Chapter 7
Eliza breathed a contented sigh as she carried her load of a backpack home from school that night, clutching the shoulder straps with both hands and striding with an extra, blissful spring in her gate as she walked. As she moved down the seemingly deserted road on her own, she didn't fail to hum a gentle, soothing tune from her memory, murmuring every other word or so out loud just because she knew them so well. She didn't particularly care what song it was, for that wasn't exactly what the main focus was in her mind at the moment. She couldn't wait to be an official caseworker. Her mother had told her mind-blowing tales about her own times as a caseworker and it was absolutely hopeless to think such things wouldn't send Eliza's vivid, overpowering imagination into an ecstatic frenzy. It all sounded so incredible! Helping humans, getting to know them, even traveling around the world sometimes. Her mother had told her as well of wonderfully dangerous experiences she had gone through also.
She had passed on stories about certain cases when she had been arrested, shot, lost her memory, blinded, she had even confronted the devil himself on many occasions. When she was eight years old, Eliza recalled being kidnapped by the very demons themselves and held hostage until her mother had rescued her. Her mom had been so brave and – as she stared eye-to-eye in the face of evil – she looked calm and expertise, as though she'd done so on many a time before. Of course, Eliza also very vividly recalled the horrible terror and sadness that had overcame her that night when she was sure both she and her mother would be taken by Satan and his minions and it left her only a slight bit nervous for the following years. But she knew that someday she would be as experienced as her mother. A 'heavy hitter' of an angel as Tess had often put it. A veteran so confident and proud that even the devil sunk back in her presence.
She was so close…and she couldn't wait. All she had to do was finish this assignment and then they would all have a big celebration in her honor. She fantasized about coming times that were sure to happen when incredible legends of angels like Gabriel would approach her and compliment her on her completed cases. It all sounded so strangely exciting and she just knew she would be more than good at it. She just had to be.
The final, blood-red rays of the dying sun were just beginning to cast lengthy shadows across the sidewalk under Eliza's feet as she rounded the last corner of the short walk and the temporary assignment house came into view once more. Her miniscule grin growing just a little at the thought of some long-awaited relaxation time, Eliza quickened her pace somewhat in a meek attempt to get home faster. She knew her mother wouldn't be there now. No doubt she had long-since gone over to Andrew's temporary apartment, which didn't really bother her. After all, the apartment was only a ways back the other way if she ever wanted to see her.
But it was just then that the young teen recalled, with an irritated, dreadful groan, the school project she had forgotten back in her classroom. Stopping dead in her tracks, Eliza lulled over the consequences in her head if she chose to continue on home instead of going back for it. She hated doing schoolwork. She didn't really understand why it had to be done in the first place if all she was trying to do was help her teacher. But, as her mother had explained so thoroughly only a few nights before, if she wanted to gain her teacher's trust, she was going to have to be more than a model student, unless she wanted him to think she was completely lazy and worthless.
That was the extent of her dilemma, for she knew now what had to be done. Dropping her head back briefly to rest on the top of her backpack in obvious annoyance, Eliza then turned on her heel and headed back toward the school. She knew Mr. Williams (that was her teacher's name) would probably still be there in the classroom anyway, so she wouldn't need to worry about the school being locked up just yet. Trudging the short distance back to the school, Eliza was more than aware of the slowly disappearing spring in her step as she moved up off of the sidewalk and onto the school lawn before reaching the main entrance. Instead she found herself dragging her feet just a little as she made her way frustratingly down the long halls and past classroom doorways before coming to her own homeroom.
The door rested half open and as she stopped before it, Eliza tapped lightly on the neatly painted wood with one fist as it began to swing open just a little more from the teeny force her one hand was applying. As the door now fell completely open, swinging into a revealing gap and knocking loudly against the wall behind it, Eliza could now see that there was no one at all in the room now but herself. Glancing around briefly with only slight puzzlement, Eliza eventually made the conscious decision that it was possible he had already left and, shrugging off the miniscule ordeal, she moved over to where her own desk sat longingly in the back row. She already knew her project would be sitting expectantly inside, just awaiting her return patiently, as though it knew she was coming back for it.
But as she reached her desk, Eliza noticed something else that she was sure was meant to serve some purpose to her. It was oddly unsettling. There, on Mr. Williams' own desk at the back of the room, sat an empty, sticky whisky bottle on full display, as if meaningfully set out for someone to see. Knowing exactly what this meant and what she had to do now, Eliza hastily glanced around her once again, as if just making sure she hadn't missed anything she perhaps hadn't seen before. But obviously finding no one in view, she instead opened her mouth and called out to her teacher. But, just as suspected, she got no reply and, her previously calm heart slowly beginning to gain momentum with each fearful pound, she then raced over to the window, knowing that the staff parking lot was clearly visible from here.
