CHAPTER 5

Monica’s bed didn’t look any more inviting to her now than it had when she left the room. The room felt empty, even with Lucy lying patiently curled beside her pillow. The little kitten had grown into a not quite so little cat and Monica was still extremely grateful that she had been allowed to keep her. As if sensing that her mistress was undecided about what to do, Lucy lifted her head and let out a meow. The meaning was clear: ‘come to bed and pat me while you’re at it.’ Monica decided to follow the order.

"Sorry I was distracted earlier," she whispered as she curled up on the bed and briefly buried her face in Lucy’s soft fur before settling her head on the pillow.

She kept one hand gently stroking the cat’s head as she tried to relax and make herself fall back to sleep. Her thoughts were too jumbled to allow that. Tess’ comments had only made her more unsure of what she was feeling. Was Faith’s father part of the problem after all? She sighed. She didn’t want to think about any of it any more. She just wanted to sleep and then relax for the day and then compliment Tess on an assignment well done.

The sheets covering her suddenly felt too confining and Monica threw them back, shifting restlessly and dragging another more disgruntled mew from Lucy. The angel knew of only one sure way to get back to sleep but she was not going to bother Andrew in the middle of the night just because she’d had a bit of a bad dream. Instead she gave her pillow a hard smack and fell back to it again.

The clouds that had made the forest so dark were beginning to move on, and she could see a few stars peeking out. The sight of them comforted her as it always did. There was just something about the beauty of the night-sky. It was so perfect and so overwhelming, like an enormous banner proclaiming God’s love for his children on earth. She slowly felt her eyelids getting heavier and she welcomed the feeling and prayed that the daylight would bring her some of the answers she needed.

Less than an hour later her face was once again twisted into an expression of fear and confusion as her dreams held her tight in their grasp. Andrew stood over her, his own face filled with concern. He had heard her get up and go downstairs. He had been waiting for the knock on his door that never came. He hadn’t wanted to make her feel he was hovering, and he had reluctantly stayed in his bed. It was only their strong connection that forced him from his bed. Still, he didn’t want to wake her. Judging from the way she had been acting earlier, she would just be embarrassed about the whole thing and send him on his way.

"I wish I could take all your doubts and fears away, Monica," he whispered as he reached out and dared to brush the hair from her face. "You’re a wonderful angel, and even if you think you’ve changed, the best parts of you are exactly the same."

He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek, and then stepped back, relieved to see that his presence still had the same affect on her that it had those many months ago. Her features relaxed and her legs stopped their constant movement. She would sleep peacefully for the rest of the night, and in the morning he would start making sure that she believed everything he had just said.

*****

When Monica woke up she was surprised at how well-rested she felt, but her nightmares were still lingering at the corners of her mind. More than anything she wanted to rip them from her head and hurl them away. Why did she have to be plagued with memories that affected the very angel that she was?

There had been a time when she trusted and believed and that openness felt like a gift. Seeing Faith’s father had reminded her of how far she had come from the naïve angel she had been. She had thought she was fixed. She had told Andrew as much. But she would never be fixed. She was flawed now, and she wondered how long God would allow her to remain where that flaw could affect His children. Her gut reaction would have had her keeping a father and daughter apart.

She swung her legs out of bed, noticing that her ankle was no longer swollen, and there was hardly a sign that she had ever been hurt. Walking to the window she breathed deeply.

"Father," she said as she leaned against the sill, "I’m having a hard time right now knowing what I should be feeling… knowing what’s right and what’s my imagination. I thought that I had put everything behind me, but I guess I haven’t… and I guess I never will. Please, just help me to follow Your will, and not my fears."

A comforting warmth that spread from inside out was His reply. A slow smile brightened her features. She couldn’t trust herself right now, but she knew she could always trust Him.

Sudden clattering from downstairs made her turn towards her door and let out a chuckle. It sounded like Andrew had beaten Tess to the kitchen again. She picked Lucy up off the bed and headed out of the room.

"C’mon… I think I smell bacon, and you know that Andrew always makes a little extra just for you."

She knew she was right about the angel of death being the first one in the kitchen, because as she reached to top of the stairs Tess’ door opened and the older angel emerged. It was all Monica could do not to giggle.

