Johnny Angel (5 page)

             
“We’ll see how overdramatic you think I am when I’m just a smoking spot on your rug.”

             
“Okay, then? Three. Let’s get started then. If we knock them all out today, we’ll be able to focus on fulfilling your promise.”

             
“You’re incorrigible.”

             
“No, I’m just determined.”

             
He wrapped his arms around her and it was like shaking up a snow globe. Sofia thought it was like being in the eye of a snowstorm. Beautiful, but dangerous. This time his magick worked and Sofia found herself standing outside the last house she ever wanted to see.

             
Damn it. She should have known this would be uncomfortable. It was the house she and Greg Jordan were to buy after they married.

             
There had been a hundred times in the last year Sofia wished she’d just stuck to the commitment she’d made and married him. Then she wouldn’t have ended up alone, choking to death on gingerbread men marveling at how many pounds she’d put on her ass.

             
“Ugh,” she muttered aloud.

             
“This is what would have happened if you’d married him despite your doubts,” Johnny said quietly. “Go on, look in the window. They can’t see us.” When she hesitated, he continued, “You said yourself that you know how this works. Go on.”

             
Sofia took a timid step forward, the snow crunching loudly beneath her feet. If they couldn’t see her, she’d be surprised as hell if they couldn’t hear her. She sounded like a bull moose in a china shop during mating season.

             
The truth was, she didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the whole magical, wonderful life she’d assumed she’d have had if she’d married Greg. Her ideas about true love had been stupid and childish, they’d been good partners and good friends. That’s what would have formed a solid marriage.

             
Now she was left to her own devices trying to give her virginity to a dead man who might be an angel. Eventually.

             
Sofia pressed her cheek against the glass and looked behind the curtain of Life Number One.

             
It was everything she’d imagined it would be. The whole house was decorated for Christmas, boughs of holly and branches of evergreen all over. Little white lights twinkled on the giant tree like hundreds of little stars burning in a green and piney heaven.

             
Packages of every shape and size, wrapped in every kind of glittery paper imaginable beckoned from under the tree. There was even a vintage train that wound on its track around the scene.

             
Three small children played on the floor near the tree, stopping every so often to surreptitiously inspect the presents, high color in their rounded cheeks.

             
She saw herself then, baking in her dream kitchen. Cherrywood cabinets, dark granite countertops and homemade pies and candies littering the large island. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and there were smudges of flour on her red apron.

             
What she noticed most of all was the sweet and contented smile on her face.

             
“Mama,” one of those children asked her.

             
“Yes, sugarplum?”

             
“Can I help you finish decorating the cookies for Santa?”

             
“Get the sugar from the pantry and a chair,” her once future self instructed.

             
Her heart twisted and ached for that little face that would never look up at her with those big eyes or ask her in that sweet voice if he could help make the cookies for Santa.

             
“What am I supposed to see?” she asked in a tight voice.

             
“Keep watching.”

             
Greg came into the kitchen, dressed in his suit and tie, briefcase in hand. He kissed her cheek. “Fyle’s hard drive crashed and he lost all the work we put in on that project. I won’t be home tonight, I’m sorry.”

             
“I understand. Do what you have to.” She hugged him and he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

             
Sofia watched him as he left, holding his cell to his ear immediately after closing the door behind him. She peered around the corner of the house, something about his posture drawing her closer to see what he was saying.              

             
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I don’t know how long I can keep lying to her.” Greg looked stricken. “The kids, Brock. I can’t just leave them. Or abandon Sofia. She’s a wonderful mother.” He nodded his head. “I know. I love you, too.”

             
Oh fuck. No wonder there hadn’t been any chemistry between them. Greg Jordan was gay.

             
“You poor, stupid girl,” she muttered at herself as she wandered back to the window to see what future self was doing. Apparently, she was smarter than she’d given herself credit for.

             
Future Sofia had heard every word.

             
“Mama, why are you crying?” her son asked.

             
“I just miss your daddy. Let’s make those cookies.”

             
Sofia knew them she’d made the right decision to call it off. For as much as she wanted those children, she didn’t want a partner who wasn’t passionately in love and lust with her.

             
She deserved better. So did Greg. So did any children she might have someday.

             
The image started to blur and Sofia didn’t know if it was from tears, or magic.

             
“Are you okay?” Johnny asked.

             
“Yeah.” She swallowed hard, the knot of emotion going down about like that chunk of half-chewed gingerbread. Uncomfortably.

             
“Is that the future you want?”

             
“Oh yes. It’s perfect.”

             
“You still love him, then?”

             
“No. Greg and I were never in love. That’s the future I want, just not with Greg as the leading man.”

