The Messenger

By Kimberly Lewis

ICU nurse Beth Jordan understands challenging situations and meets them head on. Between a demanding work schedule, renovating her historical home, helping her veteran brother through PTSD after combat in the Middle East, and resolving aspects of her traumatic childhood, her life is full- too full for additional complications.
When Beth is involved in an accident resulting in a fatality, she is unwittingly pulled into events beyond her immediate understanding, shaking up her predictable existence. Dramatic rescues are commonplace in her line of work, but the man she helps save turns out to be a rock star whose initial gratitude turns into romantic interest- and Beth isn’t sure she wants to draw the attention of an international celebrity. Even if he is practically irresistible.
Relief from financial strain comes in the form of two fellow veterans her brother sends to rent rooms from her. One might say the timing is heaven-sent. While the men get to work helping her refurbish the house, Beth can’t help wonder why she feels so secure on such a short acquaintance, when it isn’t her nature to trust so easily. Then disturbing dreams of angels and demons begin to plague her.

Tension builds as suppressed memories from her childhood resurface and coincidences occur that aren’t easily explained. Beth discovers not only can she not escape events in her past, they might play a crucial role in her future. As she realizes the men in her life are not who they seem to be, she is also faced with choices that catapult an ordinary woman into the potential for an extraordinary destiny in the ultimate struggle between good and evil.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimberly Lewis
• Release date: Aug 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311297105

Kimberly Lewis

Kimberly Lewis is a nurse with a background in Critical Care, Case Management, Rehab, and Acquired/Traumatic Brain Injury. An avid cyclist and hiker, she lives in CT with three of her four children.

Book preview

Prologue

Poiel waited with the patience of his kind. He savored the anticipation and the tension coiled within him and allowed the sensation to engulf him, along with the wonder of at last being granted the honor of meeting a leader who was known to him only by reputation. At the same time, anxiety threaded through the thrill of it; what was the reason behind this visit? Time and location was all he knew—all he needed to know—he was assured.

The inky darkness ebbed in the wake of encroaching dawn as he inhaled the cold sharpness of the crisp autumn air. This was his favorite time of day, when the earth lay in anticipation as it wakened to the possibilities of its renewal. He shifted his position against the rough marble slab he leaned against, one of the World War II markers in this forsaken but charmingly dilapidated cemetery, one of many that dotted New England like secret niches of solitude.

His senses shook him from reverie and heralded an arrival, literally hummed with the impending presence with a force he’d previously never encountered and hoped he’d be able to endure.

He felt, rather than saw, the looming shadow as he approached, heard the frost stiffened blades of grass crunch under the purposeful stride and the energy gathered the closer he came. His heart rapidly beat a tattoo that pulsed and reverberated through his head; he tried to recall his etiquette; he hoped he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

Poiel, faithful guardian, the voice, clipped, efficient and deep, greeted him in the ancient way, in the near vacuum his presence created in the stillness surrounding them. Although Poiel was aware of the fact he was looking upon his leader in human form, the size of the man was intimidating. He supposed there was a limit to how much he could be contained, even in mortal form.

Off kilter due to the unprecedented level of energy emitted by his visitor, Poiel gathered himself awkwardly to his feet, his body shook uncontrollably while it struggled to accommodate the elevated energy force emanating from the other man.

Noting Poiel’s physical distress, his visitor spoke with slight impatience, Forgive me, I have just come from being in the Presence; I was not mindful of its effect. It has been a long time since I was last here. And with that, Poiel felt a withdrawal of that palpable energy that nearly incapacitated him, and he was able to draw his first steady breath. He felt his legs bear him more surely, and his heartbeat decelerate to a supportable rate.

Wasting no further time on pleasantries, he was informed, I am here to assist you with Elizabeth. There’s an issue.

At this, Poiel’s head snapped up to meet the gaze of his superior, again, something for which he was unprepared. Blinking rapidly, he acclimated to the fiery gaze which gratefully, he witnessed conforming to the more human appearance of the sharp and deep blue of a glowing twilight sky—a match to his own.

A mission?, Poiel asked, slightly dazed. His superior nodded. His heart sped up in alarm. In what way could his human charge possibly interest one who so rarely walked among humankind? And when he was sent, it wasn’t for general purposes. In fact, human events his leader took part in were the stuff of legends. He didn’t understand how his assignment had drawn this kind of attention. His innards clenched in anxiety for Beth.

Poiel could only swallow dryly while nodding his assent. If he required the assistive powers of Uriel, an archangel of the Presence, he wasn’t sure there was any way to prepare for it.

