My Angel of Angels

By Jim Arnold

Manuel Santiago is a young man who wonders about the Spanish heritage he gained from his recently deceased father. After his second year of college, he decides to visit his fathers homeland and get to know its people firsthand. He has no idea that the trip will change his life forever.

Angelica Sancheza highly regarded English teacher for the children in her hometown of Huescais a woman of stunning intellect and beauty. Although she has had a relationship with Jose Fuentes in the past, she has tried to cut the selfish, bullying man out of her life. On the day she meets Manuel, he rescues her from Joses abuse. Their connection is instantaneous, and their love is passionate.

But Manuel has made a more powerful and dangerous enemy in Jose that he knows, and soon he threatens not only their lives but those of their families as well. Only time will tell if they and the people they love will survive Joses vengeance and find their way to happily ever after.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491742792

Jim Arnold

Jim Arnold has traveled the world since the age of five. He served in the military for twenty years and has now dedicated his life to helping others in the medical field. He currently lives in Washington State, making time to visit his children and grandchildren. This is his debut novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

It was a night not fit for any soul on earth. The wind was howling, the snow was whipping, and it was so cold that he was beginning to lose all feeling. You could call it a bone-chilling night.

The darkness was so thick and black that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, but there he was, out there trudging along in this nightmarish dark for one purpose and one purpose only: to save the only woman he had ever truly loved.

Her name was Angelica. She was from northern Spain. He called her Angel, and he believed she really was one. She was young, full of life, and voluptuous with dark hair, dark eyes, and supple, honey-olive skin. Everything about her was flawless. Her face was soft and warm. She was not a cold, self-centered beauty. You could tell simply by looking into her face that she cared and had the heart of a saint. It was her eyes that weakened men’s knees and melted their hearts. They would shine with the innocence of a child. Her eyes could penetrate down to a man’s very soul.

When she looked at him, he saw how she loved him in the way she embraced him with her stare. Then, there was her caress. Her caress could warm him on the coldest of winter nights. She felt soft, yet so strong in his arms. Her kiss! Her kiss was everything a man wanted a kiss to be, everything a man could imagine. Her kiss could excite his heart into a rapid pounding. He could go on forever about his Angel, but there were some things that were simply ineffable.

The man was in his second year of college and doing really well in gaining a degree in import/export. The idea was to take over the plastic company his dad created.

Papa had brought Dad here when he was fourteen years old. It was difficult for him to get the hang of English. Teenagers could be so cruel to the other kids who were different. But it was those fights and arguments that made Dad what he was—strong, determined. Some believe Manuel had picked up those characteristics through his genes.

Dad had died of a rare and very painful disease called celiac disease. He left the family quite well off. Dad, a very wise and intelligent man, had been the founder of a plastic company. It was a very smart move for him because he realized at a young age that almost everything he touched had something to do with plastic. He could see an endless, limitless income getting involved in that particular line of business.

So, Dad was gone now, and his son had a tidy sum of money. He decided to take a portion of his inheritance and do some traveling at the age of twenty-one. He figured $100,000 should do it and put it all in traveler’s checks.

After the will was distributed, Manuel’s mother came staggering to the kitchen. How much did the sonovabitch leave ya? He hardly gave me a cent, the bastard, she slurred.

Evidently more than he gave you.

After everything I done for him, all I get is a few measly bucks to do what with?

Ma, maybe, just maybe, if you gave him as much attention as you do those bottles you so caringly make love to every night, he might have left you something. He didn’t want to know his hard-earned money was going to be drank away. After all, the money was acquired before you two were married, and he can distribute it as he pleases.

Cyndi staggered back to her rats’ nest of a bedroom with her bottle of whiskey sloshing at her side. Her son shook his head pitifully as she mumbled profanities to her dead husband.

He went for a walk to calm himself in the sun-drenched air.

He’d always wanted to see Europe. Spain seemed logical. Why Spain? His name was Manuel Santiago. His ancestry was from there, so he decided to get on a plane and found himself right where he wanted to be.

Chapter 2

Manuel noticed a crowd gathered in front of a store farther down the street. Lots of whooping and hollering could be heard about a block away. It sounded like a violent sort of cheering and jeering. It kind of scared him at first, to be honest. Is it a soccer game? he wondered.

He walked through the crowd to see what the excitement was about. Manuel was more than shocked to see what was happening. A man of medium build and height was slapping and abusing a delicate young lady. If there was one thing he detested, it was a lady being mishandled in any way.

On sheer instinct, Manuel stepped between the two. The bully was shocked. He looked him over and appeared to be thinking about something. It was as if he were measuring the situation in his head. He pulled himself together and rushed Manuel, trying to get to the young woman. Manuel threw him to the side. He waved his index finger to and fro as if to say, You shouldn’t do that. It was a fair warning, to say the least.

