CHAPTER 20
Playing With Fire
One tear from each eye rolled down my cheeks as I watched him drive away. I wasn't sad, I was frustrated and confused. I was quite possibly in love with the Ty that was thoughtful and romantic and generous and sweet, the Ty that had just held me so tenderly. But I also had to consider the Ty that wanted to control my life. When he didn't get his way, he could be a real jerk.
But it was Saturday night and I wasn't going to be the girl who sat in her room crying over a guy. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and decided to shower away my frustration.
Mum stopped me before I could get to the stairs. "Essie," she called from the kitchen. "Come tell us about your first day at work."
She and my siblings were in the middle of dinner. "I'm sorry we didn't wait for you, sweetie. I just assumed you'd be going to dinner with Ty."
"That was the plan. But he's still giving me a hard time about working at the nursery and I just didn't want to deal with him tonight," I admitted.
"Well, good for you," she said in an encouraging tone. "Are you going to join us then?"
"No, thanks. Michael invited me to his house for dinner. He said they have a bunch of people over every Saturday night. I told him no because I already had plans with Ty, but since that's not the case anymore, I figured I'd check it out."
"Good for you," she repeated. "You know I think it's best if you don't spend so much time with Ty. He's a nice boy and all, but I'd rather see you doing some things with your friends like you used to back in Bradford."
"I know, Mum. But I don't have friends here like I did in Bradford. And on that note, I'm going to get in the shower."
"Okay, sweetie."
I was ready in fifteen minutes. Thankfully, Michael had given me his phone number earlier in the day in case I needed to get in touch with him for any work-related reason. I found the little square of paper in my purse and pressed each number carefully. The phone rang twice.
"Essie!" he exclaimed happily.
I was pleasantly surprised. Apparently, he had already entered my number in his phone. "Hey, Michael. I was wondering if it was too late to stop by your house."
"Not at all. We still have plenty of food, if you're hungry, and my mama can't wait to meet you. My daddy told her what great job you did today. Would you like me to pick you up?"
"Thanks, but I'd like to drive. You can give me directions, though."
"Sure."
Two minutes later, I was on my way to the Powers' residence. They lived about five miles or so from my house, not far from the nursery. Pulling into the driveway, I counted at least a dozen cars parked in various places around a large log cabin-style ranch. Behind the house, I could see a sizable pasture enclosing a few horses and a red barn in the distance. Michael was sitting on the top step of the front porch and jumped up when he saw me.
"I'm so glad you changed your mind," he said earnestly, grabbing the car door and helping me out. As soon as he touched my arm, I felt a tingle that radiated out from under his hand. It wasn't the jolt I had felt when we shook hands at our first meeting; this was more like the tingly vibration you feel from a massager.
"Ooh. Did you feel that?"
"Feel what?"
"Nothing. Thanks again for inviting me."
"It's an open invitation. You're welcome any time. Come on, let's introduce you to everyone."
"I'm ready," I said with raised eyebrows and a faked smile.
He laughed, and led me toward the front door. From a few steps away, I could hear music. Yay, I thought happily to myself.
All eyes were on us when the door swung open and we stepped into the house. Michael's mother quickly made her way through the crowd and took hold of my hands.
"We're so glad you could make it, Essie. Come on in."
"Thank you, Mrs. Powers."
"Oh, now, Mrs. Powers is my mother-in-law. Please, call me Angie."
"Angie, then," I smiled and she gave me a hug.
As she embraced me, she whispered, "I can already see what Michael sees in you," in a beautiful southern drawl. When she let me go, she put a raised index finger to her lips to indicate that her comment was just between us, but Michael caught the exchange and just shook his head.
Angie was a naturally beautiful woman with the same dark hair and sparkling blue eyes as her husband and her three sons. They looked like the wholesome family that you'd see in the picture that comes in a new frame, great-looking, but not unattainable. She suggested that Michael introduce me around and get me something to eat.
