YOUR LOVE REACHES ME
by Rachel Boyd
Title based on a song written by Darren Clarke, (c)1998 Mercy/Vineyard Music
Monica and Tess strolled quietly through the Public Gardens. They watched as one of the Swan Boats made its way to the dock; cheerful children exclaimed, "Mommy, did you see the swans? One of 'em swam right up to me!" The two angels smiled as children, mothers, fathers, and grandparents stepped off the Swan Boats, letting another group of eager sight-seers take their turn to ride Boston's oldest and beloved tradition.
As Monica and Tess crossed the street and headed into the Commons, Monica broke the silence.
"Tess, why all the quietness? Where are we going?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, Angel Girl," Tess apologized. "I was really enjoying the sights. It's beautiful here in the spring."
"Yes, it is," Monica agreed. And that was all that was said. They headed towards Downtown's busy Washington Street section. The two angels found themselves walking behind a statuesque woman hurrying down the street. This woman walked taking long strides as her long brown hair flew in every direction. Monica quickly glanced at Tess, who kept her eyes fixed on this woman.
"Tess, is she my case?" Monica asked.
"Not just your case, Baby. Our case," Tess replied.
"Is her problem that bad?"
"In a way, yes. She's suffering from what millions of people are afflicted with: a broken heart," Tess explained. "It's a broken heart and unforgiveness. It's bringing upon her a whole lot of pain that she doesn't know how to deal with." Just then, Andrew joined them. He was munching on freshly popped popcorn. Tess looked at it with disdain.
"What is that?" she asked, a bit annoyed.
"It's popcorn. I bought it from a vendor in one of the subway stations," Andrew explained. It was in a small white bag within a clear plastic bag. "Apparently it's popular here." The angels noticed a few other people holding the same popcorn bags. Tess frowned; she noticed grease seeping through the white bag.
"Please get rid of it. We're here to work--not to snack," she huffed.
"OK. Go on ahead; I know what I'll do with it," Andrew said, turning around. The angels stopped in front of a gift and novelty shop on the corner of School and Washington Streets. Across the shop was a large bookstore; Andrew sat on a bench in front of the bookstore and fed the popcorn to pigeons. A swarm of pigeons flocked in front of Andrew, pecking at the popcorn as if it were ambrosia from heaven. Meanwhile, the tall woman entered the novelty shop.
"This is where she works," Tess explained.
"What does she do?" Monica asked. Andrew rejoined them and listened in.
"She's a cashier. You'll soon figure out the rest about who she is and what we can do to help," Tess said.
"Doesn't sound too hard," Andrew said. Tess raised her eyebrows.
"A broken heart is no easy thing. In fact, the Father is sending a special reinforcement," Tess announced. Andrew and Monica looked at each other with surprise.
"Do you mean. . ." Monica began.
"Is it. . . ?" Andrew faltered. Tess smiled.
"Yes, it is the Healer," she said.
"Does she know Him?" Monica asked.
"Yes, she does. He's an old friend," Tess said.
"So, are we here to re-acquaint them?" Andrew asked.
"No. Our job is to help her get to the root of the problem, and He will do the rest," Tess explained.
"Well, let's start by finding out her name," Andrew said.
"Very good. Her name is Rachel Brandon," Tess replied.
********
Rachel entered the novelty shop the next day. Jenny Weiss, her boss, walked over to the front of the cash register to talk to Rachel.
"Rachel, I've got good news and bad news," Jenny began. "The good news is Theresa had her baby last night."
"That's great!" Rachel smiled. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"It's a girl," she answered. "Um. . . So of course that means she started her maternity leave as of last night. The bad news is Charles is on sick leave, also since last night. He's got bronchitis."
"Poor Charles," Rachel said. "Wait--am I going to be the only one out on the floor?!"
"No, no," Jenny reassured her. "In fact, there's good news again because I called a temp agency and they're sending replacements today. They'll be here at noon. Actually, it will be just you on the floor 'til they get here. Good luck." Before Rachel could even protest, Jenny walked out. Rachel pouted and sulked for the next hour. No customers during that time. After what seemed like forever, a man entered the store. Rachel greeted him with a smile.
He's good-looking, she thought. Wonder if he's single or married? As if in response to her thought, the man raised his left hand to scratch the back of his neck and Rachel noticed a gold band on his ring finger. Never mind, she thought. He picked out a birthday card and a small heart-shaped porcelain box. "To My Beautiful Wife" read the front of the card, as Rachel rang it up. Someone's out there for me; just not now, I guess. He picked up his bag, smiled, said "Thank you" and left. Rachel leaned on the counter and sighed. One by one, more customers started coming in. Man, I hope those temps come soon, she thought. A few minutes later, a blond man and a dark-haired woman, both with kind faces, walked up to the counter.
"Hello," the woman said, speaking with a lovely accent. "I'm Monica. I've been sent by the temp agency to help out." Rachel heaved a sigh of relief.
"Thank God!" she proclaimed, raising her hands in the air. "It's starting to get busy and I really needed you." She looked at the blond man. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"Oh, pardon me. I'm Andrew," he said. "I'm the 'other' temp." He held out his hand and Rachel shook it.
"So, what can we do?" Monica asked.
"Are you two quick learners?" Rachel asked. Monica and Andrew nodded. "OK, great. Well, why don't you start by looking around the store? Get to know the products, their prices and where everything is. If a customer asks a question, try to answer the best you can. If you really don't know, send them to me." The three of them smiled. "When it gets quieter, I'll show you how to work the register. For now, just help me pack the bags as I ring up the customers." Monica and Andrew agreed.
Some time later, Rachel rang up a few more customers and Monica helped pack the customers' bags. When it was quiet for a moment, Rachel noticed Andrew as he stood in front of a display shelf. He picked up an angel figurine and looked it over. Wow, he is good-looking. His face is so innocent, like a child's, she thought. Andrew felt someone's eyes upon him; he turned to the counter and saw that Rachel was eyeing him. She smiled. Andrew grinned, quickly put the figurine back, and blushed. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away. Rachel chuckled to herself. Monica had seen this whole incident take place and was trying to suppress a giggle.
At six o'clock that evening, Rachel was closing out the registers. Andrew locked the door and flipped the "Open/Closed" sign over. Monica swept the floor. Rachel grabbed her jacket.
"I'll see you two tomorrow, I guess," she said as she put on her jacket. "How long are you going to be here?"
"For as long as we need to be," Monica answered. Rachel smiled.
"OK, great. I'll see you," she called as she headed out the back door. She looked at Andrew and winked. Again, Andrew blushed. When Rachel was gone, Monica began to laugh.
"I don't think that's funny," Andrew said, looking a little perturbed.
"I'm sorry," she laughed.
"Yeah, well, at least we know a little bit about her problem," he said.
"I know," Monica said. "She's lonely and it seems she thinks a man will fix her problems."
"Maybe you and Tess should look into this a little more," he suggested. "Go to her house and see if you can find anything about her broken heart."
"Don't you want to join us?" she teased.
"No thank you," he replied quickly.
**********
Rachel unlocked her front door. She switched on the hallway light, threw her purse on the floor, and hung up her jacket in the hall closet. She went into her room and took out a small photo album from her bookshelf. She flipped through it until she found the photograph of them. It was a picture taken three years before at a park. She removed that picture from the album and walked to the living room. She held the picture, remembering every detail and every moment of that day as if it had just happened. Her eyes began to water as she remembered how he had touched her and whispered "I love you" in her ear. Pictures seem to always hold only the surface of memories. Some time after that picture was taken, he had to move away to find another job and he asked her to keep in touch. But he seemed to drift away, and Rachel got tired of putting all the effort into the relationship. At that moment, Rachel also remembered feeling rejected when she had to break up with him After the break-up, she'd been hoping that he'd fight for her, that he'd beg her for another chance. But no, he just let her walk away.
Monica listened as Tess explained Rachel's circumstance. Two years they'd been apart and Rachel's heart still grieved. She looks at men the way she looked at Andrew because she is looking for someone to fill that void in her heart, always hoping to find someone interested in her.
"She won't find anything," Tess said. "Deep inside, she keeps praying to get back together with him."
"Why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn't want her?" Monica asked.
"I don't know, Baby," Tess sighed. Just then, the two angels saw a shadow approaching Rachel. It hesitated when it saw Tess and Monica. The shadow began to manifest itself in the form of a person. He was a slim man with a snaky manner and dressed in black. His eyes were dark and filled with hate. He looked them over.
"Who are you?" Tess demanded.
"I go by many names," he answered. "Depression, Resentment, Jealousy, Pride, Bitterness. . . Just a few of the names I've used. You can call me Bob." His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "But my favorite name so far is Self-worthlessness. It's my new assignment and, I must say, I've been pretty effective. Especially with Rachel; she's so vulnerable. Watch this." He put his hand on Rachel's shoulder and spoke into her ear. "Oh, you poor thing--he didn't want you. Of course not; who are you? What are you? You've tried so hard over the years to make yourself look pretty, but it hasn't worked. He didn't want you 'cause you're not woman enough. You're just a lump of a human being. You're a fraud." Rachel stopped crying and just sat in her chair, squirming and feeling very uncomfortable in her body.
