Brush of Wings

  The battle was under way.

  “We have to stop him.” Jag’s voice was intense. Demons clung to the top of the teen’s car, and inside one of them had his claws on the wheel.

  Beck understood. Wherever Marcus was—on the sidewalk or in the intersection—the car was headed his way. “I’ve got this.” There was no time to wait.

  “Be careful.” Jag knew what Beck was about to do. It was necessary.

  Marcus stepped into the intersection and began to cross the street.

  In the blink of an eye, Beck entered the car. The demons left instantly, unable to stay in the presence of light.

  The car was headed straight for Marcus, right through the red light.

  “Stop!” Beck shouted to the teen. “Pay attention!”

  Startled, the teen looked up. All at once he threw his phone to the floor of his car and slammed on his brakes. He stopped inches from Marcus. The baseball player looked shocked, suddenly aware of the danger he’d been in.

  By then Beck was no longer in the car.

  As Beck returned to Jag’s side, they both watched the teen drive slowly away. “Praise to Jesus!” Beck and Jag joined voices, thanking God, worshipping the Savior. Because in the name of Jesus, in this battle, victory was theirs. The mission would live another day.

  And so would Marcus Dillinger.

  EMBER WAS DESPERATE for an answer. Mary Catherine was sicker every day, and though the two of them worked right alongside each other, Ember hadn’t yet found a way to send her home.

  Mary Catherine was out of breath more frequently and there weren’t enough safety pins in the supply closet to keep the girl’s skirt from falling off. No question she was losing more weight, getting sicker.

  It was early on the second Monday of July. Ember and Mary Catherine were scheduled for a meeting before the children joined them, a chance to look over the curriculum for the week. Ember was already in the classroom when Mary Catherine walked in.

  She looked weak, her skin grayish white. So slight and ethereal she might’ve been an angel herself. “Good morning.” She managed a smile. “Sorry I’m late.” She sat down in the nearest chair. “I couldn’t wake up.”

  “It’s okay.” They didn’t have long before the children joined them. She would share her concerns with Mary Catherine after class.

  Today Ember watched while Mary Catherine led. The subject was storytelling. Ember enjoyed watching her teach—especially today. Mary Catherine was the rarest type of human. She loved God and people, but on top of that she loved life. Every breath, every moment. Even heart failure couldn’t dim that.

  She used her arms to explain the size of the dolphins she swam with once. “When you tell a story, you want to describe what you see and hear and smell and feel.” Mary Catherine was growing winded. But she was too caught up in the lesson to take a break.

  The teaching moment was no longer fun. Mary Catherine was in danger every time she got like this. Ember closed her eyes for a few seconds. Father, get her out of here. Please . . . she won’t listen to me.

  When she’d told them every last detail, Mary Catherine leaned against one of the desks. “I like to say a storyteller gets to live life twice. What do you think that means?”

  One little boy raised his hand. “You live it first in the water with the dolphins. Then you live it when you tell the story to someone.”

  Mary Catherine’s entire face lit up. “Exactly!”

  Ember watched, taking it all in, feeling an ache in her own heart. Mary Catherine had so much to offer. But not if she didn’t get back to Los Angeles soon.

  When the kids took their recess break, Ember asked whether the two of them could sit and talk. Every movement seemed to be an effort for Mary Catherine. Ember prayed silently as they took adjacent desks. “I’m worried about you, maybe you need to go home for a while. Get things checked out.”

  Mary Catherine slowly caught her breath. She seemed distant, lost in thought. “It wouldn’t help.” She took a slow breath and smiled at Ember. “Besides . . . I already made a commitment to stay another two months. Through November. When the other teacher gets here.”

  “Oh.” Ember tried to hide her alarm. “Well, you could always go home and see a doctor. Then come back. After you’re well.”

  “My health . . .” The topic seemed to shut Mary Catherine down. “It’s complicated.” She rested her forearms on the desk. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Panic stirred the desperation in Ember’s heart. “At least think about it.” Ember reached out and took Mary Catherine’s hand. “Whatever it is, you’re getting worse. You know that, right?”