People were sitting and standing all over the place, talking, eating; an older couple was even dancing in a corner of the great room as if they were the only two there. It was sweet. To my surprise, I spotted Mr. Joshua across the room from where we were standing. He was talking with Rafe, one of Michael's brothers. I caught his eye and he waved. The country music that was playing provided the perfect backdrop for this event - an informal dinner with friends in a log cabin in rural Georgia. Yes, this was perfect. I felt comfortable in this place.
While friends and family made their way to the kitchen to introduce themselves, Michael fixed me a plate. As a neighbor was telling me ''bout him havin' kin in New England," Michael interrupted.
"Travis, would you mind if I borrowed Essie for a bit. I need to feed her."
"Essie, it was nahs to meecha," he said in a slow country accent as thick as maple syrup. You g'on, now, and eechur dinner."
"Thank you, Travis. It was nice talking with you."
Travis leaned in toward me, perhaps to give me a hug, I wasn't sure. But as he did, I turned slightly and I was suddenly wearing his full glass of sweet tea. I jumped back, startled by the ice cold liquid that had drenched my top.
"Oh, mah goodness. Ah am so sorry, Miss Essie," he apologized.
With all the grace I could muster, I smiled and said, "No worries, Travis. It was an accident. Actually, I think it was my fault."
Michael had grabbed some towels and was awkwardly trying to help when Angie appeared.
"Oh, dear. Why don't you come with me and we'll take care of that," she said sweetly.
I followed her into the master bathroom, Michael trailing closely behind.
"Michael, honey, would you please find Essie another top while I get her out of this one?" she asked as she ushered him out and shut the door behind him.
"I'm sorry to be so much trouble, Mrs. Pow... I mean Angie."
"You are no trouble at all, honey. We'll have you fixed up in just a minute."
I took my top off and she handed me a warm washcloth to wipe off the remaining stickiness. A couple of seconds later there was a soft knock on the door.
"Don't come in, Michael," Angie said quickly. "Just set the shirt on the floor and we'll meet you back in the kitchen."
"Okay, Mama."
"It's so funny to hear him call you Mama."
"What do you call your mama, honey?"
"Mum."
"Well, here in the South, sugar, all children call their folks Mama and Daddy. Why, that's what I still call mine. You'll get used to it."
"I'm still learning about Southern culture. It's interesting."
She smiled, then opened the door carefully, making sure Michael was gone. "Oh, that crazy boy," she laughed. "I meant for him to get you one of my shirts, but he brought you one of his. Hold on a second and I'll get something else."
"Don't worry about it. This is fine," I said, taking the t-shirt from her and tugging it on over my head. "This must be really old, it practically fits," I observed, glancing in the mirror.
Angie looked at me and smiled.
"What is it?" I asked curiously.
"That was Michael's favorite t-shirt in middle school. Gabe gave it to him when he went to visit him at the University of Georgia. I had to make him take it off every so often so I could wash it. Whenever we'd go through our stuff to give things to the Salvation Army, he said he'd never part with that shirt. And that was the one he chose for you. Hm
mm..." she mused through a knowing grin.
"I'm glad you told me that."
"You probably shouldn't mention it to him, though. I'd hate it if I embarrassed him."
I made the motion of zipping my lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. Angie gave me a big hug.
"Ready to rejoin the party?"
"Sure. And thanks for helping me clean up."
"You're most welcome, honey."
Michael was waiting for me in the kitchen with the plate he had made for me. "Would you like to sit while you eat?" he asked with a big grin on his face, trying unsuccessfully not to check me out in his t-shirt. "I don't think anybody's out on the back deck."
"That'd be great," I answered quickly. I was hoping to have some time alone with Michael to ask him what was going on between his and Ty's families.
The deck was three levels with seating areas in various spots on each one. The top level looked like an extension of the great room. It was enclosed with screens, which was helpful for keeping out the ever-present summer insects. We took a seat on a sofa constructed of logs and twigs with cushions that were covered in a fabric adorned with grizzly bears and other wildlife. A large, old chest served as a coffee table, and Michael put my plate there in front of me.
