Date: Fri, 18 May 2001 06:29:46 -0400 From: Tom Cup Subject: Angel - Chapter 3 G/M Y/A Angel by Tom Cup Copyright 2001 by the Paratwa Partnership, A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth and adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. To support these and other stories by Tom Cup, visit: http://tomcup.isCool.net or http://www.boyztown.net Angel by Tom Cup Chapter 3 Father Kennedy had not slept in three days. He tried, of course, but sleep just would not come to him. There was much to do before he could leave his mission post and he was hoping to rest before beginning his drive westward into the mountains of Colorado. But again, sleep would not come. As always, as he laid his weary body on the bed, and began to drift off into sleep, the voice came to him. The voice and the vision of the boy he once named Angel. He saw Angel in white wind blown robes, arms outstretched, a smile marking his lips, and eyes that welcomed him. The voice didn't come from Angel, no, but from around him but the message was clear: "Come. Now. I need you." Was it a voice? No, that's not right. Many voices. And did they speak? No, they didn't speak, they sang. They sang the song of two old friends meeting again. They sang of David's love for Jonathan. They sang of John laying in the bosom of Jesus. Always high above the song, and underneath it like a strong hand lifting it up, was the whisper of a melody begging Father Kennedy to: "Come. Now. I need you." In his half awakened state Father Kennedy had done what he never expected: he asked a question. "Who are you?" The answer did not surprise the priest though he knew it was a play on the very name of God. "I am who you think I am." The priest wondered if those might have been the true words spoken to Moses. It didn't matter in the end, the words had their effect and Father Kennedy rose and began the drive westward. "Are you all right, Father?" "Oh, Darcy. As a matter of fact, my son, I must confess that I haven't felt this good in years." "I thought you looked a bit different." "Different? How so?" "I'm not quite sure. How's Angel? The change of direction in the conversation was not lost on Cornelius. Of course, Angel had much to do with the changes that were occurring in his life. He had not realize that those changes were noticeable by anyone. True, Darcy was a remarkable child. In many ways a great deal like Angel. It very well may have been that Darcy was simply speaking what was obvious to himself but not to everyone else. Nevertheless, Cornelius knew he would have to be more careful. Somehow he would have to mask what he was feeling. But how does one mask contentment, peace, fulfillment, joy and true happiness? Cornelius had never experienced these emotions before. He had never allowed himself to even dream they were possible. As surely as he stood before Darcy, he knew that these feelings came from the time he was spending with Angel. He looked into Darcy's eyes and saw that Darcy knew also. "Angel? Oh, yes, well he..." "It doesn't matter Father," Darcy interrupted, "Besides, it's time for afternoon prayers." The old woman sat staring from her favorite park bench. Nothing much changed in the park. She watched day after day as the children came and went. She watched them grow up and leave. Where they went she would not know, did not care. Occasionally, some tall remembrance of the past would visit the park and speak to her saying that she was remembered. She would smile. They would leave, hurrying back into a world with no time for parks and play. She would sit and watch as the children came and went. Nothing much changed in the park. The children steered clear of the old woman. Some called her crazy. Others said she was a witch. Some sympathetic parents, remembering the woman from their own childhood, forbid their own children from speaking harshly of her. When she began coming to the park, no one could remember. She was as stately a part of the landscape as the old Cottonwood that marked the center of the park. Both white of hair. Both were expected to be there. And so she was there when the van stopped in front of the park. She knew immediately that this was something different. There were thirteen heads that she counted disembarking that day. None of them mattered but one. Not the one who immediately spotted her, and came to her, offering her the hot dog he purchased from the vendor that never offered her anything. No, he was a polite enough boy, a kind boy. "Darcy," she heard another call him, "Why did you do that?" She hadn't heard his response nor cared. She placed the hot dog in her shopping bag. It would serve her well as dinner. No, Darcy was not the one. It was the boy that came to her when no one else was looking. He came to her when the park had returned to it's own concerns ignoring even the newcomers, who had themselves forgotten, she was not an ornament in the park but a living being. He came then, sat beside her, and smiled. "Who are you boy?" "Angel, they call me." The woman laughed and then narrowed her eyes on the boy. "An Angel by my side, by my side, by my side." she