The Angel's Daughter Read online

  By

  JODY SHARPE

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Any references to events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2013 Jody Sharpe

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 098856209X

  EAN-13: 9780988562097

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012953060

  CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform

  North Charleston, South Carolina

  In Memory of my daughter Kate

  And for my husband Steve

  In the night of death, hope sees a star

  And listening love can hear the rustle of a wing

  —Robert Ingersoll (1833-1899)

  Dear Journal

  This Christmas Eve I soared embraced by angel’s wings above the Christmas lights of town. As my father held my hand, his silvery blue dusted wings glided like a hawk on a windy day.

  He said, “Listen Red, do you hear it now?” I nodded. A dog cried somewhere far away.

  “It’s your angel’s ear just like mine. So fly with me my red-haired girl, let’s save an animal tonight!”

  We flew to the beach near town where the moon shimmered on the ocean. There a poor dog lay shivering in the sand. Dad scooped him up and held him tight and we flew back home to Mom. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another angel flying near us but when I turned to get a better look he was gone.

  Like nocturnal butterflies we flew down through the trees gently landing on our back porch. We named the dog, our little Christmas miracle, Louie.

  I have a secret I keep only in my journal. I’m an angel’s daughter!

  Hannah A. O’Ryan My 14th Birthday

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE: Christmas Eleven Years Later

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: HANNAH’S DREAM…….

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: TWO YEARS LATER….. Christmas Eve Sam Blakley, Malibu, California

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Christmas Eleven Years Later

  To: Hannah’s email@…..

  From: Sblakley’s email@…..

  Hannah, I’ve something important to ask you tonight when we’re alone. I can’t wait to watch the sunset blazing red and gold in your hair.

  Love, Sam

  Why am I looking at that old email again? It’s after four in the morning as I close my laptop and set it next to me on the bed. I bury my face in my pillow, “Oh Sam, get out of my head!”

  It was exactly three Christmas Eves ago I made the most colossal mistake of my life. He didn’t really believe me, did he? No. That night Sam, my creative writing professor, the man I thought I loved, asked me to leave my life here in Mystic Bay and move with him to New York City. Like a love sick fool I told him why I couldn’t leave. I told him the very secret I’ve kept all my life. I guess it would be hard for any mortal to believe that just off Main Street an angel lives as a human being. The angel is my father.

  I push fear back down deep again like I always do and look over at the tin angel with the star cut out in her middle perched upon my window sill. My mother gave it to me on the Christmas Eve I learned the truth about my father. The haloed angel casts a shadow every day when the afternoon sunshine comes in the window. The moon shines through the angel now, leaving her silhouette in full repose on the wall. Is that what I am, the shadow of an angel and human who fell hopelessly in love? I close my eyes wanting to clear my mind and remember the nights my father showed me our world from an angel’s perspective. My mother would always be waiting for us on the back porch holding mugs of steaming hot chocolate.

  Many nights I dream the same dream where Dad and I fly high into space. We see our blue marbled Earth suspended before us. We turn to look at the crescent moon and there like a page from a forgotten fairytale, my mother sits at the tip blowing kisses to us. Then my perfect dream ends. Oh how I miss my mother.

  When I told Sam I couldn’t go with him he angrily persisted asking why. I told him I couldn’t leave Dad because he stayed in Mystic Bay for me. Sam kept asking why, pushing me to the edge. I finally relented.

  “Sam please listen. It sounds unbelievable I know, but something magical has happened in Mystic Bay. An angel lives among us. My father is really an angel.”

  “What, you’re using your angel story from class as the excuse?” Sam looked furious.

  Why did I tell him? It haunts me now and always will. If Sam told anyone ever and they believed him then my father would have to disappear from our lives and go back to his angel life saving others in parts unknown. He’d be gone from us no longer living as my father, as a brother- in-law to my Aunt Helen, and a much revered man in our community. I made a terrible mistake that night but Sam must have forgotten or thinks I’m crazy still because I haven’t heard a word.

