Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
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Edict One: Do not divulge heavenly truths to living humans.
At the same church where I met Sunny Day, I perch atop a cold stone sticking out of the ground with names and years engraved on it, hidden in the veil.
Although I chose this spot to watch the parking lot, I realize I am staring at my flower again.
It has been fifteen turnings of the Earth since the captivating human named Sunny Day gave me this precious gift.
And I have not been able to stop thinking of her.
The sound of a motor catches my attention. A blue van painted with a bright yellow sun is pulling into the lot. Excitement courses through my veins, and my heart lurches in my chest.
I don’t decide to move, but suddenly I’m off the stone and my legs are pumping, bringing me closer to where Sunny Day is stepping from her vehicle, her luminous hair rivaling the morning sun.
The cord connecting from my belly to hers shimmers and quivers in the early light, and Sunny Day is even more lovely than I remembered.
It doesn’t seem right to do so, but I can’t stop myself from hovering near her.
She hums softly to herself and removes flower arrangements from her vehicle.
When she walks past me, the air carries her sweet strawberry and musky human scent to me, and it makes my tongue long to taste her. The desire bewilders me.
I follow her all the way inside the building to be sure she doesn’t fall again.
She exchanges soft words with the people in the rooms inside and sets a cascade of blooms on top of the box that holds the earthly remains of Vincent, the man I ferried most recently.
I stand near the doorway, watching her gracefully arrange the blooms, offer a small bundle of flowers to a woman dressed in black who is crying.
Her kindness lights a soft smile to the woman’s face, like a sunrise after a dark night.
She walks back toward me. I want to speak with her so badly I think my chest will burst open. But I shouldn’t. I flee the building. But once I’m several yards across the lawn, I turn back and face the door. She will come out at any moment, and I want to talk to her.
Would it really be that wrong? I could be assigned to ferry her. One day.
That’s enough for me.
I walk back toward the entrance, slip out from the veil within the shadow of a tree, and enter the building’s vestibule. Sunny Day enters from the opposite way, and her gaze meets mine. She stops walking so suddenly that her hair and dress sway forward.
“Well, hello,” she says, her eyes wide. She smiles quickly, as if she forgot to do it before, and buries her hands into her pockets.
“Hello,” I repeat softly. We take more steps until we are only a few paces apart.
Her eyebrows come together. “I’m so sorry for your loss. You must be having an awful couple of weeks.”
Before I can choose my words, her eyes drop to the flower she gave me. I smile, so proud that she’s noticed I kept her gift. But her face transforms into confusion, and I shrink inside.
What did I do wrong?
“How do you still have this?” She gestures toward my flower.
“I like it,” I answer. Does she think I would get rid of it?
She breathes out a quick, soft breath through her nose.
“I’m glad you like it. But what I mean is, how is it not wilted by now?
Did it dry that perfectly?” She peers closer and gently passes her fingertip across the biggest flower as softly as I often do.
I suppress a desirous shiver as if she has touched me instead.
“That’s crazy,” she says. “It’s completely fresh.” She shakes her head, apparently disbelieving of what she has felt with her own fingertips.
Then her green-eyed gaze catches mine, and it has me snared. Fresh. Wilted. Dry. I cannot remember what any of these words mean at this moment. I cannot remember any words that belong to her time and place at this moment. Heat rushes up my neck and face.
Her eyes narrow and break the spell. My gaze wanders to a table not far from us and snags on flowers in a vase.
Some of them look brown, their petals drooping, some fallen on the table.
I’ve seen what the passage of time does to humans.
It must act on flowers too. Panic wiggles in my chest, and my gaze slides back to her.
She cocks her head to the side. “This must be your favorite suit, too.”
It’s as if there is a feather in the air, wafting and drifting down on unseen currents, and our breaths are held as we wait to see where it lands.
She steps closer to me, and her warm presences envelops me. I inhale her scent greedily.
She gently touches the deep blue flower pinned to my suit. “You know, there’s a legend about cornflowers…”
Cornflower. My beautiful flower has a name?
Her gaze is on the cornflower, and she says quietly, as if to herself, “I wonder what it means when it doesn’t fade at all?”
My heart pounds as I watch the black fringes of her eyelashes flutter beneath her furrowed brows, but I say nothing. I do nothing. I’m afraid to scare her away with words I barely understand how to wield. Her green eyes meet mine, and I would gladly drown in their depths.
“Oh my goodness!” She says suddenly, pulling her hands away and weaving them across her chest as she steps back. She laughs softly and smiles at me. “What am I going on about? You probably went and got a new one.”
That seems safe to agree to. Relieved, I blurt, “Yes,” with a small smile to encourage her to keep talking. Every word that falls from her rosy lips is a gift more precious than my cornflower.
