Her Guardian Angel by Francesca Quarto
Her eyes darted away from the group, up to the high windows. They had the same heavy security meshing found throughout the Center for Cognitive Health. It made her feel claustrophobic. Sitting straighter on the cold metal chair, she shifted, trying to find a comfortable position on its unyielding surface. Her audience squirmed on their own gray seats. They knew from her first time in the Sharing Circle, she'd been a Professor of Anthropology at some Ivy League University. They snickered behind their hands when she said her extreme fatigue was misdiagnosed. "I've been wrongfully committed here by my family," she protested over a few out-right laughs. In past sessions of the Circle, the woman used her time as opportunities lecture them as if they were students. This looked like another boring monologue about Neanderthals foreshadowing the brutality of males in society. Her voice was soft, sounding small in the large, mostly empty room. "Good evening," she said, primly crossing her ankles.
"There's nothing about Angels that hasn't already been shared over millennia. Probably since it dawned on mankind it was a good idea to have some help from a higher power. We've long believed these beings walked among us, taking various forms to play their parts in safeguarding us, within their own limits. Unlike much of the human experience, there's no gender bias in who gets this special protection. I, for one, have experienced the influence of Angels on many occasions. My first notable encounter came many years ago, while caring for my two small children while their father was away on business. I had just learned a few weeks earlier that I was expecting my third little miracle. Little did I suspect the miracle would be my survival."
The listeners became more attentive. Perhaps this would be more interesting than her discussion on morality and pornography.
"I was alone in our house with my three and one year old; all of us sleeping soundly. Suddenly, I awoke to a knife plunging deep into my gut! My eyes flew open! After searching the shadowy room, I understood this was no intruder, but my body was surely under attack! Staggering in pain to the adjoining bathroom, I made it as far as the tub before everything blinked out like a bad light bulb. I passed out twice more and finally, half-crawled back to my bed. My only hope was a friend, married to a Psychiatrist teaching at the University. I pressed the numbers on the phone, not really conscious of what I was doing. How did I remember that number in the state I was in? you might ask. "Michael is on his way! Unlock your door for him!" my friend instructed me.
Now, I faced an even scarier situation than getting to the bathroom. My bedroom was across from the children's. That meant I needed to get downstairs to the first floor! By now every time I tried to stand, I passed out. I crawled out of my room into the hallway and to the head of the stairs. Looking down them, the twelve steps might just as well have been the rock face of the Grand Tetons! Desperate, I called to my three-year old. After several attempts to rouse her, she finally stood, rubbing her eyes and looking down on me where I lay on the floor. She did what any toddler would do at that point. She was thrown into a panic! Mommies aren't supposed to wake you up in the dark and lay outside your door whimpering! I felt guilty to have wakened her to such a stressful situation, but I was overwhelmed with desperation. I had to unlock that door or my only hope would be snuffed out like a candle.
Propped against the wall, I sent my frightened daughter back to her bed, telling her mommy would be going downstairs. She bobbed her curly head and I watched as she climbed under her covers. I had no time to lose now. I felt like a bomb was ticking out the seconds of my life. My friend lived less than a five-minute walk away. I figured with dressing and getting to my house, he'd arrive any minute. Using the wall to push myself back to my feet, I gripped the banister and began my unsteady descent. The pain now enveloped my entire lower abdomen and seemed to be rising into my upper torso. It felt as if another living being had taken possession of me, growing stronger with every breath. I made it to the second step when I felt a hammer slam into my body and I began to crumple on the stair.
When I awoke, Michael was kneeling over me. When he knew I was aware he said, "I've already called an ambulance. They'll be here soon. Thank God you got the door unlocked before you passed out. I wouldn't have seen you lying here at the bottom of the staircase."
I knew I'd passed out and fallen down the flight of stairs. There was no way I unlocked the door and its dead-bolt. I confirmed my story, when my daughter told her father she'd seen 'mommy roll down the stairs and fall asleep at the bottom.'
The mystery of how that door was unlocked took over my every waking moment as I recovered in the hospital. There was only one feasible explanation and since I believe in unseen powers, it became obvious to me; I had been saved by an Angel! Not just any Angel mind you, but my Guardian Angel. Assigned to me for the duration of my time on this earth."
The listeners shot sideways glances at one another. This wasn't the answer to her mystery they'd expected. She didn't welcome their doubting looks and wouldn't answer their questions. Instead she went on to what she knew was the conclusion of the story.
" My Angel is a nameless, supernatural spirit who has likely been circling around my life since I swam in the waters of conception. He is with me even now as I share this life-changing experience with all of you."
The others sitting in the circle sat mutely as she made her final remarks. She interpreted the shocked and unsure looks on their faces to be the awe they felt at her revelation. They were simply overwhelmed in the presence of one who'd been touched by an Angel in such a definitive way. The speaker's smile never faltered as she looked from face to face, weighing the impact of her story on each listener until she reached the dark eyes of Dr. Carville. Their eyes locked for a long breath and her smile slowly faded. The Doctor's words were crisp and final, leaving no options.
"Our Session is finished ladies and gentleman. You are excused to your rooms or the rec. room." Turning to the Anthropologist he added, "Not you my dear."
When the room was empty of the last echo of shoes passing out the door, Dr. Carville gave the patient an exasperated look. "Why do you insist on sharing our little secret with other humans? Can't you see how difficult it makes my job when you go blathering on about our past with these befuddled folks? I wasn't supposed to open that door for you, you know, but I just couldn't allow you to die. I've gotten used to our inter-twined life together. In any case, I didn't want to be reassigned."
As the patient stood silently under his disapproving gaze, an Orderly walked past the open door. He looked inside and stopped. After a few seconds he stepped inside, going right up to Dr. Carville. "If you're having trouble controlling her, let me take her for a few minutes and she'll be a new woman." The Dark eyes of her Guardian Angel, flashed like obsidian orbs. He reached out his right arm and drew her closer to his side. "That is not necessary." The woman jerked loose of his grasp and flung herself at the Orderly.
The startled man had a hard time controlling the flailing, screaming woman. Two other Orderlies rushed in to help restrain her. Dr. Carville had one bite on the back of his hand. He told them they needed to sedate her and put her in isolation. He left them and returned to his office. He shut and locked the door. The blind was closed against the prying eye of the sun as he stripped off his lab coat and dark suit and unfastened the ties on his wings. "Phew! what a relief. His forked tongue darted out and pressed against the bite. "I hate when they recognize me. It never ends well for them," he muttered.