Diary of an Angel (8 page)

Angel Down

L
yra was humming a jolly tune as she scuttled about with books piled in her arms. On seeing me enter the archives, she nearly dropped the books onto the floor. Not because I had startled her, but she was so excited to see me. Hurriedly, she came over to greet me, her ponderous load threatening to topple over with each step she took.

“Forenica! How glad I am you’re here. You must have received my message? Oh, Forenica!”

Then she waddled back to the desk and set down the assorted volumes before hurrying over and throwing her plump arms around my middle, squeezing me so energetically that she lifted me off the floor. I laughed and hugged her in return.

“Tell me,” she said, “how is that Angela of yours?”

I smiled as I recounted all that had happened since my last visit to the archives. Lyra listened with great interest, smiling and giggling often.

“Oh, Angela! What a gem,” she said when I had finished.

“You know, Forenica? I just finished making some edits to Angela’s book. What a joy that was.”

“Edits?” I asked.

“Yes, edits—removals.”

“You removed stuff from her book?”

“Oh, yes! And it was great fun, too.” Lyra acted as if this were perfectly normal.

“But why? What did you remove?”

“Things that heaven will no longer remember,” she replied in a more serious tone. “When a soul repents—truly repents—the offense ceases to exist in heaven’s history. And it will die away with the passing of the mortal world.”

“Does that mean Angela will also forget it?”

“That’s entirely up to her. Not all who are forgiven forgive themselves. Though, I will say that for her mortal life she is likely to maintain some recollection, and likely for her benefit. Once she is back with us—and I’m confident she’ll be back,” she added with a smile, “then we can work on purging those unnecessary memories from her mind.”

“So, what did you remove from her book?”

“I honestly don’t remember, dear. That’s the way of it. Like I said, heaven needs not remember it any more. But listen to me ramble on! That’s not why you’re here. You’re probably wondering what I wanted to show you.”

“Well, I was rather surprised when my pocket suddenly burst into song in the middle of Angela’s bedroom.”

Lyra erupted into laughter. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too important.” I shook my head. “Good. Now, dear, as I was saying, I have something I believe will interest you a great deal.” She paused, as if uncertain how to begin. “What do you remember about your pre-mortal days, before you went to earth?”

“Very little,” I replied. “Mostly all I have are vague memories, like a dream that I can’t quite recall.”

Lyra nodded her head knowingly. “That’s what I thought. Those memories will return, in time. Though, with a bit of assistance we should be able to revive those veiled remembrances.”

She looked from side to side, then leaned in and indicated for me to do the same. In my ear she w
hispered, “There’s another book.”

I turned and looked into her eyes, completely oblivious to what she meant. She merely nodded her head.

“That’s right, Forenica, another book, written before Time. Every soul has one. It holds the records of all their doings before mortality. You have one. Angela has one. I’ve been reading Angela’s, and I found something which might shed some light on why you were chosen as Angela’s guardian. Would you like to see it?”

“Of course! What did you find?”

“You’ll see. Just give me one moment to retrieve the book. Back in a jiffy.”

With that, she disappeared into one of the back rooms, only to return almost instantly, heaving a much larger book than the one I had already seen. It was easily as thick as several college calculus books. Lyra motioned for me to follow her into one of the side rooms.

Inside the room, she set the voluminous book on the circular table. I noticed that this book, unlike the other, did not appear to be bound in leather, but rather some material unknown to me. At first glance it seemed a simple white. But as it moved, colors like starlight glimmered and glistened across its surface.

Lyra set her hand on top of the book. “This book is
not
at your disposal. Not yet. You will understand why when the time comes. For now, however, I’ve been granted permission to show you the minutest glimpse from Angela’s pre-mortality, and only because it pertains to your work as her guardian angel. I can only show this to you once. Are you ready?”

“I think so,” I said, my mind trying to conceive what she could possibly want to show me. “Do I need to do anything to prepare?”

“I think you’re as prepared as you’re going to be.”

Then Lyra removed the book from the table and nimbly turned the pages until she found the one she sought. For a moment, she stared at the page before reverentially returning it to the table. The book glowed with life, showing a beautiful woman, dressed in white, hurrying through a grassy meadow. From her sun-kissed hair alone I could have identified her as Angela. She was racing along excitedly, happier than I could ever hope for her to be on earth. She wasn’t running just to run, though. There was purpose and intensity in her every motion. Her eyes filled to overflowing with excitement.

Into a crystal passageway, enclosed on all sides, she raced. The passageway spanned a great chasm, meeting on the other side an immense crystal building, constructed on the face of and within a sheer cliff. Water streamed down all around the rock face and through the building itself. A lush growth of trees and flowers spewed from the cracks and crevices of that stony surface, swathing the building in a green comforter.

Angela continued over the bridge and straight into the heart of the edifice. Her feet echoed melodiously through the corridor as she went along. The passageway led to a great hall, into which light poured, sparkling off every edge and surface, producing a shower of tiny rainbows. Huddled groups of white-clad souls occupied the hall. Some lounging on sofas along the periphery, others standing in conversation with friends.

Angela, only slightly slowing her rapid pace, weaved her way towards the center of the room, where she went directly towards a group standing next to the fountain. Two individuals with their backs facing her turned to see who was coming up behind them in such a hurry. I gasped when I saw the face of the woman closest to Angela. Though she looked slightly older than her current teenage form—yet somehow younger—it was unmistakably Catherine, Angela’s fifteen-year-old daughter.

