final bell rang, she wasn’t jaded. She was a dreamer. I suspected that if I told Miss Castle I was a celestial being on a mission to save the world, she wouldn’t have even blinked.
12
Saving Grace
I’d never seen God. I’d felt His presence and heard His voice but never actually come face to face with Him. His voice wasn’t what people imagined, booming and reverberating as depicted in epic Hollywood movies. Rather it was as subtle as a whisper and moved through our thoughts as gently as a breeze through tall reeds. Ivy had seen Him. An audience in Our Father’s court was reserved for the seraphim alone. As an archangel, Gabriel had the highest level of human interaction. He saw all the greatest suffering, the sort that was shown on the news; war, natural disasters, disease. He was guided by Our Father and worked with the rest of his covenant to point the earth in the right direction. Although Ivy had a direct line of communication with Our Creator, she could never be induced to talk on the subject. Gabriel and I had attempted many times to glean information from her to no avail. So, strangely enough, I ended up imagining God in much the same way as Michelangelo had: a wise old man with a beard, sitting on a throne in the sky. My mental picture was probably inaccurate, but there was one thing that couldn’t be disputed: No matter what his appearance, Our Father was the complete embodiment of love.
Much as I savored every day spent on earth, there was one thing I sometimes missed about Heaven: how everything there was clear. There was no conflict, no dissension apart from that one historic uprising that resulted in the Kingdom’s first and only eviction. Although it had altered the destiny of humankind forever, it was rarely talked about.
In Heaven I was dimly aware of the existence of a darker world, but it was removed from us and we were usually too busy working to think about it. We angels each had assigned roles and responsibilities: Some of us welcomed new souls into the Kingdom, helping to ease the transition; some materialized at deathbeds to offer comfort to departing souls; and others were guardians assigned to human beings. In the Kingdom, I looked after the souls of children when they first entered the realm. It had been my job to comfort them, to tell them that in time they would see their parents again if they let go of their doubts. I was a sort of celestial usher for preschoolers.
I was glad I wasn’t a guardian angel; they were usually overworked. It was their job to listen to the prayers of their many human charges and guide them out of harm’s way. It could get fairly hectic — I’d once seen a guardian try to come to the aid of a sick child, a woman going through a messy divorce, a man who’d just been laid off, and the victim of a car accident all in the same instant. There was so much work to do and never enough of us to go around.
___
Xavier and I sat under the shade of a maple tree in the quadrangle, eating lunch. I couldn’t help but be aware of his hand, resting just inches from my own. It was slender but masculine. He wore a simple silver band around his index finger. I was so engrossed in looking at him that I hardly noticed when he spoke to me.
“Can I ask a favor?”
“What? Oh, of course. What do you need?”
“Could you proofread this speech I’ve written? I’ve done it twice, but I’m sure I’ve missed things.”
“Sure. What’s it for?”
“A leadership conference next week,” he said offhandedly, as if it were something he did every day. “You don’t have to do it now. You can take it home if you like.”
“No, it’s fine.”
I was flattered that he valued my opinion enough to ask me. I spread the pages flat on the grass and read through them. Xavier’s speech was eloquent, but he’d missed some minor grammatical errors that I spotted easily.
“You’re a good editor,” he commented. “Thanks for doing it.”
“It’s no trouble.”
“Seriously, I owe you one. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said.
“Yes, I do. By the way, when’s your birthday?”
I was taken aback by the question.
“I don’t like presents,” I said quickly, in case he got any ideas.
“Who said anything about presents? I’m just asking for your date of birth.”
“Thirtieth of February,” I said, throwing out the first date that came to mind.
Xavier raised an eyebrow.
“Are you sure about that?”
I panicked. What had I said wrong? I ran through the months in my head and realised my mistake. Oops — there were only twenty-eight days in February!
“I mean thirtieth of April,” I corrected and grinned sheepishly.
Xavier laughed. “You’re the first person I’ve ever known to forget her own birthday.”
Even when I made a fool of myself, my conversations with Xavier were always engaging.
He could talk about the most mundane of things and still manage to make them fascinating. I loved the sound of his voice and would have been happy listening to him read names from a phone book. Was this a symptom of falling in love, I wondered?
As Xavier scribbled notes in the margins of his speech, I bit into my roast vegetable focaccia and made a face as a strangely bitter flavor assaulted my taste buds. Gabriel had introduced us to most food products, but there were still plenty of things I had yet to try. I lifted the top cautiously and peered at the substance smeared under the vegetables.
“What’s that?” I asked Xavier.
“I believe it goes by the name of eggplant,” he replied. “Sometimes called aubergine in fancy restaurants.”
“No, the other stuff.” I pointed at the layer of crumbly, green paste.
“Dunno, pass it over.” I watched him take a tentative bite and chew thoughtfully. “Pesto,” he announced.
“Why does everything have to be so complicated,” I said irritably, “including sandwiches?”
“You’re so right,” Xavier mused. “Pesto does make life much more complicated.” He laughed and took another bite, pushing his own untouched salad wrap toward me.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “Eat your lunch, I can cope with pesto.”
But he refused to return my sandwich despite my whining. I gave up and ate his instead, enjoying the familiarity between us.
“Don’t feel bad,” he said. “I’m a guy, I’ll eat anything.”
On our way to class after lunch, we came across a commotion in the corridor. People were talking agitatedly about some kind of accident. No one was too sure who was involved, but students were moving en masse toward the main doors, where a crowd had gathered outside around something or somebody. I sensed human pain and felt a wave of panic rise in my chest.
I followed Xavier through the crowd, which seemed to part instinctively to let the school captain through. Once outside my eyes found the shattered glass littering the pavement, and I followed the trail to a car with its hood completely smashed in, smoke curling from the engine. There had been a head-on collision between two seniors. One of the drivers was standing by his car, looking dazed and disoriented. Thankfully, he seemed to have suffered only minor scratches. My gaze shifted from his mangled Volkswagen to linger on the car now entangled with it. I realized with a jolt that the other driver was still inside, slumped in the seat, her head lolling against the steering wheel. Even from where I stood, I could see that she was seriously hurt.
The crowd watched with open mouths, unsure what was required of them. Only Xavier managed to keep his wits about him. He vanished from my side to call for help and alert the teachers.