sang. The boy smiled again at her. His smile was infectious. It warmed her. It made her feel as though she was truly free. He shrugged. "I'm glad I make you happy," he said, "Where is your family?" "Well," replied the old woman, "I am alone. I have no family. They left long ago. I'm not crazy you know?" "I know, but your not alone just lonely," the boy replied "Why do you say that?" "You've been coming here a long time now, Margaret. It is almost time to go home." She almost asked the boy how he knew her name or that she had been coming here for as long as she could remember. Why this place brought her peace, she had long forgotten. Was it here that she had played as a child? She couldn't remember. Maybe, it was that this place reminded her of another place. Perhaps. Didn't she come her during her lunch hour when she was a typist so long ago? Yes, that was right, she was sure. Wasn't it in this park that she met her beloved. Yes, they were married but he was taken. Wasn't he? Yes, he was taken and her beautiful Betsy with him. Taken home to be with the Lord. Yes, she had come here then and wept for the fatherless child that stirred in her womb. But there was something she was forgetting. Something, or someone, from long ago. "Home?" "Yes, Margaret. Your son is coming. It's nearly time to go home." It was the way that Zachy was practically dragging Elijah along in whispers that rose Darcy's curiosity. As Darcy followed, so did one boy after another. Eleven boys stood staring in disbelief before Brother Lucas, also drawn by curiosity, joined them. The boys stood silent and still, with Brother Lucas towering over them, watching the lips of the old lady, and then of Angel, move. They could not hear what was being said but one thing was clear to all: they were witnessing Angel speaking. Father Cornelius didn't like unannounced arrivals. He liked even less unannounced arrivals carrying letters from the Bishop. His relationship with the church was pleasant yet distant. He had considered it as a black mark on his abilities at first but now, with Angel, he preferred it remain that way. His preference was not of concern. "Of course," the older priest was saying, "all matters of operation are still under your care. I am here only as an observer and, in part, on respite. You can feel free to use me in anyway you see fit." "Of course," Father Cornelius answered staring at the letters but not seeing them. The church could not possibly know anything of what was happening with Angel, he knew that. And even if they did, he thought, it would take months before things went through channels and some one like Father Kennedy would be sent. The letters, as Father Kennedy correctly interpreted, gave no hint of impending doom or suspicion. In fact, one could say they hinted more at the priest being in transition before retirement. The Bishop's concern for the elder priest came through clearly. Cornelius was to take care of this priest and give him what he asked. None of this comforted Father Cornelius. It was hard enough visiting Angel with the boys and Brother Lucas about. Now he would have another set of eyes to worry about. "How is Angel?" The question shot through Cornelius like lightening. It was then that he realized he had seen the priest's name before with the Mission records that accompanied Angel . Seated before him was the priest that had given Angel his name. Why was he here? "Angel?" "Yes, I am anxious to see him again. How is he?" "He is out with the other boys. A day outing." "Yes, yes....but how is he Father? Has he spoken? "I'm afraid Father, I can not answer that." Angel recognized the old priest standing beside Father Cornelius immediately. He smiled at him as he got out of the van, walked over to him, took his hand and led him away toward his favorite outcroppings. He hadn't so much as acknowledged Father Cornelius' presence causing something within the man to feel as though it were breaking. As soon as he disappeared out of sight, the other boys broke into a litany of excited chatter about the days events that the priest could bearly follow. Finally, he raised his hand for silence and looked to Brother Lucas for an explanation. "It appears that our Angel was speaking to an old woman in the park." "He was! I saw him too! Me too" came a chorus of voices. Father Cornelius again raised his hand for silence. "Were you able to discern what he was saying?" "I'm afraid not," Brother Lucas answered, "I don't think they spoke long. At any rate, as soon as we were noticed the conversation ended." "Thank you. Thank you all," said Father Cornelius, "I will take the matter under advisement. I think it would be best if we spoke of this no more." Darcy was the last of the boys to leave Father Cornelius and Brother Lucas. He glanced back over his shoulder and witnessed the beginning of Brother Lucas' objection to silencing the days events. He then turned his attention to other concerns: the new priest in their midst. To support these and other stories by Tom Cup, visit: http://tomcup.isCool.net or http://www.boyztown.net Send comments to: tom_cup@hotmail.com