"I'm nothing," Rachel whispered. The angels watched in horror.
"Stop it! You're destroying her!" Tess shouted.
"You've no right to be here!" Monica cried. Bob cackled.
"Actually, I have every right to be here," Bob said. "But if you want, I'll leave. For now." And he disappeared.
Rachel buried her face in her hands. She curled up on the chair in a fetal position and whimpered. She sat there for what seemed like an eternity. After that, she got up, ran to her room, and stared at herself in the mirror. She wiped away the tears. She turned, sat down on her bed, and bowed her head.
"Why did You make me a woman?" she cried to God. "What's my purpose here as a woman? I don't even feel like one! I wish I could get back together with him. Please!" She paused. "Forget it! Why doesn't he want me? Do You even care?!" She began to cry again.
"Tess," Monica pleaded, "why isn't He here now?"
"Now is not the time," Tess said firmly. "She hasn't recognized her problem yet. She doesn't even see it as a problem; she has a 'wishful thinking' mind-set."
"But, Tess; was Bob right? Does he have a right to be here?" Monica asked, dreading the answer.
"Yes, he does," Tess replied ruefully. She pointed to the photo album and a stuffed monkey on Rachel's bookshelf. "So long as she keeps reminders in her sight of that man, Bob has every right to taunt her. Memories can encourage you, but some can also torment you."
"If you let them," Monica added quietly. She watched as Rachel cried; everything within Monica wanted to hug Rachel and bring her comfort. But she knew that wasn't her job. Now they just needed to wait.
**********
The following evening as Rachel and the angels were closing up, Monica watched Rachel. She had been quieter and withdrawn. She hadn't even flirted with Andrew, much to his relief. Both angels had, however, tried to converse with her, get to know her, during the quiet periods but she would give short answers. It seemed that she was uncomfortable giving too much, let alone any, information about herself to people she didn't know very well. Monica was determined to crack this tough nut.
"Rachel, are you busy tonight?" she asked.
"No," Rachel replied, without looking at her.
"Well, would you like to get a coffee with me and two of my friends?" Monica offered smiling. Rachel looked at her and half-smiled back.
"Um, actually. . . Why don't we go to my place? I'll make coffee--I make great coffee. It's just that I'm not really in the mood to be out tonight," she explained.
"We'd be delighted; won't we, Andrew?" Monica said, nudging Andrew in the arm.
"Sure," Andrew said, trying to be enthusiastic. Rachel grinned. Just then, Tess knocked at the door. Andrew unlocked and opened the door.
"Are we ready?" Tess asked cheerfully.
"Yes, but there's been a wee change. We're going to Rachel's; she'll make coffee for us," Monica said.
"Oh, that's kind of you. By the way, my name is Tess," she said holding out her hand.
"It's very nice to meet you," Rachel smiled and shook Tess' hand. "Well, I guess we can call it a night now. Andrew, would you please lock the door? I'll shut off the lights and we can go out the back door." Andrew nodded and locked the door while Rachel shut off the lights. Then the four were off.
The subway ride home was rather quiet for the four of them. Rachel sat on the seat with her arms folded. Every so often she would turn her head to look at people coming in and out of the train car. She would especially notice if a good-looking man was there. Her eyes always shifted to the left hand. As if anything would happen even if he didn't have a ring, she thought. When they arrived at Rachel's stop, they exited the car and walked behind her. She took long strides, almost as if she had forgotten about her guests.
As they were walking near a Latino restaurant, a group of middle-aged Latino men were coming out of it. Rachel happened to cross their path; when the saw her, they descended upon her like a pack of wolves.
"Oh, honey, you want something to eat?"
"You want a drink?"
"You want a ride home?" Rachel raised her hand and politely but firmly said, "No, thank you," and kept walking. The angels had stopped and watched in amazement as all this took place.
"No wonder Rachel doesn't think much of herself," Monica declared. "The men in this neighborhood treat her like a piece of meat." The group of men gazed at Rachel as she walked away. The angels kept following her. They arrived at Rachel's home; it was a small house, almost like a cottage. As she put her key in the doorknob, she looked at the angels for the first time since they'd gotten off the train.
"I suppose you saw what happened back there," she said sheepishly. Andrew and Tess turned their heads away, while Monica grinned understandingly.
"Does that happen often?" Monica asked.
"Yeah. What can I say? I'm the belle of the ball in this neighborhood," Rachel said, opening the door. "Everywhere else in Boston, I'm just another face in the crowd." She smiled and beckoned them in. Monica looked around her house; it was sparsely decorated with earthy colors. A sandy-colored couch, a wooden rocking chair with brown plush cushions, a hazelnut-colored Oriental rug, and a glass coffee table were the few main pieces of furniture in the living room. She also kept an antique wooden hutch against the wall. In short, Rachel's decor was simple, yet tasteful and classy. Rachel motioned them to sit on the couch.
"Have a seat; I'll make the coffee," she said.
"Would you mind if I helped?" Monica offered. "I'm a bit of a coffee admirer. Perhaps I can give you some advice that I've learned over the years?"
"Sure," Rachel said. As she and Monica left for the kitchen, Andrew sat down and turned to Tess.
"So, are you going to fill me in?" he asked. Tess sat at one end of the couch and told him what she and Monica had observed the night before. Just as she'd finished telling him, Monica entered the living room carrying a tray with cups, saucers, a container of sugar, spoons and a small pitcher of milk. Rachel came in behind her carrying a thermos-like decanter and a plate of almond biscotti. She poured coffee into each cup and handed it to her guests. She sat on the rocking chair and sipped her coffee. No one said anything at first. Tess could no longer stand the awkward silence.
"So, Rachel--why don't you tell us something about yourself?" she prompted.
"I hardly know where to begin," Rachel replied.
"Well, why don't you tell us a funny story?" Tess suggested. Rachel smiled.
"Oh! Yeah, I got plenty of those," she laughed.
**********
An hour later, Rachel had entertained the angels with several tales of misadventures she and her best friend had gotten into. She felt good about having these new friends in her home, as if she'd known them for years. Almost. They brought a certain peace, a certain love, with them as if their very beings were made of that. She admired the way they watched out for, or rather, served each other. Monica would pour a cup of coffee for Andrew, Andrew would hand Tess a biscotti, and Tess would sweeten Monica's coffee. All with smiles. Just then the phone rang. Rachel got up.
"Would you excuse me please?" she said. The angels nodded. She walked to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Rachel," answered a familiar male voice.
"Who is this?" she asked, knowing full well who it was but afraid of the answer.
"You know who it is," he replied.
"Oh my god! How are you?"
"I'm all right." Then there was a pause. Rachel didn't know what to say; she felt so many mixed, tense emotions. She felt her gut telling her "trouble," but she ignored it. No, can't be--this is the answer to my prayers! she thought.
"Why are you calling me after all this time?" she asked nervously. "If you're calling, that must mean you've been thinking about me. Right?"
"You got it," he said.
"What do you want?"
"I want to get back together with you." Rachel's hands shook; she wanted to scream "yes!" but her lips said something completely different.
"I don't know," she answered.
"What do you mean you don't know?" he demanded.
"Look," she said almost crying, "I've been waiting for this call for a long time. You don't know how hard it's been for me to get over you, and at the same time I remember how much you hurt me. I'm conflicted; you think it's easy for me to make this decision right now?"
"Fine. You think it over," he said. "Why don't you sleep on it tonight? Call me back tomorrow. Here's my number." Rachel grabbed a pen from one of the drawers and wrote the number on the palm of her hand. She said good-bye and hung up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked back to the living room. Tess and Andrew were cleaning up the cups and crumbs from the table; Monica was admiring the ornaments on the hutch. Rachel didn't stack fine china on this hutch; she kept CD's and cassette tapes on the middle shelf, ornaments on the top shelf, and some books and a small stereo on the bottom shelf.
"Hey. Andrew, Tess, thank you so much for cleaning up. You really don't have to, but I appreciate it," Rachel said. Tess and Andrew smiled.
"Should we take them to the kitchen?" Andrew asked.
"Yeah, that would be great," she said. "Just put everything in the sink. I'll wash up later." She picked up the decanter and took it to the kitchen. She returned to the living room and noticed that Monica was still admiring the hutch.
"What do you keep in the drawers?" Monica asked.
"Not much," Rachel shrugged. "Some wood and glass cleaners and rags in this cabinet. Some drawers are empty, the others have pens and miscellaneous papers in them."
"So nothing personal?" Monica asked.
"Nah. All the personal stuff is in my bedroom," she answered. "My room's down that hall." She pointed with her left hand. Monica caught sight of some numbers on Rachel's palm.
"What's that?" she asked. Rachel looked at her palm.
"Oh, that!" she said. "Um. . . You know that phone call I just got?" Monica nodded. "It was my ex-boyfriend. He wants to get back together with me. I said I wasn't sure, so he told me to think about it and call him. This is his number."
"Are you going to call him?" Monica asked. Rachel looked at her palm again.
"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I don't want to talk about it." Andrew and Tess walked in. Tess noticed that Rachel had withdrawn again. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed.
"I guess we'd better go now," she said. Rachel grinned weakly.
"Thank you for coming," Rachel said.
"We should do this again," Monica suggested.