Tess looked like she was ready for a weeklong camping trip, not search for a little girl in the woods. She had khaki pants with numerous pockets which all appeared to be full, and a plaid shirt, neatly tucked in to reveal a thick belt with several contraptions hanging from it that Monica had never seen before. To complete the outfit, a bright red backpack was draped over one shoulder, and Monica was surprised Tess wasn’t tipping over backwards.

"You look very… prepared," Monica said, stifling her laugh.

Tess’ eyes narrowed to slits as she gauged her charge’s amusement. "It pays to be prepared, Angel Girl," she said. "You never know when you might get lost out there." She cocked one eyebrow and then couldn’t hold in her amusement at Monica’s obvious struggle to remain straight-faced. "Oh, fine, maybe I don’t need everything, but you know, the Lord helps those who help themselves."

"I’m sorry, Tess," Monica said as she finally let herself laugh. "I just never took you for the outdoorsy type."

"Well neither did I, but apparently the Father has other thoughts on the matter. Today I am going out there and I am going to bring that little child back here if I have to comb every inch of this mountain."

"In that case, I guess it’s a good thing Andrew’s downstairs making breakfast. You’ll need your strength."

"I’ll probably need a lot more than that, Monica, but I don’t have time for eating. You and Andrew are on your own, so make the most of it."

*****

Monica was thinking about Tess’ words as she put the breakfast dishes into the sink. She had a feeling that her plan to remain inside and out of the way was not exactly what the older angel had in mind.

"Let me help with that," Andrew’s voice over her shoulder brought her back to the present.

"No, I’m fine, Andrew. You made the meal, you shouldn’t have to clean up after it too."

He smiled and playfully scooped up a handful of suds from the sink and blew them off into the air. "I know that, but I don’t mind."

She gave him a wry grin. "I can see that. Now scoot before there’s more soap on the floor than in the sink."

He chuckled at that, but tilted his head in a mock bow and left her to her dishes and her thoughts. A few minutes later he watched from the hallway as she made her way out of the kitchen and over to the bookshelf in the living room. She ran one slender finger over the books, feeling the age of the cracked leather spines. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Yes, that would certainly take quite a while to get through. She pulled it from the shelf and was soon curled in the oversized chair next to the fireplace.

Andrew rolled his eyes and stepped into the room. "What are you up to, Monica?" he said lightly, although he had a feeling that a light and breezy tone was not going to get the job done.

She barely glanced up from the book. "I’m doing what I said I was going to do… curling up with a book and waiting for Tess to finish her assignment."

"Angel, you aren’t really going to do that, are you? You’re supposed to at least be enjoying yourself."

She pursed her lips together and held up the book. "I’m sure that Mister Shakespeare would love to know that you think reading his words isn’t enjoyable," she said, and finished with a pout.

"I am not going to let you spend a beautiful day inside this house. You don’t even like being inside," he said, the exasperation clear.

"Well maybe I like it now," Monica was giving it one more shot of stubbornness.

Andrew narrowed his eyes and plucked the book from her hands. "I don’t think so. Now get up and put your shoes on. You said yesterday that you wanted to go back to town, and there’s no time like the present."

Monica looked like she was about to argue but one look at Andrew’s face told her that it wouldn’t be worth her effort. "Fine. Just let me make sure Lucy has enough food."

"I just fed her myself. She’s fine." Years of experience had taught him exactly what her stalling tactics were, he just wasn’t expecting her to use all of them at the same time.

She pressed her lips together and unfolded her legs to reluctantly stand. She couldn’t even explain to herself why she didn’t want to go. She had been so eager yesterday, but now some of that joy had been drained. She had started out wanting to be involved in Tess’ assignment, and now… She didn’t want to run away, she just wanted to stand a bit apart, and staying in the cottage seemed like a good way to do that.

Andrew was standing by the door waiting for her. His face held the openness and compassion she had come to depend on. As much as she tried, she had never been able to hold back with him. This time would be no different.

"All set?" he asked as she slipped into the strappy sandals she preferred.

She looked out from beneath her bangs and smiled crookedly. "I’m ready."

