Authors: Monica McGurk
The scene cut to another interview, this one with a worker in a shelter not unlike the one Maria had been in while in Atlanta. Maria turned the volume down again and turned back to me. “Your friend, the angel, did that.”
I nodded. “Yes, I suppose he did.” At that, I looked around the room. “He isn’t here yet?”
Maria shook her head. “Nobody has come or called. I made sure Jimena watched while I went out.” She picked up a bag and brought it over to me. “I got you some food and medicine.”
I looked into the bag. Stale pastry, a bottled orange juice, and some granola bars.
“They didn’t have much at the gas station,” Maria said apologetically. “I hope it is okay.”
I forced a smile. “Of course it is. But how did you pay for it?”
Her eyes grew wide again. “I picked up the credit card, the one with your name, and it changed to mine. So the cashier never questioned me. It was another of your angel’s miracles, I think.” She frowned then. “I found more bandages for you, though. And some aspirin and ointment.”
“That was very thoughtful of you, thank you.” I frowned a little bit, surprised at how good I felt. I pushed the bag to the side and pulled the sheets back. “I think I’ll go take a look.”
The girls’ curious eyes followed me as I made my way to the narrow bathroom and closed the door firmly behind me. I laid out the bandages, ointment, and aspirin on the ledge behind the sink. As I did, my reflection caught my eye. My face was red, a rash of angry yellow blisters clustered along my mouth and chin, leading down my neck to where the collar of my shirt splayed open. I stared at my reflection unflinchingly.
“Time to see just how bad things are,” I murmured to myself. I thought of the girls and turned on the tap in the sink. I didn’t want them to hear my reaction if it was really bad.
I delicately undid one of the bandages on my arm and started unwinding it. I gasped. Though it was clear that I’d been injured, the oozing mess that had been my blistered skin was starting to dry out, a delicate layer of new skin already forming. I bent my elbow and winced—it was tight. If it healed too fast, I might not have a
good range of motion. I would have to move around a lot, I supposed, so that my skin would heal properly.
“I can’t believe it,” I whispered, turning my arm this way and that. Swiftly, I unwrapped the bandages on the other arm to find the same. The blisters were all gone, and everywhere I looked, new, pink skin was in their place. I undid the buttons on the front of my shirt and saw the angry red marks that followed the path of what had been the collar of my T-shirt. The raw welts along my abdomen that led down toward my waistband were healing, too. I blushed, remembering the feel of Michael’s hands along my midriff, the trail of his finger as he popped open the button on my jeans.
I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall of the bathroom, the cool tile soothing my skin as I tried to shake away the memory by focusing on my injuries. “I must be imagining it,” I murmured to myself.
I stood up, opening my eyes to resolutely examine myself again. But I had been right. I was healing. Along the edges, some of the skin already bore the shiny, telltale look of scar tissue.
I remembered the doctor’s warnings about infection. I grabbed the tube of ointment and delicately patted it onto my skin before rewrapping my bandages. I ignored the questions that were swirling about in my mind, questions I couldn’t answer. Instead, I clumsily rebuttoned my shirt and stepped out of the bathroom.
“Okay?” Maria asked, looking up from the television. Jimena simply watched, her deep, dark eyes seeming to understand everything.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“See, your angel takes care of you, too,” Maria beamed.
At the mention of Michael, I paused. “He should be here by now.”
“Did you have a plan to come here?” Maria asked, quizzically.
I shook my head, feeling my eyebrows come together stiffly, as if the healing skin was resisting their movement.
“We didn’t have a plan to meet up anywhere. He just always seems to know where to go. I hope nothing happened to him.”
“What could have happened to him? He is an angel of God!” Maria practically shouted the words, giddy with the belief that all her prayers would be answered. “He will come here and take us somewhere safe. I know it.”
Somewhere safe. Just where would that be?
I cleared my throat again. “Maria, where do you plan to go? Now that you have Jimena, there’s no reason for you to stay in the United States, is there?”
Maria suddenly became somber. “I cannot go home.
Mi tío
is still there. We won’t be safe. Maybe I can come back to Atlanta with you?”
