Loe raamatut: «Heavenly Husband»

CHAPTER ONE

TAKING a surreptitious glance at his fellow fenuki players, Jared reached into the billowing sleeve of his pristine white robe and withdrew a perfect gilded feather. Confident no one had witnessed his deft maneuver, he placed the coveted game piece on the table atop the plain white plumes placed by the other two players.

“Fenuki!” he shouted, proclaiming himself winner for the umpteenth time this century. Jared felt his halo slip to the left as if to herald to the others that this game—like many of the others—had come to him by sleight of hand.

As he counted his winnings, Mehrdad reached across and placed a quelling hand on his arm. Although his tone was gentle, his voice held a warning. “If Nahum thought that any of his staff wasn’t one hundred percent virtuous, it would be quite difficult for that staff member to earn his wings, don’t you think?”

Heedless of the implied threat, Jared laughed. “Would it matter? I now have almost enough fenuki feathers to make my own wings.”

Mehrdad bristled and rose to his feet. The tension caused light to crackle through the air. Heat lightning, the humans down below would call it.

But before Mehrdad could argue further, the wispy covering of fog swirled about them. A moment later, the thin veils of white parted and settled around their knees and ankles. Asim stood before them.

“Nahum wishes to see you,” the messenger told Jared. At his questioning glance, Asim added, “It is time for your performance appraisal.”

With a taunting grin at his fenuki opponent, Jared tucked the last of the feathers into his robe pockets and rose to follow Asim to the supervisor.

After all these centuries, he knew it would take more than luck to improve his abysmal performance record. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Workers in the Human Resources Department were expected to be reliable, dependable, and have an intimate understanding of the most fickle and confusing of all creatures...humans. As it happened, Jared possessed none of these qualities. Especially the last.

Nahum sat in beatific splendor upon his chair of gold-painted wicker. Jared knew it wouldn’t be long before his supervisor would be trading in that humble chair for a throne in another department. Already, Nahum had moved up the ranks of wing size until he now sported a pair that was taller and wider than himself.

Jared would have been happy with a pair of dinky baby wings made of gray down. Considering his own track record, it would take him at least several millennia, if ever, to earn such a glorious pair as Nahum’s. Jared tried to still his wayward thoughts. Wing envy was frowned upon up here.

But he had broad, strong shoulders that Nahum had told him gave him the potential to carry the weight of large wings. Although his supervisor had routinely given him low, yet honest, appraisals, he’d always encouraged Jared to put aside his playful ways and set his mind to the tasks he was asked to perform.

But, somehow, Jared’s attention would stray and he’d fail the assignment or have to turn it over to a worker with a better track record.

But this time was different. This time, he would do whatever Nahum asked, even if it meant safeguarding an accident-prone human. Jared grimaced as he remembered the last klutz he’d been assigned to watch over. After one too many mishaps while he’d let his mind wander, he’d been forced to let Mehrdad assume the responsibility of protecting President Ford.

Nahum nodded benevolently, his gaze falling upon Jared’s bulging pockets. “When your time comes to meet with the Chairman of the Board, I doubt he’ll think much of wings made out of fenuki feathers,” he said softly.

Sheepish, Jared stuffed the telltale overflowing fluff back into his pockets.

“I’ve been going over your personnel file.” The left-hand side of the folder held page after page of not-so-glowing reports. The right-hand side, reserved for commendations and accolades, sported only two thin sheets of parchment. “In addition to your lack of...shall we say, finesse... as a protectorate, there seems to be a couple of other problems holding you back.”

Jared couldn’t help being amazed by Nahum’s statement. Only a couple of problems? He waited in respectful silence for his superior to continue.

“The first is your cavalier attitude. You take everything so lightly, as if this were all just a big game. This isn’t the place for someone who chooses to act like such a...a...”

“Free spirit?”

“Exactly. We’re a team here. You must learn to work with others.”

“I’ll try to do better.”

Nahum crossed his arms over his chest, exposing the many rows of gold trim that weighted his sleeves. “You can start by referring to Mehrdad by his appointed name rather than ‘Mehrdy’.”

So his fenuki opponent had apparently been complaining.

“And it would be best if you discourage others from referring to you by a nickname. ‘Jerry’ sounds a bit too modern and casual for the serious nature of our work.”

Jared reverently bowed his head. “Thy will be done. And the other problem?”