Chapter 1

Beth grasped the steering wheel with her left hand while she leaned forward, searching for the sweet spot on her dash and thumped three times in rapid succession. The distracting buzzing noise stopped and she could concentrate on her favorite CD without that stupid noise messing with the sound.

A new car would be nice, but, definitely not in the financial picture. Her faithful Subaru hung in there, year after year, but it was pushing 200,000 miles and she knew, it was going to be repairs that would get her or it would just die on her way to work one of these days. Luckily, the only place she went was work and to visit her brother once a week, so, maybe she could drag this out. Well, no maybe about it. It had to cooperate; there was no money to buy another car.

She checked her time on the dash—the display blinked 6:02 like a pulse. It was actually an hour earlier, but the button that set the clock didn’t work anymore, so, half the year, the time worked for Daylight Savings and the other half, it didn’t. Her supervisor, Amy, had asked her to come in early for another nurse on third shift who needed to do something for one of her kids this morning. She didn’t mind; she was up before dawn every day and it was peaceful riding in this early. No traffic at all and autumn was her favorite season to be out and about. In fact, she cracked the window just to get a whiff of the chilly air that carried the homey scent of burning wood—everybody fired up the woodstoves once late September hit.

She had taken the back way today to enjoy the leaf peeping, since she was pulling twelve hours plus today and wouldn’t get any benefit from the foliage on the ride home. This winding road was often photographed for its graceful curves, rocky formations, and densely wooded areas. Leaning into the next curve, she was treated to her favorite tree, the one she took this route to see, not the tallest, but surely, the most dramatic of the cluster. She loved its shape, almost a perfect teardrop and its display of color lit her from within, like the flame it resembled with its blood red and orange fading to yellow foliage. Dark pines framed it lovingly, providing contrast for the dramatic show. She slowed her speed—no one was behind her and she was early anyway. She reached to turn the music down in deference to the tree’s beauty. As the tree faded from view, she found herself sighing in gratitude for starting her day in such a beautiful way and then, laughed at herself. What could she say? Trees were her thing. It’s what kept her in New England through all of its manic weather changes.

Gently leaning into a curve, she eased out of it on a straightaway, noting the fast approach of sleek black limousine in the oncoming lane. Limos weren’t an uncommon sight—this area of Connecticut was infested with wealthy part-time residents and their guests hankering for rural obscurity. Early riser, Beth assumed—or, she thought cynically, maybe just heading home to bed after an all-nighter. The CD player buzzed again and Beth’s glance slid from the advancing limo as she gave the dash another perfectly calculated smack. In her peripheral vision, movement caught her attention and she straightened to see an impressive buck with a doe on his tail, gracefully leaping across her lane and she swerved to the right to keep well out of their way. The buck bolted off its hocks and headed for the opposite side of the road, but the doe froze in terror, undecided which way to run with the limo coming from one direction and the Subaru in the other. Beth cautiously eased her car to the shoulder, hoping to make the decision easy for the stunned deer, which was gazing in the direction of the departed buck.

The limo wasn’t slowing down; Beth could see its driver’s cap tilted forward, as if he was looking down at something. A sudden lifting of his head, a brief flash of surprise as the driver’s widened blue eyes registered the doe in his lane while instantaneously pulling the wheel to his right to avoid it, but catching its hindquarters so that it spun and flew into the side of Beth’s Subaru, spraying the glass inward from the two side windows, hitting her back and head as she reflexively ducked. She was already clutching at her seat belt release while reaching for the door handle. Tires skidded, screeched and grabbed as the big car careened into a section of guardrail and Beth heard herself gasp as she watched the limo flip right over it and roll down the embankment opposite. Her door was smashed in from the impact of the deer and she was unable to exit her vehicle. She pushed harder, but it didn’t budge. Throwing her legs over the shift, she edged her bottom to the passenger seat and half fell out of the other side of the car when she grasped the door handle. Her legs were rubbery underneath her—the adrenalin, she figured, and she caught herself short while she quickly turned back to her car to reach into the glove compartment for the CPR valve she stashed in it. Her heart sped up as she figured she may need it when she reached the other car’s occupants. Her phone—still in her jacket—she pulled it out. Activate EMS, she heard in her CPR instructor’s nasal twang and she fired up her phone, dialing 9-1-1. She continued at a trot towards the other side of the road, panting into the phone as she waited for the dispatcher to pick up. As soon as the voice came on the line, she said briefly, I’m on 44, a limo hit a deer and flipped over the guard rail, send an ambulance, use my GPS coordinates, I don’t know what mile marker I’m at, her chest heaved as she strove to speak and negotiate the bent guard rails. She cut off the dispatcher and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. They’d find her. Hard to miss the red Subaru and the dead deer on the shoulder, never mind the tire stripes and mangled guardrail section.