"I hope you like sweet tea," he said as he placed the large glass next to my plate, "drinking it, not wearing it, that is."
I laughed. "I'd never had it before moving to Georgia, but I love it now. Thanks for fixing my plate," I said, reaching for the barbeque sandwich he had made. I didn't realize how hungry I was. I took a big bite and nodded in affirmation of its deliciousness.
Michael sat back in the sofa, tapping his foot to the beat of the music, occasionally looking at me as I enjoyed every last thing that he had put on my plate. He didn't talk while I ate, but the silence didn't bother me. Normally, I'd ramble on just to fill the void, but no fill seemed necessary here.
As I savored my last bite, I attempted to form my first question concerning Ty in my head. I didn't want to divulge everything I knew, but I had to phrase my question in such a way as to elicit more than a vague or evasive response. On second thought, maybe I should just open with Ty told me he's a fallen angel. Is that why you two don't associate? I wouldn't give him the chance to contrive a politically correct answer.
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
"Are you sure you really want answers?" Michael asked before I had even spoken a word.
"How did you know..."
"Let's go somewhere else," he suggested before I could finish my sentence.
I stood up when he did and followed him down the deck stairs to the back yard. He led me to a large, stone fire pit with adirondack chairs arranged around it. He pulled one out as though we were on a dinner date and motioned for me to sit. I obliged, all the while keeping quiet, in spite of the many questions that now wanted to explode from my mouth like a volcano whose eruption was long overdue. He dragged another chair close to mine.
"So... what would you like to ask me?"
"Are you going to be honest?"
"I'm always honest. Always."
"Okay, then. Do you know about Ty?" I asked uncertainly.
"I know several things about Ty and his family. You can be specific, Essie. I'm sure you won't reveal anything that I don't already know."
"It's just that I don't want to betray his trust or disclose any information that would make him look bad. He was reluctant to tell me anything as it was. I just need to know more because what he did tell me was huge and I need to understand it better."
"Of course. And you do need to understand it better. Tell me what you know and we'll go from there."
I took another deep breath and, without looking at him, blurted out the statement I had in my mind only a few minutes earlier. "Ty told me he's descended from a line of fallen angels, and that he's an angel. Is that why you two don't associate?" There. I said it. Out loud.
"Oh, is that what he told you?" he asked skeptically.
"Is it not true?"
"Using the term 'fallen angel' is being very generous. He and his family are demons, plain and simple. One of their traits is deceit and he's obviously already deceived you into thinking that he's not dangerous."
"But he's not dangerous, Michael. We've been seeing each other for more than a month now and he hasn't been anything other than nice," I protested, deliberately leaving out the incident in Savannah and his occasional mood swings.
"I'm sure he has. That's all part of the ploy."
"A ploy? To what end?" This conversation was not going as I had hoped and I was getting frustrated. "No. Never mind that for now. Please explain the demon slash fallen angel thing first."
He looked at me intensely for a long moment, then began in a very serious tone, "This all started because Satan - or Lucifer, if you'd like - wasn't satisfied with his position in Heaven. He was the model of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty. But he became proud on account of his beauty. He wanted to be equal to God and worshipped like Him, so he started a war in Heaven. Lucifer convinced a third of the angels to battle with him against Michael and the rest of the angels, but they weren't strong enough to overthrow them and God cast them out of Heaven and they now have dominion over the earth."
He stopped at that point, apparently waiting for some sort of signal from me as to whether or not to continue. I sat still for a bit, contemplating what he had said. He had spoken with authority, as though what he said was actually true.