Casting a skeptical glance at him for his easy acquiescence, Nahum opened another folder and produced a sheet of lined parchment, which he handed to Jared. “Apparently, there has been an oversight. Your training is incomplete.”

Glancing through the list at the many workshops and seminars written in elegant script, Jared was sure his elder had made a mistake. “But I’ve taken all the courses offered, and I passed them with flying colors.”

“You haven’t served your apprenticeship on Earth,” Nahum explained. “You need hands-on experience before you can move on to the next level of protectorate.”

Jared returned the parchment to his superior. “I’ve walked among humans—I’ve seen how they are.”

“But you’ve never been one. In all your previous assignments, you’ve remained invisible to your protectees, which means you’ve never had to learn to interact with them—communicate on their level.”

Jared started to interrupt and explain that he had spoken to his human charges on a number of occasions when he’d whispered warnings to them, but Nahum stilled his protest with an upraised hand.

“It is impossible to truly comprehend them until you’ve experienced their challenges and limitations—such as their inability to become invisible or to transmogrify themselves through earthly barriers. But you will see what I mean once you take human form.”

“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not going to send me down there to go through the poopy diaper stage and have parents who tell me what to do all the time. You know I don’t handle restrictions on my freedom very well.”

“Which may have been why you were overlooked for apprenticeship all this time. There were no parents who deserved such a test.” Nahum leaned back in his chair, the winged back obscuring his face from all but the one directly in front of him, and thoughtfully stroked his long brown beard. “There is an assignment I’d like for you to handle.”

Jared breathed a long sigh of relief, then regretted his action when he realized the disorder it might cause in the form of hurricanes and twisters down below. If Nahum was giving him an assignment, it meant he wouldn’t be forcing him to go through the childbirth process and schooling and such.

“There is a young woman who needs your protection.”

Jared arched one eyebrow. He’d do his best, but if she was clumsy, she’d best stock up on bandages and ice packs. “Give me five minutes to put on a fresh robe, and I’ll be ready.”

“You won’t be needing it,” Nahum said. “You’ll be working as a protectorate while also serving your apprenticeship in human form.”

Jared’s mouth opened. He wasn’t being let off the hook after all. “How am I supposed to protect someone while I’m squalling for a baby bottle?”

Nahum steadied a look of infinite patience upon him before answering. “There is a soul whose hourglass is almost empty. You will inhabit his vessel when he leaves it.”

Jared rubbed his ears as if he might have misheard his supervisor’s words. “You mean...no spitting up and no fighting schoolyard bullies?”

“You will be a thirty-two-year-old male, living in Chesden, Illinois. That’s the United States, of course.” The supervisor added, almost as an afterthought, “Perhaps the only country that would put up with your unorthodox ways.”

“What about the woman? How am I supposed to protect her?” If he went into this assignment with a firm idea of what to expect, perhaps he could be better prepared.

Nahum closed the folder in front of him. “I don’t have all the details. You’ll have to find them out once you get there. But I do know that the woman is in danger of leaving her earthly body approximately fifty or sixty years sooner than her scheduled departure. Your job is to make sure she comes to no harm.”

Jared shook his head in amazement. “Only fifty years? What’s the big to-do about? In the overall scheme of things, fifty years is just a blink of an eye.”

Nahum gazed down at the worker before him. He’d grown accustomed to the oversize wings he wore, not to mention the golden braids on his sleeves that signified his exalted status. He was also counting on moving up to that big throne on the next level up. If this mission failed, he could be stripped of his hard-earned rank quicker than a thunderstorm in July.

On the other hand, if Jared could somehow manage to harness that creativity and energy of his, he—Nahum—might find the rewards well worth the risk.

“I believe your experience on Earth will change your mind about many such misconceptions.”

By the time Kim reached the hospital’s emergency room, Gerald’s condition had worsened. Her mouth unaccountably dry, she stopped at the water fountain near the ER receptionist. The water tasted stale and lukewarm, but the hesitation had allowed Kim a brief moment to gather herself together. For some reason, her thoughts kept returning to the feeling she’d harbored as she had watched Gerald drive away: She’d hoped she would never see him again.

Guilt plucked at her heart. What he’d done was despicable, but no one deserved this.

In the emergency room, Kim passed several curtained cubicles, some of which stood empty. One revealed a mother standing beside a bed whose occupant must have been no more than two years old.

Walking faster, she came to the nurses’ station where the hall broke off into more passageways with still more curtained cubicles. She paused, unsure which curtain Gerald was behind.