“I’m glad you liked it so much. You could’ve come by my shop. I would’ve happily made it for free, considering what you’re going through.” Her hand digs into a pocket of her apron. “I have a new one today. Would you like another to add to your collection?”
“Yes.” Sunny Day is concerned for what I’m going through? No compeer—and certainly no human—has ever had concern for me before.
She begins to pin a new one beside the first one, a yellow flower surrounded by green leaves.
“Do all the flowers have names?” I ask.
She purses her lips as if holding back another of her sweet laughs as she looks up at me. “Oh, do you mean, do I know them? Of course I know them. Flowers are my life. This big yellow flower is a ranunculus, the leaves are willow eucalyptus, and the little white berries are hypericum.”
I’ve never seen flowers growing like the ones she’s gifted me, and I’ve been looking for the past fifteen days. “Where have you found them?”
She frowns briefly, considering my question. “Do you mean, where do I source them? They’re all ethically sourced, most from the US since they can’t travel too far.”
I don’t understand what she’s saying, but having her stand so close and speak to me unlocks something in me. I breathe deeper and slower and let my affection and desire flow toward her like waves on the ocean.
“They’re beautiful, like you.” I almost whisper the words and maybe not even in a language she can hear or understand.
But her whole face lights up with a smile, and she tips it up toward me.
Her eyes are both lit by the soft sunlight entering the high windows, and yet also, somehow, darker.
She sways closer to me and lays her hand flat on my jacket.
My hand raises to cover hers. It’s as warm and soft as I remember, but even more thrilling to touch her a second time.
Her eyes search mine, then her gaze drops to my mouth.
I have seen humans pressing their mouths together, sucking at each other’s lips, eating without consuming.
I know how my body is formed, and how hers is formed, and I know how they fit together, though I never expected to desire that joining so acutely.
Her desire for me ensorcels, entreats. Mine for her surges forward, encircles, engages.
Our yearning interplays in the scant space between us, and the very air is heavy with our aching.
Her pink, lush lips curve like a sacred fruit begging for my taste. They part, and her tongue slips across them as mine longs to do. I dip my head closer.
Too fast. She swallows and steps back, taking her hand back and shoving them both into pockets again.
Her already pink skin darkens almost to the hue of her lips.
“Are you…” She begins. Her hands come out of her pockets and move behind her head.
She shakes her hair free, and I breathe in its strawberry scent, which lingers even after she fastens her tresses up behind her head again.
“Um. Flowers. Do you need…do you need to get some? Is that why you’re asking? ”
“Yes.” It’s a promise of a future connection with her, and I grab onto it. Our nascent etheric cord is pulsing between us.
She brings both of her lips into her mouth, and her eyes dart away as she shifts back from me. “It’s probably for your wife, huh? Or your girlfriend? Or…boyfriend.”
Worry spikes. She’s named close familial terms involving a special kind of love humans share. I blurt the first thing I can think of. “No, for my brother.”
Her instant smile is surprised. “You need to buy flowers for your brother? That’s kinda cool of you.”
Heavens, I meant mother. “I mean, my mother.”
“Okay,” she says with a small laugh. “I’m great at putting flowers together for people’s brothers or their moms.” She pulls a rectangular piece of thick paper from her apron and holds it out to me. “Here’s my business card. My name’s on there. Sunny Day, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“I could never forget.” I take it gently from her hand, taking care not to touch her even though it’s all I want to do.
Her hands are beautiful, tipped with pink nails that sparkle.
My eyes skim up her body, past the swell of her breasts, up her creamy skin, and to her eyes—she’s been observing where my eyes have traveled, and the pooling of her desire perfumes the air between us.
“Aren’t you going to tell me your name?” she asks.
My chest tightens. Angelic names are not pronounceable by human vocal cords. Just like that, every name of every human I’ve ever ferried leaves my brain. I look down. I see my flowers.
“Cornflower?” I blurt.
She laughs. “Your name is Cornflower?” She laughs harder still then narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, keep your secrets. I’ll just call you Cor, how about that?”
That does sound more like a human name. “Yes, that’s right.
Cor.” My heart feels so light, it may lift out of my chest. She’s given me a human name, a thing I’ve never owned and never expected to want so badly as I love it now.
A smile spreads over my face without my prompting.
I love my new name. She’s given me flowers and a name, and this golden etheric cord that is shining stronger and brighter with every passing moment.
I’ve never been so close to a life of my own.
“You are so weird,” she laughs, “but you’re very cute. Come to my shop anytime, okay?” She walks around me toward the door.
I’m cute? I spin around. “I will.”
She turns and faces me as she pushes the door open. “You’d better,” she says with a sly smile, and then she’s gone.