A Guardian Angel's Kiss

Chapter 1

Gina Russell took a deep breath and sucked up her tears, dialing the number on the mysterious Christmas card. It rang twice. She hoped no one would answer.

What was she thinking, calling someone she didn't know?

As she moved the phone away from her ear to hang up, she heard a man's voice. Hello?

She couldn't be rude.

Gina cleared her throat and returned the phone to her ear. Can you tell me who I'm calling? She winced, knowing that was a stupid comment.

The man's laughter surprised her. I think you dialed the number, he said. Do you know what number you called?

She rattled off the digits on the card. Is this the right number?

Yes, that's my number. What's your name?

Gina. She knew better than to give her full name, living in the city. Chicago was nothing like Des Moines, Iowa, where she'd grown up.

Well, Gina, how can I help you?

She glanced around the room at all the packed items and sighed. She must've sounded stupid. I'm not sure. What's your name?

James. He chuckled again, and for some reason, the sound seemed to give her peace in her heart. He sounded young and handsome, but she immediately put it out of her mind. No man ever gave her the time of day, because she'd been told often enough by her mother and her sister that she wasn't worthy of any man.

Maybe she was so lonely that anyone who connected with her would give her peace. That must be why his laughter calmed her heart.

Well, James, she said. I seemed to have gotten a Christmas card from you, even though it's only the beginning of December. It's a nice card. You signed it that you had great news. She stared down at the envelope. It was sent to some administrative assistant and got in my mailbox by mistake. Tears burned behind her lids, but she forged on. I'm no longer an… She felt her throat constrict from her sadness, hardly able to speak. Uh…I'm not an administrative assistant any longer. Sobs overtook her. She covered the phone until she collected herself and moved her hand away. I don't have a job, so you sent this beautiful card to the wrong person.

Aren't you with Nativity Church?

It was too difficult to force her lips into a smile since the tears made her frown. No. They're down the street. She tried to suck up her tears, but it wasn't working. I'm sorry.

I'm not sorry. Why are you crying?

As she wiped away her tears, she walked to a chair in the living room and sat down. Do you really want to know?

Yes, I do. What's the matter?

She heard something clink in the background over the phone, figuring he was probably busy. Well, I lost my job, and really have nothing to live for anymore, but it's not your problem. Bye, James. I hope you have a great life.

She moved the phone away from her ear but heard him yelling. Wait! Gina. Don't hang up yet.

Her eyes closed from the tears, but she decided to keep talking to this man. She moved the phone back to her ear but wasn't certain she wanted to tell him anything. Why?

I want to talk to you in person. I have to…uh…straighten out this problem with my bookkeeping. Can you wait until I get there?

She shrugged, even though it just delayed the inevitable of what she planned to do. I guess so.

Where do you live? he asked.

It didn't matter if he knew. She probably wouldn't be around to answer the door and he could find the body. He'd be the stranger left to clean up her mess.

Four doors down from the church in apartment 2C, she said.

Wait for me. Don't do anything until I get there. As a matter of fact, can you do me a favor?

She crossed one arm over her chest while holding the phone, hoping he didn't think of her as a 'favor' type of girl. That depends. I'm not a call girl or anything, so you can forget that.

His laughter filled the phone lines. She liked hearing his laugh, so she decided then and there to hear him out.

That's not what I'm asking, he said. Can you watch television and tell me what the weather's going to be this week? I don't have time to check right now and I really want to know.

Why don't you watch it for yourself?

I'm at work and can't do it. Please? I'll be there in about 15 minutes. Just talk to me until I get there. Please?

She darted her eyes to the amber bottle of prescription pills on the counter. I guess I can. I have something to do, so I can't take long.

Just give me 15 minutes. It won't make a difference to wait that long, will it?

She sighed, thinking about it. No one cares. Why should I? With the sadness choking her, she forced herself to breathe while the tears fell even harder.

I care. Do it for me. You sound like a nice person, and I have to meet you. You might be my soul mate. You might be my reason for being on earth. Please?

