jersey. That would be awkward.”
When she got home that night, Dani parked her car in the garage, closed the garage door, and let herself in through the back door. She flipped on the kitchen lights and saw a man standing in the middle of the room.
Without another thought she reached for a kitchen knife, but then the man smiled, and she realized she knew him.
Charlie.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The angel was dressed the way she’d seen him in her dream—and the way Tommy had described him—black boots, jeans, black T-shirt and black leather jacket, one earring, and a ponytail. He looked around the room as if he’d never seen a kitchen before.
“Can I get you anything?” she said. It was, she realized, a stupid question to ask an angel, but she had been brought up to be hospitable.
She was a little surprised when he said, “What have you got?”
“I’m not sure. Lemme look in the fridge.”
As she opened the refrigerator door, she wondered exactly what an angel would eat. She could just hear Tommy saying “ Angel food cake, obviously ,”but she didn’t have any of that. Or much of anything. A few sodas, some cheese, a little tub of ice cream . . .
“Would you like a root beer float?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never had one.”
She grabbed a can of root beer and the ice cream. Charlie stepped aside when she opened a drawer and started digging around for her scoop.
“Have you been waiting long?” she said as she dug into the ice cream.
“What would you consider long?”
“I don’t know—twenty minutes?”
“Not long,” he replied.
She handed him the float, along with a long-stemmed iced-tea spoon and a straw. He took a sip, and Dani saw the angel’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
“That’s very good.”
“They’re even better on warm summer nights, sitting on the porch,” she said. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed stupid and inadequate.
“I’ll bet,” he said as he worked the straw. “You have a lovely home.”
“I inherited it from my parents. They died in a plane crash.”
“I know.”
Of course you do , she thought. Something about him seemed to change as she looked at him. It was as if he flickered in and out of focus, but at the same time was entirely present. He seemed kind and patient.
“You remind me of someone,” she said.
“Who?”
“My father. A little.”
He set the empty glass on the counter. “I have a message for you,” he said.
“What?”
“Someone is going to betray you. Someone you trust.”
“Someone I trust . . .” She hesitated, unsure how to respond.
“How you handle it,” he said, “will make all the difference.”
She wanted to say, “All the difference in what?” but before she could get the words out, he was gone.
She went to the counter and picked up the empty glass. She held it up to the light, wondering if angels had fingerprints.
Both the cardio and weight rooms at the All-Fit Sports, Health, and Fitness Center of Northern Westchester were filled to capacity with men and women working out. Tommy welcomed the newcomers and greeted the regulars, including a man the staff had dubbed The Poser because he was always pacing intensely and shaking his limbs and stretching as if he’d just finished a set of repetitions or was just about to begin one, but no one had ever seen him actually lifting weights. Tommy, who’d built the center after retiring from professional football, had gone to the gym to plow through some paperwork he’d been putting off, and because he needed to work out. He did his best thinking when he wasn’t trying to think. If he exercised, answers came to him, sometimes to questions he hadn’t even asked. He’d read enough scientific papers to know that when you are in the middle of a workout, the brain sometimes transitions into a wakeful, dream-like state, generating theta waves, akin to what happens during REM sleep. For him it was the right
When she got home that night, Dani parked her car in the garage, closed the garage door, and let herself in through the back door. She flipped on the kitchen lights and saw a man standing in the middle of the room.
Without another thought she reached for a kitchen knife, but then the man smiled, and she realized she knew him.
Charlie.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
The angel was dressed the way she’d seen him in her dream—and the way Tommy had described him—black boots, jeans, black T-shirt and black leather jacket, one earring, and a ponytail. He looked around the room as if he’d never seen a kitchen before.
“Can I get you anything?” she said. It was, she realized, a stupid question to ask an angel, but she had been brought up to be hospitable.
She was a little surprised when he said, “What have you got?”
“I’m not sure. Lemme look in the fridge.”
As she opened the refrigerator door, she wondered exactly what an angel would eat. She could just hear Tommy saying “ Angel food cake, obviously ,”but she didn’t have any of that. Or much of anything. A few sodas, some cheese, a little tub of ice cream . . .
“Would you like a root beer float?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never had one.”
She grabbed a can of root beer and the ice cream. Charlie stepped aside when she opened a drawer and started digging around for her scoop.
“Have you been waiting long?” she said as she dug into the ice cream.
“What would you consider long?”
“I don’t know—twenty minutes?”
“Not long,” he replied.
She handed him the float, along with a long-stemmed iced-tea spoon and a straw. He took a sip, and Dani saw the angel’s eyebrows rise in surprise.
“That’s very good.”
“They’re even better on warm summer nights, sitting on the porch,” she said. Everything that came out of her mouth seemed stupid and inadequate.
“I’ll bet,” he said as he worked the straw. “You have a lovely home.”
“I inherited it from my parents. They died in a plane crash.”
“I know.”
Of course you do , she thought. Something about him seemed to change as she looked at him. It was as if he flickered in and out of focus, but at the same time was entirely present. He seemed kind and patient.
“You remind me of someone,” she said.
“Who?”
“My father. A little.”
He set the empty glass on the counter. “I have a message for you,” he said.
“What?”
“Someone is going to betray you. Someone you trust.”
“Someone I trust . . .” She hesitated, unsure how to respond.
“How you handle it,” he said, “will make all the difference.”
She wanted to say, “All the difference in what?” but before she could get the words out, he was gone.
She went to the counter and picked up the empty glass. She held it up to the light, wondering if angels had fingerprints.
Both the cardio and weight rooms at the All-Fit Sports, Health, and Fitness Center of Northern Westchester were filled to capacity with men and women working out. Tommy welcomed the newcomers and greeted the regulars, including a man the staff had dubbed The Poser because he was always pacing intensely and shaking his limbs and stretching as if he’d just finished a set of repetitions or was just about to begin one, but no one had ever seen him actually lifting weights. Tommy, who’d built the center after retiring from professional football, had gone to the gym to plow through some paperwork he’d been putting off, and because he needed to work out. He did his best thinking when he wasn’t trying to think. If he exercised, answers came to him, sometimes to questions he hadn’t even asked. He’d read enough scientific papers to know that when you are in the middle of a workout, the brain sometimes transitions into a wakeful, dream-like state, generating theta waves, akin to what happens during REM sleep. For him it was the right
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