CHAPTER 40

One angel dream

Her hand trembled as it rested on the door handle to Andrew's hospital room. She had already spoken to the doctor and had done her best to listen intently. Andrew had a head injury and though he could come out of the coma at any time, the longer he stayed in it, the more serious his condition became. He could possibly hear her. He would look like he was sleeping.

Monica would have thought she would have burst into his room after almost two weeks of uncertainty about if he had survived the terrorist attacks, but now with just a door separating them, she still wondered if she were dreaming. Was he really going to be there? Would he wake up? He was alive but it was still all so uncertain and she was still so deeply afraid.

But as soon as she pushed the door open and her eyes came to rest on Andrew's sweet face, all the uncertainty slipped away. Her tears refused to end as she walked up to his bedside, her eyes taking in every aspect of him. He did look asleep, with only a single white bandage against his forehead. She could see there had been scratches on his face which were now healing. She didn't want him to hear her crying, if he could indeed hear her, but she couldn't help it; the second her trembling fingers curled around his, the sobs escaped, feeling the warmth of a hand she had never expected to feel again.

Sinking into the chair beside of his bed, Monica kissed his fingers and rested his hand against her wet cheek, "I'm here...I'm here, Andrew...oh God, I love him so much...Andrew, I love you so much...and I'm so sorry...for everything...I'm just so sorry," Her free hand moved up to touch his face, fingers trailing through his hair, along his cheek, his lips, "I thought you died that day, Andrew...I thought I'd never get to apologize or tell you how much I love you, how much I love you more every single day. I...I need you so much...just so much...please..." The tears overtook her as she lowered her head to the bed, never letting go of his hand, "Come back to me..."

But though her cherished husband remained perfectly still in the bed, all Monica could focus on was the fact that for the first time in twelve days she was touching him...and right now, that was enough.

Time seemed to have gained another dimension after the moment when Monica crossed into a hospital bedroom to find her dearest companion, her soul mate, was lying in there. For twelve days, Andrew's human form had been in a coma, his injured body was a contradiction to his angelic essence. It seemed that his existence demanded his leaving the human form that trapped his angelic soul. It seemed that one could not exist at the same time as the other.

But on the same extent, Monica's existence demanded staying by his side. His gentle presence, his tender touch fulfilled her own angel essence, as if it had only reached its completion after the two angels had met.

Monica spent the next hours sitting by Andrew's bed. Her sad brown eyes catching every aspect of his injured human body and her fingers permanently entwined with his. It was the Irish angel's fragile heart that was reassuring his; telling him that she was there, waiting for him. Rare were the times when she let go of his hand and her eyes turned away from his figure. And that happened because there was someone else who depended on her – another angel, still too little and so innocent whom she loved with the same intensity she loved the other angel lying in the hospital bed.

Ella came to see her on the following day and if on one hand she was glad to meet her at the hospital cafeteria, during lunch time, on the other hand, the old teacher frowned at the extreme sorrow she could see in her friend's eyes.

"Ella..." a sad smile acknowledged the old lady's presence.

"Hello, baby." The teacher took a seat in front of her younger friend and squeezed her hand gently. "I'm happy to know that you're taking care of yourself."

The angel gave a little shrug and Ella was aware that she wasn't doing it for herself. "How are things at school? The little ones... are they still scared with what they have witnessed?"

Ella couldn't help but smiling. With all that had been going on in her life, Monica still remembered her little students; such a selfless nature that sometimes the old teacher wondered if so much generosity could still be part of the human being's heart.

"They are recovering, yes... And have been constantly asking about 'Miss Monica' and when she'll come back." She informed, trying to cheer her up a little.

And for a few seconds she managed to do so as a light smile appeared on Monica's face, along with treasured memories of a time not so long ago. Amazing how the events that followed could change their lives in such a drastic and painful way.

"I miss them..." was all she could say.

"I'll tell them you do, baby, and don't you worry because they are much loved and will be alright. You worry about this other little one you're carrying in there!"

Monica slowly moved her hand and placed it against her flat belly, caressing it gently. "It's for this wee one that I eat and sleep... In a way, he or she might be a present from God to help me through this moment..."

"I have no doubt about that, dear. How is Andrew?" she finally asked, although she could guess Monica's answer judging by the expression on her face.

"Still the same... He doesn't show any response and the doctors say that there is nothing to be done except wait."

Ella looked firmly into her eyes. "He will come back to you, Monica! I know he will! We are all praying for him! We are all praying for your family to be together again!"

"Thank you, Ella... Thank you so much..." She said, taking her friend's hand and giving it a light squeeze.

From a far corner in the same cafeteria, another angel watched the interaction between Monica and the teacher. Tess wiped away a lonely tear and lowered her head; shame and guilt tearing her apart. "I had no idea of what I would lose when I walked out of them, Father... How could an angel act so selfishly? How could I be so cruel to the ones I love so much?"