A bespectacled nurse glanced up from the rack of charts she’d been looking through. “May I help you, miss?”

“I’m looking for Gerald Kirkland.”

“You his wife, honey?”

Kim paused. Would she be allowed to see Gerald if she didn’t have some sort of family tie to him? “Um, fiancée.” It was only half a lie.

“Well, come on, then,” the nurse said, stepping out from the station. “They’re prepping him for surgery. Maybe you can see him for a moment before they take him in.”

Gerald looked almost as pale as the bleached white sheet beneath him. Two plastic bags hung suspended above him, one dripping clear fluid into his veins and the other replacing the blood he’d lost. An airway tube made a hissing sound as it pumped oxygen into his lungs.

Kim caught her breath at the sight of him. Only when she began to feel slightly faint did she make a conscious effort to breathe normally. It wouldn’t do him any good if she flaked out now.

“You okay, honey?” the nurse asked her.

Kim nodded. Another half lie.

She stepped closer, trying to ignore the various tubes and wires attached to Gerald’s body. His was a large, strong frame accustomed to vigorous activity. His body was the first thing she’d noticed about him. The reason she’d first been attracted to him. And perhaps the reason that other woman had been attracted to him.

She tried not to think of that now. Instead, she concentrated her effort on offering emotional support. She took his hand in hers and gently squeezed his fingers. He did not squeeze back, and Kim began to realize with a horrified understanding that there was nothing she could do to help him. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled onto his hand.

“He’s not able to respond,” said a man in scrubs, “but it’s possible he can hear you. It might help if you tell him how you feel about him.”

Tell him how she felt about him? As in, I don’t love you anymore, but I don’t want you to die, either? No, she couldn’t be so cruel.

When at last she spoke, her voice cracked. “Hang in there.” She squeezed his fingers again, as if the gesture would impart all the sincerity she was unable to put into words.

Blip, blip, blip. The only response she got was the unsteady beep of the heart monitor. Another man in green scrubs entered the tiny cubicle, and a woman in white followed.

Releasing his hand, she stepped away from the gurney and started out the way she’d come. She went out into the tiled corridor, determined to wait on the hard bench until the surgery was over.

Amid the murmuring of voices, the blips wavered briefly, then fell into one long, flat beep. Kim had seen enough television to know this was not a good sign. Activity in the room increased, and she rushed to pull the curtain open. For several moments, she watched in horrified fascination, wishing there was something she could do to help and knowing she was powerless to stop the current course of events.

Kim had no idea how long she stood there, watching without seeing, as the medical team struggled to bring Gerald back from the brink.

Finally, one of the men stepped away and began removing his gloves. “We’ve lost him.”

Please don’t let him die!

The man stopped what he was doing and looked up at Kim. Until then, she hadn’t realized she’d prayed out loud.

“Get her out of here,” he demanded.

The woman in white came to her and took her arm to guide her out, but not before Kim saw them raise the sheet over Gerald’s face.

Exhausted, she allowed herself to be led to the bench across the hall. The woman with her was uttering words of comfort, but Kim didn’t hear them. Her ears were tuned to the room where Gerald’s body lay.

When the woman suggested she call someone to drive her home, Kim realized she hadn’t told her father or stepmother before rushing over to be with Gerald. She dug some coins out of her purse and rose from the bench.

Someone behind the closed curtain asked, “Did he just move? I could have sworn I saw that sheet move.”

As if to confirm the statement, the monitor once again began blipping, this time stronger and steadier than before.

The woman in white ran back to Gerald’s cubicle. Kim’s legs felt powerless to support her, and she sank back onto the bench.

“Let me see,” came the voice of the man who’d ordered her out.

A moment later, the blipping of the monitor became more rhythmic.

A woman’s voice spoke in quiet awe. “It’s a miracle.”

Jared became aware of the sounds around him first. The noise was loud and cacophonous, unlike the soft, melodious sounds he’d become used to “on high.” First he heard a deep male voice asking if he had a problem with hemorrhoids. Then a click and a woman complaining about tough, grimy stains. Another click and the sound of something hitting against a hard object, followed by uproarious laughter.

With effort, Jared opened his eyes, squinting against the harsh light that came from two long cylindrical strips in the ceiling. Laughter rang out again, and he turned his head to the source, a large box projecting from the wall, with images of miniature humans showing inside it. He’d heard that the Chairman of the Board had such a box, to watch the activities of those below, but something told him this wasn’t the Big Guy’s office. Something rustled beside him, and he turned toward it.

