The Other Side of The Cloud by Elizabeth Eden (aka Jane Carver)

Some instinct made her turn at that moment, and she almost physically jumped back six feet. A man stood right behind her! A large man, at that.

Hands in the pockets of his jeans, black hair ruffled by the temperamental hot breeze, cowboy shirt tucked into slim faded denims and sporting dusty boots, he could have been harmless as a baby but just being that close to her when no one had been within eyesight seconds earlier scared the stuffings out of Wendy.

Her hand went to her heart, which pounded something fierce, and sweat rolled down her temples while her mouth went dry. No one would hear her scream if this man meant her harm. Her deep brown long curly ponytail slapped her in the face as she whipped her head first one way then the other looking for help. Slowly she backed up, prepared to run if the man made one move.

Slowly he pulled his hands out of his pockets and spread them wide at his side. He raised his head until he looked her straight in the eyes. But he moved no closer nor did he speak.

His blue eyes seemed to beg for her understanding, her compassion. Wendy thought in one second that he looked familiar, perhaps a lot like Trey, the way he looked right after a shower, coming to her to make love. Powerful but giving. Strong but gentle. In the next second, she could have sworn his face blurred, and she no longer recognized the image of the man she loved. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to get a fix on what this man looked like exactly.

“I was told I’d find you by the water.” A deep rumbly voice seemed to roll up out of the man’s barrel chest and float over the airwaves between them as he nodded toward the pond. “That seems to be a favorite meeting place for beings such as me. The messenger/guardian type.”

His voice mesmerized Wendy. At once her fears calmed, and she wondered in that idle sort of way when danger is imminent but you debate if it’s peril or just adventure…she wondered if he would speak again just so she could stand and feel the magic of his voice soothe her worn emotions.

Her eyes almost closed in the contentment of his presence but then! Those same green eyes snapped open, and she put out a hand to ward him off though he still stood where she first saw him.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing here? How did you get so close, and I didn’t hear you?” She fired one question after another, taking a big step backward with each.

“Hell has nothing to do with my being here, and if you ask too many more questions while backing up, you’re going to get dunked when you back right into that pond,” the man said with a smile curving his lips as he hooked one thumb in the top of his jeans and pointed to the water not far behind her. His humor wiggled through his concern as easily as it buried itself in her heart.

Wendy stopped moving, hesitated then shot a quick glance over her shoulder. For sure! The water’s edge was a lot closer than she realized. And while his large size frightened her, his voice and attitude seemed nothing like a murderer’s.

Suddenly his laughter filled the air. Oh, not that belly-shaking mirth she might have expected from someone his size, but a gentle laugh that sounded more like he laughed at himself rather than her. “I’m no murderer.” He cocked his head to one side and cut his blue-eyed gaze at her, those full lips turned up and white teeth shining.

Oh dear, what a stud. Her mind imagined him on the front of a calendar for firefighters or a poster for cowboys. In a pose that showed him all hot, sweaty, beefy and masculine. When was the last time she looked at Trey like that? Not once though did she think of putting any moves on this man no matter how handsome and appealing he looked.

“To your credit, woman, that you like what you see but do not seek it for yourself.” He straightened and folded his arms over his chest, his expression one of a proud parent whose child had just accomplished something worthy.

“Hey, are you reading my mind!” His words about not being a murderer and not seeking what she thought looked hot drew her focus.

“Could be.” His mouth quirked to one side, and he shrugged broad shoulders. “You wanted to know about the other side of the clouds so here I am. Ask away.”

Like a balloon that had lost its air and sank gently to the ground, Wendy’s knees seemed to give out beneath her. Her eyesight began to fade, her visual acuity narrowed to tunnel vision, and she knew that at any moment she was going to faint right in front of a man who could still be a killer though her heart said he was far from it. Before her knees actually buckled, he was next to her, one arm around her back and a hand holding hers as she struggled to remain conscious.

“You’ll probably kill me anyway, and then Trey and Johnny won’t have anyone to wash and cook for them,” she mumbled as she slid to the ground, her landing made softer for the help he gave her. Better than crashing into the ground and putting a knot on my head, she reasoned in that foggy part of her mind that still had trouble putting together her innocuous question about the other side of the cloud and this man who could read her mind and came to answer her questions. “I’m dreaming. Right?”

“If you say so.” He squatted beside her, one knee on the ground so she could lean against him rather than flop like a snagged trout in the dirt. He eased her around until she sat up by herself. Then he took a seat on the ground in front of her, crossed his long legs Indian-style and rested his hands on his kneecaps. “Better?”

Wendy smoothed one hand across her forehead and took several deep breaths. “Yeah, I guess. But it’s not every day a man pops up behind a body and then says all kinds of things to scare a person. That’s just wrong.” For whatever reason, she no longer felt intimidated.

“What’s your name?” She maneuvered her legs until she sat like him and smoothed the material of her sundress over her knees.

“What do you want to call me? I am a spirit, a created being. Never was human.” He shrugged again as if being human wasn’t something he aspired to. 

One hand out again, Wendy debated now if she might be talking to an escapee from an asylum somewhere. The man made no sense at all.

“I make lots of sense if you will just accept one thing, Wendy Matheson.” The man’s face now took on a stern teacher-like expression, his eyes not cold but commanding, his lips no longer smiling, his body sitting tall and dignified.

“There you go! Reading my mind again! You scare me when you do that!” She scooted back on her butt.