  Mary Catherine gave Ember’s hand a gentle squeeze. Then she stood and faced the open doorway. “I’m going to join the kids.” She smiled back at Ember. “There’s no greater joy than watching children at recess.” She hesitated, her eyes on the boys and girls at play. “No one has to tell children to be excited about life. They were born that way.”

  “True.” Ember walked outside with Mary Catherine.

  Ember could do nothing but watch. Mary Catherine pushed a few of the smaller children on the swings. Their giggles filled the summer air. Mary Catherine was clearly determined to live every day to the fullest. But one simple truth weighed on Ember every moment.

  If Mary Catherine didn’t get home soon, she wouldn’t only get sicker.

  She would die.

  13

  JAG CALLED THE URGENT MEETING. They met in Uganda, on the bank of the Nile River. Together they sat in plain sight of a pride of lions and in earshot of a herd of elephants. They waited only for Aspyn, who was finishing an assignment in Arizona at the baseball training facility.

  “Serene.” Jag looked around. The African plains were so different from Los Angeles. “Every animal, every tree. So little distraction. The Father’s fingerprints are everywhere.”

  “As they are in Los Angeles.” Beck raised his brow. “Humans just need to look harder.”

  “Yes.” Ember smiled. “Mary Catherine’s beach is one of the Lord’s greatest creations.”

  There was a tension among them, an awareness. The mission was in grave danger.

  Aspyn arrived, breathless. “Sorry. Protecting Tyler from an enemy attack.” She smiled. “He is fine now.”

  Never had Jag worked on a mission like this, where they were in charge of not one but four humans. Four lives that needed constant guarding and protecting—not only from physical danger but from emotional setbacks.

  Jag spoke first. “Ember, if you could update us on Mary Catherine’s condition.”

  She nodded. “Every day she seems a bit thinner, her skin more pale.” Ember furrowed her brow, clearly troubled. “She struggles to breathe from even the slightest exertion.”

  Beck clasped his hands and stared at the dark red soil. “I was afraid this would happen.”

  “There’s no way to tell exactly how damaged her heart is, or how much time we have.” Jag sat on the highest part of an outcropping of rocks. He narrowed his eyes. “We need a plan. If we don’t get Mary Catherine back to Los Angeles, the mission will . . .” He didn’t want to finish the sentence.

  Aspyn whispered the words instead. “Will be lost.”

  For a while they were quiet, the breeze off the river gentle on their skin. In the distance an elephant trumpeted and the sound shook the ground. Jag broke the silence. Help us, Father . . . we don’t know what to do. He drew a long breath. “Let’s pray. For God to give us an idea of what we can do next.”

  They sat that way, each of them lost in prayer, waiting, listening for the Father’s wisdom. For His leading. Finally, after a long time, Beck gasped. He stood, pacing along the top of the rock surface where he’d been sitting. “I have an idea!”

  Jag loved Beck’s enthusiasm. He had less experience in Angels Walking mission work, but he was fervent and determined. He worked with a passion few angels would ever know. Jag nodded. “Tell us.”

  “I visited the office of Dr. Cohen a few da
ys ago.” He stopped and made eye contact with the others. “I was looking for ideas, anything that might help us. And there on the table in the waiting room was a brochure. It was about a device called a left ventricular assist device. Doctors know it as an LVAD.” He paused. “Basically it’s a mechanical heart. It does the work while a patient like Mary Catherine waits for a transplant.”

  He furrowed his forehead. “But I’m not sure it applies to Mary Catherine’s situation.”

  “Her doctor would know.” Ember’s eyes filled with hope. “Is that what you’re thinking, Beck?”

  “Exactly.” An intensity filled Beck’s voice. “Maybe we could prompt Dr. Cohen to email Mary Catherine. Tell her she should come home sooner for the LVAD.”