I studied his face. He wasn't joking. He didn't go on, instead giving me time to digest his words. Without saying anything, he stood up and got some logs for the fire pit from a huge stack of wood piled next to a small shed a few yards away. He set them down next to his chair and then went into the shed, coming back with some tinder and kindling which he arranged carefully in the middle of the pit. He lit the tinder with some matches that he pulled from his pocket. A small fire caught on the kindling after a few seconds, but he waited there, squatting next to the flames, fanning them until they had reached the desired proportion. Once that was accomplished, he placed some of the smaller logs around the kindling in the form of a teepee.
I was enjoying watching him build his fire. I thought of my dad, maybe because this was something I could never picture him doing. He was a brilliant architect but refused to do any work at all around the house. He wasn't lazy, he just abstained from any kind of manual labor. He would actually tell me with a straight face that if he were to do "fill in the blank", he would be depriving someone else of earning money for that job. He said he was performing a public service. Michael gave the impression that he could do anything.
During that time, I hadn't thought about what Michael had just told me. But it came flooding back when he returned to his seat. The first thing that popped into my mind to say was, "How do you know this and how do you know it to be true?"
My right arm had been resting on the right arm of the chair and my body was turned slightly in that direction. When I asked my question, he picked up his left hand and placed it gently on top of mine. Bzzz. There was that vibration again, that tingle. I just looked at our hands for a moment, his large mitt hiding mine, before looking back at him.
"Please tell me you feel that or I'm going to think I'm going crazy."
"I feel it."
"Why do your hands give off electricity?"
"They don't. Or, at least, they never did before now. I think it only happens when I touch you."
"Wow," I said, looking back at our hands, thinking.
I loved how he gave me time - time to eat, to think, to observe, without rushing me. When I did look up, his piercing blue eyes were waiting for me, ready to answer my question.
"I'm an angel, Essie," he said rather matter-of-factly. "That's how I know that what I said about Ty and his family is true."
This was too much. I removed my hand from under his and folded my arms over my chest. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, thinkin
g about what he said before I responded and, again, he gave me that time. My initial reaction was to laugh to myself. Okay, you got me. Angels and demons are real and they live in Eden, Georgia. Maybe Ty and Michael were best friends and had nothing better to do than to play this elaborate joke on me. I hadn't actually seen either one of them do anything that I'd consider angelic or demonic. But I hoped that wasn't the case. My next thought was 'why me'? If this were true, why would Ty be interested in someone as ordinary as me and why would Michael care? Surely, they must have more important things to do if they were who they said they were. Finally, I wondered how I really felt about this if, in fact, it was all true. While I had listened to Ty's confession, and even researched it a little bit, it was still hard for me to believe that it was actually real. Maybe it was like winning millions of dollars in the lottery where you hear someone call your numbers and you see those numbers on your ticket and maybe you scream and jump up and down, but I imagine it must take a while before reality sets in.
So I didn't laugh out loud and I didn't ask 'why me'. Instead, I just looked into Michael's beautiful blue eyes and remembered that he had just told me that he was always honest, and I believed him. Something in those eyes told me that he was telling the truth and that all this was real and all I could say was, "Okay."
He smiled the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen. His teeth were big and white, but not perfect like a set of dentures. They were real teeth and they matched him. Everything about him was real. Just then, I realized, as I was doing it, that I was comparing Ty and Michael. That wasn't fair. I suddenly felt like I was cheating on Ty. But in this moment, I could hardly help myself. Everything about Ty was perfect - his teeth, his hair, his face, his body, his clothes, his car, his sister, his parents, his everything. Michael was so different. Without a doubt, he was beautiful, but in a more accessible way. He was big and brawny like a lumberjack and his style was very casual, a plaid shirt open over a white t-shirt paired with jeans seemed to be a staple in his wardrobe. His dark hair was longish with a slight curl and it always kind of looked like he just got out of the shower and shook his head to style it. I was certain that Ty took much longer than I did to get ready. And he was slick. Always "on". Always wanting to show me a good time. Always busy. Michael seemed to be very laid back, at least based on the limited amount of time I had been around him.
"Okay, then. Did you want to know anything else or are you good for now?"
