IN THREE QUARTER TIME
By DixieHellcat
Beverly Ledford was tired. She lay quietly in the hospital bed while her doctor poked and listened and hmmm’d. “I’m dying, aren’t I?” she asked when he lifted his head.
“Now, Mrs. Ledford—“ he began.
The doctor was a young African man, and normally she delighted in his warm accent, but right now she was too weary to comb through it. “Don’t ‘Mrs. Ledford’ me. I know it’s about my time.” She took a sniff of the canned oxygen being piped into her nose; it smelled like the rubber tubing. Not the sort of scent she liked to associate with this month of December. “I know you’d cure a rainy day if you could, dear. Don’t feel badly. Old women have to go when they have to go. I’m not afraid. A little sad, but certainly not afraid.”
She patted his arm and he smiled in gratitude, then ushered her family in. It seemed only yesterday Scotty, her oldest grandson, had been a babe in arms; now he was a teenager, all arms and legs and friendly as a big puppy. At the moment, though, he looked as sober as his parents. Angela’s eyes and nose were red as though she had been crying; poor dear, she had been as good and sweet a daughter-in-law as any woman could wish for. Thomas was quiet too, one arm around their middle daughter and the other holding the hand of their youngest. She was six, too young to fully grasp the events unfolding around her, and when she saw her grandma she scrambled up onto her bed, heedless of her parents’ exclamations of alarm. “Santa’s coming, nana!” she squealed. “This many days, mom says.” She held up four plump little fingers. “Will you be home by then?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.”
“But how will Santa find you here to bring your presents?”
Beverly chuckled as Thomas reclaimed his child. “Oh, he’ll manage. Maybe he could leave them at your house for me.”
“Yeah. Or maybe he can follow a star. Or an angel!”
Out of the mouths of babes, Beverly thought; she suspected she’d be meeting angels pretty soon, assuming she’d donw anything deserving of it. Beyond the small crowd grouped around her bed, she spied movement at the door and tried to sit up to see who it was. “Come in, Tommy!” she said.
The tousle-headed neighbor boy who had befriended her years before and led her out of her depression after her husband’s death had grown into a fine young man. As he shyly entered, she heard faint sounds of Christmas carols from the hospital corridor, and they reminded her of the times she and Tommy had sung along with the radio for hours, before his voice had changed. The school talent show he’d lost just before they met had been the last time he’d finished second in anything; he’d graduated at the top of his high school class, won several public speaking competitions and a full college scholarship, and now had a good job and a sweet fiancee. “Hello, Ms Beverly. I hope I’m not intruding,” he added with a look at Thomas.
“Of course not! C’mon in. You’re family too now, remember?” They clasped hands and stood together for a moment, her two Toms, before Tommy moved to her bedside.
“I brought you something,” he said and fumbled in his jacket pocket. “Remember this?”
Beverly smiled at the sight of the old ornament dangling from his key chain. “I certainly do.”
“I, well, I wondered if you might like to have it back…since Mr. Ledford gave it to you and all. I know how much it means to you.”
“No, Tommy. I gave it to you for a reason. It was time I let it go.” She meant not only the gift, but her grief; she had let a lot go the night she had dropped the ornament in young Tommy’s backpack after his Christmas program at church. “I want you to keep it. When you marry that pretty girl of yours, you two hang it on your tree.” Besides, she added to herself, I imagine I’ll be seeing Mr. Ledford soon enough. She lay back with her eyes closed while the others talked quietly over and around her.
“Mom? Not nodding off on us, are you?”
Opening one eye, she grinned at Thomas. “Maybe. Go ahead, you’re not bothering me. I’ll just relax here for a while.”
She listened to the familiar voices, and the beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor, and the steady hum of the oxygen tank; and she must have dozed off after all, because the next thing she knew she was dressed and out of bed, and halfway to the door. Puzzled, she looked around. Her family was still gathered around her bed, but the sounds of the room were quieter: the voices were muffled, and there were no beeps or hums. She must be dreaming, she decided—unless she’d gone and died on them! That thought distressed her a bit, and she almost went back to the bed to check, but from where she stood by the open door she could hear the singing out in the corridor more clearly, and it was the most beautiful voice she had ever heard. Surely this could wait a minute. She just had to go and see who that was.