"Yeah. Actually, that would be nice," Rachel agreed. Andrew walked over to the door and opened it. Tess and Monica waved good-bye to Rachel as they walked out the door. Andrew looked at Rachel and smiled.
"See you tomorrow," he said. Rachel nodded, then he left and closed the door. She sat down on the couch and sighed. Once they were walking further down the street, Tess asked Monica what Rachel had told her. Monica stopped and frowned.
"She told me that her ex-boyfriend called," Monica said. "He wants to get back together with her."
"Oh, no," Tess said raising her eyes upward.
"So why didn't Rachel look happy about it?" Andrew asked. "Isn't this what she wanted?"
"Perhaps she's being cautious," Monica guessed.
"Caution is good," Tess agreed. "What else did she tell you?"
"That's it. She shut off," Monica said. "How can we help someone who doesn't want to be helped?"
"Keep trying, Angel Girl," Tess said gently. "She'll come around."
"No, she won't," a raspy voice answered. The angels looked around and saw Bob standing ahead of them. He was enraged. "Stay away! I have every right to be there! Oh, and by the way, you can bet I'm going to use that phone call to my advantage."
"Make as many threats as you want to," Tess warned, "but I can guarantee you'll be defeated!"
"Ooh, I'm so scared," he retorted. "Try it." Then he vanished. The angels stood in silence, when suddenly Tess began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Andrew asked.
"He has no idea who he'll be up against," Tess laughed.
"That's right!" Andrew smiled.
"When will that be?" Monica asked.
"Soon," Tess assured her. She turned to Andrew. "Stay with Rachel tonight. She's going to need some comfort. Give her encouragement. Bring her peace. Lord knows she needs it." Andrew nodded. He headed back to Rachel's house. Monica looked at Tess.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.
"Yes. Be her friend," Tess answered. Monica sighed wistfully.
**********
The next morning, Rachel and Jenny were taking inventory at the shop while Andrew and Monica watched the registers. Monica waited until there were no customers and Rachel was out of earshot. She turned to Andrew and asked how the night had gone.
"It was a struggle," he admitted. "You-know-who showed up."
"Oh, no," Monica said. "What did you do?"
"Well, he put as many degrading thoughts into her head as much as he could," Andrew replied. "And I. . . Well, I guess you could say, I 'counter-attacked' him. I spoke words of love, peace, and hope to her." Andrew shook his head. "She cried herself to sleep." No sooner had Andrew finished speaking when they heard a glass object crash on the floor.
"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" Rachel's voice cried. "I promise I'll pay for it."
"No staff discount," Jenny's voice said. Then she walked away. Andrew and Monica rushed to the aisle where Rachel had been working. She was kneeling on the floor carefully picking up the glass shards. She looked up.
"It was a glass angel," she said sheepishly.
"Would you like us to help?" Monica offered.
"Just get me the broom and dustpan," Rachel said. "Please." Monica nodded and walked to the back. Andrew bent down to pick up the remaining shards. He looked at Rachel's hands and noticed they were shaking.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," she replied. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I had two cups of coffee this morning, so the caffeine must be kicking in." She was nervous about him calling back, but she certainly wasn't going to tell Andrew that. "I'll be fine." She smiled. Monica returned with the broom and dustpan. Rachel and Andrew placed the shards on the dustpan and got up. Rachel took the broom and swept up the glass powder. "I'll finish up here. You two should get back to the counter." Later that day, Tess walked in. She went to Monica and took her aside.
"Any progress?" she asked.
"No, I'm afraid not," Monica answered. "She seems edgy today. Maybe she's nervous about calling him back."
"She's not going to call him back," Tess announced. "And she's going to be in for a lot disappointment. But don't worry, Baby--everything is going to come together for her that will bring healing." Monica smiled.
"I can't wait 'til He gets here," she declared happily.
"Turn around," Tess said. Monica turned around and was nearly taken aback. There He was--in all His splendor yet dressed in humanity. Monica was about to kneel, but He looked at her and held up His hand. "Not yet" he seemed to say by His gesture. He turned around and looked for Rachel. He walked by Andrew, who bowed his head greeting Him in silent reverence. He acknowledged Andrew by nodding His head. He found Rachel standing in front of a display shelf taking inventory. She turned her head, noticing the gentleman standing two feet away from her. He was a rather young man, olive-skinned with light brown hair down to His shoulders. She could tell He was a wealthy man by His clothes: a long black gabardine coat, Italian leather shoes, a navy Hugo Boss suit, crisp white shirt, and blue silk tie. She looked at His face; it was the kindest one she'd ever seen. Yet, she sensed something familiar about His face. Where do I know Him from? she wondered.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"No, thank you," He replied. "I've found what I'm looking for." Rachel smiled. She returned to her inventory-taking, but not before she noticed white gloves on His hands. It's an odd season to be wearing gloves, she thought. Maybe He's one of those eccentric millionaires. She shrugged off the thought. As she began to do her work, she could feel that He was still looking at her. She looked at Him.
"Are you sure I can't help you in something?" she asked.
"No, thank you," He said again. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, Rachel." Her eyes widened.
"How. . . how did you. . ?" she began. He just smiled, turned around, and walked away. She stood for a moment in a bit of shock. Rachel went after Him, but it seemed He vanished into thin air. She looked at Monica. "Did you see that man? Where did He go?" Monica shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see where He went. He just disappeared." Rachel looked around.
"It's not possible," she muttered to herself, returning to her aisle. She picked up her clipboard and pen. "Couldn't be. Could it?" Monica heard Rachel's voice and went to check on her.
"Are you all right?" she asked gently. Rachel shook her head.
"That was just a weird experience," Rachel replied. "I'm like. . . I don't know. I'm at a loss for words." She struggled to say what she really felt, but couldn't express it. She checked her watch; two hours to go until closing. Time isn't going by fast enough, she thought.
"You look agitated," Monica observed. "Will you be needing any company after work?" Rachel hesitated; she didn't exactly want company that evening, but she also didn't want to turn herself into a "watched-pot-never-boils" cliché. No, a distraction would be good.
"Sure," she replied. "But, um. . . just you, if you don't mind." Monica nodded. They returned to work.
**********
That evening after closing time, Monica waved good-bye to Andrew as she and Rachel headed out. The subway ride home turned out to be a silent one again. Rachel just sat in her seat with her arms folded. She kept checking her watch, as if she were afraid of missing something or getting home late. When they arrived at Rachel's house, she told Monica to make herself comfortable, then ran to the telephone in the kitchen. She dialed the number of her answering service. She smiled when the automated voice said, "You have one new message." As the message ran, Rachel realized it was only a credit card company inquiring about a late payment. She pressed 3 to erase the message and hung up the phone. She walked into the living room where Monica was waiting. She sighed.
"Are you all right?" Monica asked.
"I'm fine," Rachel pouted. "He didn't call."
"Are you going to call him, then?" Monica asked.
"At first I didn't know if I would," Rachel admitted, "but then I thought, 'Hey, he called me first. If he's serious, he'll call back.' Right?"
"I guess," Monica answered. Rachel smiled.
"How about some coffee?" she suggested. "It'll get my mind off all this." Monica nodded. They walked to the kitchen and set up the coffee maker. As they waited for the coffee to brew, they sat quietly in the chairs.
"I'm sorry I'm not much of a talker," Rachel finally said. "I'm not exactly an open book."
"It's OK," Monica assured her. "I'm not going to push you. But I do want you to feel free to talk to me." Rachel picked up her spoon and twirled it in her hand. What have I got to lose? she thought.
"I don't even know why I love him, why I want him back," she admitted. "He's such a jerk."
"Why do you hold on to those feelings?" Monica asked.
"I can't help it," Rachel replied. "It's like something doesn't want me to let go. I pray to God all the time to send him back to me, even though I know it's wrong. When he called, it was like the answer to my prayers!" She paused. "Yeah, I pray. A lot of people don't, but they should. Do you pray, Monica?" Monica smiled.
"All the time," she answered. "And I agree with you that more people should too. But if this is what you wanted, why didn't you say yes to him right away?"
"I wanted to take it slow, I guess," Rachel said. "It's like I said--he's a jerk. I can use this to test his heart."
"What about your heart?" Monica asked.
"Nobody cares about my heart," Rachel replied dimly. "You saw those guys come after me yesterday. You think they care about my heart? They only look at the outside; they don't give a crap about what's within. Makes me feel stupid and cheap." She covered her face as she tried to hold in the tears. "Don't think I'm crazy, but there are times when I feel so awkward in my body--like I'm a fraud, just a lump of a human being." Monica winced as Rachel repeated the same lies Bob had been feeding her. She reached out and held Rachel's hand as if to say, "I'm here to comfort you." Rachel wiped away her tears and looked at the coffee maker.
"I'm so sorry. I've totally forgotten about the coffee."
"It's all right," Monica said. "But now's as good a time as any to have some." They both chuckled.
As the evening progressed, the two friends shared their dreams with each other. Rachel revealed that she'd always wanted to be a writer and to work at a radio station. She loved music, something Monica loved as well. Actually, Monica loved singing, though she admitted she wasn't very good at it. Monica asked her why she worked as a salesperson instead of pursuing her dreams.