"Oh, my gosh. Where do I begin? I must have a million questions."
"A million, huh? We might be here for a while then. Would you like some more tea?"
"Sure," I said, handing him the glass that I had put down beside my chair. It was still quite warm outside and even warmer next to the fire.
He took my glass and said he'd be back in just a second. While he was gone, I tried to think what my first question should be. I think I wanted to know more about angels. My mother had a small angel figurine amidst the many potted plants she kept on the back deck. On it was written, "Angels gather where gardens grow". I wasn't sure why that just popped into my mind except that it reminded me that Michael's family owned a nursery. How bizarre. Maybe I'd start with that.
I jumped when I felt an ice cold glass press against my bare shoulder. "You startled me. I didn't hear you walk up."
"You were deep in thought. Have you decided which of your million questions you're going to open with?"
I told him about the angel figurine and wondered if that's why his family had the nursery. He laughed just a little and then pursed his lips as if to keep himself from laughing more.
"Dumb, huh?"
"Not at all. It's just funny that out of all the questions I'd imagined you'd ask, that wasn't one of them. I wasn't laughing at you. I promise." He paused and arranged his face in a more serious look. "It's not an angel thing, it's a Powers thing. My daddy has a degree in horticulture from the University of Georgia. That's where he met Mama. They were both taking an Intro to Horticulture elective their freshman year and it was love at first sight. Daddy had always been interested in plants; Mama was an artist interested in the beauty found throughout creation. So, that's why they own the nursery."
I nodded my head in understanding. "Still, it's pretty cool that you're angels and your nursery is called 'The Gardens of Eden'."
"Mama chose the name. Kind of an inside joke."
"She's clever. I like her already. And I like the way you say mama and daddy. It's cute."
He smiled approvingly. "Next?"
"Do you have special abilities? Like flying maybe?" I winked.
"Sorry, I can't fly. But I can teleport."
My whole face lit up. "Seriously? You can teleport?"
"Uh, huh."
"Can you carry passengers?"
"Well... as a general rule, we're not supposed to teleport humans. But I might be persuaded to make an exception. If it was an emergency. Or if you asked me nicely," he joked.
"Wow. Can all angels do that?"
"Mmm hmmm."
"What else?" I asked with unbridled enthusiasm.
"There's strength and speed. And we're pretty much invulnerable."
"Like Superman!"
"A little," he laughed. "And like Clark Kent, we need to be discreet in everything we do. We don't use our abilities unless we really need to."
"And it's okay that you're telling me?"
He nodded.
"Why?"
"I can't say."
"You don't know or you literally can't say?"
"Literally."
"You know what? I don't care right now. You've shared so much already. Can I ask some more questions?"
"Sure."
"Can you read people's thoughts?"
"No. Angels can communicate telepathically with one another if they choose to, but we can't just randomly read each other's thoughts or those of humans."
"That makes sense. But I was wondering because Ty claims that he can't, but I'd swear that he knows what I'm thinking the majority of the time."
"Demons can't read minds, Essie. He wasn't lying about that. However, they are extremely perceptive because they carefully study everything you say and do. Everything. All demons study humans intensely, since the most successful predators know the habits of their prey. That skill probably makes it seem to you that he can read your mind."
"You think I'm prey?" I asked incredulously.
"In a word, yes. Scripture warns you to '...be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour'."
"That's not fair, Michael. Ty already explained that to me. Everything they do is with God's permission. That's in the Bible, too."
"That's true, but it doesn't mean he's not a demon. He's descended from the Grigori, the angels who were sent to watch over mankind after the war in Heaven, when Satan and his minions were cast down to Earth. But, instead, the Watchers chose to assimilate and corrupt man, against their directive."
"That happened thousands of years ago. Just because his descendents did something wrong, that doesn't make him a demon."
"For your sake, Essie, I wish I was wrong. But I'm not. Ty will show his true nature in time."
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. "We should probably move on."
"Next question?"
