CHAPTER 20

The light tapping on the door caused Monica to stop her playful game with the kittens and glance at her clock. It was nearly nine o’clock and she had lost track of time since her early morning conversation with God. She carefully climbed out of bed, not wanting to disturb any of her little charges, and grabbed her robe before heading to the door.

“Good morning,” she said as she opened the door to reveal Andrew standing in the hall, coffee in hand.

“A little peace offering,” he explained as he held the cup out to her and was instantly rewarded with a warm smile.

She then lowered her eyes, almost embarrassed. “You don’t need a peace offering,” she said. “I already told you that I’m not angry with you. Please don’t feel badly… I know you were only trying to protect me.”

Andrew glanced quickly down the hall and then stepped forward, bending to kiss the top of her head. “Thank you.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes and held them until she looked up again. “I know that last night you said that this was something you were going to have to work out for yourself, but if you need to talk…”

The corner of her mouth turned up in a relaxed, teasing way. “You’re the first one I’ll go to, Andrew. You know that.”

The blond angel seemed to breathe a little easier at her words, and he narrowed his eyes, taking in the subtle differences that only he could see in her. “You spoke with the Father,” he guessed, smiling.

“Yes,” a very slight blush crept up her neck. “You and Tess were right. I should have gone to him earlier.”

His green eyes searched her face as though trying to see inside her soul. “Feeling better than last night?” he asked carefully.

She nodded her head and sat back down on her bed, scooping up a handful of kitten as she did so. “More at peace with things,” she said slowly, “but still so tired.”

“Of course you are… anyone would be,” he reassured her, “angels not excepted.”

Sounds from the kitchen drifted down the hall and Monica’s eyes closed momentarily. Normally the clanging and rattling would be comforting; the sounds of the start of a new day, and the knowledge that there was someone down there looking out for her. Now those same noises brought a touch of fear and worry.

“I just don’t know what I’m going to say to him,” she whispered. “I mean, I’m not going to say anything… maybe it’s just temporary and it will blow over before anything comes of it.”

Andrew’s expression told her that wasn’t likely and she concentrated on the kitten in her lap. Lately, taking care of them was the easiest part of her day. All they wanted from her was a little attention and a little food. In return they gave her love that she didn’t have to worry about rejecting.

“Well I can’t tell him that I know anything,” she decided. “I can’t even think of what I would say,” she looked up, uncertainty filling her eyes.

“I really don’t think you need to say anything, Monica. You just need to act the same way you’ve always acted.”

She sighed and stared into his face. “That’s what got me into this problem in the first place.”

Andrew shoved his hands in his pockets and his brows knit together. She did have a point, but asking her to change the sweet and open creature that she was… that was unacceptable. “Maybe now that you’re aware of the situation you’ll be able to head things off,” he suggested.

“Maybe.”

“Well, now’s as good a time to try as any,” he said with a slightly guilty grin. “I’m supposed to be getting you up for breakfast.”

She smiled ruefully, feeling her stomach churn with something that was definitely not hunger, “Let me take a shower and get changed and I’ll be there.” Though she had often gone in for breakfast in her pajamas and robe, suddenly she felt extremely self conscious about doing that and this was a feeling she was not very familiar with.

Sensing her sudden discomfort, Andrew frowned, knowing that her unease with Paul was already beginning as he wished more than anything he had a way to alleviate it for her. She was being forced into playing too many games, and only he and the Father knew how desperately important it was to her that everyone win.

*****

He smiled to himself as he entered into his hotel room. The game was getting far too simple, and his little doe-like pawn was nearly within his grasp again. The question was did he want to continue his hunting game a little longer before making his kill?

He had seen her outside last night. She had been pacing and was obviously troubled and he enjoyed her nervousness. It was almost too easy for him to end it for her just yet. An inside contact would make entering the gated property effortless and he preferred a bit of a challenge.

He loved being able to see and smell her fear, just as he had been able to the day the two agents had taken her from the farm. Her legs had given out in her terror and grief over the dead cat and his message to her. It was the fear in his victims that made it all worthwhile and he wanted to instill that fear just a little bit longer before ending her life.

Yes, soon it would all be over, but for now, he only wanted to play the game for as long as he safely could and he would make sure he made it memorable for her.

*****

“Well, good morning,” Paul smiled as Monica finally joined them in the kitchen. His smile faded slightly as he noticed how peaked she appeared this morning and he wondered if she was having trouble sleeping again, though after all the work she had done in the kitchen yesterday, she should have dropped off within minutes.

The angel returned his smile, trying to control her queasy stomach this morning which she was sure was coming from a bad case of nerves over what she now knew, “You found the table, I see.”

“It took a bit of doing, but we managed,” Andrew interjected, his eyes flickering with a bit of concern as he watched her carefully.