"I dropped out of college two years ago," Rachel admitted. "I was an English major, but I felt like that wasn't going to lead anywhere concrete. People got bills to pay, ya know. And some people have commented that since I'm tall, I should be a model. Ha! I'm not exactly graceful, and I think my face is kinda flawed." She giggled nervously.
"Oh, not at all," Monica said. "You're exactly as God wanted you to be. From the moment you were conceived, His hand has been at work on you and on your life. Have you let Him mold you?" Rachel looked down. She knew she hadn't; she'd been so preoccupied with her own problems, asking so much of God that she'd forgotten to really seek Him.
"I guess not," Rachel answered quietly.
"Think about it," Monica urged. She looked out the window at the dark sky. "I should go now; it's late."
"He didn't call," Rachel said. Monica did not answer. "But there's always tomorrow, right?" She smiled hopefully.
"Yes," Monica agreed somewhat uncertainly.
*********
Rachel awoke groggily the next morning. She grabbed her watch from the nightstand and squinted as she read the time; it was 9:30 am. Thank God it's Saturday, she thought slamming the watch back on the nightstand. She rolled the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
At noontime, Rachel was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of tea. She kept the cordless phone near her. Just in case. When she'd read as much of the paper as she could, she got up and went to the bedroom. She plopped down on her bed, grabbed the television remote, and clicked on the TV. She flipped through every channel--cheesy movie on one station, golf game on another, infomercial on the next, and so on. Disgusted, she clicked the television off. "There's never any good TV on Saturday afternoons," she muttered. She got up and returned to the living room. She looked around and wondered why she'd gone back there. She turned and went back to the bedroom. She looked at her bookshelf. She searched underneath a stack of old magazines and papers, and found the first note he'd ever written to her. Even though she knew exactly what it said, she opened it up to read it. Rachel giggled when she remembered how he had wooed her; he was charmingly insecure, but good at the sweet talk. She sighed as she refolded the letter, smelled it (even though he never put cologne on it), and placed it in her little photo album.
At around 5:30 that evening, Rachel began to lose patience. "He said he wanted me back," she fumed. "Why hasn't he called?!" She paced up and down the hallway, and all around the house. Then the doorbell rang. Rachel tried to steady her nerves as she headed towards the door. She opened it and saw the three angels.
"Hello," Monica said smiling.
"Hi. Come on in," Rachel said. "What brings you here?"
"We were wondering if you'd like to go out with us to dinner," Tess said. "There's so many great restaurants in Boston. We heard about some great Italian restaurants in a place called the North End." Rachel sighed.
"No, thank you. I'd rather not," she replied.
"Why not?" Andrew asked. Rachel bit her lip; she felt embarrassed explaining why she didn't want to leave the house.
"Umm. . ." she began.
"You're waiting for his call, aren't you?" Monica asked. Rachel looked at Andrew and Tess.
"Monica, they don't need to know," she said through gritted teeth. "I don't have to explain myself." She turned around. The angels looked at each other.
"Do you mind if we keep you company for a while?" Tess offered.
"OK," Rachel shrugged. "Anybody want some tea?" They all shook their heads. Rachel sat down on the rocking chair, cordless phone in hand. The angels sat down on the couch.
More than an hour passed and not one word was spoken. Rachel checked her watch; it was a quarter to seven. She suddenly got up and stomped into the kitchen. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. She squeezed the phone in her hand and looked at it. Then she finally let it out.
"Call, damn it!" she screamed and hurled the phone at the wall. Rachel watched as the object went from phone to broken plastic and electronic parts in a matter of seconds. Her heart pounded; the angels ran in and saw what she'd done. Rachel covered her face with her hand; Monica and Tess led her back to the living room. By that time Rachel was weeping. They sat her down on the rocking chair again. "He doesn't want me."
"Rachel," Monica began softly, "please listen to what we are about to tell you. We are angels, sent by God above."
"What?" Rachel retorted. "Prove it."
"Rachel," Tess continued, "God has seen your struggle. He knows how your heart has been aching to be loved. There's nothing wrong with that, but you have forgotten that you already are loved. God loves you, baby. That love is far greater than any human on earth can give you." Rachel lifted her eyes to see the angels and was startled to see that they were dressed in white and a soft light radiated from them.
"It's true," she whispered. "But what about all this? Can you take away this pain?"
"We can't," Andrew replied, "but we know someone who can."
"What's going on here?!" cried an angry voice from the shadows. Bob emerged from the far end of the room. "What do you think you're doing here?! She's mine!" The angels pretended not to notice him, and they each moved to the side. A bright light began to form into the shape of a man. Rachel saw that it was the same man she'd seen in the shop, but this time she knew He was no ordinary man. Now He was dressed not in fancy attire but in tattered jeans and T-shirt. Rachel almost laughed at the idea of Jesus in jeans. I thought He only wore togas and tunics, she thought. He held out His pierced hand to her and touched her forehead. His touch both burned and soothed.
"You remember Me now, don't you?" He asked gently.
"Yes, I do," Rachel said quietly. She got off the chair, knelt down, and asked, "What can I do for You?"
"No, I did not come to be served, but to serve," He answered. "Rachel, you have not let Me serve you or even love you. I know that there is rejection in your heart because of what this man has done. Do you want to be healed of this?"
"Yes, I do!" Rachel cried. "I can't bear it anymore!" Bob took a step forward, but Jesus held up His hand and stopped him.
"Go to your room," He instructed, "and rid yourself of his memories." Rachel swallowed.
"But. . . I. . ." she stammered, holding back the tears. Protesting was useless, she realized. She got up and went to her room. Bob tried to stop her, but Andrew wouldn't let him pass. Rachel picked up the stuffed monkey from the shelf. She grabbed her photo album and flipped the pages to his pictures. She removed all his pictures from the plastic sleeves and headed towards the door. Monica appeared before her and pointed to the bookshelf. Rachel stopped and looked back. The letters! She ran back and grabbed the letters. Jesus waited for her at the door.
"Follow Me," He said. They all walked out and headed to the backyard. He led the way; Rachel walked behind Him with Monica and Tess on either side of her and Andrew behind her. Bob ran up behind them and reached out to Rachel, but Andrew caught his arm and pushed it away. Jesus brought them to an old barbecue grill. Oh no, Rachel thought, are we going to do what I think we're going to do? She hesitated.
"Yes, that's right, Rachel," Bob said out of breath. "We don't really want to part ways with him, do we?" Rachel glanced at Bob, seeing him for the first time. What she saw was an evil being gasping and cowering at the sight of the One much stronger than he. She then looked at Jesus and saw a face of pure love shining from His face. And she knew His love was all for her, that he would never fail her. A love she could rest in and be secure with. And yet she felt so unworthy of it. She began to cry.
"I'm such a failure!" she weeped. "I've abandoned You and let You down! How can You still have compassion for me?" He held her hand.
"Because I delight in the prodigal who returns to Me," He assured her. Rachel wiped her tears. She took a deep breath, threw the monkey in a nearby trash barrel, and placed the pictures and letters in the grill. Monica gave her a box of matches; Rachel lit one and placed it in the grill. She lit another match. The pictures and letters burned steadily. Rachel knelt down.
"Forgive me," she said to Him. "I let these things and false hopes take Your place. I want to renounce this so-called love for him and have the grace to forgive him as You forgive me." She bowed her head.
"No! She's. . . she's. . . mine!" Bob screamed weakly. Jesus held His pierced hand over Rachel's head and let a few drops of His precious blood wash over her. Bob fell to the ground and whimpered. Jesus held Rachel's hand and led her in front of Bob.
"Do you still want him hanging around you?" He asked.
"No, I do not," Rachel said firmly. "I want him gone, to disappear because I've been changed! Go, and never return in the name of Jesus!" Bob began to fade away and burned up into a cloud of dark smoke. Rachel and the angels cheered. She looked back at the grill; the letters and pictures had become nothing but ashes.
"You are a new creation in Him," Tess said. "And the old things have passed away." Rachel smiled; for the first time in years she felt freedom and peace. And yet. . .
"Where do I go from here?" she asked.
"Just keep your faith in the Healer," Tess urged, "and everything will fall into place." The Healer, however, had disappeared but Rachel could still feel the presence of His love.
"I'm not alone anymore, am I?" she asked.
"You never were," Monica smiled. The sun had set by then, leaving behind only a faint glow of light underneath a dark purple sky. Rachel and the angels looked up to admire the sky.
"Hey, I know you're angels, but didn't you guys say something about dinner earlier?" Rachel asked, chuckling.
"We sure did," Andrew said.
"Let's go," Rachel said. "Tess, you mentioned the North End, didn't you?"
"I did," Tess replied.
"Great! I know my way around there pretty well." As they headed to the front yard, Rachel stopped and sighed blissfully. "No regrets," she declared. Monica went to close the front door as Tess, Andrew and Rachel headed out. When she reached the door, she heard the phone ring. Everyone turned around, for they all heard it too. Rachel stopped; she looked inside her house. "No regrets," she repeated, and kept walking. Monica closed the door carefully and joined her friends.