I looked over at Lyra, in hopes of an explanation. “Keep watching,” was all she said. I returned my astonished gaze to the book.

Catherine beamed when she saw Angela, and the two embraced. Angela pulled away and looked straight into her eyes. “It came,” she said. Catherine’s eyes widened and she let out a little squeal of delight.

“Where is she?” Catherine asked excitedly.

“Where else?”

Catherine smiled and took Angela’s hand as the two raced off together up the stairs on the far end of the hall, down more corridors, and finally back out into the open.

I was beyond confused.
Could this possibly be the same Angela and Catherine who were mother and daughter? Could this be the same Catherine who would hardly talk to her mother?
It seemed unbelievable. But there they were, running together, hand-in-hand, obviously the best of friends. And what were they up to?

At length, they came to a wooded dell, where a small pond lay like a mirror on the forest floor. On the opposite end of the pond, under a pavilion, sat a woman. The pair instantly spotted her and raced across the pond toward whoever she was. As Angela and Catherine grew closer to the woman, she stood up, having noticed their approach. She waved to them, and they returned the greeting. Angela called out to her. My heart lurched when I heard the name. Could it be? The two raced onto the ground and into the arms of the figure. I could see the woman clearly now. I took inventory of her every feature. Her hair, eyes, cheeks, nose, smile, chin. It was...me, every whit.

This was simply too much. I turned again to Lyra. The smile on her face was even broader now. She only said, “Watch.” But how could I? I wanted to burst. What did all this mean? How could that really be me? My mind still racing, I returned my attention to the three friends.

The three of them—the three of
us—e
xchanged excited greetings. “It came?” Angela asked.

The
me
in the book nodded her head.

“Well?”

“Well, I’m going to earth,” the image of me said.

“Of course, but where? And who will your parents be? Will you have any brothers and sisters? Tell us everything.”

My image then told them the few details she knew. What she described matched my mortal life exactly. I gathered from the conversation that I must have just received my call to earth, and that Angela and Catherine still awaited their own calls.

“When do you leave?” Catherine asked.

“Very soon,” I answered plaintively.

The three of us stood in silence, saddened by the imminent separation.

“Try not to forget about us while you’re down there,” Angela said, finally breaking the silence.

“Maybe He’ll send you two just after I leave and we can go through mortality together,” I said.

“Whatever happens though,” Angela said, “you better choose to come back.”

“You, too—both of you,” I replied.

The three of us hugged again.

“May this not be our last embrace together.”

Lyra closed the book and the scene went out. She placed her hand upon my back. Tears were streaming freely down my cheeks. And for a while I could not speak.

“Do you understand?” She asked. I shook my head.

“The three of you were friends—the dearest of friends—before mortality clouded your memory. Perhaps heaven has never known three such friends as you were. Forenica, you were sent to earth before them, as you saw. Angela went next, leaving Catherine to watch the two of you alone from heaven.”

“You mean Angela and I lived on earth at the same time?”

“That’s right.”

“But we never met there?”

“No, you’re paths never even came close to crossing. And, of course, you returned to us sooner than most do. Though not soon enough to see Catherine before she went down. You should have seen her when she learned that Angela would be her mortal mother. I don’t think she stopped jumping until she left. Of course, Angela had no idea about this surprise arrangement.

“Well, that’s about it I guess. The Three Amigas reunited at last—partially reunited, anyway. We just have to get those other two back here. I have little doubt this is the reason you were selected as Angela’s guardian. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they remembered what amazing friends they were?”

I just nodded my head, still in a daze and drowning in tears. Lyra patted my back and hugged me. “I’ll let you be alone for a while,” she said softly.

I don’t know how long I sat like that, letting everything sink in. The more I thought about all I had just learned the more I wanted to laugh and cry all at the same time. Beyond that, I felt an even deeper burning—greater than ever—to bring them Home.

With rekindled fire raging inside me, I rose and left the archives, giving Lyra another hug, and made my way back down the long corridor and up the lofty stairs. I was near the exit when someone called my name. Surprised, I whirled around to see Clairus running after me.

“We need your help,” she said.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, as she grabbed my hand and started pulling me along with her.

She turned and looked me straight in the eye. “It’s Catherine. She’s in trouble!”

Night had fallen over the earth. Midnight drew near. Clairus and I stood at the corner of an unfamiliar street, waiting.

“They should cross here any minute,” Clairus said in a low voice.

“What then?”

Clairus sighed. I had never seen her look so worried before.

“We do whatever we can to stop her.”

“Do you know what will happen if she doesn’t listen?”

She turned and looked down the street, avoiding my gaze.

“Let us keep hope,” was all she replied.

We kept the remainder of our vigil in silence. I felt strange not being at Angela’s side. Angela was safe, though. Lina, the night guard, would see to it. We were there for Catherine. She had snuck out of her house with the intention of going to Josie’s “get-together.” The report Soren had given about the party was not good. I had heard all this from Clairus, who shared details sparingly. But it was easy to judge the gravity of the situation from Clairus’ actions.

Before long, we spied Catherine and Loreli coming down the dark street. Loreli came into view first, glowing like a lantern in the inky blackness. In front of her, wrapped in her jacket, came Catherine. Quickly and cautiously she walked, as if the darkness hid an unseen danger. Loreli was attempting to coax Catherine to abandon her current course. Catherine continued on stubbornly.