Deacon's Angel

By Beverley Andi

Sitting on a plane in a black sky, Deacon Conner awakens, with no memory. He doesn’t know where he is going or where he has been. Everyone around him seems to be sleeping except the little gray-haired lady sitting next to him. He realizes with a chill, she knows more about him than he knows about himself. When she tells him her name is Sister Margaret Mary it has no significance. He doesn't understand why she says his destiny has been changed; The Boss has given him a second chance. Yet from that moment his life becomes a series of chain events.

Finding himself suddenly in Louisiana, all he remembers of his past life is the information on his driver’s license. He hasn’t the time to ponder his circumstances though. Within hours of reaching his sad little trailer, a hurricane hits and Deacon risks his life to pull Brie Elliot from the raging river. Together the two strangers struggle with the storm and its aftermath. He calls her his angel because her face reminds him of the angels on Christmas cards.

Suddenly Sister Margaret Mary begins making appearances in Deacon’s life as the couple moves north to Black Mountain, N.C. She first appears in a dream warning that death is near. She again shows up after the murder of his boss and good friend. He is convinced she is the messenger of death. Then she visits him for the third and final time in his hospital bed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Beverley Andi
• Release date: Jun 29, 2013

Beverley Andi

Beverley Andi is a native New Yorker, born and raised in the city but spending most of her adult life living and working in Westchester County, NY. Her career stretched from the field of public education to designing educational programs for historical sites and art museums. Searching for Mr. Darcy was her first romantic novel; the sequel, Mrs. Darcy and the Scotsman, her second. She is completing a humorous epistolary novel between, Amy Pasqua, a young museum director in New York City and, Peter Hobbs, a museum archivist in Cambridge, England. The book gives a peek into the hilarious disasters that go on behind the scenes in “places of learning.” Look also for her charming novella entitled, A Kachina Dance, a love story between a New Yorker on vacation in Arizona and a Native American artist on a red motorcycle. Now residing in Durham, North Carolina, the author is a member of both the Romance Writers of America and Heart of Carolina Romance Writers.

Book preview

Deacon’s Angel

by

Beverley Andi

Cover design by Kim Blake

Deacon’s Angel

Smashwords Edition

*****

Copyright 2013 by Paintbox Press

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted in any for or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author/publisher.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, localities and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to events, locations, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The problem with miracles is that it is hard to witness them without wanting one for yourself.

Barbara Brown Taylor

Contents

Chapter One: The Approaching Storm

Chapter Two: A Black Night

Chapter Three: The Day After

Chapter Four: The Rising River

Chapter Five: Fleeing

Chapter Six: Awakening

Chapter Seven: Day Six

Chapter Eight: A Cozy Place for Two

Chapter Nine: Wedding Plans

Chapter Ten: A Unique Reception

Chapter Eleven: Beginnings

Chapter Twelve: Christmas Eve

Chapter Thirteen: A Chilling Christmas

Chapter Fourteen: Aftermath

Chapter Fifteen: The Dinner Party

Chapter Sixteen: Another Full Moon

Chapter Seventeen: Springtime, Tra La

Chapter Eighteen: A New Moon

Chapter Nineteen: Endings

Chapter Twenty: Life Goes On

Chapter One

The Approaching Storm

Deacon woke up on a Boeing747 pressing his hand to the ache in the back of his head. He was in the window seat and realized he was high above the clouds and had no idea where the plane was flying. He sat up and tried to remember where he had been or where he was going. All he knew was he had a severe ache in his brain unlike anything he’d ever felt. He looked around him. Everyone seemed to be dozing. Outside the sky was dark.

Suddenly he heard the woman in the middle seat say, Are you feeling better? You seemed to need that sleep. You didn’t seem too good there for a while. Now I think you’ll be fine.

Deacon turned to the elderly lady who smiled at him. Her face showed so much compassion that his usual guard dropped. I feel like I’m at a loss for where I am or where I’m going. This never happened to me before. Maybe it has something to do with this ache in the back of my head. He grimaced as he touched his skull.

