,” I said again. I still wasn’t hungry, but no way was I letting a treat like this go to waste.

She sat in the armchair and watched me eat, throwing in some small talk about Tony, or the gallery, or the business. Just enough to make it feel as though we were having a conversation. “I called Maudrina,” she said as I was starting on the second pancake. I stopped mid-bite and looked over at her. That’s when I noticed the sadness around her eyes.

“Okay.”

“She told me.”

“She told you what?” I said, positive Maudrina hadn’t told her what I’d just gone through with Satan. But I needed to know what lie she’d told.

“About… Guy,” she said haltingly, as if she were revealing a secret she wasn’t supposed to know.