  Aspyn shook her head. “It doesn’t add up. The doctor would’ve told her before.”

  “Maybe she wasn’t a candidate for it back then.” Beck continued. “She might be now.”

  Ember had been quiet, listening. “I think Beck’s right.” She nodded. “That would make sense.”

  Jag thought for a moment. Beck might be on to something. “I like it.” He paused. “Either way, the doctor needs to tell Mary Catherine about the possibility. If it is a possibility.”

  After a minute, Jag looked at the others. “Beck and I will form a plan for Dr. Cohen.” He held up his hand. “Ember . . . Aspyn . . . God’s power be with you. Until we meet again.”

  “Until then.” Ember nodded to Aspyn and the two hugged. Then in an instant they disappeared, each to her own place.

  When they were gone, Jag turned to Beck. “We’ll do this together. The doctor needs to email Mary Catherine right away.”

  They talked a while longer about logistics, but even as their plan became clear, Jag began to doubt. They would need more than an email to turn things around. The enemy was working overtime. The stakes were high—for both sides.

  And the entire mission hung on the very frail heart of Mary Catherine Clark.

  MARY CATHERINE WAS SITTING at the lunch table, waiting for Ember. It was the first week of the month, the day when the two of them were supposed to walk to the nearest village for supplies. When the children were outside and the orphanage was quieter than usual, Mary Catherine could hear the constant wheeze, proof of the liquid gathering in her heart and lungs. Even so, she would go into town for supplies today.

  She wasn’t giving up.

  Ember brought her lunch to the table, and the look on her face told Mary Catherine her friend didn’t want her to make the trip. She waited until Ember was nearly finished with her meal before bringing it up. “I’m going with you.” She took a sip of water. Most of her lunch remained untouched on her plate. “I like the walk.”

  “Mary Catherine.” Ember looked straight at her, almost as if she could see through her. “You’re sick. You should stay here.”

  “I can’t.” Mary Catherine was going. She’d already made up her mind. “For me, it’s about finding life in the moment.” She hesitated, steadying her breathing. “I need to get out.” She remembered to smile. “It’ll make me feel better. Really. I’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t like it.” It was the strongest Ember had sounded since she’d arrived at the orphanage. “But if you must go, let’s leave now. So we can take our time.”

  Mary Catherine stood. “I’ll get my bag.”

  Like on every other day of her life, Mary Catherine was convinced that taking risks would work out in the end. But this time she couldn’t deny the strange uneasiness pushing on her shoulders, sending anxiety through her veins.

  The sensation was new to Mary Catherine. Something that had come up every few days lately. The feeling was fear. Mary Catherine went to grab her bag and as she did she lifted her eyes to the vast African sky. Father, I’m not afraid. I refuse it. Let me make this trip, please. Let me get through another day without being relegated to the sidelines.

  Be still and know that I am God, my daughter . . . be still.

  Be still? God, is that really You? I’ve always felt You calling me to live.

  Trust me, Mary Catherine.

  The voice resonated inside her. As it did, a Scripture came to mind, something her father had taught her when she was a little girl. It was from Ecclesiastes, chapter three. With God there was a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.

  Mary Catherine let the verse settle, easing the rough edges of her soul. A time for everything.

  Maybe even a time for being still.

  Fine. She would be still after the walk to town. I will, Lord. I promise. I’ll rest after that for sure.

  As she prayed, she felt the fear lift a little. She needed new surroundings and the feel of the path beneath her feet. The sensation of her legs moving beneath her. Yes, the trip was a good idea. She would rest later.

  If they took the walk slowly, everything would be just fine.

  THEY WERE HALFWAY to the village when two men came into view, walking toward them on the path. Mary Catherine instantly felt goose bumps on her arms and legs. A sick feeling seized her stomach. Something wasn’t right with the men, the way they were looking at Mary Catherine and Ember.