*****

The town was almost thirty minutes away and for most of the trip Monica could sense the tension in the air. Andrew was waiting for an opening, and her silence certainly wasn’t providing him with one. Finally she looked at him and caught him sneaking a glance for the tenth time.

"You must get awfully tired of trying to help me," she said.

The statement was completely unexpected but Andrew didn’t even pause for breath before answering. "Never."

"I’m sorry I was stubborn about leaving."

"You had your reasons… and I think I know what some of them were, but I’m ready to listen if you’re ready to talk."

She leaned back into her seat and turned to look out the window as the sound of the air rushing by filled her senses. "I think I’m afraid of making a mistake," she said at last.

"We all make mistakes, Monica. That’s not something you should be afraid of," he countered gently.

"Yes, but those are little mistakes. What if I make a mistake and it hurts someone?"

"So you’ve decided that shutting yourself up is the best solution? Because if you never come in contact with any human then you can’t be responsible for ruining their lives? Something like that?"

She nodded.

"Monica, I know you’re doubting yourself right now. There isn’t anything I can do to stop you from doing that, but I can tell you that there is no one I trust more than you. God is working through you all the time, and He isn’t about to steer you in the wrong direction."

She was quiet for a moment, considering his words, "I don’t want to be right, Andrew."

He glanced over at her once more, noting the way she was staring straight ahead, her body rigid with tension, "We never want to be right in thinking something negative about someone, angel, but sometimes it is just so. But denying how you feel is certainly not the answer."

"It is this time," She stated stubbornly, her mind flashing back to her nightmares as a trace of anger filled her eyes. She hated that she was having them again and all because she had run into Faith’s father yesterday. A two minute conversation had turned into a night of restless sleep because of it.

Andrew elected to drop the conversation, sensing her reluctance to discuss it further, and hoping he could come around to it again later. He wasn’t giving up by any means, but he knew her well enough to know when it was time to back away and later try a different approach.

After arriving in town and parking the car, he walked around to open Monica’s door, noticing that she was still fiddling with the little purse she had brought along. She looked up at him reluctantly and then took his proffered hand as she got out of the car. Andrew could still feel the tension between them, but he was content to ignore it. Though he was not accustomed to feeling any slight chill between them, he knew she wasn’t angry with him and he was getting the distinct feeling she was more upset with herself.

"So, where to, Angel Girl?"

She gave a small shrug of her shoulders as they began walking across the lot to the sidewalk, "It doesn’t matter to me."

"Now hold on a minute. Yesterday you had a list of things to do that was a mile long. What about that place where you can paint your own pottery?"

The smallest of smiles touched her lips as she nodded her head, loving the way he always remembered, "Yes. That would be fine with me."

He nodded his head as he smiled and offered her his arm, which she took, much to his relief, as he led her towards the little shop. It was busy today and the tight quarters were filled with tourists as the two angels browsed. Andrew wasn’t concerned with painting pottery and was content to just wait for Monica to participate. Ironically, she selected a rather large coffee mug as her subject, and after purchasing it she looked over at the busy painting area and then turned her eyes to him questionably.

"You go ahead, angel," He urged, seeing that he would only be in the way of the overzealous tourists who were slapping paint on various plates, vases and fruit bowls, "I’ll wait for you right outside. Take your time and have fun," He watched as she smiled and he planted a kiss on her forehead, before she headed to the table to choose her colors and design.

The little angel actually enjoyed the experience very much and the freedom that went along with it, as there was no right or wrong involved in painting the mug. She simply used the colors she liked the best, choosing splashes of blue, purple, orange and yellow and when she was finished nearly an hour later, she had a mug that brought to mind a sunrise, at least in her mind. Tess may disagree, but she was fine with that possibility. Her interpretation of a sunrise was much better than any interpretation of any song she might chose to sing and she would just remind her supervisor of that if need be. The thought made her smile as she waited patiently for the instructor to dry to her mug in an oven and it wasn’t long before her purchase was wrapped and bagged and she headed out of the shop to track down Andrew.