Don’t worry dear, it’s from that dreadful accident but we won’t talk about that now. No, we’ll talk about what I proposed to my Boss. I asked Him to look at all the good things you had done in your life. You had been given a bed of nails to lie on from childhood and you were stoic in accepting them. Though you didn’t go to church, you were as upright as any good man, Christian, Jew or Muslim, could be. You deserved a chance for happiness. Now my Boss doesn’t like to change plans but with looking over some of your past good works, He reversed your destiny. So while the rest of us will be going elsewhere, you’ll be going back to Louisiana.

Deacon looked at her, puzzled. I don’t understand. Who is your boss? Do I know him?

Someday you’ll understand. Let me introduce myself, I’m Sister Margaret Mary. She held out her hand.

I’m Deacon…Deacon…C-c-c…I can’t remember.

It’s all right, Deacon. The trauma to the head that has caused the forgetting. Your name now is Deacon Conner.

Oh, yes, that’s it. He smiled.

The stewardess came around with her cart serving drinks and snacks.

Sister Margaret Mary said, We’ll have two sweet teas here, please.

How did you know?

It’s my business to know, son.

When the drinks and snacks were served, Sister Margaret Mary asked, What will you do now?

I don’t remember anything.

Maybe that’s good. You can start fresh, a new life.

He looked at her startled. But I’m not a kid. I’m a man. I’m about…um…

Yes, you’re forty, dear. You’re still young, lots of good years ahead of you. So what do you want to do with your new life?

He scratched his head and looked out the window at the dark sky. Well, I’ve always been good with machines. I guess I’d like to work on repairing vintage cars. It’s always been a dream.

That sounds do-able. I’m sure that can be arrang…ur…something attainable. She flashed a smile. Looks like they’re coming around with the dinner cart. Shall we have a glass of wine to celebrate your new life?

Deacon laughed. Well, since I can’t remember the old one, I guess I might as well embrace the new one. Sure, I’ll have a glass of wine, Sister. Boy, these other people sure look dead to the world, don’t they?

You said it! She smiled.

He wasn’t used to drinking and the wine made him sleepy. After dinner, sleep soon overtook Deacon. When he awoke he found himself on the ground in his parked car at the Louisiana airport. How he got there he didn’t know. Where he was going was even more of a mystery. He started the car and headed out of the airport and somehow the car seemed to have radar. Before long, it stopped beside a trailer on a deserted road about a mile from the main highway just outside of New Orleans. Nothing looked familiar but a key on his key ring did fit the lock. He opened the door with trepidation and entered slowly. The musty air assaulted him and the frugal interior saddened him. But it looked clean so he opened a window to let in some air. There was a small galley kitchen with a table, and few chairs, a living area with an easy chair, a door that led to a bedroom with a double bed, a dresser and a stool, and lastly, a tiny bath. Nothing beyond basic and everything outdated. He shook his head. If this is where he lived, his life looked pretty grim.

He went back to the car and found he had a duffel bag which he brought in and opened. There wasn’t much in it - jeans, tee shirts, underwear, socks, sneakers, and a bloody white shirt. Everything needed washing. He went outside again to lock the car and noticed a shed behind the trailer. He found another key, opened the padlock and lifted the garage door. He looked around inside and noticed a workbench, an outdoor grill, some tools and a set of tires. He drove the car in and locked it. Then closed and pad locked the doors. He walked around the grounds and tried to remember anything that seemed or sounded familiar but there was nothing, only the silence of a country night. It was a cool summer evening and the stars were ablaze. There was a full moon sitting behind some stringy clouds and the crickets were crooning. His head was aching again and he rubbed the back of it with his hand and suddenly felt an icy shiver.

He carefully moved back to the trailer feeling unsteady. Once inside he found the bed, grabbed a pillow and squeezed it as he lay down. He’d find the sheets tomorrow.