"Why did you tell me the first day we met that your family didn't associate with Ty's family?"
"The short answer is that angels and demons don't hang out."
"I guess that should have been obvious. But why are both families here in Eden? And are there more? And if so, where are they?"
He laughed. "Three questions that time. Let's see. There are a countless number of angels and demons and they're everywhere. Some have chosen to take human form for a while and some remain as spirits. You see, angels and demons are immortal. We can choose to live as humans for a time if we want, but we must be born as babies and die as old people in order to blend in with the rest of the population. The exception to that woul
d be if we were needed to deliver a message or perform a task, we are allowed to assume the human form briefly for a temporary assignment. As to why my family and the Gregorys both live in Eden, all I can tell you right now is that this is a very special place. When the Gregorys' ancestors settled here in the early 1700s, my ancestors did the same. We have to keep things in balance."
"Do you have any other abilities that you haven't mentioned?"
"Let me see," he said thoughtfully. "Oh, we can heal people."
"Healing. That's huge. Have you ever?"
"I haven't yet, but my folks have. I've seen it done."
"One last question for now," I promised. "Ty has to choose whether or not to remain an angel on his eighteenth birthday. Do you think it's possible he'll give it up?"
He sighed. "Essie, I wish I could tell you what you obviously want to hear. But I don't believe he will. It's almost unheard of."
"Almost unheard of. Then it's possible?"
"Sure, it's possible. But not probable."
"Thank you, Michael. For everything. I really need a friend like you."
"Being needed. That's the next best thing to being wanted," he said with a playful wink. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the fire.
"Hey, you two," his mother called from the deck, breaking the silence. "Why don't you come on in and have some cake."
"We'd better go or she'll come drag us in after a minute or two. She makes a great red velvet cake and she won't let you leave here without trying it," he said, offering his hand to help me up. There was that jolt again. I was figuring out that the severity of the charge depended on where he touched me, or maybe whether or not I touched him back.
"Is that because you're an angel? Are we not supposed to touch?"
"I'm not sure. I promise it's never happened to me before. I'll ask my parents about it later on."
"Don't forget. I'm curious."
I didn't speak as I savored Angie's culinary masterpiece. I had seen red velvet cake in the coffee shop and just thought it strange. What on earth could it be made of if it was red? Tonight, in addition to a lesson on angels, I also learned the history of this traditional southern dessert. I enjoyed watching Angie as she regaled me with little-known facts such as the red color of the cake being caused by the reaction of the buttermilk and the anthocyanin in the cocoa when combined. And that it wasn't a true red velvet cake unless it was layered with a cream cheese icing, never vanilla.
Before I realized that it had happened, I was the last guest, other than Mr. Joshua, still at the house. In a few short hours, the Powers had made me feel like part of their family. I was so relaxed that I felt like I could go get something out of their refrigerator without asking. I didn't want to leave, but it was getting late.
I started to say my goodbyes to everyone, when Mr. Powers yelled, "Come here and hug my neck, girl." I was learning to love their southern colloquialisms. After that hug, I got one from each member of the family, even Mr. Joshua.
Michael walked me to my car. "Thank you for coming over tonight, Essie," he said as he opened the door.
"Thank you for inviting me. I had a really nice time. And thank you, too, for trusting me and explaining all the angel stuff. It's very cool and I'm looking forward to learning more."
"You're welcome. Sweet dreams," he smiled, closing the door.
Sweet dreams? Was that sentiment just a coincidence or did he know? He said he couldn't read minds and that he was always honest, so I let it go. "Thank you. You, too," I responded through the open window as I shifted into reverse. I waved when I had my car pointed in the right direction and watched him in my rear view mirror, standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me drive away, until he was out of sight.
I drove home wondering why I was allowed to know about angels and if I had a role to play in this celestial drama; but the peaceful, easy feeling I felt whenever I was around Michael covered me like a down comforter on a cold New England night and I wasn't concerned at the moment.