Falling for Hope Page 2

  Hope stared some more at the polyptych of the Resurrection, her thoughts turning decidedly morose, before leaving the vivid colors and scenes behind to go home.

  When she got home, she booted up her computer to look up the funny taste in her mouth after pulling some chicken breasts out of the freezer to thaw in a sink full of water.

  Hope was looking for diseases that involved seizures, because she'd read somewhere that people usually got a funny taste in their mouths right before a seizure. Before she could get much into her research though, her phone rang, and when she looked at the caller ID, it was her mother. She sighed. It was Tuesday, after all.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Dear. Are you coming tomorrow?" Her mother's voice, as always, held the false cheer of someone hiding a deep sorrow. Conversations with her mother were a necessary pain in Hope's life that she had to deal with regularly.

  "Of course I am, Mom. The usual time? Six?" Hermes hopped up on her lap and then crept to the keyboard, assuming the distraction of the telephone call meant it was okay to lounge in unacceptable places. Hope tried to nudge the enormous cat out of her way to no avail. Somehow, when a cat doesn't want to be moved, they manage to turn their innards to cement or something to make themselves heavier.

  "Yes, dear. I'm making King Ranch chicken. Your favorite."

  Hope swallowed past a lump that had formed in her throat. It wasn't her favorite. It had been Melissa's favorite, but she wasn't going to correct her mom. King Ranch chicken was fine. "Great, Mom. Thanks."

  Her mother cleared her throat, and Hope knew what was next. "Hope, dear. Your father's sixty-seventh birthday is in three months. We aren't getting any younger, but we are getting lonely." She paused, while Hope ground her jaw together. She could feel her temple bulge with the motion. "We would really like to see you settle down and have a family, dear. We want grandchildren."

  "I know, Mom. It's not like I'm partying every night, living it up." She looked longingly at her stack of books by the bed.

  "Maybe you should do something to get out of the house more and meet people."

  "I get out of the house when I go to work. I go to the Laundromat." Which she needed to do again, soon. Then she remembered her trip that evening. “I go to the museum. I get out of the house plenty."

  "Do you go out to lunch? Coffee shops?" Her mother sounded like she was trying to be helpful, however misguided it was. Hope recognized the sing-song tone as her mom’s “being helpful” tone of voice. Coupled with the raised eyebrows and twinkling eyes Hope knew her mother was sporting, Hope couldn’t control the violent eye roll.

  Hope was trying to keep her voice even, but this was a topic that was quickly growing old with her. "I'm a public librarian, Mom. Not an executive. I don't make enough money to drink six dollar coffees and eat twenty dollar lunches."

  "Well, we can talk about it more tomorrow at dinner, Dear. Maybe by then, I can come up with some different ideas." Hope could almost see her pulling out a notepad to make notes of how to make Hope happy and find her a man. Ugh.

  "Sure, Mom. That would be great."

  After hanging up the phone, Hope walked out to her balcony, dismissing the internet search for the moment. Chatting with her mother depressed her. It reminded her that she wasn't her sister, and would never measure up to her parents' expectations.

  Melissa and Hope had always been worlds apart. Melissa was athletic and quick-witted, wanting to use her life for good things. Hope had always been just a little too fluffy and perfectly content to sit in a corner with her nose stuck in a book. It was a no-brainer she would get her library sciences degree. Just like it was a no-brainer that Melissa would become a lawyer for the disadvantaged.

  The truth was, Hope had never even tried to compare to her sister. There was no way. Now that she was dead, her deeds were magnified, and Hope had no hope of ever even touching the pedestal. And she didn’t want to. She just wanted to go along living her life the way she was, with her cats and her books, and her solitude. She didn’t want to change anything about her own life.

  She felt peaceful solitude on the little oasis that was her balcony. She had tried to fill it with potted plants and flowers, and had livened them up with whimsical fairy figurines. Her guilty pleasure. In fact, her apartment was riddled with fairies. On her balcony though, she had them sitting around the edges of pots, sitting on leaves, and even hanging from the ceiling. Her balcony was the only place that she kept swept regularly.

