Like she used to do when she was little, she threw herself at Welita and dropped her head into her lap, weeping. Bear licked her fingers, trying to comfort her, and that made her cry even harder.
Welita rubbed her back and softly crooned. Spanish rolled off her tongue as she sang the lyrics to Señora Santa Ana, a song she’d always sing to Naomi when she was a little girl and feeling sick. Slowly, Naomi began to feel calmer. Somehow, Welita always found a way to make her feel better, even now when she was an angel, the one who was supposed to help humans, not the other way around.
“Mejita, one of the hardest days in my life was having to bury my own son. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on my own enemies. It helped ease the pain knowing that Javier was with your mother. Rebecca told me that when he went to the other side, he was reunited with her. And when you left with Lash, that was also hard. But like your father, I knew that you were with Lash, that you had a love that was everlasting with him.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Mad at Lash? How can I be angry with the person who brings light to your eyes whenever you see him? Even now when you speak of him, you say his name with such love. How could I be mad at someone with such compassion in his heart that he dares to defy orders? You two are the same—a perfect match.”
“Welita, I don’t know what to do. I was so hurt when he told me. I felt betrayed, like he took something away from me. I mean, I know it wasn’t intentional, and I think I understand what he was thinking when he did it, but I can’t help what I feel.” She thought about the struggle she’d felt when she wanted to leave Megan and protect Chuy. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do.
“Let go of your anger and believe in him. Believe in your love. Lean on it. Love is strength.”
“I don’t know if I can. I don’t even know if I can be a good angel,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Angels are supposed to be perfect. I’m not.”
“Ay, Naomi, angels are not perfect. No one is. We are all made in the Lord’s image, and He too feels anger, jealousy, so why not his angels? Why not you?”
“Angels are supposed to have faith. I don’t know if I have that anymore. I almost messed up my first job by...” She hesitated, not wanting to tell her about Chuy almost dying. “Well, there was a courageous person who I thought was going to die in a fire, and I was supposed to watch over someone else, and I didn’t want to.”
“You do have faith. I know you do. You’ve always been stubborn, Mejita. Sometimes it works for you, and sometimes it works against you. Can’t you see you’re fighting against Lash’s love because to accept it means to accept your place with the angels?” Welita cupped Naomi’s face and stared intently into her eyes. “Your place is with them now. Surrender yourself to his love, and the rest will fall into place.”
Naomi heard the sound of heels clacking down the hall, heading towards the room. Bear jumped off her lap and ran to the door, barking. “Someone’s coming.”
There was a soft rapping on the door. “Mrs. Duran. It’s Jane Sutherland. May I please have a word with you?”
Shit! Did Lucifer send her here? Naomi listened carefully for any signs out of the ordinary.
“Don’t let her in,” she whispered furiously when Welita reached for her walker.
“Why not?”
“She’s dangerous. She works with Lucifer.”
Welita gasped and made the sign of the cross and muttered a quick prayer. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Luke Prescott is Lucifer.”
“Does she know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then we must tell her.”
“She won’t believe you.”
“You don’t know that. There must be some good in her for Lash to see it and want to save her.”
“That was a long time ago. The senator may have been innocent back then, but she’s a powerful woman now. And may soon be the leader of the most powerful nation in the world. She and Lucifer together would be unstoppable.” Naomi shuddered at the thought.
“Mrs. Duran?” There was another knock.
Welita turned to Naomi. “Both of you showing up here at the same time is too much of a coincidence for me to ignore. I need to see it through.”
“Fine.” Naomi sighed. “But I’m staying here until she leaves.” She looked quickly around the tiny room. There was no place for her to hide. She couldn’t let the senator see her. She wasn’t sure if the senator knew about her death. More importantly, she didn’t want any information going back to Lucifer.
Naomi closed her eyes and wondered if she would be able to change into her angel form. If she replicated what she’d done before, she should be able to change back—she hoped. “Okay, let her in.”
15
Jane heard Anita Duran talking to someone through the closed door, and she wondered if someone was visiting her. She thought maybe her grandson, Chuy, was there with her, but when Anita opened the door, she was surprised to find her alone.
“Mrs. Duran, I’m sorry to bother you this late in the evening. I’ll only take a few moments of your time.”
When she stepped into the room, a small dog ran up to her. “What a precious dog,” she said, reaching out to touch the dog.
It snapped at her.
“Oh!” She jerked her hand away.
“Bear! Don’t be rude to our guest,” Anita said. “Would you like something to drink, Senator?”
“Please allow me. I can get myself a glass of water.”
Jane watched as Anita nodded and slowly maneuvered her walker as she made her way back to the sofa. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, digging up old wounds.
She grabbed a glass from a small open shelf in the corner of the room that served as a kitchen. Turning on the faucet, she made small talk. “It’s pretty hot out there—almost as humid as it gets in Houston.”
“Senator Sutherland, I don’t mean to be rude, but you didn’t come all this way from DC to talk about the weather.”
Jane took a sip of water and then turned to face her. “Actually, I’m in town to make an important announcement.”
“Your run for the presidency.”
“Why, yes,” Jane said, surprised.
“Don’t look so surprised. I watch the news.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
“No apology needed. Please, have a seat.” Anita motioned to the chair across from where she was sitting. “Why are you here?”
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Duran, but I wanted to”—she gulped—“I wanted to ask you a question about your son.”
The silence in the room was thick. Anita’s brown eyes seemed to bore into her, and Jane felt beads of sweat collecting on her forehead. She wiped a palm on her skirt and slowly took a sip of water, hoping Anita would say something—anything to break the tension.
“Ask your question,” Anita finally said.
Jane let out a breath. “Your son, Javier, was he ever in a plane accident?”
“Yes, he was in the Flight 1724 accident when he was a boy. You and he were the only survivors. I thought you knew.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. “I-I-I was told that the Javier Duran I was with on the plane passed away years ago.”
“You were misinformed, Senator. I’m surprised. I thought someone in your position would get accurate information.”
“I got the information from a reliable source. Or at least, I thought so,” Jane mumbled.