Taking Angels (The Angel Crusades) (4 page)

Elisa nodded. Her eyes sprang open, looking at
our hands still clasped in front of her on the table.
We huddled closer, lowering our voices to excited
whispers, trying to control ourselves.
“OMG,” Cassie gasped.
Elisa nodded, her face turning even redder, if that
were possible.
“What does he look like?” Trish whispered.
“What does she look like?” Cassie added.
Elisa looked at Trish and then Cassie before
turning to me. “Golden blonde hair, bright blue eyes,
gorgeous,” she whispered. “Kind of like Britt.”
All eyes swung to me as my face got warm.
“What?”
“Their hair and eyes look like yours. She’s
incredible and he’s quite the hunk.” She grinned as Trish
and Cassie giggled.
I stared at Elisa, dazed as thoughts whirled in my
mind. Could they be the angels from the river? Here in
Grand Rapids?

I eased myself from the booth, unsure what to say
when I saw their faces clearly for the first time. Elisa,
Cassie, and Trish looked on, curious. Ignoring their
questioning stares, I took a cautious step to the next
booth. Empty.

I gazed at the red vinyl seats. The half-eaten pizza
still steamed on the serving tray, the drinks fizzed in the
glasses; the straws bobbing at the surface hung
precariously on the edge. Trish moved up beside me
blinking at the empty seats. Cassie and Elisa joined us as
we stood staring at the vacant booth.

“They were here a minute ago,” Elisa sighed.
“That’s odd.” Trish shook her head.
“Why would they do that?” Cassie added.
Our attention turned to the electronic ping of the

restaurant door swinging shut and I raced towards it, the
girls at my heels. I stepped out onto the sidewalk as a
dark sports car sped past, a wisp of golden hair blowing
out the open passenger window the only glimpse of the
occupants. The girls pressed up behind me.

“What are you doing?” Trish asked, her face
flushed.
“I think I know them,” I answered, watching the
car rush into the distance.
“How would you know them?” Cassie asked.
“They moved in yesterday and you were in Rochester.”
I saw the doubt in her eyes mirrored in Trish’s and
Elisa’s, yet couldn’t explain it. How could they believe
me if I found it hard to believe myself?
“Guess I’m wrong.” I shrugged. “I thought I
recognized their voices, that’s all.”
Elisa shook her head. “Weird.”
“We should go. I promised Mom not to be too
late,” I changed the subject.
They nodded and we went back inside to pay the
bill and head home.

I waved as they drove away, my shopping spree
bounty sitting in the entry of our house. I closed the door
with a sigh.

“Britt?” Dad’s voice came from the living room.
“Yeah.” I stuck my head in.
“Everything go okay?” Mom asked, looking up

from her book.
“Fine, but I’m beat. I think I’ll head to bed.” I
walked over, giving Dad a kiss and hug and then reached
over to do the same to Mom. Gathering my shopping
bags I trudged upstairs, piled the bags up on my bed, and
flopped down next to them.
What should I do? I didn’t expect my angels to be
in high school with me. Would they have any classes with
me? If so, what would I say? My heart raced as the stress
of such a meeting played out in my head.
I changed into a big t-shirt, pushed the bags off
the bed and climbed under the covers. A light tap came at
the door just as I reached to turn off my light on the
nightstand. “Come in.”
Mom stuck her head in. “Do you want to come
with me to the hospital tomorrow? I’m going to stop in
and see how the other long-term care patients are doing.”
“I’m not a long-term patient anymore, Mom. They
aren’t
other
long-term patients, just long-term patients,” I
corrected.
“Oh, yeah, right, but I want to visit. They’ve been
so supportive of us and I don’t want them to feel we
forgot about them just because you’re better.”
I stared at her for a moment. The ghosts of
hospital disinfectants and cleaners haunted my nose and
the dull humming and beeping of all the monitoring
equipment filled my ears. I pressed my eyes shut against
the memories, trying to squeeze them out of my head by
pinching my eyelids together. It was the last place I ever
wanted to be again. Then the memories of the people who
took care of me and the other patients who constantly
encouraged me filled my head. Did I want to forget those
times? I became this person because of those experiences.
Did I just want to forget all about it? No, I needed to take
the bad with the good. My head nodded slowly with my
thought, quickening as I came to my conclusion and my
eyes opened to look up at Mom. “Sure, it’s the right thing
to do.”
“Good. Sleep well.” She grinned, closing the door.
I smiled and slid down further under the covers.
This was a good thing, but it wouldn’t be easy. I reached
over and switched off the light.

