Dream Angel (Angel #1) Read online

  With a ragged sigh, I headed off in the direction of the local newspaper, Tangi News Journal. The last of the great white buffalo and my last hope. Like most newspapers, I expected they’d have an opening. I was aiming for an inside job. With no transportation, delivering papers might be an impossible feat.

  I pushed past the doubled glass doors as the smell of ink hit my face. My lips pressed into a white slash. This was it. It was do or die. Fingers crossed!

  ***

  That went swell!” I mumbled to myself as I stalked past the doors leaving Tangi Journal. Oh, I got the job all right! Just a little bump in the road, no transportation! I kicked an empty can, heading back to the hotel. I really wanted to kick Sara for forcing me to come here! No actually, I didn’t want to do that either. I wanted to go home back to Texas, back to my old job at the Dairy Queen and my friends. I huffed, chest tight with disappointment. Going back to Texas was merely a pipe dream. I slouched my shoulders. I thought about hitchhiking back a million and one times. Between Becky and Laurie, I’d have a place to stay. Their families liked me. I could get a job, save money and by next year, attend college. Become an attorney like Dad. I could get student loans and hopefully a scholarship. It was doable.

  Then I thought about Sara, and all my dreams burst like a balloon. I couldn’t leave. I exhaled a ragged breath. I had to stay. Anger swooped in as I kicked a rock this time.

  My head had been so far up in the dark clouds that I was right up on the gas station when I finally lifted my gaze.

  The men had gone, and the station appeared empty. I made my way to one of the chairs under a tree, flopping down and making myself at home. Beads of sweat had collected across my forehead. I’d used the back of my hand to wipe the moisture away. I was a mess. My feet were throbbing as I slipped the shoes off. With open blisters on my heels, the cute wedges no longer seemed so cute. In a tizzy, I hurled the shoes in an oil puddle. I stared at them for a minute knowing I’d never hear the end from Sara. “Eh!” I shrugged. I didn’t care.

  The heat was smothering like a sauna, maxed. I fanned myself with my hand. My throat was as parched as the dry soil under my feet. I didn’t want to drink the water at the hotel. It was murky and smelled like fish. I dove into my pockets for my change. I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, though my thirst overrode my hunger. An ice-cold Coke would help settled my nerves.

  I withdrew my hand from my pocket and looked at the contents. Only seventy-five cents. “Dammit to hell!” Could my day get any worse? With anger pushing the edge, I slammed the coins on the ground. They bounced with a ding, landing in the pool of oil, along with the shoe. I’d reached my limit. I caved, laying my face in my palms, and let the tears rip.

  Unclear how long I’d been sitting there when someone tapped my shoulder. I snapped my head up, startled. I blinked back the blur of tears as my eyes encountered the evil-eyed woman who’d bumped into me earlier. What did she want? I stared back at her in silence.

  “How y’are, Chile?” she whistled through what I assumed were dentures. “Ya look thirsty.” She reached out handing me a bottled Coke. Condensation dripped from the glass. A good indication it was cold. My eyes rounded, surprised.

  “Thank you, but I can’t pay you.” I sniffed. “All I have is a few coins.” I pointed to the quarters in the oil puddle.

  The elderly woman waved her hand. “No worry, Catin,” (French for pretty girl). She smiled, handing the drink to me.

  I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, “Thanks,” I sniffed, hiding under my lashes. I was feeling a bit under the gun. Getting caught in a full-blown squall preceded a reputation that I didn’t care for much.

  The elderly woman sat down next to me and unsnapped her faded black purse. She drew out a bleached handkerchief. She reached out and handed it to me without a word. My mouth dropped opened, unsure if I should take it or decline. My gaze dropped to the monogram initials, F.N., nicely engraved on the napkin. It must be vintage. Only old folks carried a cloth handkerchief. Hesitantly, I mumbled, “Thanks,” And accepted her offer. I patted my face, wiping my nose delicately. I wasn’t up on the protocol of etiquette. Did I hand it back to her or return it after I washed it? Uncertain of the proper thing to do and getting worked up over a stupid handkerchief, I did what any respectable person would do. I tucked it under my leg. Outta sight, outta mind or at least, outta mine. I silently took a drink, feeling under the gun over the stupid cloth. For Pete’s sake! I scolded myself. It was just a small thin cloth!