  I’m the only hybrid I know. Dad says others are out there, but where I wonder? Do they look human like me and feel alone in their half angel skin? Yet the secret is to remain their own. Yes, I’m wingless but Dad took me flying as high as fireworks on each of my birthdays during my childhood while our town slumbered unaware. All I can do now is dream of flying on those starry nights. I yawn looking at my digital clock; still too early to get up. This Christmas Eve, my twenty-fourth birthday, it’s time to stop obsessing.

  We live in the seaside town of Mystic Bay, California. If you found our quaint town using Google Earth, you’d see a town with a little bay shaped like the top of a heart. Mystic Bay is known as a picturesque spot by the sea south of San Francisco. It’s a place where hospitality abounds with a slight psychic vibe. There are psychic shops neighboring the typical seaside gift shops, art galleries and restaurants. Our family’s quirky store, the two story red brick, bears a painted cottage sign that reads, Dear Dogs Etc, 217 Main Street. Everyone, psychic or not is welcomed here as long as they are animal lovers.

  Our store has a large pink curtained window where my cat, Jesse, sits during the day tantalizing the dogs that walk by or come in the store with their owners. I share the cozy apartment above the store with Jesse and Duke, my part-dog, part-coyote. I found him with my aural ESP, the angel’s ear I’ve inherited from my father. I’ve heard abandoned dogs cry twice now on my birthdays. The very last time I flew with Dad on my fourteenth birthday we found our faithful dog Louie. Then I found Duke on my own the unforgettable night Sam left for good.

  Closing my eyes fervently wishing to sleep, I hear the barn owl Dad named Molly outside my window. Her hooting usually soothes my constantly whirring mind. But I just can’t sleep so I think of those nights where we’d sit on the stoop and look up at the stars of Orion, thankful my father took his last name from his favorite constellation. Orion became O’Ryan when he fell in love and decided to stay. The angel, Gabriel Michael, became Gabe O’Ryan, the new guy in town. Kate Dear O’Ryan, his bride, was my mother. Remembering my mother brings warmth and sadness. I thought she’d always be here. But sadly, I’ve lived without her smile now for ten years. I only see her face in photos and in the dreams imprinted in my mind.

  The memory of that last night flying is bittersweet. The three of us were the only ones who knew the secret back then. That is, until I told Sam.

  He yelled. “Are you crazy, Hannah? You won’t go with me because Gabe’s an angel? Com
e on, you’re kidding me right?” Veins were popping in his neck. I pleaded with him to be reasonable, telling him it was “the God’s honest truth,” but his face became bright red. There was a heated silence as I tried to collect my composure while he practically shook with rage.

  “You know, I made one hell of a mistake going out with you,” he said. “Dating my student could have ruined my career.” I still said nothing. And so the man I thought I trusted and loved tried to hurt me even more. “I’m so done...Good bye, Daddy’s little angel!” He left, slamming the door so hard I thought the windows would break. I sank to the floor, devastated at his reaction but even more inflamed at my own stupidity for telling him.

  My father understood when I told him the next day, “You opened your heart, Red. It’s all right. Sam didn’t believe you and that’s a blessing.” He tried to comfort me but it wasn’t the end of my guilt. How could I have kept the secret as a child and then at twenty-one let it out so easily? It’s always in the back of my mind so I hope against hope he’s truly forgotten. Angels always keep secrets my father says, but since I’m the shadow, the hybrid, the mix, I guess my human side totally blew it. Maybe I’ll remain loveless the rest of my life. Pathetic, isn’t it?

  No one in town has ever guessed my father’s true identity. We don’t fly together anymore because after Mom died it just wasn’t the same. At five–foot nine I’m just about as tall as my Dad and as he gets older his back hurts. The last time he flew he was too low to the ground, he said. Flying is only for dreams now where from above the bay looks like lush velvet and the streets and houses glow like a toy town.