  Hope sat on one of the cushioned seats breathing deeply, and watched a butterfly dart between the blooms of her petunias. Usually there were more, as she grew flowers specifically for the butterflies. But this was the most interesting looking butterfly she'd ever seen, and she couldn't blame it for being a loner. It certainly didn't need to put the other butterflies to shame.

  It was red and black, and when it sat still, briefly, she could make out markings on its wings that looked like a face. Not a pretty face, but it was a butterfly, not something magical. The prickly feeling was suddenly back, and Hope's eyes darted around to make sure she wasn't being watched, however weird that was. She was on the third floor overlooking a parking lot and a busy street. Nobody could really see her here, which was why she enjoyed the balcony so much. It was her own little slice of solitude.

  Not that she needed a slice of it. Her life exuded solitude. The children at the library were really her only friends. Them, and her coworker, Jenna. Jenna was a younger girl, in her early twenties, and if Hope was honest with herself, she lived a little vicariously through the young woman with a boyfriend and a life. For the most part though, she was happy.

  Was she trying to convince herself?

  She looked back at the sliding glass door and realized that Di, Perseus, and Athena were watching her through the glass. She didn't let them outside because they tended to use her potted plants for a litter box.

  The prickling sensation felt concentrated on her forearm, and when she looked at it, the butterfly had landed there. Surprised, as they didn't usually do that, she held her body as still as possible, not wanting to scare it off. A faint burnt smell rose to her nostrils, and she wondered if it was the butterfly secreting something to attract a mate or ward off predators.

  The butterfly appeared to be looking at her. Weird. She could see the tiny particles of dust that coated the wings, as it opened and closed them. It was as if the markings on its back were eyes, blinking, seeing, fluttering emotions at her. The face markings were clear as a bell and sent a tiny shiver coursing through Hope. It looked like the face of a demon. She wondered what kind of butterfly it was. It fluttered its wings again before flying away.

  Sighing to herself, Hope rose and went inside to clean the litter box and resume her research into whatever disease she had.

  Gabe watched traffic and lights rush past him as he contemplated the changes in humanity since his last visit in the flesh. The last time he’d been here, humanity had used the beasts for transportation.

  As a population, they had an optimistic outlook for their future during those times. A future of ease and opportunity. The last time he’d been here in the flesh, the Industrial Revolution, was a time of enthusiasm for invention. Automobiles were new. New power sources were being explored. While life at the time was difficult for most, there was hope for a brighter future, a future with communication devices, mass transit, and an ease of living to ease the suffering.

  He studied the different types of vehicles hurling themselves down the paved streets now. Now the humans had the ease and opportunity they had been desiring, and they were cynical about it. The disparagement oozed from humanity, even as it consumed them. Gabe couldn’t even comprehend what all of it was, but he knew that these humans were taking their achievements for granted.

  Was that why The Boss was displeased enough to let him and his brothers go and start over? Was it because they hadn’t done their jobs for the humans? Did He want someone new?

  The stirrings of something foreign swelled
in his gut at the thought. What if this new idea of His didn’t work out, and he wasn’t capable of love? What would happen to him then? The idea of abandonment created a hollow sensation inside him. If he had no one, not even his Father, what would he do with himself?

  He decided to take a walk to chase the traitorous thoughts out of his head. That’s what he felt like. A traitor. He had never doubted The Boss before, even when he’d had some doozies of ideas, why would he start now?

  Because now, they directly affected him. He knew how the humans felt, warring with faith and their own needs inside.

  Gabe found himself at the neighborhood hospital steps and remembered doing this before. Cloaking himself, he stepped inside and looked around. The sterility was another advancement since his previous trip inside a hospital, yet it seemed to make people edgy. He could feel the disgust emanating from the people waiting. Disgust overpowered the grief, and cynicism layed beneath it all. He could sense the disbelief and anger at some system. The doubt he’d touched his senses upon on the streets hit him full-force inside the antiseptic hospital. Everywhere he looked people oozed desperation, and Gabe could tell it wasn’t all health-related. These people were disheartened from something else, and he didn’t want to take the time to sort it all out. He could have stood there and let all that soak in, but he chose to make his way to the critical patients to see what he could do to fill some time.