The hallway was quiet too, and as Beverly walked, the doctors and equipment, even the walls themselves, faded into a pleasant mist, fresh smelling and cool, like walking through a field on a foggy spring morning. The singer was clearer still now, and she picked up her pace, hoping to find him in time, until she was almost running, as she had not been able to run in years. Finally, she caught up with the breathtaking sound. It came from a slim young man in a neat white suit, his face aglow as he sang with his head thrown back and his arms outstretched. “It’s the time of year when the world falls in love, every song you sing seems to say Merry Christmas—“ He broke off when he saw her. ‘I was wondering how long it’d take you to get here!” he said with a smile that touched her like a hand laid on her chest. His face was sculpted, as beautiful as his voice, and though she had never seen him before, he seemed oddly familiar.
“Who are you?” she asked, thought she halfway suspected she already knew the answer.
His smile broadened. “A friend,” he said simply. “A very special friend who loves you very much, Beverly. I must admit I’ve looked forward to this moment for a long time.”
She nodded, put her hands on her hips and looked around. “So, this is what it’s like?” she asked, and laughed a little. “I expected there to be a little more drama to it.”
The angel’s laugh was as bright as his smile. “Oh, there is, for some people. You’ve never struck me as a person who needs all that, though.”
“No, you’re right there. No fuss and feathers for me. Peace and quiet suits me just fine. Well! Dying’s not such a big deal after all—“ Beverly stopped and gasped in sudden horror. “Oh, no. It’s almost Christmas. Do I have to come right now? It’ll ruin the holidays for my family from now on, if all they can think of at Christmas is this!”
Her companion shook his head and gestured behind her. Turning, she saw two lovely young women also dressed in white walk by. “It won’t ruin it forever for them,” he assured her. “They’ll be sad for a while, yes, but you left them a lifetime of happy memories to treasure. Those will brighten their Christmases from now on. My friends there will help them too,” he added with a cheerful wave at the women, who waved back and smiled as they vanished into the mist. “They’ll be all right. You humans are strong—you have to be. And now, for you—“
He reached out to her. She paused a moment more, then put worry for her loved ones out of her mind and took the angel’s hands in hers. It was a small surprise when he pulled her into a tight embrace, warm and welcoming. “It’s so good to have you here at last,” he murmured. “When your husband died, I held you while you cried, but you couldn’t feel me. I wanted to be able to do more…”
Beverly looked up, startled at the emotion welling up in his big green eyes. “Oh, you stop that right now!” she mock-scolded. “Didn’t I always hear there are only happy tears around these parts?” She was pleased when he giggled a little. “I think I probably did feel you, somehow. You seem entirely too familiar. And your voice—my heavens, how beautiful! I’m sure I’ve heard it before.”
“I sang with you a lot,” he admitted. “We harmonize quite well, I think. I hope maybe you’ll want to sing with me, sometime, if you judge I’ve done an adequate job.” At her shocked expression, he went on, “Don’t you know humans will judge angels?”
“Well, now, I do recall reading that, but—oh, my dear! If you’ve put up with me all these years, I’d hardly call the job you’ve done ‘adequate’. More like spectacular!” She hugged him tightly, and giggled girlishly herself. He sighed as if in relief, and that incandescent smile reappeared.
“We’d better get going,” he said. “Someone is waiting for you, and he’s not going to think I’m doing such a magnificent job if I don’t get you there quickly!” Her stomach tingling with excitement, Beverly took the angel’s offered arm and they set out. She could not have said how long they walked; time meant nothing in this world, and the marvelous presence beside her would have made time fly if it had. Her hope built, though, until ahead she saw a figure all too well known to her, and she left her escort to rush headlong into the arms she had longed for.
“Beautiful Beverly,” her husband whispered as he held her close. They both wept, but the tears were indeed tears of joy; and then he swung her out in a dance to music only they heard. Once, when she spun, she caught a glimpse of the angel, her angel, standing aside and watching them in silence, his arms folded and a small smile playing across his chiseled face as though he were pleased with himself. You did a good job, she thought, a wonderful job. His smile widened as if he had heard her, and he watched in satisfaction as she waltzed through the clouds, surrounded by love.
------------------------
- You can contact the author at theleewit@mindspring.com.