“Well, hopefully, I can finish the kitchen off today and get this all cleaned up,” She began, but Paul stopped her by placing his hands on her shoulders, and Monica struggled to act as comfortable with the gesture as she would have been yesterday, but it was proving to be no easy task.

“Why don’t you take it a bit easier today, honey? You look tired and you worked non-stop yesterday. The kitchen isn’t going anywhere,” Paul looked into her eyes as he saw the uncertainty in them.

Andrew rose to his feet, knowing he had to break up this moment before Monica became completely overwhelmed before she even had time to adjust to her new role, “Paul’s right. So why don’t you just sit down and have a leisurely breakfast and a quiet morning. We can talk about continuing the kitchen later.”

Almost feeling grateful for Andrew’s sudden air of authority, the little angel nodded her head, “That actually sounds like a very good idea.”

“Good,” Paul released her and turned around to take the newest batch of french toast out of the pan, “Did you sleep all right last night?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

“I was a wee bit restless,” She admitted, knowing that was an understatement as she was sure she had seen every hour last night, despite Andrew’s reassuring presence in the room with her.

“That settles it then,” Paul decided, putting butter and syrup on the table, “No painting today. We’ll declare it a day of rest instead.”

“Paul, really-,” She began to protest, but his expression silenced her, telling her that the item was not up for debate.

Andrew ate in silence, one watchful eye on his dearest friend, who suddenly appeared to look smaller than usual and more pensive than he had seen her in a few days. The truth was that not only did she measure every word said to Paul now, but the same was true in reverse. She was now taking all of the agent’s words in a completely different light and while he knew what she really wanted was her world put back to how it was a few weeks ago, she would now settle for yesterday.

He desperately wished that he could arrange a few hours of time alone with her, instead of the stolen minutes they usually had, knowing that some substantial time with just the two of them would allow her to relax and regroup, but he was fairly certain that was not something Paul would knowingly allow. Not given his feelings for the Irish angel. Now Paul had taken away her one distraction from this day, leaving her with her thoughts that she couldn’t even voice to him until tonight.

Their eyes met briefly from across the table and the older angel could see in them what he already knew in his heart. She was feeling completely overpowered right now, in need of a friend and of the two ways she could turn to remedy the problem, one was impossible and the other could lead to disaster.

*****

Thankfully, Monica was able to use her exhausted state to her advantage, telling agent and angel that she was going to take Paul’s advice and get some rest by taking a nice nap after breakfast. She tried not to read anything into the slight look of disappointment she thought she saw on the agent’s face, but it was yet another reminder that she hadn’t been paying attention to clues that now seemed obvious.

Now she lay on her bed, hands clasped loosely on her stomach, kittens nestled in various places around the bed. She tried to close her eyes to sleep but wound up alternately staring at the ceiling and out the window. It was very warm, and the heat lay over her like a blanket, making her comfortable and sleepy but she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to try to sort things out in her mind and gather herself together in preparation for going back downstairs to the others. She knew that she wouldn’t be allowed to hide in her room forever, but she needed to feel a bit more secure before facing Paul again.

She still had no idea what she would say to him if he actually came right out and told her of his feelings, but she tried to believe that the words would come if the time came. Meanwhile she just wanted to be able to be around him without the uncomfortable tension gripping her heart. The little angel tried to convince herself that she didn’t need to do anything but act naturally, but those words sounded hollow even in her head.

Soft kitten paws landed suddenly in the center of her chest and she let out a laugh, eyes focusing on the little fluff ball. “Hello, Angel. Am I not giving you enough attention?”

She reached up one hand and stroked the soft grey fur between the kittens ears, rewarded with a tiny buzz of a purr. The kitten quickly curled into a ball on her stomach and she continued to stroke it, her hand moving slower and slower. A soft breeze blew the curtains in like a sail, but Monica never noticed. Her hand was cupped gently over Angel’s little body, and her eyelids fluttered gently in sleep.

Downstairs, Paul was busy mixing paint and pouring it out into the trays. He looked up briefly when Andrew walked in and looked at him accusingly.

“You know that Monica will be annoyed when she finds out you finished up without her,” he said with a laugh.

“I know. I know,” Paul rolled his eyes. “I can’t help it. Without her down here keeping us on our toes, I’m going stir crazy myself. Anyway, I’m sure we can find another room for her to paint.”

Andrew picked up a brush and dipped it in one of the cans. “I have a feeling this whole house’ll be redone by the time we leave,” he said dryly.

“Yeah. Remind me to put it on my expense report. I think we all deserve some kind of special payment. What’s the going rate for painters these days?”

The blond angel laughed and he shook his head at Paul’s joke. He really liked the man, and he was reminded again exactly why. He was a good man, and had actually become a friend. He didn’t want to see him hurt anymore than Monica did, and he dreaded knowing that he probably would be.