  When he entered the wing of the hospital labeled “Critical Care Unit,” he knew he was in the right place. Following his senses, he entered a room that held an elderly gentleman with a visible growth bulging from his stomach. The blankets were pulled up, but the bulge was prominent on the emaciated frame of the man, whose eyes were shut tightly. He thrashed weakly in his bed, arms raised above his chest, as if warding off some unseen beast. Gabe walked over to the man and laid his hand on his chest.

  Visions of flames and demons filled Gabe, and he knew that’s what this man was dreaming about. A soul at unrest, unwilling to go into the afterlife, not knowing what awaited him there. Had he been good enough? This was a common occurrence in Gabe’s experience. Human doubt.

  Gabe sent the longed-for images of green pastures, pearly gates, and fluffy white clouds, all enshrouded in light, and the man’s brow relaxed. Gabe whispered to the man to rest, before a nurse walked in. He presumed this was Louise, as her name was scrawled on a white board visible from the patient’s bed, along with the times of her shift. She hummed a cheery tune to herself, as Gabe watched her check the man’s vital signs and type something in the computer on the wall before leaving.

  Gabe followed her out and trailed her the rest of her shift, providing comfort where it was needed. This was part of his job, and he would fulfill it until the end.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, Hope was watching her feet as she climbed the steps to the library. She cursed to herself as she tasted the tangy-sweet saliva in her mouth again. Maybe it was some sort of building issue? She'd never heard of asbestos making people taste funny things, but she'd be sure to ask the other employees today, just in case.

  As she neared the top of the stairs, Hope felt the prickly feeling yet again, and her gaze rose to the man standing in front of the library doors waiting.

  "Aren't the doors open?" She tried to sound solicitous, but the truth of the matter was, this guy took her breath away. It was the man that had watched her all day yesterday.

  "Yes, but I won't be staying today." The low rumble of his voice greeted her a cheery good morning unlike anything else she could ask for. Just the sound of his voice made her day perfect.

  "Oh." Disappointed that he wouldn't be in her little room of the library bit through the fog of his voice.

  "Come to dinner with me tonight."

  Shocked speechless, she stared at him. He had an air of expectation about him, and his forehead crinkled in thought at the same time that she heard his luxurious voice rumble inside her head.

  Come. Say yes. His sexy-as-sin voice resonated inside her head.

  Hope's eyes darted around, making sure there wasn't anybody else who could have done that, before she looked back up at him. "You don't have to use the force on me. I'm thinking. I was just taken by surprise, is all."

  Both of his eyebrows rose, almost to his hairline and his eyes widened in surprise. "You heard that?"

  "Didn't you mean for me to?" She countered, putting a hand on her hip.

  His face remained impassive. "Well…yes. But usually it's not so obvious." His tone of voice suggested he wasn’t expecting Hope to call him on his little trick, and seeing that gave her a little boost of confidence.

  "You go around using Jedi mind tricks on women to get dates often?"

  He chuckled, and his eyes dropped to the ground. "No. I've never done it for a date, no."

  Hope's eyes roamed his body from his feet, clad in shiny leather loafers, up his gray woolen slacks (Hello, Fifty), to the black sweater vest he wore over a white long-sleeved button down shirt, open at the collar. His face held strong features: a square jaw with a small dimple in the middle, high, obscenely high cheekbones, a rather large mouth that made her mind travel to erotic places, and those eyes… The man exuded a strength that wasn’t visible. Well, it was visible, he looked like his muscles had muscles, but he had an air of intense power and vigor about him that told Hope he expected people to do what he said. Often.

  Then her eyes traveled to herself. She had worn black dress pants today, with a shirt that actually sort of fit her large breasts, although it showed a little more cleavage than she was comfortable with. Hope looked at him again, and his eyes held the question. What was her answer?

