Chapter 5
Adela walked through the Denver-area hospital hallway toward the ICU. She had three minutes until her charge’s soul was ready to travel to the Fringe.
She waved at another Angel of Death, but kept moving. The device at her wrist said her soul, Karen Bingham, age thirty-two, was located in Room 4. When Adela approached, she walked through the door and then through the curtain.
A man in his mid-thirties sat beside the bed holding Karen’s hand. Her face was swollen and bruised, and a white bandage was wrapped around her head.
Adela studied the man. He ran his hand through his dark hair making it stand on end. His eyes were red and rimmed with dark circles, probably from lack of sleep, tears, or a combination of both. His white button-down shirt and his tan slacks were wrinkled, as if he had been sitting in the chair for a long time. Bright fluorescent lights emphasized the grooves and ridges on his face, making him look older than he was.
“Please wake up,” he pleaded.
As Adela stared at him, she could almost feel the pain radiating off the man. She also could sense the love he had for Karen, and Adela wondered what events had transpired that brought her to the brink of death. Karen had a breathing tube, IV, and a few other machines Adela didn’t know the names of, but sensors were attached to her chest.
A blonde-haired, heavyset nurse stepped in and gave the man a sad smile. “How is she?”
The man shrugged. “I keep talking to her, but there’s no change.”
The nurse nodded as she checked all the machines and made notes in her chart. “Sometimes it helps if you bring up happy memories.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” said the nurse. “I’ve seen miracles in cases like this. Keep talking to her.”
There would be no miracles here.
Not today, anyway.
The machines beeped and moaned, Karen’s chest rose and fell, but not on her own accord. The machines were doing the breathing for her.
Adela wondered if Karen could hear the man and what she felt. Did she feel pain? Did she want to let go? Was her body too badly damaged? Was she aware of what was coming? As someone who had died a long time ago, Adela recalled she felt none of those things, just fear and a raging anger for what was to come.
A moment later, the nurse left, and Adela listened as the man talked to Karen.
“Remember when we went on that biking trip in Vermont?” he whispered. “We had so much fun. Remember that cute little inn we stayed at? And the owner? Remember how nice he was and the breakfast he cooked for us on our last day there? I still remember you flying down those biking trails. It was like you had wings.”
He closed his eyes and Adela watched the tears flow down his cheeks.
“I wish you had wings when you were biking yesterday,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me, Karen. Please. We still have to have kids. We have to take that trip to Germany.”
Adela took a step forward. Based on what the man said as well as the condition of Karen’s face and head, she assumed the woman had an accident on a biking trail. It was also clear that this man loved Karen with intensity.
Lately, Adela had been thinking a lot about love. Why, she didn’t know. It just seemed to occupy her thoughts quite a bit. Maybe it was because she just didn’t fully understand all the facets of what the word encompassed.
She knew there were different kinds of love. The love between a parent and a child was a ferocious, beautiful thing. She also understood the love between true friends that sometimes equaled or surpassed sibling love. Sibling love was interesting, because although two people came from the same womb, it didn’t necessarily mean that they loved each other. Some simply tolerated each other because that is what family is supposed to do.
What she didn’t fully understand was the love between a couple.
As a Puritan in the late 1600s, Adela had been married at the age of fourteen to a farmer five years her senior named Edward Bonner. There was no love in their relationship; marriage was simply something that was expected of her and she complied. After five years of marriage and two miscarriages, she watched as Edward died from an illness that affected his breathing. Adela believed in today’s world it would have been considered the flu. After he died at age twenty-four, she stayed in their home. A year later she was put to death. No, she’d never experienced love. Perhaps she would have if she had been given the opportunity to marry again, but her life had been taken from her at too young an age.
Adela wished she had found love in her life. Edward had been nice, and there was a distant companionship. They got along well enough—he tended the farm, while Adela milked the cows and spun the wool, but she never loved him. Perhaps that was the reason she suffered two miscarriages during their marriage—the Creator didn’t want a child to be in a loveless home. Her heart still hurt from the loss of her babies. When alive, she had wanted to be a mother—to feel the little bundle in her arms, to bring the child to her breast to feed, to love the little being unconditionally—but it was never meant to be.
She had seen enough death to recognize when a person was loved. She’d witnessed the tears and anguish that death could bring to the survivors. When her husband had died, she’d been ashamed because she couldn’t cry. She certainly wasn’t happy Edward had passed on, but she didn’t feel any real sadness at him being gone.
She almost felt sorry for the man holding Karen’s hand, but not quite. She’d become hardened and gave very little consideration anymore to the survivors of the souls she delivered.
Adela looked at her device. Thirty seconds.
Alarms on the machines blared, and nurses and doctors rushed in. The man stood up and stepped back, panic in his eyes. As the medical professionals worked, Adela watched the man. More tears came, and he crossed his arms over his stomach as if he were going to be sick. His body began to shake and Adela wondered if he was going to pass out. It was as if he were shattering apart right before her eyes. She tried to feel some emotion for the man, but there wasn’t any. Her time as an Angel of Death had hardened her. Death was never pleasant, and she’d been dealing with it for centuries.
Karen’s soul rose from her body. Before Adela stood the woman in the bed, except her body wasn’t broken and battered. Karen turned and looked at the controlled chaos. “Oh, no,” she whispered, glancing at Adela. “Am I dead?”
Adela nodded and waved her hand to open the portal. The bright light filled the room.
“I don’t want to go yet,” Karen said, looking at the man. “I can’t leave Jim.”
Adela glanced over at Jim, who was now completely unglued. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. “Sorry, Karen. You’re going to have to,” Adela aid
Karen took one more glance at the room. “Am I going to Heaven?” Adela nodded. “I love you, Jim,” Karen whispered, and then she stepped into the portal.
Adela shut the portal and looked around the room once more. The doctors were working to revive Karen. Jim remained on his knees.
The device on her wrist went off and Adela sighed. A wave of shock went through her as she saw she was being called back to Heaven, and she wondered what was going on. Something was not right, as she had never been called back to Heaven while working. She walked out of the ICU room and down the hall. She didn’t see any other Angels of Death, which was odd for a hospital. Unfurling her wings, she ghosted through the brick wall and took flight.