Beth gazed in dismay down the steep embankment, the limo settled firmly at the bottom of a gully, on its right side, the roof of the vehicle fetched against a row of solid maple trees. What she could see of it was crunched like used tin foil. A hiss rose from the radiator but everything was otherwise eerily silent. A dense fog obscured the view deeper into the forested area beyond. She swore softly to herself as she struggled to find purchase to make a controlled slide down the bank; the sharp shale gravel would make a mess of her hands, she was sure. Hello!, she hollered, Anybody there? No reply. Tucking the plastic CPR case into her scrub pant waistband, she lowered herself to the ground and commenced the rough slide down. One ear was trained hopefully for sirens as she rose at the bottom to wipe off her hands and approach the limo. It would take a while for help to arrive—they were in the boonies. Sometimes the ambulance crews hung out in strategic locales that decreased response time. She hoped that was the case this morning. Hey!, she called again, and listened. Again, nothing.

She made her way around the limo, checking to see if anyone had been thrown from the car. She saw the driver hanging part way out of the passenger window, pinned at the torso, bent in half by the tree as if he were sitting propped up against it. His head dangled at an unnatural angle, indicating a broken neck. Blood dripped down the tree his head had hit. Beth moved around the tree trunk to check his carotid artery and noted the absence of the thrum of a pulse. One blue eye bulged and stared fixedly and the other eye was closed in a parody of a wink. She sighed as she realized this one was beyond hope. What about a passenger? Was there one? She couldn’t see into the car from here, and a quick perusal of the immediate area didn’t indicate another body thrown from the car.

She heard a groan from nearby—in the limo? Hey! I’m here to help. Where are you? She held her breath and listened. Nothing more. The car was so crumpled, she could climb it to the driver’s side and look inside the rear compartment. Gingerly, she scaled the puckered surface of the roof to the rear door. Like her own car, it was bashed in and unlikely to open and anyway, it was too heavy to lift going against gravity and would probably slam shut on her if she managed to open it. Instead, she laid herself across both doors and used her jacket covered elbow to push the remaining cracked glass through the edges of the window and moved like an earthworm to advance her face far enough to peer inside the dark compartment.

Immediately, she saw the folded form of a man wedged into the corner of the back seat. Can you hear me?, she yelled. No response. No sense trying to move him, he might have sustained an injury to his spine. What if his airway was blocked? She forced her mind to quiet, shifted her weight into a more comfortable pose, and watched the man’s back for the rise and fall of breathing. There—she saw it, a clear lift of the shoulders when he drew breath, and then, another groan, faint, but audible. I’m here to help and an ambulance is on the way, she told him. Even if he was unconscious, it never hurt to reassure someone when they were hurt; that was a lesson she knew well from years of critical care nursing.

Another hiss from under the hood intruded and she wondered where the damn ambulance was. Glancing at her watch, it was unbelievable that only eight minutes had passed since she made the EMS call. It felt like forever and she cursed her own helplessness in this situation. Plenty of ability to intervene, no equipment. She’d just wait and keep talking to the heap of a man in the corner—he was wearing faded Levi’s and a red t-shirt—he must be tall, his legs were long and lanky. It shouldn’t be too long, the silence stretched.

Taking in a deep breath, a familiar scent assailed her nostrils. Gasoline. Another quick intake of breath as it registered that the car could catch fire with this injured man in it. Spontaneously, she offered a fervent prayer, Oh, help me! Oh God, how do I get him out? She glanced around wildly and thought quickly—from what she could tell, this guy was probably over six feet tall; he had to be at least 170 pounds, judging his build. She was what? Maybe 115, strong from lifting patients all the time, but up and out of a car tilted on its side? She didn’t set much store in the tales of people tipping cars over in an adrenalin rush...and this was a limousine—much heavier than even a She-Hulk could handle.

Again, squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself to open her mind and prayed with specific intent, trying to still her racing thoughts, What can I do? Help me save him! She wiped at her face and was surprised that tears of frustration came away on her dirty hands, making muddy trails. She looked around the car cabin and her eyes riveted on his belt. Well, even if she could thread something through it, what could she leverage against to pull him out? If he had a spinal injury, he’d wouldn’t be thanking her for his paralysis later.

A sound of tires on gravel and vehicle doors opening then closing in rapid succession. Not the ambulance, no sirens, but surely some kind of help? They would probably run to her car first. Hey, help! I’m down here in the gully! she bellowed out with all her might. Voices—male, and rapid footsteps from above. Here! she yelled again, catching another strong whiff of leaking gasoline.