  Everyone who knows my father thinks he’s an animal whisperer, so he fits right in with the psychics who share our little slice of heaven here in Mystic Bay. Upon request Dad will sense an animal’s feelings for its human companions. He gets pictures the animals send his mind. He doesn’t charge a cent and asks the owners only to repay the kindness somehow to animal or human. His angel heavenly skills have atrophied, the more he remains earthbound. He retains only his animal ESP and his ability to fly to save animals. Except for Duke, he’s rescued all the pets we’ve ever had. At night when he falls asleep in his chair, his goodness almost seems to glow.

  I hear something….. It’s barely a whisper in my angel ear….. A puppy’s whimper from far away? I practically jump out of bed. Is it coming from the northeast again? Duke is standing up. Does he hear it too?

  A light forms in the corner. Duke and Jesse turn their heads. Uriel, my guardian angel appears. He glows, shining and magnificent as he sits cross-legged on the top of my dresser. His ever-present winsome smile lightens my heart. His gossamer wings fold like a vanilla-sugared heart surrounding his frame. I’m mesmerized. He was the angel I saw on the last night Dad and I flew. When my mother passed away he appeared in my room. His silent love encircled me and filled me with hope. Again when Sam left a light formed in the corner and I saw him there. He urged me on to feel joy and be thankful that all would be well again. And now wordlessly he radiates the message to seek and bring the animal home. He disappears in a whip of light like always. I blink my eyes. “Come back,” I always want to say, “Stay awhile…talk to me.”

  I hear the injured animal again. “Duke, Let’s go!” I pull my faded blue sweats over my pajamas and slip into my sneakers. Duke meets me at the door, moonlight from the window lights his expectant expression. I turn to look at Jesse burrowing down in the covers and glance at my tin angel. I feel the rush of search begin.

  I sprint down the back stairs and across the alley to my car. There my childhood home beckons me back. The mist softly outlines the white brick with its curling ivy reaching towards the indigo sky.

  Duke and I get in my trusty VW, my heartbeat accelerates. Out of the alley, I turn down Seashell Lane then on to Main Street. I hear the dog, sensing which way to go down the empty street, past the glittering Christmas lights of the town that I love so much.

  Looking at my house had calmed me. Dad sleeps upstairs. His feathered wings are put away for now, his arm probably around his pet squirrel, Bubbles, his constant companion. Louie, who has grown old, snores at the foot of the bed. Maybe Dad’s dreaming of long ago when he could fly and save others.

  My funny Aunt Helen, my mother’s older sister and a second mother to me, will be sleeping in her frilly pink bedroom off the kitchen, her arm wrapped around Pink, her pet kitten. My aunt is a little out there about the color pink, but my father has his non-angel peculiarities too. How many people walk around with a squirrel on their shoulder? We always say he’s nuts about her, pun intended. And what would Aunt Helen do if she knew the secret? Probably flip out. She moved in with us when my mother died. Her beloved husband, Karl, died in Vietnam. But she’s gone on decades now celebrating each day for its uniqueness and never looking back. My aunt and father live there growing old like bookends, their friendship entwined in loving my mother and loving me.

  I realize I haven’t paid much attention as I drive, so many thoughts pile in my mind. Duke and I reach the last traffic light at the end of the sleeping town. The animal whimpers again, a funny little cry different from Duke’s or Louie’s. I turn right onto Sea Breeze Drive, east up towards the foothills where the sound is coming from. Can other half angels do this? Where are they? Where does an angel’s daughter fit into the scheme of life?

  Driving past porch lit farms and ranches and not sure of what lies ahead, I look up at the brilliant stars remembering those wondrous nights when Dad showed me the glorious world. It seems the getting old part without Mom wasn’t what he bargained for. Yet his sadness for the loss of my mother is almost undetectable. With Aunt Helen as an example, he generates an infectious cheeriness that keeps us going strong in Mystic Bay. And lucky for us in our little town, psychics and non-psychics and people who have a way with animals, seem quite the norm.