The dream felt so real. I swore I was awake
walking along a sidewalk in a park, strangely familiar.
The smell of the grass and flowers drifted to me, giving
me pause when lilacs made themselves known. Could I
smell in my dreams? Approaching a couple on a bench
kissing passionately, not paying me any mind, I stopped
and stood watching for a while until they noticed my
presence. I moved closer to them, saying nothing, the only
sound coming from the scuffing of my feet against the
pavement. I got close enough to reach out and place a
hand on each of their shoulders. Their eyes flew open in
surprise, fear spreading across each face as they
struggled to move, to run, to escape. I held them fast.
They searched my face for answers, but by their confused
expressions, they found nothing. I didn’t waiver as
screams erupted from their bodies, didn’t loosen my grip.
Suddenly, the cries stopped. Eyes stared empty at me,
their questions unanswered forever. Wispy vapors flowed
up my arms out of each and I finally released my hold
leaving empty shells sitting, holding each other for
eternity.

I woke panting and soaked with sweat. My arms
and legs began to shake from images of a clarity no
dream should possess. I angrily rubbed at my nose, trying
to wipe away the smell of lilac that assaulted my senses
and felt the guilt running through me as the death of these
people filled me with regret and sorrow. I never cried out
during the dream this time, finding it odd, my becoming
callous. Or was I just numbed by the dream’s horror?
Lying with the covers thrown back, I allowed the air to
cool my sweaty body, I’m not sure when I fell asleep, but
no other dreams came to me.

The next morning during the drive to the hospital,
memories bombarded me. The fear of taking this road
and not coming home for months at a time, gripped me
tight. I shivered as we pulled up to the brown brick
building where I spent what seemed like an eternity,
helpless within its walls. We parked in general parking,
something foreign to me. My normal point of entrance
usually consisted of going through the emergency room
after a nasty spell or a reaction to the treatment.

Walking into the long-term care unit, a place few
people leave, memories I’d just as soon forget came to
mind. I escaped this place; convincing my parents to
bring me one last time to the BWCA canoeing. After the
trip, my choices would have consisted of either coming
back to the hospital or dishing out tons of money for
home hospice; something my parents couldn’t afford.

As we walked down the hall, the hum of the
lighting reached my ears and the smell of disinfectant
filled my nostrils. I noticed a strange glow around people
as they passed by. Mom, the nurses, and doctors had a
bright glow about them. Some patients we passed in the
hall had duller glows. I chocked it up as an illusion from
the fluorescent lights. My eyes needed to get used to them
again.

I stepped into my old room to see sixteen-year old
Jessica, my roommate for two months before the canoe
trip, lying in bed. Seeing Jessica I knew the glow came
from her, not the lighting. From head to toe she gave off a
dull gray light, like a flashlight whose batteries were
going dead.

I stopped in the doorway as Mom went in and
greeted Jessica’s mom and grandma, sitting in the room.
The three women had a bright glow about them. Looking
back to Jessica as she turned her head to me, I noticed her
glow stayed a dull gray. Moving over next to her,
uncertain, I stared at her face, noticing the yellow color
creeping into her eyes and skin.

Jessica lay dying of bone cancer and she didn’t
have much more time than me. More time than I used to
have, I corrected. My gaze wandered from her weak
smile down her skinny body as she lay in her gown, the
covers cast to one side.