“I don’t mean to scare you. Quite the contrary. As for reading your mind, I can read the expressions on your face. That would be enough for anyone.” His scowl told her that he was not happy with her attitude and actions. “I have an easier time convincing children of who I am.”

“So just who are you?” Wendy’s exasperation came through in her rather snide question.

“I am an angel sent to answer your questions and to show you that the other side of that cloud you’ve been watching is not all you think it is. Now, what do you have to say to that?”

Angel Two Down by Jane Carver

Jake sat, rubbing his chin, deep in thought.

“What’s the matter? Do you disapprove of me or something?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Jake came out his reverie and sat up straighter. “What makes you think something’s the matter?”

“You were looking at me with narrowed eyes and rubbing your chin as if you were judging me. You act like you’re angry with me.”

“I didn’t mean to give that impression. I just do that when I’m thinking. Habit I guess.” He grinned and added, “Like talking to myself.”

She almost choked on her sip of coffee but managed to swallow it before laughing with a tinkling sound that lifted Jake’s spirits. “I talk to myself as well, and those around me don’t exactly approve. Seems we share some bad habits.” Her mischievous grin told him she was teasing.

For no reason Jake could name, he suddenly felt like he’d known her for a long time, felt comfortable with her. And just as suddenly, he realized he had no idea who she was. In order to get information, he gave some first. One hand out, he introduced himself. “I’m Jake Pruitt. I live downtown and work at Fire Station Number Four about two miles from here. What’s your name? Are you from around here?”

She put her hand in his and gave him a firm handshake. “I’m Rebecca…” She hesitated while her eyes shifted to her upper right then she added, “Jones. Rebecca Jones. I’m not from here. I live rather far away. I know no one here but you.” Her smile warmed him and made him feel needed for the first time in a long time.

* * * *

“Hey, Jake.” His neighbor, Harry, sounded odd.

“What’s up?” Jake drove with one hand and shivered; the truck still felt like a block of ice.

“You have any heat at your place?”

Jake could almost hear Harry’s teeth chattering. “I’ve been at the station. The power out at our place?” The warehouse where Jake lived was subdivided into six units, three on each floor. The apartments were primitive at best; bare walls thirty feet high with little insulation. So much different than a year earlier when Jake had lived in a home with all the amenities and a loving wife and daughter. “When did it go off?” He suddenly realized his guest might be freezing. A quick glance in the side mirror showed an opening in the traffic, and Jake swerved into the next lane and sped up.

“Listen, Harry. I’ve got to go. I have a guest staying over, and she might be getting real cold right about now.” Jake never thought about how Harry would take that news but was quick to roll his eyes in exasperation when Harry hooted in glee.

“All right! Way to go, Jake. A chick. Yeah, you better hurry home and,” Harry paused to give a loud chuckle, “ help her warm up.”

“Hey, man, it’s not like that.” When Harry cackled, Jake hung up. No way could he describe how Rebecca made him feel. Almost whole again.

* * * *

His good intentions died when he stepped through the door into his chilly apartment and found Rebecca sitting on his mattress surrounded by pictures and papers. “What the hell are you doing?” He stalked forward and grabbed her by the arm. Jerking her to her feet, he marched her to the tiny table and sat her down, thrusting her into the chair so hard that he imagined he could hear her tailbone smack the wooden seat. “I told you that you could stay here, but I said nothing about you going through my stuff.”

His temper raged, and he paced. His face contorted as if he were in pain. His heels hit the floor like staccato shots, popped one after another in the silence of the massive single room. The depth of his anger shook him like a single leaf in a high wind, all alone and forgotten. As he walked, turned and walked back before turning again, he muttered, “Damn women. Why can’t they leave well enough alone? Why does everyone stick their nose into my business?” Exasperation and rising grief matched his anger; anger at himself and with those who left him high and dry, with no purpose in life.

How long he muttered and paced, he had no idea, but Rebecca sat and listened without speaking. She did not seem to fear his outbursts nor did she seem to pity him. Her soft eyes called to him; asked him to unburden himself. Almost as if she knew what he had been going through.

* * * *

“Jake, who wants you dead?”

Jake felt his mouth fall open and jaw hang slack, as he stared boggle-eyed at the inspector. “You’re saying someone tried to kill me? On purpose?” He hunched his shoulders, held both hands palm up and stuck his chin out like a chicken. “Why for the love of God?”

“I’ll investigate this as I usually do, but this time, Jake, you can’t help.” Evan stuck his notepad and pen in his pocket. “Go home, and give this some thought, will ya? Who has a grudge against you? Who have you pissed off? Anything like that.” Evans walked off, his steps strident, the expression on his face telling Jake that he was serious.

Jake slouched against the door of the ambulance. He cut his eyes around the group. Mandy and Raymond sat on the stretcher, their expressions stunned. Gladding looked like a bear in a bad mood. Jake stepped closer to his captain. “You know I’ve done damn little this past year, Cap. I haven’t gone anywhere or done much of anything. How could I wind up in this kind of trouble?”

Feeling helpless was something Jake had gotten used to, but this was a whole new ball game. Seemed just as he decided he might have something to live for, someone was trying to take his life. “Maybe, Cap, this was just a crime of opportunity. You know, give that order to just any guy who happened to be in an isolated area.”

Gladding blinked as if his thoughts were far away. When his gaze fell on him, Jake wondered what the man was thinking; he looked so odd. “We’ll wait to see what the inspector finds.”