turned out that he was one of the devil’s angels, then I was in big trouble. I
tried to remember major sins, but my mind only managed to dredge up the time I
had stolen a shilling off the vicar’s desk. Surely even the devil couldn’t
remember back to a sin that I’d committed when I was seven years old. No, surely
not. “I don’t want to be dead,” I said to that dark face that seemed to fade in
and out just beyond my nose. “I want to stay right here in Yorkshire and ride
Tempest.”
“You may only do the first, not the second.” Then he picked me up easily, and I
realized this angel was very strong. He turned, and the incredible white light
shown fully in my face.
Then the white light was gone again. “I want both,” I said against his shoulder.
“I promise that you are still in Yorkshire. But you won’t ride Tempest. If you
try it, I’ll thrash you. Now, just hold still.” Everything fell suddenly into
place. I knew then, all of a sudden, in that very instant, that it was John, and
the fear pounded deep and steady. I hated it. I just didn’t know what to do
about it.
He said, his voice calm and deep, “That’s it. Don’t fight me. I know you’re
afraid of me. I don’t know why, but perhaps soon you will tell me. Trust me,
Andy. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek. It was strong, steady, a bit fast.
He was very much a man, never an angel. I opened my eyes to look up at his chin.
My brain slipped a notch, whirling me back to uncertainty, and I said in a thin
wispy voice, “Where are we going? Why aren’t you simply flying me?”
“I am not a damned angel. I don’t have any wings. I’m your damned step-nephew.
Your cheek is against my heart. Can’t you feel the human beat? No, don’t say
anything. Just be quiet, you’re still half-witless.”
“All right,” I said, closed my eyes, and simply drifted away. The fear wafted
away as well, and that was a good thing. I didn’t think I was unconscious, but
everyone who was suddenly around me did. There were so many voices, all of them
speaking at once. Amelia, I thought. I had to tell them that Amelia was locked
in a room on the second floor.
I forced my eyes open, felt a stabbing pain behind my right ear, and said, “John,
please, I was running to get help. You must help Amelia.”
Thomas nearly leaped on me. “Heh! What’s this about Ameila?”
I focused on his suddenly pale face. “West wing,” I whispered, “a room about
halfway down the corridor on the right. It was open, and Amelia seemed surprised
that it was. She went into it. I was following her, but the door slammed in my
face. I couldn’t get it open or break it down. Amelia cried out. I don’t know
why. I’m all right. Go to Amelia. Please, I don’t know what’s happening to her.”
And then I just folded down. I knew now that I was very much still a part of
this earth because the pain was building and building, and I just closed my eyes
and let the pain take me deeper and deeper until finally I managed to ease away
from it and slip into beautiful deep darkness.
I don’t know how long I was away, but I woke up again, in that sort of twilight
that was calm and soft, and there were no demands on me, no one talking loudly.
I was just lying there, a nice cool damp cloth on my forehead. When I opened my
eyes, my angel, who just happened to also be a man I was afraid of, wasn’t there.
It was Lawrence, no angel, but rather my husband, which meant I wasn’t dead, but
back here on earth.
“I hope I stay alive this time,” I said. “You’re very much alive,” he said, and
smiled down at me. I felt him squeeze my hand. “How do you feel, Andy?”