I remembered those hot flashes. One minute cold,
bundle up and you still shiver, and the next you’re a
furnace and can’t get the layers off fast enough. Sweat
beaded on her bald head and she panted a little looking up
at me as I searched for the words. Then I saw something
I’d never noticed before. The skin on Jessica’s hand and
arm nearest me appeared to become translucent and her
diseased bones underneath showed clearly.

“What’s wrong Britt?” my Mother asked, turning
from the other women as they all focused on me.
“Nothing,” I said tightly.
I looked their way but never really saw them,
turning back to Jessica again. Her face pleaded, wanting
to end the pain, to end the agony gripping her. Forced to
take so much medicine, she could only lie in bed and wait
for the end. In those eyes I saw myself only two weeks
ago, ready for it to be over, willing to do anything to end
it. I stood here now with a second chance. Why couldn’t
she get a second chance?
The women turned back to their visiting, paying
us no mind.
I don’t know why, but I reached for Jessica’s hand
still staring into her eyes. Something surged from deep
inside me and pulsed through my arm, my hand, and into
her. Jessica’s eyes went wide and her mouth formed an
‘o.’ The pulsing lasted maybe a couple seconds at the
most and then vanished. Our eyes never strayed or
blinked as we held each other’s hand, oblivious to anyone
else in the room; only the two of us mattered. She smiled
as she stared up at me and I gave her a wink, somehow
knowing, I don’t know how, but knowing, she no longer
had cancer. I sat on the bed next to her, holding her hand,
exhausted. She pulled me down to her, embracing me.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Unable speak, I pulled away, my eyes still locked
on hers. Our understanding needed no words.
The women, still involved in their visit, were none
the wiser and judging from Jessica’s look, they wouldn’t
be. She understood no one could know.
“I need to check on some of the others.” I got to
my feet, nearly falling back onto the bed before catching
myself.
Somehow I knew what I could do. Felt it. It must
have been the angel’s touch. I planned to pass that touch
to everyone I could. It took a lot out of me, but I couldn’t
let other people die when they didn’t have to.
Gathering my strength, I got to my feet and
headed down the hall. A ten year old boy, Billy, lay in his
bed with leukemia. He took my hand and the surge from
me made him giggle. His parents turned to us with a
questioning stare.
“Britt told me a funny joke,” he grinned, looking
up at me.
I smiled, giving him a nod and walked out.
Outside his room, I paused to catch my breath, leaning
heavily against the hand rail along the wall. Taking a
deep breath, I straightened and pushed myself forward.
Moving on to a fifty year old dying of pancreatic
cancer, her glow the dimmest of all thus far, I placed my
hand upon her arm as she lay sleeping. She opened her
eyes and turned her head to face me as she felt the
healing creep into her. My eyes wandered down her body
trying to focus on her cancer. A soft touch brushed my
arm and I lifted my head to see the woman, concern
stretched across her face, staring at me.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help,”
I said and began to look away.
“No,” the woman said, squeezing my arm ever so
slightly. “It’s you I’m worried for. You mustn’t exert
yourself so much. You look exhausted.”
I stopped, raising a hand to my face and looked to
my left at a mirror hanging over a sink. Deep circles
under my eyes made the bright blue look dimmer and
sunken in their sockets. I took a deep breath and pushed
my shoulders back.
“I can do this,” I assured her. My voice cracked,
betraying my weakness.
“It’s too much,” the woman argued. “Come back
another day when you have rested.”
Taking in the woman’s dimmed glow again I
shook my head. “I have to do it now.” I didn’t finish the
rest. The woman understood how close she was to the
end. She might not last until tomorrow and needed to be
healed now. I surged energy into her for the longest of the
three. She closed her eyes and let a small moan escape
her lips.
When I finished the woman looked up at me, a
smile on her lips, but worry showed in her eyes. She
made me agree not to try to help anyone else today.
“Okay, fine. I’ll stop for the day,” I told her.
She closed her eyes with a contented smile on her
face as I slipped out of the room.
Standing in the hallway, the woman’s words of