  Next to her, she felt Ember tense up, too. “They aren’t from around here.” She kept her voice to a whisper. “Stay by me.”

  Mary Catherine felt her heart pound against her chest. The men moved toward them. They were tall and buff, but it was their eyes that struck terror in her. A terror she’d never felt before. The closer they came, the more Mary Catherine watched their eyes.

  Dark and hateful. Like they were bent on murder.

  Ember stopped when the men were just ten feet away. She held up her hand and in a language Mary Catherine didn’t recognize, Ember spoke with a bold authority.

  Mary Catherine recognized only one word the entire time Ember spoke.

  The name of Jesus.

  The men raised their voices and shouted at Ember. The larger of the two glared at Mary Catherine and then at Ember. He gestured and shouted something again.

  Ember’s voice grew passionate. Mary Catherine had no idea what she was saying or even what language she was speaking. But then again—the name. “Jesus!” Ember took a step forward. As she did, the men stepped back.

  This time they yelled louder. Their eyes blazed with hatred. They took turns gesturing at her and shouting at her, but Ember was unwavering. Every time she said the name of Jesus, the men took another step back. Until finally they headed off the path and into the brush.

  Ember’s face was pale, and her eyes held a concern Mary Catherine had never seen before. “They’re gone.” Ember started walking and motioned for Mary Catherine to follow. “We’re fine.”

  As they passed, Mary Catherine peered in the direction the men had turned. But there was no sign of them. For a moment, she stopped and blinked a few times. The grass wasn’t that tall. She looked back at Ember. “Where did they go?”

  “Where they came from.” Ember looked at her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.” They kept walking. “Now that they’re gone.” She studied Ember. “How did you know their language?”

  “I’ve seen them before.” Ember looked angry.

  Mary Catherine kept up despite the wheezing in her chest. “I thought you said they weren’t from around here.”

  “They’re not.” Ember paused. “I’ve seen them on other mission trips.” She looked over her shoulder and then back at Mary Catherine. “They’re bad guys.”

  “I sensed that.”

  Ember hesitated and then slowly a smile lifted her lips. “I’m not surprised.”

  The entire trip there and back, Mary Catherine kept telling herself the same thing. The walk felt wonderful, the exercise was doing her heart good. She was bound to feel better after having an adventure. Even watching Ember stand up to the men had made the afternoon memorable.

  Especially the power in the name of Jesus.

  Not until they were back at the orphanage and in their huts, tur
ning in for the night, did Mary Catherine consider how she really felt. Her legs and arms ached and her lungs hurt with every breath. There was a time when she would’ve thought those healthy signs, proof she’d lived the day to the fullest or worked out in a way that made her feel alive.

  But this was different. The feeling wasn’t a good kind of tired. It was more like a flu, the sort of aching that usually meant a fever was coming on. Which would be especially dangerous in her case. And suddenly, Mary Catherine couldn’t shake the memories of Marcus. The way he made her feel safe and loved.

  She’d been wrong not to respond to him. And suddenly as the hours went by she wanted nothing more than to reply to his email. As if by doing so she could pretend he was here beside her. And that everything was going to be okay.

  Mary Catherine waited until Ember was in bed. Then she did something she hadn’t done in too long. She pulled her laptop from her bag, plugged it into the generator, found the last email from Marcus, and read it. Every word made the aching in her bones a little less. When she reached the last line she was convinced. She’d waited long enough.

  She opened a new email and began to type.

  Dear Marcus,

  I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to write to you . . .

  The words came slowly. Her body protesting even the slightest effort. But that didn’t matter. She would write to Marcus no matter how long it took.

  She managed a full breath and kept typing.

  It’s not because I haven’t thought about you. You must know that. I think about you all the time. Really. But I want you to find your way, meet new people. Go on dates and fall in . . .

  Mary Catherine stopped typing. She sat up, too sad and weary to write another word. That wasn’t what she wanted. For Marcus to fall in love with someone else. How could she send him an email saying something she didn’t mean at all?