X

The sun slowly set down behind the tall buildings of New York City and gave place to a night without moon or stars. At Andrew's bedside, despite her apparent exhaustion, Monica remained alert, needing to stay awake and with him for as long as the constraints of her human body would allow. Sometimes, she stroked his short blond hair and lay a feather light kiss on his forehead. And sometimes she talked to him, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding his hand, like now.

"I love you very much... And I'll be waiting for you no matter how long it takes, because I know you're doing your best to come back to me... and to our little angel. We are missing you so much already... But then... I guess we'll always be missing you whenever you're not around..."

As two big tears rolled down her cheeks, she closed her eyes, holding Andrew's free hand in both of hers and placing it against her heart. "Please, Father, send him back to us... When I was given the choice to be here on Earth for such a long time, away from Home and from my friends, it was for him... I would follow him wherever he asked me to, wherever he went... For some time, I wondered if this unconditional love could be a terrible sin, if what Tess and the others said about us was true... But then I understood that my love for Andrew would never lead me down the wrong path..." more tears fell from her eyes, "... because Andrew has such a loving heart... he has such a noble soul that I know that loving him would fill my heart with nothing but joy... And when I think about this I come to the conclusion that all this love is nothing but another one of your wonderful creations... another one of your many miracles... Meeting Ella, Mark, Jeff, wee Rose and Peter, and all those people we had the opportunity to help over the last week... it was all part of a greater plan, and we are so honoured to be part of it... honoured to continue your work and keep our angelic essence... But without Andrew, Father, my heart is forever broken... Without him, I'm only half of the angel you intended me to be..."

X

Exhaustion and the evident stress of the latest days finally made Monica fall asleep sometime after she had offered her prayers. There was a spare bed for her but the angel in human form refused to let go of her companion's hand. She had spent days without knowing if he was still alive, living with nothing but the memories of their short journey on Earth. The news that he was alive came as a great relief even though he was extremely hurt. At least she could see him, watch over him and hold his hand. But now, the wait for his becoming conscious again was turning into a painful ordeal.

What if she had only found him to have the opportunity to say goodbye? Whenever this terrible thought crossed her mind, Monica shed a tear and tried to focus on something else. That night, like the previous one, she slept reclined on a chair at Andrew's bedside, never letting go of his hand as her eyelashes grew heavy and finally gave in to sleep.

X

"Please, don't cry my angel... I love you so much..."

The words came as a gentle whisper to her ears but Monica would recognise that voice anywhere. The Irish angel woke up with a start, her heart pounding loudly in her chest with anticipation. It was her Andrew standing by her side and talking to her.

But then, reality soon struck her when she looked at her surroundings: the morning sun coming through the window, announcing the dawning of a new day, and Andrew's human form lying still in the hospital bed. Monica bit her lower lip and felt the presence of tears one more time; anguish tearing her heart.

"Oh, Andrew... I know it was you... I know that somehow you can feel I'm here..." she squeezed his hand in both of hers, "... But what you're asking me... I can't do... I can't stop these tears because my love for you lies so deep now... and I need you so much... I'd give up my own eternity to have you back to me... I'd give up coming back to my real Home, because... don't you see, Andrew? Because my heaven is you!"

She closed her eyes and let her tears fall in silence. But a second later, her so fragile angelic heart started to race wildly for the second time – and now it wasn't just a dream. Andrew's fingers moved, gently brushing against hers. Monica suppressed a small cry by covering her mouth with her free hand and rose to her feet slowly, watching through tear-filled eyes as her husband stirred his head.

"A-Andrew..."

Her voice was nothing but a whisper, but she was sure he had heard it as he squeezed her hand more firmly now. She bit her lower lip, not trusting herself with words as on the following instant, Andrew moved his head slowly and his eyelashes finally fluttered open. The image of the white hospital bedroom was still not very clear to him, but the feeling of small fingers laced with his was all he needed to feel right now. There was an angel next to him – the most gorgeous angel God had ever created, and she had been watching over him all the time he was lying there. It was enough to put his heart at ease.

"Monica..."

When her name came out of his lips, the Irish angel placed his hand against her heart and gently stroked his face, tears falling freely from her eyes. "Andrew? C-can you hear me?"

"Angel..." he replied, closing his eyes again for a brief moment, still getting used to the light.

"I'm here, Andrew... Please, tell me you can hear me... Please, tell me you're back with me..."

Hearing her crying voice was all it took before he opened his eyes again, her lovely face covered with tears was the first image he saw. And despite her evident pain, it couldn't have been a more beautiful image.

"Angel... I never left you..." he spoke, with some effort, his voice hoarse with emotion. "... you were always in my heart..."

Those words were all that it took for Monica to lower her head against his chest and cry openly. Andrew didn't know how long he had been there, but her anguished sobs gave him a hint of what the little angel had been through during this time. Slowly, the blond angel let go of her hand and stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. "Thank you, Father..." He whispered, watching the sun pouring through the window.