THE END
(September 1999-October 2000)
15
by Rachel Boyd
Title based on a song written by Darren Clarke, (c)1998 Mercy/Vineyard Music
Monica and Tess strolled quietly through the Public Gardens. They watched as one of the Swan Boats made its way to the dock; cheerful children exclaimed, "Mommy, did you see the swans? One of 'em swam right up to me!" The two angels smiled as children, mothers, fathers, and grandparents stepped off the Swan Boats, letting another group of eager sight-seers take their turn to ride Boston's oldest and beloved tradition.
As Monica and Tess crossed the street and headed into the Commons, Monica broke the silence.
"Tess, why all the quietness? Where are we going?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, Angel Girl," Tess apologized. "I was really enjoying the sights. It's beautiful here in the spring."
"Yes, it is," Monica agreed. And that was all that was said. They headed towards Downtown's busy Washington Street section. The two angels found themselves walking behind a statuesque woman hurrying down the street. This woman walked taking long strides as her long brown hair flew in every direction. Monica quickly glanced at Tess, who kept her eyes fixed on this woman.
"Tess, is she my case?" Monica asked.
"Not just your case, Baby. Our case," Tess replied.
"Is her problem that bad?"
"In a way, yes. She's suffering from what millions of people are afflicted with: a broken heart," Tess explained. "It's a broken heart and unforgiveness. It's bringing upon her a whole lot of pain that she doesn't know how to deal with." Just then, Andrew joined them. He was munching on freshly popped popcorn. Tess looked at it with disdain.
"What is that?" she asked, a bit annoyed.
"It's popcorn. I bought it from a vendor in one of the subway stations," Andrew explained. It was in a small white bag within a clear plastic bag. "Apparently it's popular here." The angels noticed a few other people holding the same popcorn bags. Tess frowned; she noticed grease seeping through the white bag.
"Please get rid of it. We're here to work--not to snack," she huffed.
"OK. Go on ahead; I know what I'll do with it," Andrew said, turning around. The angels stopped in front of a gift and novelty shop on the corner of School and Washington Streets. Across the shop was a large bookstore; Andrew sat on a bench in front of the bookstore and fed the popcorn to pigeons. A swarm of pigeons flocked in front of Andrew, pecking at the popcorn as if it were ambrosia from heaven. Meanwhile, the tall woman entered the novelty shop.
"This is where she works," Tess explained.
"What does she do?" Monica asked. Andrew rejoined them and listened in.
"She's a cashier. You'll soon figure out the rest about who she is and what we can do to help," Tess said.
"Doesn't sound too hard," Andrew said. Tess raised her eyebrows.
"A broken heart is no easy thing. In fact, the Father is sending a special reinforcement," Tess announced. Andrew and Monica looked at each other with surprise.
"Do you mean. . ." Monica began.
"Is it. . . ?" Andrew faltered. Tess smiled.
"Yes, it is the Healer," she said.
"Does she know Him?" Monica asked.
"Yes, she does. He's an old friend," Tess said.
"So, are we here to re-acquaint them?" Andrew asked.
"No. Our job is to help her get to the root of the problem, and He will do the rest," Tess explained.
"Well, let's start by finding out her name," Andrew said.
"Very good. Her name is Rachel Brandon," Tess replied.
********
Rachel entered the novelty shop the next day. Jenny Weiss, her boss, walked over to the front of the cash register to talk to Rachel.
"Rachel, I've got good news and bad news," Jenny began. "The good news is Theresa had her baby last night."
"That's great!" Rachel smiled. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"It's a girl," she answered. "Um. . . So of course that means she started her maternity leave as of last night. The bad news is Charles is on sick leave, also since last night. He's got bronchitis."
"Poor Charles," Rachel said. "Wait--am I going to be the only one out on the floor?!"
"No, no," Jenny reassured her. "In fact, there's good news again because I called a temp agency and they're sending replacements today. They'll be here at noon. Actually, it will be just you on the floor 'til they get here. Good luck." Before Rachel could even protest, Jenny walked out. Rachel pouted and sulked for the next hour. No customers during that time. After what seemed like forever, a man entered the store. Rachel greeted him with a smile.
He's good-looking, she thought. Wonder if he's single or married? As if in response to her thought, the man raised his left hand to scratch the back of his neck and Rachel noticed a gold band on his ring finger. Never mind, she thought. He picked out a birthday card and a small heart-shaped porcelain box. "To My Beautiful Wife" read the front of the card, as Rachel rang it up. Someone's out there for me; just not now, I guess. He picked up his bag, smiled, said "Thank you" and left. Rachel leaned on the counter and sighed. One by one, more customers started coming in. Man, I hope those temps come soon, she thought. A few minutes later, a blond man and a dark-haired woman, both with kind faces, walked up to the counter.
"Hello," the woman said, speaking with a lovely accent. "I'm Monica. I've been sent by the temp agency to help out." Rachel heaved a sigh of relief.
"Thank God!" she proclaimed, raising her hands in the air. "It's starting to get busy and I really needed you." She looked at the blond man. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"Oh, pardon me. I'm Andrew," he said. "I'm the 'other' temp." He held out his hand and Rachel shook it.
"So, what can we do?" Monica asked.
"Are you two quick learners?" Rachel asked. Monica and Andrew nodded. "OK, great. Well, why don't you start by looking around the store? Get to know the products, their prices and where everything is. If a customer asks a question, try to answer the best you can. If you really don't know, send them to me." The three of them smiled. "When it gets quieter, I'll show you how to work the register. For now, just help me pack the bags as I ring up the customers." Monica and Andrew agreed.
Some time later, Rachel rang up a few more customers and Monica helped pack the customers' bags. When it was quiet for a moment, Rachel noticed Andrew as he stood in front of a display shelf. He picked up an angel figurine and looked it over. Wow, he is good-looking. His face is so innocent, like a child's, she thought. Andrew felt someone's eyes upon him; he turned to the counter and saw that Rachel was eyeing him. She smiled. Andrew grinned, quickly put the figurine back, and blushed. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked away. Rachel chuckled to herself. Monica had seen this whole incident take place and was trying to suppress a giggle.
At six o'clock that evening, Rachel was closing out the registers. Andrew locked the door and flipped the "Open/Closed" sign over. Monica swept the floor. Rachel grabbed her jacket.
"I'll see you two tomorrow, I guess," she said as she put on her jacket. "How long are you going to be here?"
"For as long as we need to be," Monica answered. Rachel smiled.
"OK, great. I'll see you," she called as she headed out the back door. She looked at Andrew and winked. Again, Andrew blushed. When Rachel was gone, Monica began to laugh.
"I don't think that's funny," Andrew said, looking a little perturbed.
"I'm sorry," she laughed.
"Yeah, well, at least we know a little bit about her problem," he said.
"I know," Monica said. "She's lonely and it seems she thinks a man will fix her problems."
"Maybe you and Tess should look into this a little more," he suggested. "Go to her house and see if you can find anything about her broken heart."
"Don't you want to join us?" she teased.
"No thank you," he replied quickly.
**********
Rachel unlocked her front door. She switched on the hallway light, threw her purse on the floor, and hung up her jacket in the hall closet. She went into her room and took out a small photo album from her bookshelf. She flipped through it until she found the photograph of them. It was a picture taken three years before at a park. She removed that picture from the album and walked to the living room. She held the picture, remembering every detail and every moment of that day as if it had just happened. Her eyes began to water as she remembered how he had touched her and whispered "I love you" in her ear. Pictures seem to always hold only the surface of memories. Some time after that picture was taken, he had to move away to find another job and he asked her to keep in touch. But he seemed to drift away, and Rachel got tired of putting all the effort into the relationship. At that moment, Rachel also remembered feeling rejected when she had to break up with him After the break-up, she'd been hoping that he'd fight for her, that he'd beg her for another chance. But no, he just let her walk away.
Monica listened as Tess explained Rachel's circumstance. Two years they'd been apart and Rachel's heart still grieved. She looks at men the way she looked at Andrew because she is looking for someone to fill that void in her heart, always hoping to find someone interested in her.
"She won't find anything," Tess said. "Deep inside, she keeps praying to get back together with him."
"Why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn't want her?" Monica asked.
"I don't know, Baby," Tess sighed. Just then, the two angels saw a shadow approaching Rachel. It hesitated when it saw Tess and Monica. The shadow began to manifest itself in the form of a person. He was a slim man with a snaky manner and dressed in black. His eyes were dark and filled with hate. He looked them over.
"Who are you?" Tess demanded.
"I go by many names," he answered. "Depression, Resentment, Jealousy, Pride, Bitterness. . . Just a few of the names I've used. You can call me Bob." His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "But my favorite name so far is Self-worthlessness. It's my new assignment and, I must say, I've been pretty effective. Especially with Rachel; she's so vulnerable. Watch this." He put his hand on Rachel's shoulder and spoke into her ear. "Oh, you poor thing--he didn't want you. Of course not; who are you? What are you? You've tried so hard over the years to make yourself look pretty, but it hasn't worked. He didn't want you 'cause you're not woman enough. You're just a lump of a human being. You're a fraud." Rachel stopped crying and just sat in her chair, squirming and feeling very uncomfortable in her body.
"I'm nothing," Rachel whispered. The angels watched in horror.
"Stop it! You're destroying her!" Tess shouted.