What should she do? The guy was a stranger. What if he worked for her old boss?

He probably didn't work for the guy. She was just being paranoid.

Gina, just stay on the phone with me, he said, bringing her out of her thoughts. I have to make another call, but hang on, please?

Sure. The phone went dead, just like her goal for her life. She was alone once more, the pills calling her name.

She'd promised James. She couldn't do anything just yet. He wanted to know about the weather, so she had to concentrate on that job for now.

Gina flipped on the television and channel-surfed to see the weather. It was a few weeks until Christmas and the snow was dumping on the Chicago area already. She hated snow and she hated the darkness of winter.

The phone clicked to life. Gina, James said over the phone. Are you still there?

She wiped her tears. Yes. It's going to snow all week. I hate snow. I hate winter. I hate December and Christmas. She cried harder, letting her head fall to the back of the chair. I hate myself and everything.

Stay on the phone with me, will you?

After lifting her head, she flipped the dial to see what was on, hitting only commercials. Why?

Because I care. Like I said before, you might be my soul mate. Now, tell me what you ate today?

What I ate? She felt confused. Don't you mean what I drank?

He paused for a moment. Drank?

Yeah. I hate alcohol, but I figured it'd go well with the bottle of pills.

What pills? he said in a very angry voice. Gina, what pills did you take?

She moved her gaze to the bottle. None yet. They're on the counter.

Don't take the pills. Promise you'll wait for me. His voice sounded urgent, but she didn't know why.

Strangers didn't care. Even people she knew didn't care. What was up with this guy?

Why should I wait? she asked.

Soul mates, remember? If you take the pills, I'll never know what you're really like and I want to know. Promise me.

She could hear a car engine in the background. Don't come over here. I'm fine and you don't have to worry about me. Warm tears filled her eyes again, while the lump in her throat multiplied in size. No one should worry about me. She almost choked out her response.

Why do you think that?

Well, my boss fired me yesterday. When I told him about the baby—

Baby?

She leaned her head back with a sigh, thinking about her horrible life. Yeah. Baby. I never slept with any guy by my decision, but he had other plans that weren't very nice, a little over a month ago. He yelled at me yesterday and told me his wife wouldn't appreciate him getting me pregnant and his other girlfriends would be jealous. I had no idea he was even married or dated around. I certainly didn't want to date him.

What happened next?

He fired me and told me to disappear from the earth, or he'd do it for me by the end of the week. She wiped her cheeks. When he forced himself… She gasped a breath, remembering what had happened. Don't fall apart now. She couldn't back down from what she wanted to do, or her old boss would do it for her. She had to collect herself. It was horrible.

That sounds evil. Let me help you. How old are you?

Twenty-six. She grunted her disgust. How many virgins do you know at 26? I mean ex-virgins? She sobbed again. It wasn't my choice. It's not fair.

No, it's not. How much did you drink today?

Just a small glass. It didn't taste as good as I thought it would. Sobs made her gasp. I'm such a loser. I can't even drink well.

You're not a loser. God doesn't make losers. Gina, turn the television to a movie for me. I want to know what you're watching, word for word. You're helping me.

She wiped her cheeks, trying not to cry. A movie now? She flipped through the dials. What kind of movie?

All types of movies. What do you like to watch?

A sudden thought made her smile. Do you like chick flicks? She knew she'd gotten to him because he sounded very masculine.

Well, sure, I guess. He paused. What's a chick flick?

She chuckled, throwing her head back. You don't know?

No. I've been kind of busy with my life. What's a chick flick?

James was an intriguing man. She didn't want to hang up on him but wanted to know more. How many women have you dated, anyway?

One—in high school—but that doesn't matter.

Only one woman? That seemed odd because he sounded much older than high school. Maybe he'd married the woman. Yes, it does matter. If you've ever dated a woman, you'd know what a chick flick is. It's a sappy movie made for women. It makes you cry because it usually has a sugary sweet happy ending. The plot is mostly very weak, with few subplots. There's a lot of talking and secrets. You can watch five minutes, take a twenty-minute break, and come back, not missing anything.

