She hadn’t intended to let him know she’d stooped so low as to follow them inside. She hadn’t wanted him to know she cared. For, if he knew how much she cared, he must surely know how much she was hurting. And her pride couldn’t take it if pity prompted him to apologize or, worse, tell her he loved her.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze...just kept glancing at his car in the driveway. By now he’d moved out onto the gray-painted slabs of the old farmhouse’s broad front porch. He shifted the briefcase to his other hand and opened his mouth to speak.
Kim shook her head. She couldn’t bear to hear any more lies.
Resolutely, he closed his mouth and gave her a grim-lipped nod.
“Drive carefully,” she said. As she watched his car pull away for the last time, she realized how stupid that must have sounded. For, in her heart, she hoped she never saw him again.
Less than an hour later, the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Gerald trying to change her mind, she let her answering machine take the call.
After the beep, there was a slight hesitation before a woman’s voice spoke.
“This is the emergency room at Memorial General Hospital. I’m calling about—”
Kim snatched the phone out of the cradle. “Yes. Yes, I’m here.” She felt her heart pounding against her ribs. Her father’s health had seemed better since his last operation. She dreaded hearing what must surely be bad news. Even worse, she couldn’t bear to be away from her father if he was having a relapse. “What’s the matter? Is he all right?”
The woman didn’t answer her panicked questions, and Kim assumed the worst. “Are you Ms. Barnett?”
“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I am.”
“You’re listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency.”
“What’s wrong? Is he badly off?”
The woman’s voice softened. “You’d best come in, Ms. Barnett. He’s not expected to make it through the night.”
Kim felt her mouth go dry. She held the phone in stunned silence for several seconds before she spoke in a hoarse croak. “Was it his heart again?”
“I’m not aware of a heart problem,” the woman said gently. “Mr. Kirkland was injured in a three-car accident.”
CHAPTER ONE
TAKING a surreptitious glance at his fellow fenuki players, Jared reached into the billowing sleeve of his pristine white robe and withdrew a perfect gilded feather. Confident no one had witnessed his deft maneuver, he placed the coveted game piece on the table atop the plain white plumes placed by the other two players.
“Fenuki!” he shouted, proclaiming himself winner for the umpteenth time this century. Jared felt his halo slip to the left as if to herald to the others that this game—like many of the others—had come to him by sleight of hand.
As he counted his winnings, Mehrdad reached across and placed a quelling hand on his arm. Although his tone was gentle, his voice held a warning. “If Nahum thought that any of his staff wasn’t one hundred percent virtuous, it would be quite difficult for that staff member to earn his wings, don’t you think?”
Heedless of the implied threat, Jared laughed. “Would it matter? I now have almost enough fenuki feathers to make my own wings.”
Mehrdad bristled and rose to his feet. The tension caused light to crackle through the air. Heat lightning, the humans down below would call it.
But before Mehrdad could argue further, the wispy covering of fog swirled about them. A moment later, the thin veils of white parted and settled around their knees and ankles. Asim stood before them.
“Nahum wishes to see you,” the messenger told Jared. At his questioning glance, Asim added, “It is time for your performance appraisal.”
With a taunting grin at his fenuki opponent, Jared tucked the last of the feathers into his robe pockets and rose to follow Asim to the supervisor.
After all these centuries, he knew it would take more than luck to improve his abysmal performance record. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out for this kind of work. Workers in the Human Resources Department were expected to be reliable, dependable, and have an intimate understanding of the most fickle and confusing of all creatures...humans. As it happened, Jared possessed none of these qualities. Especially the last.
Nahum sat in beatific splendor upon his chair of gold-painted wicker. Jared knew it wouldn’t be long before his supervisor would be trading in that humble chair for a throne in another department. Already, Nahum had moved up the ranks of wing size until he now sported a pair that was taller and wider than himself.
Jared would have been happy with a pair of dinky baby wings made of gray down. Considering his own track record, it would take him at least several millennia, if ever, to earn such a glorious pair as Nahum’s. Jared tried to still his wayward thoughts. Wing envy was frowned upon up here.
But he had broad, strong shoulders that Nahum had told him gave him the potential to carry the weight of large wings. Although his supervisor had routinely given him low, yet honest, appraisals, he’d always encouraged Jared to put aside his playful ways and set his mind to the tasks he was asked to perform.
But, somehow, Jared’s attention would stray and he’d fail the assignment or have to turn it over to a worker with a better track record.
But this time was different. This time, he would do whatever Nahum asked, even if it meant safeguarding an accident-prone human. Jared grimaced as he remembered the last klutz he’d been assigned to watch over. After one too many mishaps while he’d let his mind wander, he’d been forced to let Mehrdad assume the responsibility of protecting President Ford.
Nahum nodded benevolently, his gaze falling upon Jared’s bulging pockets. “When your time comes to meet with the Chairman of the Board, I doubt he’ll think much of wings made out of fenuki feathers,” he said softly.
Sheepish, Jared stuffed the telltale overflowing fluff back into his pockets.
“I’ve been going over your personnel file.” The left-hand side of the folder held page after page of not-so-glowing reports. The right-hand side, reserved for commendations and accolades, sported only two thin sheets of parchment. “In addition to your lack of...shall we say, finesse... as a protectorate, there seems to be a couple of other problems holding you back.”
Jared couldn’t help being amazed by Nahum’s statement. Only a couple of problems? He waited in respectful silence for his superior to continue.
“The first is your cavalier attitude. You take everything so lightly, as if this were all just a big game. This isn’t the place for someone who chooses to act like such a...a...”
“Free spirit?”
“Exactly. We’re a team here. You must learn to work with others.”
“I’ll try to do better.”
Nahum crossed his arms over his chest, exposing the many rows of gold trim that weighted his sleeves. “You can start by referring to Mehrdad by his appointed name rather than ‘Mehrdy’.”
So his fenuki opponent had apparently been complaining.
“And it would be best if you discourage others from referring to you by a nickname. ‘Jerry’ sounds a bit too modern and casual for the serious nature of our work.”
Jared reverently bowed his head. “Thy will be done. And the other problem?”
Casting a skeptical glance at him for his easy acquiescence, Nahum opened another