"You've no right to be here!" Monica cried. Bob cackled.
"Actually, I have every right to be here," Bob said. "But if you want, I'll leave. For now." And he disappeared.
Rachel buried her face in her hands. She curled up on the chair in a fetal position and whimpered. She sat there for what seemed like an eternity. After that, she got up, ran to her room, and stared at herself in the mirror. She wiped away the tears. She turned, sat down on her bed, and bowed her head.
"Why did You make me a woman?" she cried to God. "What's my purpose here as a woman? I don't even feel like one! I wish I could get back together with him. Please!" She paused. "Forget it! Why doesn't he want me? Do You even care?!" She began to cry again.
"Tess," Monica pleaded, "why isn't He here now?"
"Now is not the time," Tess said firmly. "She hasn't recognized her problem yet. She doesn't even see it as a problem; she has a 'wishful thinking' mind-set."
"But, Tess; was Bob right? Does he have a right to be here?" Monica asked, dreading the answer.
"Yes, he does," Tess replied ruefully. She pointed to the photo album and a stuffed monkey on Rachel's bookshelf. "So long as she keeps reminders in her sight of that man, Bob has every right to taunt her. Memories can encourage you, but some can also torment you."
"If you let them," Monica added quietly. She watched as Rachel cried; everything within Monica wanted to hug Rachel and bring her comfort. But she knew that wasn't her job. Now they just needed to wait.
**********
The following evening as Rachel and the angels were closing up, Monica watched Rachel. She had been quieter and withdrawn. She hadn't even flirted with Andrew, much to his relief. Both angels had, however, tried to converse with her, get to know her, during the quiet periods but she would give short answers. It seemed that she was uncomfortable giving too much, let alone any, information about herself to people she didn't know very well. Monica was determined to crack this tough nut.
"Rachel, are you busy tonight?" she asked.
"No," Rachel replied, without looking at her.
"Well, would you like to get a coffee with me and two of my friends?" Monica offered smiling. Rachel looked at her and half-smiled back.
"Um, actually. . . Why don't we go to my place? I'll make coffee--I make great coffee. It's just that I'm not really in the mood to be out tonight," she explained.
"We'd be delighted; won't we, Andrew?" Monica said, nudging Andrew in the arm.
"Sure," Andrew said, trying to be enthusiastic. Rachel grinned. Just then, Tess knocked at the door. Andrew unlocked and opened the door.
"Are we ready?" Tess asked cheerfully.
"Yes, but there's been a wee change. We're going to Rachel's; she'll make coffee for us," Monica said.
"Oh, that's kind of you. By the way, my name is Tess," she said holding out her hand.
"It's very nice to meet you," Rachel smiled and shook Tess' hand. "Well, I guess we can call it a night now. Andrew, would you please lock the door? I'll shut off the lights and we can go out the back door." Andrew nodded and locked the door while Rachel shut off the lights. Then the four were off.
The subway ride home was rather quiet for the four of them. Rachel sat on the seat with her arms folded. Every so often she would turn her head to look at people coming in and out of the train car. She would especially notice if a good-looking man was there. Her eyes always shifted to the left hand. As if anything would happen even if he didn't have a ring, she thought. When they arrived at Rachel's stop, they exited the car and walked behind her. She took long strides, almost as if she had forgotten about her guests.
As they were walking near a Latino restaurant, a group of middle-aged Latino men were coming out of it. Rachel happened to cross their path; when the saw her, they descended upon her like a pack of wolves.
"Oh, honey, you want something to eat?"
"You want a drink?"
"You want a ride home?" Rachel raised her hand and politely but firmly said, "No, thank you," and kept walking. The angels had stopped and watched in amazement as all this took place.
"No wonder Rachel doesn't think much of herself," Monica declared. "The men in this neighborhood treat her like a piece of meat." The group of men gazed at Rachel as she walked away. The angels kept following her. They arrived at Rachel's home; it was a small house, almost like a cottage. As she put her key in the doorknob, she looked at the angels for the first time since they'd gotten off the train.
"I suppose you saw what happened back there," she said sheepishly. Andrew and Tess turned their heads away, while Monica grinned understandingly.
"Does that happen often?" Monica asked.
"Yeah. What can I say? I'm the belle of the ball in this neighborhood," Rachel said, opening the door. "Everywhere else in Boston, I'm just another face in the crowd." She smiled and beckoned them in. Monica looked around her house; it was sparsely decorated with earthy colors. A sandy-colored couch, a wooden rocking chair with brown plush cushions, a hazelnut-colored Oriental rug, and a glass coffee table were the few main pieces of furniture in the living room. She also kept an antique wooden hutch against the wall. In short, Rachel's decor was simple, yet tasteful and classy. Rachel motioned them to sit on the couch.
"Have a seat; I'll make the coffee," she said.
"Would you mind if I helped?" Monica offered. "I'm a bit of a coffee admirer. Perhaps I can give you some advice that I've learned over the years?"
"Sure," Rachel said. As she and Monica left for the kitchen, Andrew sat down and turned to Tess.
"So, are you going to fill me in?" he asked. Tess sat at one end of the couch and told him what she and Monica had observed the night before. Just as she'd finished telling him, Monica entered the living room carrying a tray with cups, saucers, a container of sugar, spoons and a small pitcher of milk. Rachel came in behind her carrying a thermos-like decanter and a plate of almond biscotti. She poured coffee into each cup and handed it to her guests. She sat on the rocking chair and sipped her coffee. No one said anything at first. Tess could no longer stand the awkward silence.
"So, Rachel--why don't you tell us something about yourself?" she prompted.
"I hardly know where to begin," Rachel replied.
"Well, why don't you tell us a funny story?" Tess suggested. Rachel smiled.
"Oh! Yeah, I got plenty of those," she laughed.
**********
An hour later, Rachel had entertained the angels with several tales of misadventures she and her best friend had gotten into. She felt good about having these new friends in her home, as if she'd known them for years. Almost. They brought a certain peace, a certain love, with them as if their very beings were made of that. She admired the way they watched out for, or rather, served each other. Monica would pour a cup of coffee for Andrew, Andrew would hand Tess a biscotti, and Tess would sweeten Monica's coffee. All with smiles. Just then the phone rang. Rachel got up.
"Would you excuse me please?" she said. The angels nodded. She walked to the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hi, Rachel," answered a familiar male voice.
"Who is this?" she asked, knowing full well who it was but afraid of the answer.
"You know who it is," he replied.
"Oh my god! How are you?"
"I'm all right." Then there was a pause. Rachel didn't know what to say; she felt so many mixed, tense emotions. She felt her gut telling her "trouble," but she ignored it. No, can't be--this is the answer to my prayers! she thought.
"Why are you calling me after all this time?" she asked nervously. "If you're calling, that must mean you've been thinking about me. Right?"
"You got it," he said.
"What do you want?"
"I want to get back together with you." Rachel's hands shook; she wanted to scream "yes!" but her lips said something completely different.
"I don't know," she answered.
"What do you mean you don't know?" he demanded.
"Look," she said almost crying, "I've been waiting for this call for a long time. You don't know how hard it's been for me to get over you, and at the same time I remember how much you hurt me. I'm conflicted; you think it's easy for me to make this decision right now?"
"Fine. You think it over," he said. "Why don't you sleep on it tonight? Call me back tomorrow. Here's my number." Rachel grabbed a pen from one of the drawers and wrote the number on the palm of her hand. She said good-bye and hung up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked back to the living room. Tess and Andrew were cleaning up the cups and crumbs from the table; Monica was admiring the ornaments on the hutch. Rachel didn't stack fine china on this hutch; she kept CD's and cassette tapes on the middle shelf, ornaments on the top shelf, and some books and a small stereo on the bottom shelf.
"Hey. Andrew, Tess, thank you so much for cleaning up. You really don't have to, but I appreciate it," Rachel said. Tess and Andrew smiled.
"Should we take them to the kitchen?" Andrew asked.
"Yeah, that would be great," she said. "Just put everything in the sink. I'll wash up later." She picked up the decanter and took it to the kitchen. She returned to the living room and noticed that Monica was still admiring the hutch.
"What do you keep in the drawers?" Monica asked.
"Not much," Rachel shrugged. "Some wood and glass cleaners and rags in this cabinet. Some drawers are empty, the others have pens and miscellaneous papers in them."
"So nothing personal?" Monica asked.
"Nah. All the personal stuff is in my bedroom," she answered. "My room's down that hall." She pointed with her left hand. Monica caught sight of some numbers on Rachel's palm.
"What's that?" she asked. Rachel looked at her palm.
"Oh, that!" she said. "Um. . . You know that phone call I just got?" Monica nodded. "It was my ex-boyfriend. He wants to get back together with me. I said I wasn't sure, so he told me to think about it and call him. This is his number."
"Are you going to call him?" Monica asked. Rachel looked at her palm again.
"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I don't want to talk about it." Andrew and Tess walked in. Tess noticed that Rachel had withdrawn again. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed.
"I guess we'd better go now," she said. Rachel grinned weakly.
"Thank you for coming," Rachel said.
"We should do this again," Monica suggested.
