CHAPTER 7

The night was peaceful and when Andrew had felt himself starting to drift off to sleep, suddenly the soft glow of God surrounded him, alleviating his exhaustion and refueling him. He quietly thanked the Father for his help, as Andrew in no way wanted to risk sleeping and possibly jeopardize Monica's safety.

He was still worried about her fever and he wished that there was some kind of medication in the cabin that he could give to her. He worried that her illness might be something far worse than a cold, possibly pnemonia. After all, he had insisted on her walking through that horribly chilling water and had forced her to keep going until exhaustion had prevented her from walking any further. He needed to get her someplace safer, warmer, where he could have her treated medically. For hours, his mind whirled with these thoughts, because it kept him from thinking about the one thing he wanted to avoid.

That it was his fault.

Had he just been honest with her, then neither one of them would be here now. Had he just confessed his feelings to her six months ago, the little angel would not have spent so much time feeling frightened and alone, nor would she be feeling betrayed now. Andrew tightened his hold around her small body. He would make it up to her. He had to as there was no other option he could live with. He had deeply hurt the most precious thing in his existence and because of his great love for her, he had hurt himself as well. Though she was allowing him to care for her, he could still feel how guarded her heart was and how tentative she was with him. He could tell himself it was just because she wasn't feeling well, but he knew the greater truth and could only lie to himself for so long.

At morning's light, Andrew slowly and carefully untangled himself from the little angel's sleeping embrace, frowning as he laid his hand on her forehead. She still felt so hot and though her face was pale, her cheeks were flushed. Monica had slept fairly well, despite several bouts of violent coughing, but yet her expression was far from peaceful.

He gazed out the window, wrestling with himself over what to do. He was loath to remain here any longer for fear Monica's captors would find her. He supposed that they might have given up, but something in his heart was telling him otherwise. The ways of humans were often foreign to him and trying to figure out why someone would want to harm someone as innocent as Monica was beyond him.

But even if the men had given up their search, there was no doubt in his mind that Monica needed minimally medication and possibly medical intervention, but how far were they from civilization? Did he risk taking her back out into the cool forest? Did he risk not taking her anywhere and the little angel falling even more ill? There were no easy answers unfortunately, but it was Monica's mumurings that drew him out of his thoughts.

"Andrew? Please...how much longer? I don't know how to do this...why can't you just love me?" Her feverish speech was slow and her head moved slowly from side to side, caught up in her restless dream.

Andrew sat down on the edge of the bed, and brushed the backs of his knuckles tenderly along her cheek, trying to awaken her gently, "Angel. It's all right."

When she opened her eyes, Andrew could see the deep pain in them and the waves of regret washed over him once more. If only he had done things differently! When Monica didn't say anything, he proceeded carefully, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

There it was again. That look in her dark eyes and the worried biting of her lower lip, "I...a wee bit better, I think." Her voice was hoarse and immediately following her words, another fit of violent coughing overtook her small frame.

"Somehow I don't think you're being quite honest with me," Andrew stated sadly as he rubbed her back, waiting for her to quiet once more.

Once she did, Monica fell back against her pillows, exhausted from the effort and from the pounding in her head. Her helpless expression nearly undid him, "I'm sorry...I don't know what's wrong...I know we have to leave before those men-."

"Shhh," He wrapped his arms around her gently, relieved when she didn't resist, "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I do," She uttered miserably, "If it weren't for me, we wouldn't be here now-."

"Angel, no!" Andrew pulled away and softened his voice, "If it weren't for ME, we wouldn't be here now. Had I been honest with you six months ago, none of this would be happening."

The little angel tilted her head up to look at him, her expression one of both hurt and concern, "You don't know that for sure."

"Yes, I do." He replied and left it at that. She rested up against him in silence, and Andrew could feel the shallow rise and fall of her breaths. Her chest must feel tight, judging by the guarded way she was taking in air, and that worried him all the more. He cleared his throat and decided to be honest.

"Angel, I'm not sure of what to do. I'm worried about how sick you are and I think...I think you may be more ill than we realize. I don't know how far away help is and I don't know if those men are still looking for you," He ran a hand through her hair, trying to calm his own racing heart, "Monica, I'm not sure what the best thing is to do."

"Andrew?" She looked up at him, her dark eyes filled with panic, "Please, just promise you won't leave me to go find help...promise me...please!"

His green eyes filled with disbelief as he took her face into his gentle hands, "No, baby. That was never an option. I'm not leaving you alone; not now or ever. I promise, Monica, I promise."

Her head returned to his chest exhaustedly, "Thank you," She breathed out the words wearily.

"We'll stay one more day," Andrew stated after a long silence, his mind made up, "But tomorrow, we have to leave." He left it at that, deciding not to go into detail about if they would be leaving to avoid the men or leaving to get her help.

"Maybe...maybe I'll feel better by then," Monica murmured, though her tone told him how doubtful she felt about her words. Her head hurt, along with her chest and throat and she had no idea how she would ever walk very far, even with his help.

"Maybe you will, " He reassured her as he resumed stroking her hair, "You need to eat something, angel."

Though she in no way felt hungry, she nodded her head anyway as she placed her well being in his hands. Her anger with him was fading. She needed him so much right now, but then again, she always had. She still loved him with all her heart, but it was her trust she had to work on. The last six months had been the most difficult in her existence; feeling as if she were failing as an angel because of the feelings she had for him, feeling afraid and alone, missing Andrew so much it hurt. Though he had apologized, nothing yet could erase how isolated she had felt during their long separation.

Though he had mentioned her needing to eat, Andrew made no immediate move to fix her something. He could tell she was thinking about things, he could feel the subtle changed in her body and knew that emotionally, she was struggling as well, "What are you thinking, angel?" He asked her softly, almost dreading her response.

She emitted a tiny sigh, unsure of how to answer his question. Monica wasn't sure if talking about how they felt about each other was even an option. It had to be wrong. God had never intended for angels to fall in love, "I suppose I'm just wondering if things will ever really be all right again."

"Do you mean with us?" He ventured, resting his chin on top of her hair.

"I don't know..." She replied, her voice laced with helpless tears, "I'm just...I'm frightened."

Andrew could hear all the things she wasn't saying in her voice and could see them with the tears that had slipped from her eyes, "I am too, Monica, but please know this. I love you and I don't know what feeling that way will do to us, but I can't change it, nor do I want to. God knows our hearts, angel, and He has placed us together here, now. Maybe we need to let that be enough."