His own jealousy seemed to have faded almost as soon as he spoke it aloud to Monica, leaving only feelings of concern for her and Paul. He hoped that she was actually sleeping upstairs and not just hiding from the admittedly uncomfortable situation. She had it in herself to get through just about anything, and he just hoped that she realized that.

*****

Monica was awakened by warm, kitteny breath against her chin. Angel had climbed up to sit right at the top of her chest, and was staring at her, clearly demanding food. She giggled softly and eased the kitten down onto the bed before sitting up and stretching her back. She blinked a few times, taking note of the fact that the sun had already begun its descent and was already glowing the orange-red of mid-afternoon.

“I’m sorry, little ones,” she said softly. “I didn’t expect to sleep that long!”

She made herself busy filling their little bowls with food and evaporated milk, patting each head and speaking quietly to them. After Tess’ visit she had decided not to think about what would become of them at the end of the assignment. She wondered idly if perhaps the Father could see fit to set aside a tiny space at Home for them. After all, Tess had had a dog at one time. Of course, the dog had been slightly more than ordinary, but it was still a thought…

A breeze passed through the room again, bringing with it the perfume of lilacs and freshly cut grass. As many times as she smelled those scents, she always felt filled with awe at the perfection of God’s creation. She wandered over to the open window and leaned against the sill, poking her head out as far as she could without hitting the screen. Breathing in the fresh air, so pure and clean, filled her with the confidence to head downstairs, and she carefully stepped over her little charges and shut the door behind herself.

She could hear Andrew and Paul in the kitchen, and she stepped a little faster, having an idea of what she would find.

“I thought we weren’t painting today!” she accused, hands on her hips and a stern look that refused to stay in place.

Andrew held up his hands, though with a paint roller in one of them, he looked anything but innocent. “It was all his idea.” He pointed to the agent who quickly turned back to the wall he was just finishing.

“I see,” the last word was elongated for effect but by the time Paul turned around she couldn’t keep a straight face.

Paul had the good grace to at least pretend to look ashamed as he looked at her. “Sorry, Monica… the paint was calling to us… you understand.”

Her laughter was the reply, and she shook her head, then turned in a circle to survey they nearly completed room. “That’s alright, because I was thinking that the living room could use some work too, and you have to admit that this color does look much better in here than that old white.”

Paul and Andrew exchanged a glance over the remark that they had practically predicted. In fact, Paul had already called to have some paint samples sent over for Monica to choose from.

“We promise not to finish without you next time,” Andrew said, “and to make up for it, Paul will cook you dinner.”

Monica pursed her mouth at her friend’s announcement, and her hands moved back to her hips. “He makes dinner for me every night.”

“Yes, but tonight it will be especially good,” Paul chimed in. He was glad that some of Monica’s good mood had returned. He had noticed a strange distance about her over breakfast, but now he guessed that he had been right about her just being tired.

She helped them clean up the mess from painting, and, as promised, Paul made a particularly fine meal, and he even let her mix the salad, after joking that he didn’t think she would be able to burn it no matter how hard she tried. Monica did find herself being careful about not standing too close to him, or looking into his eyes for too long, but she tried as hard as she could to act the way she had always acted around him. Part way through the evening she saw Andrew give her a knowing grin, and that alone encouraged her and let her know that she was successful in her efforts.

They actually ended up staying up quite late, talking about trivial matters… the types of flowers in the gardens around the house, the last books they had each read, simple, non-threatening conversation that steered clear of any mention of murder or witnesses or trials. Paul was surprised when he glanced at the clock and noticed that it was nearly one in the morning, and Monica was even more surprised.

“I guess my wee nap gave me more energy than I thought,” she said cheerfully.

Andrew smiled. “I guess so! Unfortunately if we don’t all get to bed soon I don’t think any of us will be up to painting tomorrow.”

Paul made his final rounds of the downstairs while Monica got herself a glass of water to take to her room, and then the three of them headed to the stairs, with Andrew setting the alarm as he passed it. The closer they got to their beds the more they were able to feel the fatigue that had been lurking inside, and their goodnights were brief as Paul and Andrew entered their rooms, leaving Monica to continue down the hall.

She opened the door carefully, not wanting to accidentally hit any of the kittens if they happened to be wandering nearby. “Hello little ones,” she called into the darkened room. “I’m back.”

One hand reached out to flick the light on as she bent to Sam, who seemed intent on escape. “No, no, baby… it’s time for bed now.” She stood up and cradled him next to her cheek.

As she looked over at the closed window and then at her bed, she suddenly felt her heart beating so loudly that she could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Her fingertips went ice cold, and her very skin tingled as her world seemed to fade out around the edges. The last thing she remembered was setting Sam on the chair next to the door before slumping bonelessly to the floor with only a strangled cry.