caution hit home. I needed my strength to do this and the
dimmer the light, the more strength it required. I couldn’t
heal anyone else without resting so I crept down the
hallway, exhausted.
Resolve to stick to that plan came easily until I
passed the next room and glanced at the bed. The glow
shone so dim I gasped. Pushing the door open, I walked
over next to the bed. The woman’s breathing came
shallow and labored, pulling hard for each breath, a major
effort for her failing body. She couldn’t have been more
than twenty five, but her body lay beaten and battered.
The machines whirred and beeped as a man slept in the
corner of the room curled up in a chair.
I concentrated on her broken and bandaged body,
the orange glow of internal damage meeting my gaze.
Gently taking her hand, cradling it in mine, the warmth of
her body felt indiscernible against my skin. As the surge
began something inside warned me, told me to pull away
and not do this, but the desire to help her pressed hard
making it impossible to withdraw as the energy from
within me surged forth. My internal urgency to stop railed
at me, still I held on, ignoring the pain as it ripped at me
trying to break my grasp. Fighting with every bit of
strength and stubbornness within me, I held on and
wouldn’t let go.
That was when everything began to blur and the
edges of my vision turned black. I staggered and a firm
hand caught my elbow and strong arms wrapped around
me, holding me up.
“I can’t stop…” I tried to explain.
“You have done what you can,” a soft, deep voice
full of understanding and sorrow said.
We turned away from the bed and everything went
to black.
I opened my eyes to Mom leaning close as I sat in
a chair across from her. Her concerned expression ebbed
away as my eyes met hers.
“Britt, you scared me to death,” she sighed, a
hand over her heart.
“Sorry, I must have fainted. It’s a bit
overwhelming coming back here,” I explained. “A lot of
memories.”
She pulled me into a hug, squeezing too tight as I
grunted in her arms.
“I’m fine,” I said, out of breath.
“Do you need anything; a drink of water or
something?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I smiled when she let me go and
sat back again. “Where are we?”
“In the waiting room. I found you sitting here,
unconscious. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry about that.” I reached for the water and
the plastic glass slipped from my hand as I saw the scar.
“Oh, Britt, are you alright?” Mom asked as she bent to
pick up the cup and then rush to get some paper towels by
the sink.
My eyes widened with shock as I lifted my arm to
see the scar from my childhood bicycle accident
stretching down my arm. I stared in disbelief at its sudden
reappearance. How?
Then it became clear. Pushing too hard had a
price. The need to be more careful and selective became
apparent. But how could I select which person to save
and which person to let die?
“Are you ready to go?” she asked after wiping the
floor and dropping the paper towels into the garbage
along with the cup.
I wanted to say no, feeling the desire to visit
everyone in this wing, but I knew upon seeing them it
would be impossible to keep from trying to help them.
Knowing I couldn’t do any more today, I nodded.
“Can we say goodbye first?” I asked.
“Sure, if you feel up to it.”
“I do now,” I said getting to my feet.
We walked, holding hands, into Billy’s room. He
smiled knowingly at me. His pain now gone.
“Take care, Billy,” I grinned.
“I will, Britt,” he said, his glow shining strong and
bright.
Jessica and the woman with pancreatic cancer
glowed brightly as well and I felt confident they were
now cancer free.
As we walked past the last room sounds of sorrow
wafted into the hall. A nurse, her eyes red and teary,
brushed past as the door swung open. The man who slept
in the chair leaned over the bed, his head bowed as his
hair hung across his face. He turned to look at me as I
stood in the doorway, awash with anguish.
I didn’t save her. I tried, but I couldn’t save her.
It was impossible not to see accusation in his eyes
as he stared at me. He turned away and tears blurred my
vision as my mom put her arm across my shoulders,
ushering me past the door and leaving the man to grieve
in private.
“You look tired Britt,” Mom said on the way
home.
“Like I said, a lot of memories.”
“Not everyone gets a miracle like we did,” she
sighed.
“No, not everyone,” I agreed, but knew as long as
I could, I would try.