I thought about the complicated web Michael and I had woven and of all the things we still had left to do. We couldn’t take her back to Atlanta.
“We’ll see,” I said vaguely, hoping to figure something out by the time Michael got here.
It wasn’t like Michael not to be on the scene—unless he’d gone to take care of some greater problem that demanded his attention in another part of the world. Half impatient, half afraid, I jumped to my feet and started pacing the room.
“I’m going to leave him a message,” I announced to no one in particular. “I’ll leave him a message where to find us, back at our old hotel. That’s the only way I can think of to reach him. If he checks anywhere, it will be there.”
I fished the phone book out of the nightstand, pushing away the Gideon Bible that rested on top of it. Quickly, I scanned the Las Vegas listings for our hotel and dialed out.
“I’d like to leave a message for room 305, please,” I told the operator at the front desk. “Michael—I mean, Don Carmichael.”
“Let me put you through directly,” she answered. There was a click as she made the connection, but it rang only once before I heard Michael’s voice.
“Hope? Is that you?” He sounded frantic.
“Michael!” I said, startled. “What happened? I mean, we saw what happened on the news, but why aren’t you here? We’ve been waiting for you, and I’ve been worried.”
There was a slight pause. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right there.” I rattled off the address that was printed on the face of the phone and he continued. “Are the girls with you? Is everyone all right?”
“Yes, we’re fine. But Michael,” I said, lowering my voice, “we have to get them out of here. We have to get them home, to Mexico. But I’m not sure Maria wants to go.”
He sighed. “We’ll take care of that when I get there.” He paused again. “How are you feeling, Hope? Do you need me to bring a doctor?”
I laughed. “No, it’s the strangest thing. I seem to be healing. I’m still stiff and sore, but the skin, it—well, you’ll see when you get here. I don’t think there is any risk of infection any longer.”
I heard him sigh with relief. “I’ll bring a few supplies, just in case. I should have never let you go last night. It was too dangerous, and I knew it.”
I bristled, but reminded myself there was no need to argue. He
had
taken me along, and because of that, Maria and Jimena were free. “Just get here as soon as you can,” I said. “We’ll be waiting.”
I put the old-fashioned phone back in the cradle and paused. How strange, I thought, that he needed directions to find us.
It’s not so strange
, snickered Henri.
Ask him about it
.
Stop annoying me, Henri
, I thought, irritated that he seemed so useless, so bent on making me suspicious and doubtful because of his own jealousy.
I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. At least he helped me when it counted—unlike some angels I know. Some Guardian Angel you’ve turned out to be
.
Suit yourself
, he sniffed, and I heard no more from him.
I plopped down on the bed and drummed my fingers against the nightstand. Maria and Jimena looked at me expectantly.
“He’ll be here soon,” I promised, and they beamed. “We just have to wait a few more minutes.”
I looked back over at the phone. A wave of longing for my mother swept over me. Michael had been so vigilant at first, and after that I’d resisted the temptation to contact her, afraid of what might happen or what she might do if she knew where I was. But now, knowing Michael was nowhere near, I felt guilty. I was sure by now she knew I was missing.
I looked over at Jimena and Maria and thought of their father; wondered if he even knew that they had ended up in so much danger.
Mom must be frantic, I thought. But I didn’t trust myself to talk to her—not now, not with so much unfinished business. But there was someone else I could call, I thought, smiling to myself. Someone who would have no problem butting her nose in.
I picked up the phone and let my fingers dial the number I knew by heart.
It was the middle of the afternoon. Her phone was probably off while she sat in classes, so I wasn’t surprised when it rolled to voice mail.
“Tabby, hi, it’s me, Hope,” I began, my voice a little shaky as I rushed through the words. “Sorry I haven’t called you. But hey, I was wondering, could you do me a favor? Can you call my mom
and tell her I’m okay? I think she’s worried about me and, you know, she likes you so much, it would really mean a lot coming from you. Okay? I—I gotta go now. Bye.”
I hurriedly put the receiver back in the cradle and stared at it. A loud knock at the door made me jump. My heart pumping, I moved away from the phone as fast as I could.
“Who is it?” I asked nervously.