  "Why?"

  The question in his eyes turned to surprise. Apparently, this guy didn't get questioned very often. An image flitted through her mind, the two of them together at a table, lit with candles, Hope's head thrown back in laughter.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Did you do that, too?"

  He had the grace to look sheepish. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

  "No."

  His head snapped up, and his mouth fell open. "Why not?"

  "Because I'm having dinner with my parents tonight. But you didn't answer my question? Why do you want to take me out?"

  It was his turn to peruse her. His eyes started at her feet, and slowly worked their way up her body. By the time they reached her face, Hope was squirming. "Why not?" The timbre of his voice washed over her, like it had yesterday, and Hope actually felt her breasts get heavier, as if they were swelling out of her bra.

  Why not, indeed?

  "Okay, my lunch is from one to two."

  "I'll pick you up here, then? At one o'clock?"

  Hope nodded, suddenly speechless again, unable to look away as he turned his long, lean frame and deftly descended the steps. Suppressing the urge to do a happy dance, lest he turn around and catch her, she scurried inside the library.

  The hours until lunch passed surprisingly quickly, considering how nervous Hope was. If she'd known he was going to actually ask her out, she would have worn a little make-up, or done something with her hair. She had been hopeful he would be here again, hence the clothes that actually fit her, but never in her wildest expectations did she think he would ask her out.

  Raised children’s voices caught her attention and she walked across to the section with picture books about dinosaurs to see what was going on. Two small boys were fighting over a book, each one holding onto the cover, threatening to rip pages.

  “I’m sorry guys. If you keep fighting, I’ll have to take the book and put it away. We have to take care of our books.” Hope’s tone was even and patient. She knew from years of experience, she needed to be calm and assertive when dealing with children, and she was good at it. It usually commanded respect from the patrons of the library.

  The children stopped immediately, and the harried mother looked instantly relieved. “Thank you so much. They never listen to me.”

  Hope turned
to go back to her desk, when the din continued. She walked back over and extricated the book from the boys’ hands. “I’ll have to put it away now. I’m sorry.” She walked back to her desk with the book. Almost immediately, the mother was at the desk, holding both boys’ hands.

  “I can’t believe you really did that. That’s just…rude!” She turned and stomped away, leaving Hope with some insight as to why the boys never listened to their mother.

  Left with nothing to do but wait for the man, Hope studied herself for the hundredth time that day. She was an easy size twelve. Fourteen, if she were retaining fluids. At five foot, five inches, the size twelve looked much bigger on her frame. What would a god-like man want with her? He was tall and lean and looked strong and fit. Was he addle-minded?

  He was certainly telepathic. That was cool. She wondered if he could read minds too. Did he see all her fantasies yesterday? Maybe he walked around, seeing into ladies' minds, trying to figure out who would have sex with him. Surely, every woman would have sex with him. He didn't have to stoop to a fat girl, did he?

  Her current ruminations were interrupted by two men and a woman standing in front of her desk, looking decidedly determined. It was odd. Usually at least one child accompanied the adults who stood waiting at her desk.

  Hope put her insecure thoughts aside and plastered on her helpful librarian look. “May I help you?”

  The shorter of the two men spoke. “Yes. We’re here on behalf of the ‘Keep the Constitution alive and Separate Church and State’ political organization. Specifically, the Children’s Literature committee. I’m Ralph Hutchins. We are here to present you with a petition to remove certain religious titles from the shelves of a library that is open due to funding from the City and taxpayers.” He triumphantly dropped a small stack of papers onto her desk and continued. “The founding fathers purposely made that the first amendment of the Constitution of the United States in an effort to keep nasty little religious texts out of State-run facilities in an attempt to deter persecution of our religious rights. You are violating that amendment by holding these books on your shelves for children to read.” The little man looked immensely pleased with his little diatribe and Hope wondered to herself how many times he’d practiced this morning in front of a mirror to get his speech just right.