Sounds like a soap opera.

The sound of his voice made her wonder what he was really like, deep down. He sounded so calm and seemed able to take any situation and make it better. As she moved her gaze to the kitchen counter, she rethought the pills. Maybe she'd wait until she met this guy.

Sort of like a soap opera, she said. They're not my favorite, because they're fluff. I like mysteries or thrillers. They're more fun because you have to use your brain.

I agree with you. I like brains, too. You sound very bright.

She sighed again, realizing she wasn't for him. She had baggage no one needed, and really wasn't very bright. Not really. I didn't finish college because I ran out of money.

What was your major?

She lowered her eyes to her stomach as her problems filled her mind. Elementary education. I would've made a terrible teacher. She wiped her cheeks, feeling sad again.

Why do you say that?

I'm not good with kids. They hate me.

He chuckled, the sound warming her heart yet again. How could one man take a bad problem and turn it around like that, just with his laughter? She almost felt hope when she talked to him.

That might be a problem if you don't think you're good with kids, he said. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think, and I doubt they hate you. What do you look like?

She felt the tears again, wiping them away before they fell onto her cheeks. I'm ugly, according to Daniel.

Daniel?

She thought back to his angry face from the day before. The ex-boss. He said he only used me for something to do. I didn't even interest him.

I'm really glad you're done with him. He sounds pretty evil to me because I can tell you're something special.

She didn't believe him, so she stayed silent. While flipping the channels on the television, she found a good mystery and described what was going on. She even explained what was going on during a commercial.

What do you look like? he asked again, interrupting her rendition of the music on the commercial.

I'm a redhead with medium length hair, blue eyes, and a round face. I look younger than I am, but that doesn't matter. Looks don't matter to me. She paused in thought. What do you look like?

James laughed again. But looks don't matter?

Nope. She was hardly that superficial.

Okay, let's see. I'm thirty-two, about six feet tall, brown hair, and green eyes.

Are you dating or married?

He was silent for a moment. She hoped she didn't hit a sore spot.

No, he said. I think I told you that already. Did you eat or drink anything other than the alcohol?

No. Besides, you only told me you dated one girl in high school. You didn't tell me if you're still dating her or married her. Are you on drugs or something? Even I remembered that, and I had something to drink.

His chuckle filled the phone lines, making her grin. You're very funny. No, I'm not on drugs. I don't even drink because it affects my performance at work. He was silent for a moment. I just pulled into your apartment building. I'm coming upstairs in a few minutes. Don't be afraid because it's just me.

It suddenly occurred to her that if he knew Daniel, he might be after her. It was a stretch, but if he had someone send her the card…she couldn't risk it. Wait. Are you a masher or a serial killer? Strangers aren't to be trusted. I learned that the hard way. Don't come up here. I trust no one.

She could hear his laugh in stereo from the hallway and over the phone.

The card was a religious card, and Daniel would never have one of his minions send something like that. Maybe James really did come to rescue her. Or was he playing games? She doubted it, just from the card and the fact that she loved hearing his voice. It was as if he was sent to give her inner peace, and the Christmas card telling her he had great news was the real deal. If she hadn't called the number on the card…she couldn't think about it.

I'm not a serial killer, he said. I'm just a good guy who has a great job helping people. Where are you from?

Des Moines. What do you do for a living?

He didn't answer. Instead, the doorbell rang. Gina, it's James. Can you open the door, please?

He didn't sound like he was shoving a knife attached to a note into her door like she'd found from Daniel that morning. She had to trust someone. She was tired of fighting and she needed help.

Gina moved the phone away from her ear. Prove it. What do you look like? She stood from the chair and walked to the door, trying to look out the peephole. However, she couldn't see anything.

He chuckled again. Brown hair, green eyes, six feet. Can you open the door?

Answer the door already, old Mrs. Wilkins yelled from down the hall. I'm trying to watch my game shows.