  “Don’t go back to heaven too,” I pleaded to Dad after Mom passed away.

  “Oh my darlin’ Red, I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much and I love it here on earth. I’ll still see her. She’ll watch over us from heaven.”

  “What’s heaven really like?” I asked him then.

  “Oh, it’s meant to be a mystery, another realm made of light and love, a mere blink away.” I’ve grown to love those words now embedded in my heart … “A mere blink away.” His eyes filled with love as he told me, “We will be with Mother in a nanosecond of time, so enjoy your wonderful life right now, this very minute.” His hair once red like mine is now a snowy white and his blue eyes still shine like the moon above the ocean in morning. No one would ever think the slightly paunchy older man an angel.

  With a start, I realize I haven’t heard the animal in a while. I wait for a moment by the side of the road. Then it cries again. Now its whimper seems farther away than the place up near the outskirts of Millersville where I found Duke. My intuition pushes me to take the fork in the road to the north.

  Duke’s breath fogs the window. We’ve left the edges of town behind and I put down the window so he can poke his head out. We zip along as my town sleeps behind us. While they dream their Christmas dreams, Duke and I search for a lonely injured animal somewhere near. Tears sting my eyes. My father says I may be half angel but he’s never seen anything like my tears. When I cry, I cry big white tears. Angels cry rarely but when they do, the tears sure aren’t glowing white. Dad says I’m one of a kind. I remember long ago crying when Walter, our neighbors ancient dog bit me on the cheek when I tried to put him in my party dress when I was four. I carry the scar today. Lucky for me, it turns into a nice dimple when I smile.

  Sam didn’t like that scar. The last time I cried that hard was when Sam left after our tumultuous end. Clearly, I was flattered that my older professor liked the way I wrote and asked me out. Anticipating a story book romance like that of my parents, I wrote their love story in fiction form for class like a fool, hopeful for the same kind of love. I tried to show Sam my world with epic visions of flying. But creative
writing became a crash course in Bad Love: 101. My angel stories are put away forever, the thrill of writing left like he left never to return.

  I stop and shake Sam out of my head and wait to get my bearings. My ear urges keep moving north, away from home. With so many psychics you’d think someone would have figured out by now that my father has more to him than a psychic way with animals. My best friend, Meredith and her husband, Tony, don’t even suspect. They’re astrologers and moved next door into Walter, the dog’s former house and bought the store next to ours, Age of Aquarius Books. Even though they’re gifted astrologers they think Dad is the resident animal psychic and I had a fluke experience finding Duke that night. I’ve hidden my strange tears from everyone. I guess I put up a regular human persona. I’m just a small town girl running a pet store.

  Driving up a hill I check the rearview mirror, the lights of town flicker, barely visible far behind. Pretty soon the friendliest people I know will be waking up. Maybe it’s the sea air or the mystic mood or lush gardens that make the people so friendly. Whatever, it is, it’s nothing short of great. No street lights to guide me now, only my head lights and sounds of the engine purring down the road, my mind full of what lies ahead.

  The road winds, I turn east onto Lonely Hill Road. As I glance in the rear view mirror, my white tears glow and fall like a shower of shooting stars. Duke puts his head on my shoulder. Perhaps he remembers. At the corner of Miller’s Run and Lonely Hill Road I found him lying next to his dead mother. I brought them home. When we took them to Doc Lindley, our vet, he said that Duke would live. We all said prayers for the mother’s animal spirit now safely in heaven. I wipe my eyes and look up to seemingly brighter stars as we drive on. I pray out loud, “God, Uriel, and Mom, oh please be watching, help me find it!”

  Pushing the accelerator down gaining speed, I know the animal is near. I’ve raced nearly ten miles outside town now. Duke’s breath feels warm on my shoulder in the cool air. My intuition screams...This is it!