A lovely creature sat in a chair near him and pressed a button on a small black box every so often. Each time she did so, the noise and pictures emanating from the box on the wall abruptly changed.

A vision of femininity, she was so beautiful he didn’t think she could possibly be human. But she wore no wings, and instead of the traditional white robe, she was garbed in two layers of loose-fitting upper clothing, neither of which had sleeves. Her lower limbs sported two dark blue casings that appeared to be held on the wearer by a series of buttons below her waist. And her feet were encased in a soft-looking white material. Like the sandals he was accustomed to, these were also tied, but instead of leather thongs, they were held together by white strips of fabric with clear, hard tips on the ends. Printed on the flap that protruded from the top of the foot covering was the word “Adidas.”

His gaze was drawn upward to her face. The eyes, cinnamon brown framed by lashes of black, were trained upon the box on the wall. Her features were of a pleasing proportion, and the dark brows and sun-darkened complexion complemented the burnished brown locks that surrounded her face.

Jared felt a strange sensation in the pit of his being. She was more beautiful than any angel he’d ever seen.

His thoughts returned to the name printed on her foot covering. Adidas. He was familiar with Adonis, the Greek god, and had even beaten him at a hand of fenuki. Could this, perhaps, be a beautiful goddess, maybe even a heretofore unknown relation of her handsome male counterpart?

She turned in her chair and became aware of his steady perusal. “Oh, you’re awake.” Her eyes were filled with compassion and pity. But something else lurked there, as well. A wariness emanated from her, making her appear torn inside. “Maybe I should call the nurse.”

“What are you doing here?”

She leaned forward and touched his arm, which was covered by a clean white blanket. “We almost lost you. No matter what our differences, I couldn’t leave you here alone, Gerald.”

“My name is Jared,” he corrected her.

She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small frown. “Do you know my name?”

How could he not know it when it was emblazoned on her garments? “Of course.”

The goddess appeared relieved for a spare moment, then leaned closer. “Tell me who I am.”

Jared didn’t know what sport she found in this game, but he decided to humor her. “You’re Adidas.”

His response appeared not to satisfy her. If she’d tell him the rules of the game, perhaps he’d be a more worthy opponent. Nothing seemed to make sense to him right now.

With a clatter to announce her entrance, a young woman entered the room pushing a cart laden with trays. “So, Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up, eh?” She positioned a narrow, wheeled table so that it reached across the bed where he lay, then placed one of the trays on top of it.

Jared didn’t know what he’d done to earn such treatment. Here he was, lying upon a chaise of white, with a nubile young goddess beside him and a servant woman to feed him. But he didn’t understand why there were no palm fronds to shade him from the harsh light and no clusters of grapes to be fed to him one by one. He would have to speak to Nahum and find out what was going on.

“Here’s your lunch, honey.” Turning to Adidas, she added, “I’ll tell the nurse that he’s come around.”

Adidas thanked the servant woman and moved her chair closer to Jared’s chaise. “Are you hungry?”

Was he hungry? He’d never experienced such a need in all his existence. Only humans wanted for physical sustenance.

Then realization dawned. He was now a human serving his earthly apprenticeship. He looked around him at his stark surroundings, taking in the painting that tried desperately to cheer up a wall filled with hoses and silver-colored fixtures. Taking in the clear, fluid-filled bag that hung over his bed—not his chaise—and that dripped liquid into a tube that disappeared under the blanket near his arm. Finally, his gaze fell on the goddess beside him. Could she be a mere human? If so, he wondered why he’d been so reluctant to complete this portion of his training.

She watched him expectantly, and he remembered she was waiting for his response.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

She picked up a cream-colored box beside his pillow and pressed a button. The bed vibrated and moved upward until he was in a near sitting position. Then she took the cover off his tray of food. “Mmm, vegetable soup. Why don’t you try to eat a little, even if you’re not hungry? It’ll help you get your strength back.”

Jared tried to lift his arm to pick up the spoon, but the appendage was much heavier than he’d anticipated. And when he put more energy into his effort, his arm jerked upward and flopped heavily against the tray, spattering orange soup on the white blanket.

“It’s okay,” said Adidas. “I’ll feed you.” She turned her chair until she faced him and dipped the spoon into the soup. Scraping the bottom of the spoon against the bowl, she lifted it to his mouth.