"Yeah. Actually, that would be nice," Rachel agreed. Andrew walked over to the door and opened it. Tess and Monica waved good-bye to Rachel as they walked out the door. Andrew looked at Rachel and smiled.
"See you tomorrow," he said. Rachel nodded, then he left and closed the door. She sat down on the couch and sighed. Once they were walking further down the street, Tess asked Monica what Rachel had told her. Monica stopped and frowned.
"She told me that her ex-boyfriend called," Monica said. "He wants to get back together with her."
"Oh, no," Tess said raising her eyes upward.
"So why didn't Rachel look happy about it?" Andrew asked. "Isn't this what she wanted?"
"Perhaps she's being cautious," Monica guessed.
"Caution is good," Tess agreed. "What else did she tell you?"
"That's it. She shut off," Monica said. "How can we help someone who doesn't want to be helped?"
"Keep trying, Angel Girl," Tess said gently. "She'll come around."
"No, she won't," a raspy voice answered. The angels looked around and saw Bob standing ahead of them. He was enraged. "Stay away! I have every right to be there! Oh, and by the way, you can bet I'm going to use that phone call to my advantage."
"Make as many threats as you want to," Tess warned, "but I can guarantee you'll be defeated!"
"Ooh, I'm so scared," he retorted. "Try it." Then he vanished. The angels stood in silence, when suddenly Tess began to laugh.
"What's so funny?" Andrew asked.
"He has no idea who he'll be up against," Tess laughed.
"That's right!" Andrew smiled.
"When will that be?" Monica asked.
"Soon," Tess assured her. She turned to Andrew. "Stay with Rachel tonight. She's going to need some comfort. Give her encouragement. Bring her peace. Lord knows she needs it." Andrew nodded. He headed back to Rachel's house. Monica looked at Tess.
"Is there anything I can do?" she asked.
"Yes. Be her friend," Tess answered. Monica sighed wistfully.
**********
The next morning, Rachel and Jenny were taking inventory at the shop while Andrew and Monica watched the registers. Monica waited until there were no customers and Rachel was out of earshot. She turned to Andrew and asked how the night had gone.
"It was a struggle," he admitted. "You-know-who showed up."
"Oh, no," Monica said. "What did you do?"
"Well, he put as many degrading thoughts into her head as much as he could," Andrew replied. "And I. . . Well, I guess you could say, I 'counter-attacked' him. I spoke words of love, peace, and hope to her." Andrew shook his head. "She cried herself to sleep." No sooner had Andrew finished speaking when they heard a glass object crash on the floor.
"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" Rachel's voice cried. "I promise I'll pay for it."
"No staff discount," Jenny's voice said. Then she walked away. Andrew and Monica rushed to the aisle where Rachel had been working. She was kneeling on the floor carefully picking up the glass shards. She looked up.
"It was a glass angel," she said sheepishly.
"Would you like us to help?" Monica offered.
"Just get me the broom and dustpan," Rachel said. "Please." Monica nodded and walked to the back. Andrew bent down to pick up the remaining shards. He looked at Rachel's hands and noticed they were shaking.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Yeah, I guess," she replied. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. I had two cups of coffee this morning, so the caffeine must be kicking in." She was nervous about him calling back, but she certainly wasn't going to tell Andrew that. "I'll be fine." She smiled. Monica returned with the broom and dustpan. Rachel and Andrew placed the shards on the dustpan and got up. Rachel took the broom and swept up the glass powder. "I'll finish up here. You two should get back to the counter." Later that day, Tess walked in. She went to Monica and took her aside.
"Any progress?" she asked.
"No, I'm afraid not," Monica answered. "She seems edgy today. Maybe she's nervous about calling him back."
"She's not going to call him back," Tess announced. "And she's going to be in for a lot disappointment. But don't worry, Baby--everything is going to come together for her that will bring healing." Monica smiled.
"I can't wait 'til He gets here," she declared happily.
"Turn around," Tess said. Monica turned around and was nearly taken aback. There He was--in all His splendor yet dressed in humanity. Monica was about to kneel, but He looked at her and held up His hand. "Not yet" he seemed to say by His gesture. He turned around and looked for Rachel. He walked by Andrew, who bowed his head greeting Him in silent reverence. He acknowledged Andrew by nodding His head. He found Rachel standing in front of a display shelf taking inventory. She turned her head, noticing the gentleman standing two feet away from her. He was a rather young man, olive-skinned with light brown hair down to His shoulders. She could tell He was a wealthy man by His clothes: a long black gabardine coat, Italian leather shoes, a navy Hugo Boss suit, crisp white shirt, and blue silk tie. She looked at His face; it was the kindest one she'd ever seen. Yet, she sensed something familiar about His face. Where do I know Him from? she wondered.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"No, thank you," He replied. "I've found what I'm looking for." Rachel smiled. She returned to her inventory-taking, but not before she noticed white gloves on His hands. It's an odd season to be wearing gloves, she thought. Maybe He's one of those eccentric millionaires. She shrugged off the thought. As she began to do her work, she could feel that He was still looking at her. She looked at Him.
"Are you sure I can't help you in something?" she asked.
"No, thank you," He said again. "I just wanted to see how you were doing, Rachel." Her eyes widened.
"How. . . how did you. . ?" she began. He just smiled, turned around, and walked away. She stood for a moment in a bit of shock. Rachel went after Him, but it seemed He vanished into thin air. She looked at Monica. "Did you see that man? Where did He go?" Monica shrugged her shoulders apologetically.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't see where He went. He just disappeared." Rachel looked around.
"It's not possible," she muttered to herself, returning to her aisle. She picked up her clipboard and pen. "Couldn't be. Could it?" Monica heard Rachel's voice and went to check on her.
"Are you all right?" she asked gently. Rachel shook her head.
"That was just a weird experience," Rachel replied. "I'm like. . . I don't know. I'm at a loss for words." She struggled to say what she really felt, but couldn't express it. She checked her watch; two hours to go until closing. Time isn't going by fast enough, she thought.
"You look agitated," Monica observed. "Will you be needing any company after work?" Rachel hesitated; she didn't exactly want company that evening, but she also didn't want to turn herself into a "watched-pot-never-boils" cliché. No, a distraction would be good.
"Sure," she replied. "But, um. . . just you, if you don't mind." Monica nodded. They returned to work.
**********
That evening after closing time, Monica waved good-bye to Andrew as she and Rachel headed out. The subway ride home turned out to be a silent one again. Rachel just sat in her seat with her arms folded. She kept checking her watch, as if she were afraid of missing something or getting home late. When they arrived at Rachel's house, she told Monica to make herself comfortable, then ran to the telephone in the kitchen. She dialed the number of her answering service. She smiled when the automated voice said, "You have one new message." As the message ran, Rachel realized it was only a credit card company inquiring about a late payment. She pressed 3 to erase the message and hung up the phone. She walked into the living room where Monica was waiting. She sighed.
"Are you all right?" Monica asked.
"I'm fine," Rachel pouted. "He didn't call."
"Are you going to call him, then?" Monica asked.
"At first I didn't know if I would," Rachel admitted, "but then I thought, 'Hey, he called me first. If he's serious, he'll call back.' Right?"
"I guess," Monica answered. Rachel smiled.
"How about some coffee?" she suggested. "It'll get my mind off all this." Monica nodded. They walked to the kitchen and set up the coffee maker. As they waited for the coffee to brew, they sat quietly in the chairs.
"I'm sorry I'm not much of a talker," Rachel finally said. "I'm not exactly an open book."
"It's OK," Monica assured her. "I'm not going to push you. But I do want you to feel free to talk to me." Rachel picked up her spoon and twirled it in her hand. What have I got to lose? she thought.
"I don't even know why I love him, why I want him back," she admitted. "He's such a jerk."
"Why do you hold on to those feelings?" Monica asked.
"I can't help it," Rachel replied. "It's like something doesn't want me to let go. I pray to God all the time to send him back to me, even though I know it's wrong. When he called, it was like the answer to my prayers!" She paused. "Yeah, I pray. A lot of people don't, but they should. Do you pray, Monica?" Monica smiled.
"All the time," she answered. "And I agree with you that more people should too. But if this is what you wanted, why didn't you say yes to him right away?"
"I wanted to take it slow, I guess," Rachel said. "It's like I said--he's a jerk. I can use this to test his heart."
"What about your heart?" Monica asked.
"Nobody cares about my heart," Rachel replied dimly. "You saw those guys come after me yesterday. You think they care about my heart? They only look at the outside; they don't give a crap about what's within. Makes me feel stupid and cheap." She covered her face as she tried to hold in the tears. "Don't think I'm crazy, but there are times when I feel so awkward in my body--like I'm a fraud, just a lump of a human being." Monica winced as Rachel repeated the same lies Bob had been feeding her. She reached out and held Rachel's hand as if to say, "I'm here to comfort you." Rachel wiped away her tears and looked at the coffee maker.
"I'm so sorry. I've totally forgotten about the coffee."
"It's all right," Monica said. "But now's as good a time as any to have some." They both chuckled.
As the evening progressed, the two friends shared their dreams with each other. Rachel revealed that she'd always wanted to be a writer and to work at a radio station. She loved music, something Monica loved as well. Actually, Monica loved singing, though she admitted she wasn't very good at it. Monica asked her why she worked as a salesperson instead of pursuing her dreams.