The tormenter got to his feet and attempted to get through Manuel again. Deciding to raise the punishment factor, he knocked him—well, it would suffice to say, the coward had to be seeing stars. After shaking his head in an effort to bring his senses back, like a senseless boxer or maybe a mad dog, he came up for more. Manuel was beginning to wonder if he was ever going to learn. They started to brawl. The crowd was cheering. There was kicking, punching, and gouging. The aggressor finally realized he was outpowered. Manuel was bleeding, and the bully was bleeding. Manuel thought they were done. Oh no. Not yet. The coward had to give it one more try and pulled a knife from his waistband behind his back. As he thrust it at Manuel, he cut him in the side. His rib cried out as pain exploded in his brain. When he pulled his hand from inside his shirt, it was covered in crimson. The wild man tried again for Manuel’s face. He grabbed his wrist and swept his feet out from underneath him, throwing him onto his back. Manuel wrung his arm like a rag, which brought him to his belly, and commanded him to drop the knife. The lady, who had been knocked on her ass and was still there watching the fight, translated. It did no good. He struggled to get to his feet.

He kicked the coward in the face as he got to his knees. After he went back to his belly, Manuel ordered him again to drop the knife. He did. Manuel kicked the knife a couple of feet out of the beaten man’s reach. He staggered to the knife, reached down, picked it up, and signaled for him to leave with a wave of the blade. Manuel placed the knife in his belt, and the coward got up and wove his way away from the scene, holding the arm that was twisted. The crowd moaned and mocked the man as he left.

Manuel walked over to the lady, stooped, and asked if she was all right. All she said was, That cut needs attention. She spoke with a slight accent. Just slight enough to make her sound beguiling. For the moment, Manuel forgot about the fight. His total attention was on her. Manuel could still feel his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure if it was the sight of her beauty. He helped her to her feet; she tore a piece of cloth from her black, ruffled dress and handed it to him to stop the bleeding.

Now you’ve ruined a perfectly good dress, Manuel joked as he stuffed it into his shirt.

She giggled and said, It’s old. She took him by the arm and slowly led him to a taxi. Where they were going was a mystery to him. The ride was quiet. They were both feeling awkward or were in sort of a state of shock over the whole ordeal. They just stared out the windows on their own sides of the taxi.

About the time they were approaching a house, she asked, What are you doing in Spain?

The taxi came to a stop. She paid the fare, and they got out. They walked to what Manuel suspected was her house.

I am on vacation from college. I planned a bit of a visit here.

The lady smiled a broad smile and looked down to hide her expression.

I must ask you, señorita, what is your name?

Angelica, Angelica Sanchez. What is yours?

Manuel, Manuel Santiago, he said, mimicking her. He was trying to be charming, although he felt stupid after saying that.

Do you have relatives here, Señor Manuel?

"Yeah, I just don’t know where they are, or who they are. I am a first-generation-born Hispanic in America. My father never mentioned any such relatives to me. I just want to see what Spain has to offer. I want to know her traditions and customs, that sort of thing. My father would tell the most captivating stories he heard from his father. Then there were the things he experienced himself …"

As Manuel was speaking, Angelica was bringing out the medical supplies she needed to tend to his wound. He was sitting on the counter, of all places. The kitchen was made totally out of wood. The chairs at the table were wood, like a hickory, but the cupboards and counters were of plywood. Everything had an old, used, tattered appearance to it, but there was a charm to the room. The pine floors creaked with almost every step she took. It thoroughly intrigued him. It also told him how modest the income was in this house.

Chapter 3

Open your shirt, she said patiently with an air of nervousness.

When Manuel was opening his shirt, he could see discomfort come over Angelica’s face.

How is it you know English so well?

I teach the children at my church.

English? asked Manuel.

Sí.

How many and how old are the students?

There are about twenty, ages range from five to eighteen.

His shirt was open. There was the cut. It was probably four inches long along the third rib from the bottom. It was still bleeding fairly profusely. Angelica opened a bottle of something and poured some onto a cotton rag. This is going to—

"Yow!" Manuel yelled.

—hurt a little.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Oh, just something to keep the infection away.

Really. I thought you were trying to cook the meat off the bone! He couldn’t help laughing.

No, it’s a remedy to keep cuts and wounds from getting infected, something my father came up with when my brother was always getting gashed up when he was growing, she explained.

She kept working on the cut, making sure everything was going to heal well.

Her touch was soft and warm. He could feel an energy coming from her hand every time she touched his flesh. It was a sensation he had never experienced before, not even with his own mother’s touch.

What did you do with the knife? she asked.

I still have it here, he said as he pulled it from his belt.

What do you plan on doing with it? The look on her face was scolding.

I guess I need to dispose of it somewhere.

She pointed to the basket at her feet. Taking the hint, Manuel dropped it into the basket. Manuel couldn’t help noticing Angelica, making observations about her. She was five feet ten and probably 125 pounds. He compared himself to her. He was six feet tall and 180 pounds. Physically, they fit quite nicely. Besides, he loved tall women.