  I snuck a sideways glance at the woman. I picked up on her accent right away. It was the same tone as everyone else in this hellhole. I wondered if I should thank her and excuse myself. I decided to chill and play it cool, taking a small sip of my drink.

  “Where y’at? Ya and ya mom'n'em stay at Claude’s hotel?” she smiled warmly.

  I had a little difficulty understanding her words, so I just answered, “yes,” I took another sip.

  “Ya been job huntin’?”

  I scoffed. “Been trying.” I rolled the cool bottle between my palms. The moisture made me think of swimming.

  “Did you get hired?” she inquired rather noisily.

  “Yes.” I took another sip of my drink.

  “That's good!”

  I detected a little French in her timbre.

  “Not really.” I flinched. “I can’t take it.”

  “What ya say?” her white brows knitted.

  “The job requires transportation. I don’t have the money to fix our car.” This time, I swigged my drink down in a rush. My lips pinched.

  “Ya don’t say!” the elderly woman smiled.

  I shrugged. “I reckon.” I finished my soda, holding back a belch.

  She smiled brightly against her golden skin. “I think I can help ya. I have customers ta tend ta, but later I’ll be home. Come by after ya rested. Ya ate anything ta day?” The elderly woman's faded blues seemed kind and caring.

  My face flushed, too embarrassed to say. But I had to admit that my stomach was starting to gnaw at my insides.

  “Ya gotta keep your strength up.” She reached in her box shaped purse. I had a hunch by its worn edges that it was her only bag, meaning she didn’t have a flushed bank account. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to me. I gaped looking at the money in shock.

  “I can’t take this!” my gaze lifted back to her, gently pushing her hand away. “Thank you, but I don’t feel right taking your money. I can’t pay you back.” Taking an old woman’s coins was beyond freeloading. It was downright deplorable.

  “No worry, Chile. If ya insist on makin’ it up, I have a small garden ya can help me with.” When she smiled, her faded blues beamed against her caramel skin.

  “Okay. Sure. Eh…” I wrinkled my nose. “Hmm… I don’t know how to garden.”

  “No worry, Catin. It’s like beans and cornbread.” She laughed as her round body jiggled.

  “Do you live around here?” Why was I entertaining the thought? I knew I wasn’t going.

  “See down da road? Saint Anne Street?” she pointed.

  Cuffing my hand over my brows, I stretched my eyes. I drew back, “Oh, yeah,” I nodded.

  “My little house is right down there. It's the fourth house on the left. Right next ta the vacant house at the end of the street.”

  “Okay, thanks! What time?” I made myself smile. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the woman’s generosity. I just never had anyone take an interest in me.

  She patted me on the back as she gathered to her feet. “Come at six, this evening.”

  “I guess. Thanks.” I kept a tight smile.

  “By the way, I’m Florence Noel. All my friends call me Ms. Noel. Ya can call me that too!” her smile reached her faint blue eyes.

  I extended my hand, “I’m Stephanie,” she stopped me in midsentence.

  “I know who ya is.” She flashed a knowing smile. “There ain’t much I miss in these parts.” She shook my hand. “I’ll s
ee ya at six, Stevie. If I were ya, I’d change ‘em shoes.” Her eyes drifted down to my feet. “Those thangs are da worst for walkin’.”

  I laughed, chin tucked to my chest, eyes to the ground. “Yes, ma’am, indeed.” I glanced up as I rolled a rock under my foot.

  “Oh, I almost forgot! I’ll call down at the newspaper and speak ta Frank, my cousin. I’ll see ya this evening.” A suspicious smile crept across her face.

  “Oh, okay.” I didn’t know exactly what to say. I watched as Ms. Noel moseyed along toward downtown. She fit the description of anyone’s grandmother. A plump body, clothed in a loose-fitting blue dress, buttoned up in the front and white nursing shoes, hose rolled up to her knees. She seemed nice enough. I drew in a restless breath. I sure hope this ain’t anything like Hansel and Gretel. The nice old woman turns into a wicked witch and tries to eat me.