"Oh God, please don't let him be…" but her pleading prayer trailed off as her honey-brown eyes purposefully fell upon Mr. Williams' usual parking space in the corner of the lot and she closed her eyes momentarily to compose her panicky, whirlpool of thoughts for a very brief moment. For the parking space…was empty. Her teacher was driving drunk somewhere. No doubt if she didn't think of something fast, he would be certain to harm either himself or someone else, probably injuring them beyond repair…or worse. She had to do something. And fast.
She was no longer thinking of herself and her desperate desire to be a caseworker, she was instead contemplating the inevitable fate of a vulnerable human being and a good man. She couldn't let this happen. She wouldn't let this happen. But as she scrambled desperately in her own head to come up with something, anything she could do to prevent this from happening, she realized she hadn't a hope of saving anyone's life in this state. She was far too worked up. But, try as she might, she just couldn't bring herself to calm down. It was simply impossible for someone who cared so much. And there was obviously no way for her to reason sensibly without calming down first.
But, after a long and grueling jumble of thoughtful suggestions to herself, she eventually decided she had only one option. She needed help. There was no way she was going to handle this on her own in the panicked position she was in. Andrew's apartment was only a little ways down the road, after all, certainly closer than her own house. It was a simple enough plan at the moment. All she had to do was go there and recruit her expert mother to assist her. She would know what to do. She had to. That was it then. That was what she was going to do. That was what she had to do.
Dropping her backpack from her shoulders onto the classroom floor so she may be able to move faster, Eliza then bolted from the room and backtracked down the long hallways of the enormous middle school, eventually coming to the main exit once more and headed out onto the street as quickly as her young legs would carry her…
… "I still can't believe this. I never drink wine." Monica stated almost pointlessly, more to herself than Andrew as the Angel of Death poured them both a glass from a fancy bottle in the living room as they sat on the couch next to one another, broad smiles across their faces as they knew they were celebrated her small fete of moving in.
But Andrew only chuckled quietly as he set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of the couch before settling himself back into a sitting position next to Monica. "Well, there are a lot of things we never did before these past few days." He laughed softly in response, a gentle, loving sound Monica couldn't resist smiling at. Ever since he had come back, it seemed that every single little thing about him, his voice, his eyes, his touch all simply drove away any negative sensations or worries that perhaps still lingered in her heart, completely replacing them with nothing but love and kindness.
Holding his gaze for a long second, Monica couldn't believe she had ever managed an entire five years without him. Sitting there next to him with his hand over hers and his handsome features illuminated with the gentle glow of the candle lights around them, Monica felt her heart melt under his wonderful, blue-green gaze and a small smile playing on his lips. Opening her own, Monica then spoke in a voice so low that Andrew was forced to lean in close to her face to hear her. "I love you Andrew." She told him tenderly, her Irish lilt so barely audible that her voice was barely above a whisper. Their faces were mere inches part now and Andrew couldn't help but allow her words to spring straight into his gentle heart as he stared back at her, knowing that it was simply impossible for her to ever know how much he loved her in return.
But with nothing more said between them, they inched closer still and their lips were nearly brushing each other when the startling sound of the door being flung open tore them from the affectionate moment and they jumped to their feet immediately to see Eliza standing in the doorway, panting as if she just finished running a hundred-mile marathon. Fortunately for them, she hadn't seemed to have noticed their horribly secretive stance only moments before as both of their hearts pounded madly in their chests from the entire situation.
After only a mere moment, Eliza finally managed to spill out some form of explanation in between frighteningly deep breaths. It was clear enough that whatever she had to say, it was obviously important. "Mom…quick…Mr. Williams…he's driving drunk somewhere…we have to find him…come quick!" She exclaimed as frightened tears suddenly began to tighten in her throat from the ordeal. Andrew and Monica exchanged brief glances of horrified disbelief and Monica then quickly turned her attention back to her daughter and nodded understandingly. "Alright. Listen carefully. You keep looking and we'll meet you downstairs okay? We'll be right down. Go!" She demanded urgently as she waved her daughter from the room.
Eliza didn't need to be told twice. Turning once again on her heel, she disappeared out into the hall and slammed the door behind her. Monica and Andrew then wasted no time in rushing around the room, extinguishing seemingly hundreds of candles as quickly as they could. They knew they had to move fast, but they couldn't very well leave a dozen lit candles unattended in the building. But just then, Monica wished more than ever that she had simply left those candles and followed her daughter down. For the most horrifying sound in the world then erupted from the open window on the streets below. It brought tears of dread and fear into Monica's eyes in mere seconds. The squeal of car breaks could be heard as suddenly as ever and then the angel was sure she heard her daughter's horrified scream over the shattering of a windshield and the horrible, unmistakable crunch of a car nose slamming head-on into a telephone pole.