             
“Are you ready for the next stop on our trip or do you need a break?”

             
“No, I want to get it over with.”

             
“Next stop, Christmas past.”

             
The world blurred again and when it righted, they were standing outside of that same house after Johnny had sped away on his motorcycle.

             
“Damn it!” he growled. “I’m sorry, Sofia. I don’t know why this keeps happening. Hang on, I’ll fix it.”

             
“No.” She put her hand on his arm. “There’s something here I think I’m supposed to see.”

             
“What could my life possibly have to do with you?” he asked quizzically.

             
“Not your life,
her
death.” Sofia was drawn to the house as if in a trance. Burl Ives’ blared in her head loud as an oncoming semi, yet somehow she’d gone deaf at the same time. She moved through space and time like water.

             
Sofia knew what awaited her in that house would be horrible, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to see.

             
Had to know.

             
When she looked in the window, Fate would allow her no distance, no timidity, but instead put her inside the room.

             
Where Carla lay on the bed, a man held a gun against her temple. Carla’s eyes focused on her, saw her and she reached out toward her.

             
Memories washed over her in wave after wave, pulling her down in the undertow. Down into the darkness.

             
Down into Carla’s body.

             
Her
body. Sofia had lived this life. She and Carla were one and the same. This was why the Christmas magic kept bringing her here.

             
Sofia remembered everything. Meeting Johnny when her car broke down, their first date, their first kiss, their first everything. She remembered how much he’d loved her. How much she loved him.

             
And how much it had killed her to say no when he’d gotten down on one knee in front of the Christmas tree.

             
She remembered everything up until this moment, and what it felt like to have the cold muzzle of the gun against her head, knowing she’d never see Johnny again. Never go to school as she’d dreamed. Never live the rest of this life with him.

             
For all the darkness, there was hope. She would see him again.

             
They would be together. Sofia knew it as sure as the sun was in the sky.

             
When the gunman pulled the trigger, Carla died with that hope in her heart, and with Johnny’s name on her lips.

             
Sofia was thrust out of the dying body and back into the ether, tears streaming down her face.

Chapter Six

When You’re Alone and Life Is Making you
 
lonely
You Can Always Go Downtown…

             
Johnny watched as Sofia approached the house and when she disappeared, awareness slammed into him.

             
There was only one reason Heaven kept shoving them back in time to this moment. It hadn’t been about Johnny. It had always been about Carla.

             
About Sofia.

             
His surroundings changed and while he knew better than to fight it, anger boiled inside of him. “Put me back. She needs me.”

             
“Yes, she does,” a deep and ridiculously booming voice agreed.

             
Johnny looked up to see the very embodiment of Dickens’ Ghost of Christmas Present looking down on him from a pine throne. He was wearing a green velvet fur- lined cloak and a crown of holly berries and he took a long pull on a golden goblet.

             
The specter held out the goblet, but Johnny could smell the Jim Beam in the egg nog from where he stood. “No thanks.”

             
“Good choice, my boy.”

             
Johnny waited for him to speak again, but the sharp needles of impatience worked their way up his spine. “Look, can we hurry this along? Sofia is about to discover something she doesn’t need to know. I need to save her.”

             
“Save her? Who are you to interfere with My Plan?” The jolly man became a towering mountain of thunder and brimstone.

             
“She’s already been dealt a shitty hand. I’m covering her bets.”

             
The giant laughed and fire was gone and soon as it had come. “I’ve always liked you, Johnny. Because of that I’m going to give you a gift.”

             
“What’s that?”

             
“A choice. Your guilt is what kept you in Purgatory. After Sofia remembers her past life as Carla, she’ll give you the forgiveness that you need to move on to Heaven. No downtown involved.”

             
“But?” There was always a ‘but.’

             
“But she’ll be alone. There will never be another Johnny Gallo. You are her one, her only, her forever. In all the lives she’s lived, in all the lives she ever will live, her heart and her soul belong to you irrevocably. If you move on to Heaven, you’ll never see her again.”

             
“That’s a bunch of crap. I earn Heaven and we still can’t be together?” He was incredulous.

             
“Reincarnation is for the souls who’ve lost something. Who still have lessons to learn. Or sins to atone for. She’ll keep coming back, looking for you. You’ll go uptown because you haven’t lost her yet. While she’s just started to know you again. The tender bud of new love has already broken soil in her heart.”

             
“What’s the alternative?”

             
“I think you know.”

             
“Draw me a picture.”

             
“Trade your redemption for hers. Take the bus ticket downtown. Maybe in a thousand years or so, you’ll find each other again.”