  ***

  Straight up six o’clock, I was on Ms. Noel’s front porch, knocking. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she invited me to her house. Even if she called her cousin, Frank, I didn’t see how that was going to help my situation. A courier had to have transportation. That pretty much ruled me out.

  I was jarred from my thoughts when Ms. Noel swung the door open. The squeaking sound of the screen made me jump with a start. “Aw, Catin, you made it right on time.” She stepped outside onto the porch, shutting the door behind her. “Come with me.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.” I followed behind her as she led the way. The day had cool slightly. It seemed to have stirred the bugs as they hummed to their own tune.

  Ms. Noel and I made our way to a storage shed in the back, behind her house. A little bristle toyed with the back of my neck. An old shed, no neighbors close by and a stranger is a bad combination. The kind of Hansel and Gretel synopsis. Still, I swallowed the knot lodged in my throat, forging past my unfounded anxiety.

  She pulled out a key from her apron pocket and unlocked the shed. The door flew open, and a cloud of dust whizzed down my throat. Instantly, I stepped back, covering my mouth, gagging.

  “Babee, you all right?” Ms. Noel eyes honed in on me.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I cleared my throat. “I’m okay.”

  “All right. If your cough keeps up, let me know. I got a remedy for that.” She promised with a smile.

  I nodded and caved with a short cough.

  Ms. Noel disappeared inside the craggy shed. I stood outside peeking in through the dimness. It looked like a lot of junk collecting cobwebs. I hoped she didn’t ask for help. I wasn’t a fan of spiders or any other creepy crawler.

  Not able to see much but I could hear Ms. Noel rattling junk. Dust was flying everywhere. No telling the last time she’d been in there. Then I heard a click and light showered the inside.

  I kept my feet planted. That rusty metal was already leaning like the Tower of Pisa. The only difference was this shed wasn’t bolted down. The slightest breeze might cause it to collapse. I held my breath for Ms. Noel. Geez! Why did she go in there?

  I tapped my foot, chewing my nails nervously while I waited for Ms. Noel on the outside.

  Moments later, Ms. Noel peeked from the foils of tin, wheeling a bike. I gaped in surprise. She rolled it over to me and handed it to me. “This is yours, Catin. It just needs the cobwebs knocked off and a tire fixed. When you leave here, go ta da gas station. My brother Claude will patch up the back tire and check the other tires too. It will be as good as new then!” She smiled, wiping her hands on her apron.

  I was punch-drunk. “You’re giving me this bike?”

  “It ain’t doin’ me no good. I used ta ride it everywhere, but after I broke my hip, it’s been sittin’ in the shed.” She waved at the bike. “Go on! Take it. You wouldn’t want ta miss your first day at work, now?” she flashed a buttery sweet smile.

  I stood there with a blank face, not sure what to say. “Reckon not” were the only words that came to mind as my eyes rounded to marbles.

  “Don’t mention it, Chile. I made you a few sandwiches for tonight and tomorrow too. Let me get those for you.”

  “Ms. Noel! You’re too kind.” I choked back the tears. This stranger didn’t know me from Adam, and yet she was more than generous. Not even my own mother would be this kind.

  “It’s no problem. Come on!” she waved for me to follow. I trailed behind her with the bike as we headed back toward the house.

  I set the bike up on its stand while I waited on the porch for Ms. Noel’s return.

  Moments later, I heard the plank board squeaking. In the next beat, she reappeared at the door with a brown sack in her hand and a mason jar full of ice cubes and a dark liquid.

  She opened the screen with a wide smile. “I thought you might like these for later!” she handed the sack and jar to me. “When you get off tomorrow, you come by, and I’ll have a bowl of gumbo and corn bread fixed for you.”

  I shook my head, taken aback. “You really don’t have to do this.” I shifted the items in my arms. Thankfully, there was a basket on the bike.

  “Stop frettin’ over what I’m supposed to do. I got this, babee.”