Her dark eyes scanned the busy street, expecting him to be nearby but not seeing a sign of him and she frowned. The painting had taken longer than he had probably expected and perhaps he had gotten bored and had decided to take a little walk around town. Noticing a bench across the street, she made her way over to it and sat down; thankful she could clearly see the shop and watch for her friend.

She felt a bit ashamed about her tone with him in the car when he had only been trying to help her and she knew she had been short tempered since yesterday. The fact that Andrew was always so patient with her made her feel a bit worse for shutting him out. What she needed to do was to confess everything, including her nightmares to him. Right now, he was shooting blindly, trying to figure out what was going on inside of her mind and she wasn’t giving him very much to go on at the moment. Though she had always confided in him before without hesitation, this time it just felt more difficult to do.

She had worked diligently the last year to put the past behind her as best she could, at times flat out ignoring it if need be. The last thing she wanted to do was to admit that all her work had been in vain and that old ghosts were coming back to haunt her. She knew in her heart that they couldn’t hurt her, but that didn’t stop her from feeling disappointed with their return.

Monica waited a few more minutes and still seeing no sign of him, she began to get fidgety. Patience was not always her strongest virtue and where she had once enjoyed people watching, now she chose not to for fear she would try to read more into them than was necessary. Remembering that the card she had written out for Paul this morning was in her purse, she glanced around for a post office and noticed one at the end of the street. If Andrew returned in her absence, he would simply think she was still painting and wait and besides, she could even find him on the way to mail the card.

The little angel walked purposefully down the street and quickly deposited some change into the vending machine for a stamp before hurrying to the mailbox. She ran her finger lightly over Paul’s name, sending out loving thoughts to him, before she opened the box and put the card inside. She closed it and then opened it again; peeking inside to make sure it had vanished before she turned around.

She came face to face with Faith’s father and she bit back a startled cry.

"I saw you in the woods last night."

His words were spoken softly and deliberately and she felt a chill go through her as she glanced over his shoulder for any sign of Andrew, but unfortunately, there was none, "I-I’m sorry?" She stammered, trying to control the fear that his eyes and expression were causing to well up within her breast.

"You were lost. I followed you. You were looking for her, weren’t you?" His eyes captured hers, and she felt unable to look away, though everything inside of her wanted to do just that.

"Looking for who? Faith?" Her voice trembled and she tried to swallow back her panic.

"Couldn’t catch her, could you? No one can."

"I need to go…" She tried to get around him, but he grabbed her arm. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was enough to stop her from leaving.

"Your mug is pretty. A sunrise…the one you thought you were gonna see this morning before someone found you."

The little angel wanted to burst into frightened tears, but she held her own somehow, "What do you want from me?"

"I’m watchin’ you, angel. Just know that I’m watchin’ you. Next time you get lost looking for Faith, I’ll find you," He smiled and it caused a shudder to go through her, though there was no maliciousness behind the words.

He released her arm and walked away, never once turning back and the angel let out a gasp that was half sob, as if she had been holding her breath. Her legs suddenly felt weak and she found herself leaning back against the mailbox and sinking to the ground.

*****

Andrew was frantic. He had just gone for something to drink and had been surprised when he had returned and found that Monica still hadn’t finished with her mug. He had only wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed her somehow, so he had ventured back inside the little pottery shop to look for her and after questioning the owner, he had discovered that she had left nearly twenty minutes ago.

His worried eyes searched the street, but there were so many people shopping and chatting along the sidewalk, that it was nearly impossible to try to spot one auburn head among all of them. He had tried waiting on a bench, hoping she would come into view, but he had found himself unable to sit still for very long.

When he stood up, he felt something grip his heart that he had not felt in a very long time. Not since that horrible night when David had shot his dearest friend had he felt her fear wrap itself around his heart with a force that nearly took his breath away.

She was in trouble. He couldn’t begin to fathom how or why, but he knew all he needed to know as he broke into a run, his panic-stricken eyes searching for her though the mob of tourists even as he tired to be careful to not plow anyone over in his haste to find her. Shouting would do little good as the streets were noisy with people and cars, as well as music from several of the pubs that lined the street.

"Father please," He whispered in his heart, "I know I’ve been asking this a lot lately, but help me find her."