about an angel - chapter 2

I had been a sort of ghost in society up until this point. I roamed freely and did as I pleased until I had to leave, then I tried to find a new point of interest I could pursue. I had found a great passion for reading. It was more than a passion; it was an obsession. I felt I had found my niche in the Book World on Wall St. in Eagle River. The shops that lined the street on either side and across from me provided me with anything I wanted. There was a Pamida less than a mile away, which provided my clothing and other necessities, and a grocery store, Trig's, less than a mile in the other direction.1

It was November 8th, 2001. Freezing cold, barely over twenty degrees. So cold, the moisture in the air was freezing and falling to the ground in a spectacle that had always fascinated me. Almost like someone was sprinkling iridescent glitter over the entire county. There were men on the ice of Pine, Whitefish and Virgin Lakes, trying for walleye but as I heard it, catching more panfish than anything, bluegill and perch. I had driven the three miles to work after warming my car, a 1997 Chrysler Cirrus, for twenty minutes in the driveway. Senseless, but better than a cold drive to the bookstore. The old furnace in the basement below the store was shifty; one day blew perfect warm air, the next it blew stiflingly hot, the day after that  I had to beat it into submission. If only the good Lord had brought me to this world with an endless supply of money at my disposal so I could have bought a new one. But alas, part of living as a human is working like one.2

And work I did that morning. As I expected, it was dead in town until abuot noon, when the weather actually crept slightly above freezing. The sun was out and shining into my shop window as I said good-bye to the Remington girls from Hiles. Barb and her daughters, Sarah and Beth, were regular customers, who I saw often regardless of conditions. Sarah, the older of the two, had driven Beth there a few months earlier in the worst thunderstorm of the year because she had promised to buy a new book for the younger girl's birthday. This was the way most of the customers were. I saw them often or only once, then never again. As the Remingtons were leaving, I turned to look back at some of the bookeeping I had gotten behind on.3

The door opened again, the bell rang and I heard feet stamping in the lobby. Without turning, I sent a greeting, figuring one of the girls had forgotten something or had a question to ask. "What did you forget, girls?" I asked, not looking up from my paper.4

An Irish brogue answered, "I don't know if you'd call me a girl, and I  didn't forget anything, but I do have a question for you."5

My head snapped up, coming immediately to the attention of the young man before me. For the first time in my life, I was completely speechless. Not only had I goofed and accidentally ignored a customer, the customer I had ignored was a particularly incredible specimen of the male sex. He stood about six feet tall, with emerald green eyes and short, light brown hair that fell across his forehead like caramel-colored silk. His shoulders were broad and strong, and even though bundled up fairly well, he appeared well-muscled.6

I finally came to myself moments later, and had the sense to ask what I could do for the young man before me. "Well, I'm looking for this," he said, opening a carefully folded book cover he had carried in. "I know it's probably expensive, but I don't care, I've always wanted to find it, and this is my last resort. If you can find it, get it, I'll pay you whatever you want, and if its hard to find, I'll pay you for your time as well."7

The book cover was old, and on it was the title -Wyatt Earp Speaks!- written by Wyatt Earp and others. It was an out-of-print book of court testimony, interviews with Doc Holliday, newspaper articles, etc. that the famous lawman and others had written about him and his gang from the Old West. I was familiar with the book, and had been in Tombstone to witness a few of the confrontations between Earp and the infamous Cowboys, but now the book was almost impossible to find. However, if I could get this man to come back into my store, I would do about anything.8

"I know of this book, but I can tell you right now it may be expensive, and it will take awhile for me to find it. It's not for a term paper or anything I hope," I said pensively, seeing if my age test would work.9

"Oh, no, I've been out of school several years now. I graduated from Yale Law in 1996," he replied, a shy smile on curling his smooth lips. "My name is Connor McRoy, this is my business card, and if you have a pen, I'll write my home number on it. I'm new in town, just opened up my own law firm in Crandon. You can call me at work, or at home. Whatever you like."10

I handed him a pen and watched as he wrote down his number. Having never been the type to be bold, I simply took the card and set it next to the register. How badly I wanted to say something, but had no nerve. In all my centuries, I had only been able to seek men out for my needs. Repairs and such. Never sexual or romantic. I had found plenty of men to spend time with, but they had always pursued me, not the other way around. Even as badly as I wanted to say something now, I couldn't make myself do it, so I simply smiled, hoping he was thinking the same thing as I, and promised, "I will do everything I can to find anything you ever need. If I can't find it, I will try to find someone who will."11

He leaned across the counter toward me, and for a moment said nothing. Then, with a shy smile and a blush, he asked, "maybe you can help me find a good cup of coffee on a cold winter's afternoon?"12

"I have a good pot thumping in the back, if you don't mind waiting for a few minutes for me to go pour a couple cups," I offered in as sweet a voice I could muster without sounding depserate. I had never had a man this traffic-stoppingly good-looking. It had been years since I had had a man at all, and I had never wanted anything more than to just have this cup of coffee. He smiled, accepting my offer, waited while I put up my "Out to Lunch" sign (not that I needed it as cold as it was). I locked the door, and led him to the back of the store.13

I poured us each a cup and sat down at a small oak table I kept in the backroom for just such an occasion. We talked about our lives, of course me taking most of it from the story I was forced to make up differently each time I relocated. He was born in Dublin, and came to America to go to school and applied for citizenship the day he stepped off the plane. He had lived in Northern Ireland the last few years of his life and had witnessed more fighting in their vicious civil war than he ever cared to return to. He had no family left now, and was looking forward to a new life here. His father had left him a large inheritance when he passed away in 1996, and now he was able to start his own private firm in the states. The more I heard, the more I wanted to hear, but it was drawing close to one o'clock, and even though it seemed so pointless, I had to get back to work. So did he, and after the best three cups of coffee I had ever had, I led him back to the front of the store.14

We stood near the door for a moment in silence, just looking at each other. Finally, he threw his wool scarf around his neck. "Well," he started. "Oh, I might as well come out and say it, I would really like to see you again sometime. When are you free?"15

I was again rendered speechless. I had thought their may have been the possibility of a chance he was interested, but never dreamed he really was. "Absolutely," I heard myself say from somewhere else in the room. A few moments later, I heard him say, "Alright, tomorrow night at six I will meet you here, and we will go to Twelve Pines from here. I'll see you then."16

As I turned my sign back over a after he was out the door, I watched him walk away, catching one backward glance as he turned the corner, and I knew something was about to change for me. I had no idea what, but I knew of all the men I had seen, there was something about this one that was so different, it was in a whole different realm of difference. I suddenly found myself believing that destiny didn't just apply to the mortal humans around me, but to me as well. I would have to have a heart-to-heart with the Lord one of these days. I just didn't know what for.17

Yet.18