  “Oh, okay.” I simply replied.

  “If you lookin’ for a place to settle, the house next door is up for rent. It’s a cute little place. The landlord ain’t askin’ much a month either.”

  “I’ll tell Mom. I’m sure she’ll be interested.” I paused. “Thanks for everything.” I slightly waved the lunch sack in the air, smiling. For the first time since we’d arrived, I actually felt like smiling.

  “Don’t mention it. But you best get on down ta da station, so Claude can fix that tire,” she urged. Ms. Noel was practically a stranger. I think if I’d had a grandmother, I would’ve hoped she’d been like Ms. Noel. Through my entire life, it had only been the three of us until Dad died. Now it was only two, my mom and me. Sara and Dad both didn’t have family. They both were orphans.

  ***

  Exactly as Ms. Noel had promised, Claude fixed the bike. He checked the breaks, oiled and tightened the chain, getting it in top shape. After he had finished, he let me take the bike to the back and hose it off.

  Apparently, the bike had some mileage. The color red had faded, and rust had taken its place, but I didn’t care. To me, it was a priceless treasure. Now I had transportation and a job.

  The first day on the job wasn’t so bad. I had to get up before daybreak. Hell, I was up before the roosters. 5:00 in the morning was ridiculous, but hey, I had a job. I went in early to sort out my newspapers. To my surprise, the route was around downtown, a perfect location for me. I’d get my route done and have plenty of time to make it to school on schedule.

  For now, it was convenient. I had no idea where we’d be hanging our hat the next day. Sometimes, I didn’t bother packing. What was the point?

  Then I thought about the vacant house next to Ms. Noel. It sounded great, but we couldn’t afford it. We were already rubbing pennies. Sara blew our money on that stupid fortuneteller. We were barely getting by paying for the cheap hotel. I suspected by the end of the week, we’d be forced into the streets.

  ***

  After I’d finished my last paper, I was excited to relax and goof off the rest of the day. Then my stomach started to protest. I’d eaten the other sandwiches last night that Ms. Noel had made for today. Texas had their signature hamburgers, but this sandwich beat the burgers hands-down. Crusty French bread, crispy shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes, Creole mayonnaise paired with sausage. They were so tasty that I couldn’t stop eating until I’d finished the last bite, leaving me lunch-less today.

  With the wind running through my hair as I glided down the steep hill, I tossed the idea back and forth whether I should visit Sara at the diner. I decided to go for it. She’d promised to feed me if I stopped by. It was about one in the afternoon. I figured folks would be clearing out, and I wouldn’t be imposing too much. My mouth began watering thinking about an ice-cold chocolate shake and crispy fries, the universal food of champions in my
opinion.

  I wanted to show Sara my bike. When she got in last night, it was late, and I was dead asleep. This morning, I was up before the roosters’ crow and out while she was still sleeping.

  I put the pedal to the metal and off I went, soaring. A catchy tune was running through my head. Mindlessly I hummed to it. The crisp air felt invigorating, a nice change from the heat. Feeling a bit daring, I closed my eyes letting the cool breeze rest across my flushed face.

  Then something alerted me. My eyes flew open, and panic slammed into first gear. A black sports car and I were about to collide in less than half a second. I suddenly recalled the film, “Men In Black”, and the splattered bug across the windshield. With no time to veer, I shut my eyes. I began giving confession for the 101 sins I’d committed in the last week as I embraced my imminent death.

  Holding my breath, clenching my teeth, I braced myself, but nothing happened. I opened one eye. Nothing! The black car had vanished. Then I opened the other eye, staring at an empty road in front of me.

  Hastily, I twisted in my seat, searching in the opposite direction for the black car. My eyes latched onto the license plate as I scoffed.

  Unheedful to where I was going, my bike’s tire slammed into the curve, flipping over, sending me sailing. With a hard thud, I landed on my derriere. “Ouch!” I winced from the blow.

  Thunderstruck, I rose up on my elbows, spotting the high-priced car speeding off into the glorious sunset. Soon it’d disappeared, but the sound of its gears shifting echoed.