Are you hurt?, one of the men called to her from the embankment while the other slid down towards the car.

It’s not me, she returned, The driver is dead on the other side, a man is unconscious and injured inside the limo, too heavy for me to lift—and smell the gas? She could hear a reedy thread of panic lifting her voice. She turned to look at the man climbing up the car the using the same method she had. With relief, she noticed this dark haired man was built like a lumberjack and at the same time, she heard the other man descending to the gully. He was large as well, blond, and not as thick about the neck and arms, but hardly shabby. She sighed with relief.

Moving him could injure him further if his spine is affected, but I’m worried this car will catch fire, Beth warned. The man merely nodded and lowered himself into the cabin. He was agile for such a large person. The car was so firmly wedged against the trees, it didn’t even rock. He braced his leg against the seat while he reached down to the unconscious figure and gently scooped him from underneath, placing the full flaccid weight of the victim on his left shoulder. He stood up just as the other man had joined Beth on top of the driver’s side door.

Grab him, the man said abruptly.

Crouch down a bit, the other man advised, I have to kind of unfold him off your shoulder to get him out of the window. He placed his feet slightly wider than shoulder’s width, squatted, and reached into the glassless window to haul him upward by the belt. The other man assisted by pressing the man upward into his arms, which once he cleared the windows, he clasped around the injured man’s torso under his armpits. Now, he looked briefly at Beth, both of them realizing they couldn’t exactly jump down off the car with him.

I’ll get down out of the way, she said, just as the first man was pulling himself through the window. She leaped down to the ground. The larger man followed her quickly and moved to the underside of the car. Lower him to me, he instructed his companion. Beth positioned herself next to him to take the victim’s feet. He glanced at her, briefly sizing her up and shook his head, indicating he didn’t need her help. She said matter of factly, I’m stronger than I look. He nodded as he settled the man on his shoulder and assured her, This is actually easier.

Not willing to quibble, and grateful for their timely arrival, she asked him, Can you get him up to the shoulder where I can assess him? Away from this car if the gasoline catches fire? He nodded and negotiated the steep incline at an angle, making the ascent look effortless. Not for the first time, Beth envied the physical strength of men.

She ran after him and heard the blond man following behind her. The wail of sirens in the distance pierced the stillness of the morning and Beth practically sobbed with relief. As she methodically looked over the victim, beginning with asking him to respond to her (he didn’t), flashing her penlight in his dark brown eyes (not so effective in broad daylight, but the pupils were equal and did react a bit when she shaded his eyes with her hand), then taking her bandage scissors out of her scrub pocket to cut his shirt off down the middle and expose his chest to her eyes—rising and falling equally on both sides, no pneumothorax, no lacerations, but he could have internal injuries she couldn’t detect yet. Could you hold his head and neck steady for me? The larger man bent to one knee to comply. She cut his jeans from the bottom too and examined his legs, which seemed intact. I don’t want to turn him—I hope we didn’t hurt him more by moving him, she worried at her lip with her top teeth. A whooshing sound emerged from below and a wisp of a fireball lit up over their heads. They all looked at each other directly for the first time. The car had ignited and was burning, the acrid smell of melting rubber tires flaring their nostrils.

The fire truck pulled onto the shoulder behind the white Ford Explorer that must belong to one of these two men and a couple of firefighters jumped down in gear, already moving efficiently to handle the car fire before it involved the surrounding forest. Another fireman approached, and noting her scrubs asked, You medical?

Yes, critical care nurse. I don’t think he’s regained consciousness since the impact about (she paused to look at her watch) 17 minutes ago. He groaned twice, but never responded. Pulse is strong and steady, though. Pupils equal and reactive. Abrasions on his arms and face, can’t feel any obvious breaks anywhere—his head must have gotten knocked around. She met his alert hazel eyes, There’s the driver. He was already dead when I arrived. He’s pinned under the right passenger side. He nodded grimly, and moved to the truck to get out the immobilizing equipment as both the ambulance and state police car rolled into the space in front of them. Another fireman grabbed a broom and started sweeping the glass from the Subaru off the shoulder while still another placed bright orange cones to wall off the rescue vehicles. After giving the paramedics a quick report on events while the officer jotted down the details along with their personal information, Beth checked her watch and said, I’m due in early for a coworker—I’ll be at the hospital, if you need anything more from me, I’m in the ICU.

