Angels in Disguises

I'm working hard on this book, I hope my writing shows that.

CHRISTOPHER

 

I was pacing. Surely, making Isabella uncomfortable and doing exactly the opposite of what I should be doing: comforting her. She’s sitting by the window, staring out at the frosty fog that has taken the place of the wintry snow. Lisa walked out, having being called into the emergency board meeting.

 

So far, Isabella’s father has agreed to wait on the decision, but his patience is wearing thin. I can’t keep my hands from tangling themselves in my hair. I’ve done all that I can do for now; all I can do is wait. My eyes travel to Isabella and I notice her expression is.. a smile.

 

I stop, involuntarily, captivated by the glow coming from her. I cannot decipher her thoughts through her expression. “Christopher.” Her voice is soft, and as if on cue. I follow her eyes out the window as I approach her. Her small hands form into a pointer and I notice what she’s smiling about.

 

A butterfly hovers by the window, following her finger as she moves it across the glass. Isabella’s warmth has grown, I can tell just by standing near her. Her pale skin seems to glow, as she smiles at the creature.

 

Her eyes flicker to mine. The hope is astounding and knocks me breathless. She reaches her hand out to me and it takes me a moment to gain the control of my arm. I reach out and link my fingers through hers, walking closer. As I sit behind her, I wrap my arms around her, keeping our hands linked.

 

She continues to play with the butterfly and I lay my head on her shoulder, smiling to myself. Suddenly, I focus on nothing but her and this moment. It’s what’s truly important. I cannot control the decisions made behind the closed doors. I can simply hope, while enjoying the moment spent with my Isabella.

 

Isabella drops her hand slowly, turning towards me. The butterfly does not move, but stays by the window, as if watching us. I connect my eyes to Isabella’s and she smiles again. “It’s going to be okay.” She whispers, looking back to the butterfly. “I know it.”

 

I pull her up, into my lap, and cradle her in my arms. This sudden movement makes her muscles tense slightly, but as soon as she can, she relaxes in my arms; again her trust in me working it’s way to its full potential.

 

She lays her head against my chest, continuing to watch the butterfly in the window. “Christopher..” She whispers my name. “Yes?” I ask, brushing her chocolate hair from her eyes. “Do you believe in angels?” She asks, the sincerity in her eyes glowing. I take a deep breath and look back to the butterfly.

 

I suddenly understand her sweet, connection to the creature. “I don’t know..” I mutter to fast, to rushed as I begin to ponder the possibility. I’ve never been one to believe in any sort of unnatural thing. God is a mystery to me, always has been. I’ve never really been to church or read the Bible. Believing in angels is not something you’ll find in me.

 

I fall back from my thoughts and notice Isabella’s eyes on me. She looks confused, and in a way, disappointed. “I-I’m not saying it’s not possible.” I stammer, and she nods, though her muscles are tensing, a little. “I’ve just never seen one.” I close my eyes, knowing how stupid I must sound.

 

“It’s okay.” She whispers. “I just thought that maybe this was a sign. That maybe my mother was watching out for us.” Us. She used the plural and it made me smile, though I know she didn’t mean for it to. “Maybe it is.” I try to keep her positive. Focusing only on that, now.

 

Her eyes travel to mine for a moment, and it’s as if she’s reading me; instead of it’s usual way around. She looks back to the window and notices that the butterfly has gone, and flown away. I hug her tighter to me, before she can react and she lays her head on my shoulder.

 

“Maybe it isn’t.” She mummers, a sigh escaping her lungs. I want nothing but to kiss her, right now and take the pain away; but I can’t. Not yet, and I don’t know when. I don’t know if I’ll get the chance; I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to hold her, to have her.

 

A knock at the door startles her.

 

We both sit up, our eyes meeting Lisa’s. Her expression is grim, not promising. “Isabella..” She pauses, watching me. “Your father wants to speak to you, alone.” She says, looking back into the eyes of Isabella. I can feel her blood rushing through her arms. I rub them, soothingly, letting my lips find a way to her neck.

 

I feel the chills rising and her hands find mine, gripping down hard. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” I assure her, helping her stand. “Just go talk to him.” I tell her, as her grip lightens. I keep the urge to pick her up in my arms and run out of my physical movements. I hold myself; plant myself to the ground where I stand, knowing I have to let her go.

 

As she takes the first few steps forward, it’s as if it’s in slow motion. She turns to look at me, one last time and all I can do is stare back. Every ounce of her is beautiful, hopeful and scared; every inch is gorgeous and every part of my soul wants nothing but her. Then, as if life becomes a movie, someone hits fast forward. Within seconds, she’s gone, and I’m left alone, waiting for an answer to the last measure of hope I have left.

Author's Note

I hope you like it. Any comments on the over all story? How do you like the plot? It should really take off into something next chapter, so be ready.

Reviews

[anneliese]

wow, i found this to be very moving. Great Job!!!