What was happening to him? Was this a dream? All he knew about himself is that his name was Deacon Conner, he was forty, he had a car, lived in a trailer in Louisiana, and was a mechanic of some kind. What happened to the other years of his life? Did he have a family? Why did he have that bloody shirt? What was Sister Margaret Mary talking about…her boss reversing his destiny?" He rubbed his temples. His head was aching. Soon he was fast asleep and didn’t hear the rumble of thunder or the pounding of the rain.

He was in a deep sleep as dawn was breaking. With the eerie light came the howling winds and more hammering rains. If the window hadn’t been left open, he probably wouldn’t have heard the call. As it was, it took him a long time to recognize the urgency in the distant cry. At first he thought it was just part of the storm but the plea was unbroken. He roused himself from slumber and sat at the edge of the bed. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to clear his groggy mind. Walking to the open window he listened. There it was. Someone was calling for help.

Deacon looked around and found a closet. There was a navy windbreaker that he put on over his jeans and an old pair of rubber boots that he slid into as he headed out the door. The sky was light enough now to see so a flashlight wasn’t necessary. He didn’t have a cell phone so he couldn’t think of anything else to bring. He walked quickly toward the main road. The sound seemed to be coming in that direction. The closer he got the more he realized it was a woman’s voice. The heavy rain and fog were making it hard to see clearly but he thought he spotted a car starting to submerge along the bank of the river up ahead. The blood pounded in his head as he raced forward.

Help, please, help, cried the occupant of the car.

It’s OK, I’ll help you. I’ll get you out.

Hurry, please, the car is slipping. The woman’s voice was thin and shaky.

Deacon got to the old, white car and could see he had to act fast. The front of the car was slipping into the rushing river.

Can you climb into the back? If you can, I can open the door.

I can’t. I’m too afraid to move.

What’s your name?

Brie.

You can do it, Brie. Come on, I’ll help ya’.

The car began to slide and Brie started to scream but didn’t move. Deacon tried to open the driver’s door but it was too deep in mud. He opened the back door, got inside and tried to coax her to climb to him but she wouldn’t.

Brie, you’ve either got to crawl back here or go out the front window, honey. Please, we don’t have much time. That river’s gonna’ be pretty icy.

Oh God, I can’t move.

Yes you can, Brie. You don’t want to die and neither do I. Come on, give me your hand. His voice was steady and soft. He kept urging and slowly she turned and got on her knees and reached for his hand.

Good. He smiled.

The car lurched and Brie screamed again. Deacon calmly pulled her forward and dragged her legs over the console. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her and carried her out. It seemed to be raining harder as they stood there looking at the car.

Is there anythin’ in the car ya’ want? Deacon shouted as the rain soaked through his clothes.

Oh, my bag and my backpack. He ran to the car and retrieved them. She smiled and said, Now the bloody thing can plunge to the bottom for all I care. As if on cue the car lurched again on the oozing mud and slid into the river and was instantly carried away in the churning waters.

Seeing the car disappear, Brie’s knees suddenly gave out and if Deacon hadn’t caught her she would have collapsed in the mud.

Steady, girl. You’re gonna’ be alright. Do ya’ think you can walk?

Yeah, with a little support, she said weakly, all color gone from her face.

Come on, I’m not far from here. Let’s get out of this rain and into some dry clothes. Put your arm around my shoulder. He stretched his arm around her waist to support her body on his while carrying the backpack and her bag with the other hand.

The rain blew horizontally, stinging their faces and slowing their walk. It was a strenuous hike because Brie stumbled frequently. They both sighed with relief when they finally got to the trailer. Immediately Deacon got her seated on the easy chair before she collapsed. He took Brie’s wet sweater off and threw it on the floor. He noticed the pallor of her skin and trembling body. Running to the bathroom he grabbed some towels then to the bedroom to find something to cover her. He found only bath towels. She took them from him and smiled faintly.