The officer glanced up from his clipboard and queried, Is your car drivable? Beth grimaced. I think so. I was pulled over when the deer hit the car. I’ll just have to get in on the passenger side until I can get the doors fixed. That was a fib. She didn’t carry collision anymore, she’d have to fix the windows but adjust permanently to entering and exiting the car from the other door for the duration of its days. He waved her off. Beth turned to the two men who had come to her aid. Beth Jordan, she extended her right hand with a rueful smile at the blond man, who clasped it with his own large warm paw, Paul Ward—right? she recalled from the information exchange. He smiled in assent and indicated his friend, And Yuri Argus, who, apparently a man of few words, merely nodded and looked pointedly at the Explorer as if to say it was time to head out. With evident concern, Paul inquired, Should the paramedics take a look at you? He was looking at her arms, hands, and tattered scrub bottoms, shredded in spots from the shale. She shrugged and noted, I’ll clean up in the unit when I get to the hospital—it looks worse than it is. Just scrapes. He appeared to want to linger a moment longer, but Yuri impatiently gestured with his head in the direction of their SUV as he strode off with a casual wave in their direction. Thank-you, she said warmly, He’d be in that burning car without your help—thank your friend for me too."

His expression seemed carefully guarded, no wonder, Beth thought, she was accustomed to death and gore and often forgot how shocking exposure to it could be for lay people. Aside from his hair color, which led her to dub him the blond, she registered his appearance. Very fit and trim, almost a foot taller than herself, sculpted cheekbones and chin, aquiline nose, brilliant blue eyes which crinkled in the corners when he smiled slightly at her appraisal. He put his hands self-consciously in his front pockets, looking down at the ground and starting to walk off toward his car, also giving a wave as he left. Something niggled at her as she watched him go, an ebbing of the calmness that she’d felt since they both appeared on the scene. It was probably the after-effects of the adrenalin dump during the crisis; this sense of recognition was probably a residual of that inexplicable bond that occurs between people who share dramatic emergency experiences. With a sigh, she headed to her car so she could relieve Sherry in time.

Once he settled into the passenger seat, Paul glanced over at Yuri, who had already started the Explorer. His expression was stony, prompting him to inquire, What else could we do? You heard her prayer for help.

He watched as Uriel’s lips compressed into a thin hard line while he pulled away from the shoulder of the road. One quick, hard look from his companion, then a ragged sigh, followed by, Yes. But it would have made things less complicated if we could have left him in the car. Poiel could only stare miserably at the truth of it.

Chapter 2

Beth swiped her ID card at the ICU entrance and squeezed through the double doors as they swept apart in opposite directions. Evelyn was at the reception desk and her brown eyes widened as she took in Beth’s disheveled appearance. What happened to you?

Beth rushed past her to the locker room and tossed over her shoulder, Accident-can you get me some scrubs and a jacket from the OR?—these are trashed.

Sure, Evelyn said as she moved to the still opened unit doors to the adjacent Operating Room suites.

She had time for a five minute shower and could still relieve Sherry in plenty of time. Divesting herself of the tattered blue scrubs, she rolled them into a ball and stuffed them into the nearest garbage receptacle. Ugh. She hated this shower; it had zero water pressure and took forever to warm up. She got under the tepid stream and tipped her head into it. She could feel gravelly pieces of window glass on her scalp and tilted forward to rinse it out. Some kind soul had left some real body wash and shampoo instead of the trial size hospital products. She lathered up efficiently and by the time she rinsed off, the shower was only just beginning to warm up. She started as a voice intruded, Beth? It was Matt, the intensivist for the unit; he must have had a busy on-call and decided to sleep in his office. She was probably holding up his own shower.

You okay? Ev said you were in an accident. She peeked around the shower curtain and saw him throw a set of green OR scrubs on the bench outside the shower cubicle. He pointed at them.

Mine or yours?, she queried, as she toweled her hair.

Yours—I still have to get a fresh set, he indicated his rumpled attire.

She wrapped the towel around her and stepped out to show Matt her hands, arms and face, which he briefly examined. Maybe a steri-strip over your eyebrow -it’s oozing, he noted. What happened?

Beth summarized the major points, including the death of the driver. He moved in his usual economic patterns, one hand on his hip, another running through unruly reddish curls. Lucky you were there. How’s the bomb? That was Matt’s pet name for Beth’s car; in less charitable moments, he called it a POS. Easy for him to say; his salary eclipsed hers enough to indulge himself in a muscle car fetish and a motorcycle they all worried he’d kill himself on one day.

She sighed and moved to an adjoining dressing room where she pulled on the fresh scrubs, careless of areas of skin still damp where she’d missed drying off. Still ticking. But the doors on my side are smashed in and stuck. Gotta slide in from the other side.

He laughed. "Well, glad you’re okay. Hey, I asked Joe