Señorita Angelica, where is your family?

Oh, probably out doing chores. Mama is probably out shopping. Rikki is in town getting supplies.

Speaking of town, I should be getting back.

No, no! You saved my life. The least I can do is cook you supper. I don’t want you to lea … I mean … you shouldn’t be exerting yourself too much. You should relax for a while. She had a sincere look of concern on her face. "After all, you did save my life."

"First off, I did not save your life. I’m sure that guy—whoever he was—was not going to kill you. Besides, I’ll be fine. I’m sure everything will be all right with me in the morning."

Angelica went on with her best medical explanation about Manuel’s condition and how he wasn’t going to make it back to town with all the blood he had lost. He argued and suggested a hack. But she insisted the least she could do was make him something to eat. Manuel was equally insistent on leaving.

Angelica felt that she was dealing with a bullheaded man, and she should let him go do what he wanted.

Thank you for all you’ve done, he mumbled. He opened the door and disappeared outside.

Three miles down the road, everything went black.

Someone put a cold compress on his forehead as he lay on a couch.

Several hours passed. Manuel’s eyes started flickering. He felt himself coming around. He reached up, removed the rag from his forehead, and opened his eyes. Looking through slits, he slowly eyed his surroundings.

Welcome back, Manuel, said a familiar voice. He tried sitting up but collapsed to his back, hitting his head on the arm of the couch. He covered his face as he moaned in pain.

I told you, you weren’t going to get far, the voice taunted.

Manuel lifted his hands from his face. He looked straight into the face of the speaker.

Oh, thank God it’s her! he thought to himself. So, I guess you’re going to rub this in my face for the rest of the night? Manuel challenged.

Of course not. I wouldn’t do that to anybody, she said.

How did I get here?

My brother found you on the road and brought you here.

Where is he?

A man stepped out from behind her. This is Rikki, she said.

Manuel raised one hand. Hola, Rikki. Gracias.

Rikki took Manuel’s hand, and they shook as friends. Manuel brought up his other hand, and Rikki grabbed it and pulled him into a sitting position. He swung his feet over the side of the couch and looked around to get his bearings. He tried getting to his feet. Rikki and Angelica, noticing his difficulty, took Manuel by the arms and assisted him up.

Manuel straightened his spine and gently twisted himself. He rolled his head to loosen his neck and decided he was fine.

I guess I better be going, Manuel said.

Do you really want to have that conversation again, Angelica argued.

No. I guess not. But I was thinking of a ride to town.

Angelica’s eyes wandered to the kitchen. Look. It’s getting late, and I’m getting hungry. Why don’t you stay for dinner?

Manuel wasn’t in the mood to argue. Fine. What can I do to help? he offered.

Angelica gave him a laugh. "You are going to do nothing. You don’t have the strength to do anything with," she said.

Manuel looked at Rikki. He shrugged.

Angelica?

Sí, she responded quietly.

Does your brother speak English?

Not much.

That explains it. Angelica left for the kitchen to get dinner started.

Chapter 4

Hola! rang through the house.

Mama! Angelica and Rikki answered.

Angelica came into the living room where Manuel and Rikki were still sitting. That’s my mama, she said excitedly.

Does your mom speak English? Manuel asked.

Hardly a word. She zipped back to the kitchen and greeted her mother with a loving hug. Rikki lugged himself into the kitchen to welcome his mother as well.

Oh, great. Manuel wasn’t looking forward to the language struggle.

Not having any idea what was being said, Manuel could hear the conversation between the two ladies coming closer. He took the slouch out of his posture. When the two women stood in the doorway between the living room and kitchen, he came to his feet and suddenly was blown over. Manuel had never seen a mother and daughter who looked more alike in his life. Angelica’s mother had to be in her forties, but she could have passed for Angelica’s older sister.

Now I know where you get your looks from.

Conchetta had a look of curiosity. Angelica told her what Manuel had said. Conchetta turned red.

This is my mama, Conchetta.

Tell your mama it is an honor to meet a magnificent woman such as her.

Angelica did, and Conchetta continued to blush. She turned to Angelica and said something with "cinco in it. Manuel looked at Angelica, and she said, Supper will be at five o’clock."

The ladies headed for the kitchen, and Manuel followed. Angelica turned to him and said, Where do you think you’re going?

Help out in the kitchen.

No. I told you to rest, she commanded.

Look, I can at least set the table, he pleaded.

No.

With that single word, Manuel could feel himself get angry. Not wanting to create a scene, he said, I’m going to whether you like it or not. It’s not that big a deal. I need to feel useful around here, so I’d appreciate it if I were allowed this one little gesture.

Angelica turned in frustration. He did a victory dance. She turned quickly, and he stopped. He looked at her with the most innocent of looks.

They were continuing toward the kitchen when she turned back. Manuel was squelching his laughter.

As their guest was setting the table,