“It’s me, Michael.”
I let out a long breath and walked to the door, throwing it open. He rushed through, his brow knitted with concern, and without thinking I threw myself into his arms, burying my face in his shoulder. His warmth seeped through me, soothing every aching muscle and joint in me. I almost didn’t feel the painful catch of my skin as he pulled me close.
Too soon, he pushed me away, holding me out from him for inspection.
“You really are healing,” he noted with wonder. He lifted a tentative hand, as if he would trace the blistered skin along the curve of my cheekbone, but then he checked himself, bringing his hand to rest in my hair instead. “You probably can’t even tell how much better you look. I didn’t know this was even possible.” He tilted my chin, gently, to get a better look.
Behind me, Maria cleared her voice. I stepped away from Michael, confusion and embarrassment flooding through me.
“Michael, this is Maria and her sister Jimena.” I gestured to them where they sat at the foot of their bed. Michael came through the doorway and closed the door behind him.
“I’m so glad you are safe,” he said seriously. They stared up at him, wide-eyed. “You must be eager to get home.”
Maria looked at me warily. “I am not sure if that is a good idea.”
I reminded Michael of her fears of her uncle. His face darkened.
“I can take care of that,” he said menacingly. I saw the blood drain from Jimena’s face. She leaned over and whispered something to her sister.
“I don’t care what he has to do,” Maria spat, disdainful of her sister’s fears. “He deserves whatever he gets. Who am I to judge the actions of an angel of God?”
Michael arched a brow and cocked his head, looking at me pointedly. “An angel of God?”
I shrugged. “They saw you when you attacked the car. At this point, I couldn’t see the harm.”
He grimaced slightly. “Oh, well. I suppose you are right. At least it makes our next move a little easier.” He turned to the girls.
“Neither of you is too seriously injured, I hope?” When they shook their heads, he continued. “Then I’m taking you back to Mexico. Tonight. Get whatever things you have together. We’ll leave as soon as it is fully dark.”
The girls began scurrying about the room, looking for whatever meager belongings they had taken with them.
Then Michael turned to me, speaking under his breath. “You stay here and wait. When I get back we’ll regroup. It will be time to turn our full attention to the Prophecy.” He seemed to struggle with what to say next. “I’m not really sure where to go from here, but we’ll figure it out.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “Together.”
I felt myself flushing as he looked at me. Questions came unbidden to my mind. Why was he being so tender with me? Why did he keep saving me? Could I really trust him? My heart told me yes, but I knew that nothing had changed. We still faced the horrible choices dictated by the Prophecy.
Don’t forget—every action he takes is driven by his need to find the Key. That is all
.
I pointedly ignored Henri.
“Can’t I go with you?” I asked.
He shook his head sadly. “Flying with humans is always tricky business. Three of you will be a bit much. And with your injuries, I can’t risk it. Not while you’re still recovering. Especially since there’s likely to be some trouble once I’m there.”
“The uncle?” I asked, quickly surmising what he meant.
“Yes.” He grinned, giving my hand a little squeeze. “Though I’m hoping the old ‘lightning and thunderbolts from Heaven’ routine will scare him straight without me having to do any permanent damage.”
I smiled, happy to be holding his hand, happy to be in his confidences once again.
Oh, give it a rest
.
I held back a laugh.
You just can’t resist, can you?
I jabbed at Henri.
“What’s so funny?” Michael asked sharply.
“Nothing,” I said, dropping his hand and trying, I think unsuccessfully, to wipe the smile off my face. I looked over my shoulder for a distraction. “I think the girls are ready.”
He nodded brusquely and began directing them. Maria translated his commands with ease. “Go down the hall to the fire escape. Climb up to the roof. You can manage that? Good. I’ll be right behind you. You might as well make your goodbyes now.”
He stood off to the side, making room for the girls. Jimena smiled shyly up to me. “Thank you,” she said. Suddenly, she threw her arms around me, squeezing me tightly in her bony little arms. I winced, just a little, before hugging her back, hard. With a sob, she rushed past me and into the hallway.
Maria’s gaze followed her sister until the door swung closed behind her. Then she turned back to me.