"I dropped out of college two years ago," Rachel admitted. "I was an English major, but I felt like that wasn't going to lead anywhere concrete. People got bills to pay, ya know. And some people have commented that since I'm tall, I should be a model. Ha! I'm not exactly graceful, and I think my face is kinda flawed." She giggled nervously.
"Oh, not at all," Monica said. "You're exactly as God wanted you to be. From the moment you were conceived, His hand has been at work on you and on your life. Have you let Him mold you?" Rachel looked down. She knew she hadn't; she'd been so preoccupied with her own problems, asking so much of God that she'd forgotten to really seek Him.
"I guess not," Rachel answered quietly.
"Think about it," Monica urged. She looked out the window at the dark sky. "I should go now; it's late."
"He didn't call," Rachel said. Monica did not answer. "But there's always tomorrow, right?" She smiled hopefully.
"Yes," Monica agreed somewhat uncertainly.
*********
Rachel awoke groggily the next morning. She grabbed her watch from the nightstand and squinted as she read the time; it was 9:30 am. Thank God it's Saturday, she thought slamming the watch back on the nightstand. She rolled the covers over her head and went back to sleep.
At noontime, Rachel was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of tea. She kept the cordless phone near her. Just in case. When she'd read as much of the paper as she could, she got up and went to the bedroom. She plopped down on her bed, grabbed the television remote, and clicked on the TV. She flipped through every channel--cheesy movie on one station, golf game on another, infomercial on the next, and so on. Disgusted, she clicked the television off. "There's never any good TV on Saturday afternoons," she muttered. She got up and returned to the living room. She looked around and wondered why she'd gone back there. She turned and went back to the bedroom. She looked at her bookshelf. She searched underneath a stack of old magazines and papers, and found the first note he'd ever written to her. Even though she knew exactly what it said, she opened it up to read it. Rachel giggled when she remembered how he had wooed her; he was charmingly insecure, but good at the sweet talk. She sighed as she refolded the letter, smelled it (even though he never put cologne on it), and placed it in her little photo album.
At around 5:30 that evening, Rachel began to lose patience. "He said he wanted me back," she fumed. "Why hasn't he called?!" She paced up and down the hallway, and all around the house. Then the doorbell rang. Rachel tried to steady her nerves as she headed towards the door. She opened it and saw the three angels.
"Hello," Monica said smiling.
"Hi. Come on in," Rachel said. "What brings you here?"
"We were wondering if you'd like to go out with us to dinner," Tess said. "There's so many great restaurants in Boston. We heard about some great Italian restaurants in a place called the North End." Rachel sighed.
"No, thank you. I'd rather not," she replied.
"Why not?" Andrew asked. Rachel bit her lip; she felt embarrassed explaining why she didn't want to leave the house.
"Umm. . ." she began.
"You're waiting for his call, aren't you?" Monica asked. Rachel looked at Andrew and Tess.
"Monica, they don't need to know," she said through gritted teeth. "I don't have to explain myself." She turned around. The angels looked at each other.
"Do you mind if we keep you company for a while?" Tess offered.
"OK," Rachel shrugged. "Anybody want some tea?" They all shook their heads. Rachel sat down on the rocking chair, cordless phone in hand. The angels sat down on the couch.
More than an hour passed and not one word was spoken. Rachel checked her watch; it was a quarter to seven. She suddenly got up and stomped into the kitchen. She closed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. She squeezed the phone in her hand and looked at it. Then she finally let it out.
"Call, damn it!" she screamed and hurled the phone at the wall. Rachel watched as the object went from phone to broken plastic and electronic parts in a matter of seconds. Her heart pounded; the angels ran in and saw what she'd done. Rachel covered her face with her hand; Monica and Tess led her back to the living room. By that time Rachel was weeping. They sat her down on the rocking chair again. "He doesn't want me."
"Rachel," Monica began softly, "please listen to what we are about to tell you. We are angels, sent by God above."
"What?" Rachel retorted. "Prove it."
"Rachel," Tess continued, "God has seen your struggle. He knows how your heart has been aching to be loved. There's nothing wrong with that, but you have forgotten that you already are loved. God loves you, baby. That love is far greater than any human on earth can give you." Rachel lifted her eyes to see the angels and was startled to see that they were dressed in white and a soft light radiated from them.
"It's true," she whispered. "But what about all this? Can you take away this pain?"
"We can't," Andrew replied, "but we know someone who can."
"What's going on here?!" cried an angry voice from the shadows. Bob emerged from the far end of the room. "What do you think you're doing here?! She's mine!" The angels pretended not to notice him, and they each moved to the side. A bright light began to form into the shape of a man. Rachel saw that it was the same man she'd seen in the shop, but this time she knew He was no ordinary man. Now He was dressed not in fancy attire but in tattered jeans and T-shirt. Rachel almost laughed at the idea of Jesus in jeans. I thought He only wore togas and tunics, she thought. He held out His pierced hand to her and touched her forehead. His touch both burned and soothed.
"You remember Me now, don't you?" He asked gently.
"Yes, I do," Rachel said quietly. She got off the chair, knelt down, and asked, "What can I do for You?"
"No, I did not come to be served, but to serve," He answered. "Rachel, you have not let Me serve you or even love you. I know that there is rejection in your heart because of what this man has done. Do you want to be healed of this?"
"Yes, I do!" Rachel cried. "I can't bear it anymore!" Bob took a step forward, but Jesus held up His hand and stopped him.
"Go to your room," He instructed, "and rid yourself of his memories." Rachel swallowed.
"But. . . I. . ." she stammered, holding back the tears. Protesting was useless, she realized. She got up and went to her room. Bob tried to stop her, but Andrew wouldn't let him pass. Rachel picked up the stuffed monkey from the shelf. She grabbed her photo album and flipped the pages to his pictures. She removed all his pictures from the plastic sleeves and headed towards the door. Monica appeared before her and pointed to the bookshelf. Rachel stopped and looked back. The letters! She ran back and grabbed the letters. Jesus waited for her at the door.
"Follow Me," He said. They all walked out and headed to the backyard. He led the way; Rachel walked behind Him with Monica and Tess on either side of her and Andrew behind her. Bob ran up behind them and reached out to Rachel, but Andrew caught his arm and pushed it away. Jesus brought them to an old barbecue grill. Oh no, Rachel thought, are we going to do what I think we're going to do? She hesitated.
"Yes, that's right, Rachel," Bob said out of breath. "We don't really want to part ways with him, do we?" Rachel glanced at Bob, seeing him for the first time. What she saw was an evil being gasping and cowering at the sight of the One much stronger than he. She then looked at Jesus and saw a face of pure love shining from His face. And she knew His love was all for her, that he would never fail her. A love she could rest in and be secure with. And yet she felt so unworthy of it. She began to cry.
"I'm such a failure!" she weeped. "I've abandoned You and let You down! How can You still have compassion for me?" He held her hand.
"Because I delight in the prodigal who returns to Me," He assured her. Rachel wiped her tears. She took a deep breath, threw the monkey in a nearby trash barrel, and placed the pictures and letters in the grill. Monica gave her a box of matches; Rachel lit one and placed it in the grill. She lit another match. The pictures and letters burned steadily. Rachel knelt down.
"Forgive me," she said to Him. "I let these things and false hopes take Your place. I want to renounce this so-called love for him and have the grace to forgive him as You forgive me." She bowed her head.
"No! She's. . . she's. . . mine!" Bob screamed weakly. Jesus held His pierced hand over Rachel's head and let a few drops of His precious blood wash over her. Bob fell to the ground and whimpered. Jesus held Rachel's hand and led her in front of Bob.
"Do you still want him hanging around you?" He asked.
"No, I do not," Rachel said firmly. "I want him gone, to disappear because I've been changed! Go, and never return in the name of Jesus!" Bob began to fade away and burned up into a cloud of dark smoke. Rachel and the angels cheered. She looked back at the grill; the letters and pictures had become nothing but ashes.
"You are a new creation in Him," Tess said. "And the old things have passed away." Rachel smiled; for the first time in years she felt freedom and peace. And yet. . .
"Where do I go from here?" she asked.
"Just keep your faith in the Healer," Tess urged, "and everything will fall into place." The Healer, however, had disappeared but Rachel could still feel the presence of His love.
"I'm not alone anymore, am I?" she asked.
"You never were," Monica smiled. The sun had set by then, leaving behind only a faint glow of light underneath a dark purple sky. Rachel and the angels looked up to admire the sky.
"Hey, I know you're angels, but didn't you guys say something about dinner earlier?" Rachel asked, chuckling.
"We sure did," Andrew said.
"Let's go," Rachel said. "Tess, you mentioned the North End, didn't you?"
"I did," Tess replied.
"Great! I know my way around there pretty well." As they headed to the front yard, Rachel stopped and sighed blissfully. "No regrets," she declared. Monica went to close the front door as Tess, Andrew and Rachel headed out. When she reached the door, she heard the phone ring. Everyone turned around, for they all heard it too. Rachel stopped; she looked inside her house. "No regrets," she repeated, and kept walking. Monica closed the door carefully and joined her friends.
THE END
(September 1999-October 2000)
15