PROLOGUE
A young man who appeared to be about 30 sat on his bed in the light-blue bedroom. The mattress sagged and creaked under him as he shifted his weight; a dark-blue flight bag sat open on the bed behind him. Slowly, he leaned forward and opened the middle drawer to his dresser. As he did, a shock of jet-black hair fell into his eye, which he hastily brushed away.
Moving his hands quickly, he shoved through his already messy drawer to look for a shirt that he actually liked. Upon seeing his least favorite shirt--the red one with white polka-dots--the young man swore, clenching his fists. Why hadn’t he gotten rid of this shirt a long time ago? It was his least favorite pattern, and it was so old and worn-out!
Suddenly, a voice called from down the hallway. “Richard? Where are you?”
The young man sat up straight, revealing a full pilot's uniform. Somehow, it only enhanced his movie-star looks. It complemented his dark hair and tanned skin perfectly, making his blue eyes even more prominent. He turned toward the open doorway. He glanced at the window; a snow-white dove perched on the windowsill. Bright yellow rays streamed through the window, forming a rectangle of light on the carpeted floor.
“In here, honey,” he called.
A slim brunette entered the bedroom, relief etched on her face. Her dark-brown hair looked tousled, and her blouse rumpled; evidently she had just awakened from a nap. “Packing?” she asked, hiding a yawn.
The young man nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got a flight to Italy today. I won’t be back until tomorrow morning.”
Shaking her head, the young woman let out a long, worried sigh, then bit her lower lip. She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Unseen by the couple, four angels leaned against the wall. Tess, Andrew, Monica, and the newest angel, Gloria, watched the couple intently.
Gloria gazed at them curiously, as she scribbled in her almost-full notebook. Each assignment was different and new to her, and she still had so much to learn about humans. “His name is Richard Daly,” she said. “Right?” She paused to push her glasses up her nose.
Tess nodded. “Right, baby. The woman’s name is Christina, and they have a baby named Jessica. The Dalys are our assignments.” As the supervisor angel nodded toward the couple, her earrings shook sideways. Her diamond brooch sparkled in the sunlight.
Gloria looked up at Tess, surprised at her briskness. “Tess…is something wrong?”
Tess shook her head. “No, baby; all I know is that the Dalys are about to face some difficult circumstances. I’m not sure what, but I know we need to be ready.”
Unaware of the angels’ presence, Richard rose to his feet. His shoes thudded softly as he circled around to the foot of his bed, approaching his wife. “Hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
Shaking her head, Christina said, “I just get a little worried about you every time you’re gone…”
Richard took her into an embrace. “Listen, I’m gonna be OK No one will dare try another attack like that again.”
Each angel knew instantly that the Dalys were talking about the attack on the World Trade Center the year before. Christina's mother, who had worked in Building Number 1 for years, had been killed in the attack.
Christina let out a long sigh. “I know. It’s just…well, it's just that 9-11 really shook my faith in the safety of flying.” She stepped back to lay the cigarette in Richard’s ashtray.
Richard’s temper flared for the briefest moment. “That’s the same attitude that nearly made me lose my job after the…” He clenched his fists as he spoke.
Christina held up her hand. “I know, I know.” Irritation crept into her voice. “But don’t people have a right to be afraid to fly now? I mean, September 11th did prove that flying can be dangerous, did it not?”
Richard crossed his arms, his blue eyes flashed. “Listen, Christina! It proved living can be dangerous, regardless of whether you fly or not. The people who were in that building died, too!” He winced as tears welled up in his wife's eyes, and let his arms drop to his sides. “I'm sorry. I forgot about your mom. But still--!” He clenched his fists again.
Christina flopped down onto a sitting position on the bed. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I don’t know what got into me.” Shaking her head, she twisted a few strands of hair around her fingers, while pushing her hand against the silky-soft bedspread.
Richard let out a long sigh, trying to defuse his own anger. For a long moment, he just stood gazing down at his wife. “Christina, that’s not like you.”
Christina was once again snippy. “What’s not like me?”
Richard responded quickly. “Your snippiness. You’re not normally this way.”
Without warning, Christina put her head into her hands and burst into tears. “Oh--oh, Richard!” She took a deep, shuddering breath.
Richard quickly spun around and sat beside her. “Christina?” he said gently as he sat. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
Christina managed to speak through her tears. “I’m so sorry, Richard. I don’t know what’s gotten into me recently.” She bit her lip. “Maybe I do. Mom’s been dead for almost a year now, and it still hurts. And now--and now--!” Her voice choked.
Richard tenderly put his arm around his wife. “Maybe everything you've been putting up with is finally getting to you. Me being a pilot, your brother being a pilot--we’re both gone so much of the time. Losing your mom the way you did, and Jessica’s colic. All of that's more than any woman should be expected to handle sanely.”
Before Christina could respond, a loud noise interrupted them. “Waaa-aaaaahhhh!”
Without thinking, she laughed. “Speaking of Jessica,” she said. Richard nodded agreement, shaking his head.
Silently, Christina stood up and trudged out of the room, leaving Richard to finish his packing. “When is that baby gonna quit her squalling?” he grumbled, laying his folded pajamas in the flight bag. “Gets on my nerves!” He slammed the lid shut and locked it.
As the angels watched, Gloria couldn’t help but comment. “How can you be snippy, and not know why?” She furrowed her eyebrows in puzzlement.
“Well,” Monica began, “it’s called having a bad day. I had one once.”
Andrew responded to both of their comments. “I wish that was the case here,” he said, confusing the two young female angels. A sad, somber expression clouded his face.
“So do I.” Tess sounded grim. She clasped her hands in front of her waist as she spoke.
Seeing the looks on Monica and Gloria's faces, Andrew continued. “Adam and I just got word from Sam that something big's about to happen.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I have no idea what and neither does Sam, but Adam’s edgy about it too.”
Gloria, in her innocence, asked another question. “Not you? Other angels of death are edgy about it--some humans are edgy about it--but not you?”
Andrew shrugged. “Sort of. After last September, I’m always worried when we hear something big’s going to happen. But, I guess I’m more worried about individuals, not entire nations. The world has some strong leaders.” Putting his hands in his pocket, the angel of death looked at the door Christina had just exited through. “And speaking of individuals, I'll never forget taking Evelyn Whittaker, Christina's mother, Home that day. Her faith was so strong, and she was so excited to be going Home.”
Tess nodded agreement. “Unfortunately, Christina's never been able to recover from her loss. And now, more bad times are coming her way. She senses that in her spirit--that's why she's so edgy--and although he's afraid to acknowledge it, so does Richard. Christina's going to need much help in the days ahead--she, her husband, and her brother, too.”
“And the baby?” Gloria asked softly. Tess shrugged, glancing at the windowsill. At that moment, the dove spread its wings and flew off. Richard grasped his flight bag and left the room.
END OF PROLOGUE