I’ll be OK, I’m just cold. She rubbed her arms briskly and toweled her hair which was a mass of wet ringlets sticking to her scalp. Deacon removed her sneakers and socks. After drying her feet, he rubbed them quickly with his hands to warm them. Brie began to giggle. He looked up at her puzzled.

I’m sorry, I’m ticklish, she said with a smile, but your hands do feel so nice and warm. While in her mind she thought, What an adorable guy…such big brown eyes and thick curly hair falling across his forehead. Hmm, and such strong hands…not soft hands but rough, calloused hands…work hands. I wonder what he does for a living?

Do you have some dry shoes and socks to put on?

No, but if I could take a warm shower, I’ll be just fine.

Deacon apologized for the meagerness of things and told her he had just returned from a trip. He walked over to turn on the hot water heater and frowned. I don’t think you should be showering until you’ve calmed down. You’re still shaking. Have you had anything to eat or drink this morning? His voice was full of concern.

No, I’m fine, really.

It will take me a few minutes to make some coffee. At least have a cup. I’ll find a blanket you can wrap around yourself to keep warm.

Oh, a hot cup of coffee does sound good. Brie smiled again.

Deacon walked to the bedroom and remembered the closet. Looking in, he spied several blankets on the top shelf. He hurried back with a well-worn beige one that he put around her shoulders. Brie in the meantime had wrapped a towel around her hair, turban style, and sat with her feet tucked under her. She burrowed into the blanket and sighed. Looking in cabinets, Deacon was delighted to find he had a coffee-maker and coffee. There was even some powdered milk and sugar. Things didn’t look so glum. He found some cups, rinsed` them, sponged off the little table and poured the coffee. Brie cuddled in her blanket watched him with a grin showing her white teeth.

By the way, you’re a very nice man but I don’t know your name. You saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you. My name is Brie Elliot. I’m sorry I acted like a screaming idiot back there. I was petrified.

I know you were scared. I’m just glad you finally did move. I’m Deacon Conner, by the way. What are you gonna’ do about your car? Do you have insurance?

I’m lucky I have gas money. The car was a junk heap. I only bought it for a few hundred bucks off a friend. If it didn’t drown today, it was going to have a heart attack soon. It was headed for the junk yard. They both laughed.

Well, I’m pretty good with cars I might have been able to fix it. He gave a half smile. So what brought ya’ down this stretch of road?

I got lost looking for a motel. Brie shivered visibly as she moved to the table, took her coffee and mixed in the milk and sugar. She didn’t look at him. I’m from up north.

Hmm, I notice ya’ don’t say y’all much.

Brie laughed and drank her coffee. As the color came back in her cheeks, she sighed. I’d really like to get out of these wet clothes. I think I’m ready for a nice warm shower now.

Fine, as long as you don’t feel shaky. He pointed to the bathroom and once he heard the shower he grabbed some dry clothes to put on himself. Then he saw the old radio on the top of the refrigerator and turned it on to hear the weather. There was so much static he was about to turn it off when he heard the alerts for a hurricane. He wondered if this trailer could withstand hurricane winds. Well, there was nothing he could do at this moment so he sipped his coffee.

When Brie emerged from the bathroom she was pink and shiny. Her light chestnut hair was pulled up and wet little curls encircled her sweet face making her hazel eyes look enormous. She reminded him of the angels you see on Christmas cards. Her figure was all woman though; she was bare footed with faded jeans and a snug black, jersey top.

That shower was great. I hope I didn’t take all your hot water. Do you mind if I don’t wear my wet shoes?

Nope, there’s more coffee.

Thanks. Your place is small but cozy. Do you live alone?

Yup.

Please don’t let me interrupt you from taking your shower or whatever you do in the morning.

Well, usually I go out for a run but I think I’ll skip that today, he said and his mouth quirked up at the corners. "A shower does sound good. You can rummage around and see what y’all can find in the closet as far as food. There’s a hurricane out there otherwise I’d take ya’ for breakfast and get you to where you wanna’ go. I think we’re gonna’