While unlocking the door, Gina wondered if she should care how she looked but decided it didn't matter. James wasn't a model, so she'd just kick him out after a few minutes. She had to pay those bills, and those pills were calling her name again.

She opened the door and felt her mouth drop to the floor. The most gorgeous brown-haired, green-eyed man stood in front of her, with major muscles and a masculine face. He was dressed in scrubs…and that was when it hit her. He was there to take her to the looney bin. It really wasn't her lucky day.

~~~~~

Chapter 2

James took her arm, stood back, and stared at her. Gina? You're beautiful. Why are you wearing a red dress?

So when I'd be found… She sniffed back the tears. You don't want to know.

Oh, but I do. He walked into her apartment, closing the door behind him while holding onto her arm. As he surveyed the room, his eyes stopped at the counter, a smile covering his face. Ah. That's what I was looking for. He let go of her arm and headed toward the counter. Once he grabbed the amber bottle, he studied the label. Rachel Valley. Do you know her?

Yeah. Gina went back into the living room and plopped down in the chair. I used to work with her.

He poured the contents of the bottle onto the counter. Did you take any of these? Two are missing.

No. I already told you that. I had a tiny glass of vodka after packing my things.

Packing. He studied all the garbage bags sitting in the empty dining area. Are you going somewhere?

She pulled her feet up to the chair, rested her head on the back, and closed her eyes. Yeah.

Where are you going?

She heard him approaching her, but she ignored him. The television turned off, but she kept her head on the back of the chair. When he took her wrist in his fingers, she lifted her eyes. What are you doing?

Taking your pulse. Quiet. He stared at his watch. Who was this man?

He finally let go of her wrist, knelt down in front of her, and watched her with those caring green eyes. How far along are you?

I just took the test yesterday, so not far at all. Why do you care?

I just do. Follow my finger with your eyes. He held one finger in front of her face, and as he moved it to the right, she watched it. He moved it to the left, and she moved her eyes as well.

He took her hand and helped her to her feet. Walk to the bedroom and come back here.

I'm so tired. She fell into the chair, but he helped her up again.

Do it, please? he asked.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Someone's always telling me what to do. She walked to the bedroom and returned to him, holding her head. I don't feel that great.

I'm not surprised. He sat her back in the chair. What warm clothes do you have to wear?

She lowered her head to her hand. In the bags in the bedroom. She stood up. I can get it.

Just stay there. He ran into the bedroom. Do you have any relatives? he called out to her.

She sat back down. Not really. I just have a sister in California, but she doesn't care about me. I really have no one.

I figured. As soon as he walked out of the bedroom, he handed her a pair of jeans and a sweater. I want you to dress in this, because it's cold outside.

There was no way this man was going to control her, so she crossed her arms and thrust out her jaw. I'm not going outside.

He watched her with a determined look. Yes, you are. You're coming with me. I need you.

For what?

He grinned slightly. You'll see. Now get dressed and I'll find some shoes for you. He headed back into the bedroom.

Gina pulled her dress up over her head. She'd always loved that red dress, but now it made her sad. She couldn't even die in the dress she loved so much. She yanked on her clothes and fell back into the chair as tears burned behind her eyelids.

James walked into the living room. Gina.

Tears dripped from her eyes while holding the material in her hand. I love this dress.

You look gorgeous in it, but you need warmer clothes. It's cold outside. He helped her to her feet, studying her from head to toe. You don't eat much, do you?

Why?

You're very tiny. He pulled the sweater out to the side. Have you been sick?

Why?

He pulled the top of the jeans out while he stared up at her face. They're too big.

I've been under a lot of stress, she said. Food's not important.

He moved her back to her seat, went into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. With a sigh, he shut the door, checked the cabinets, and finally returned to the living room. You have no food here other than an empty bottle of vodka. Why is that?

I can't afford food. I can't afford anything, and now that I'm unemployed, I won't even be able to stay here. I'll become a homeless person at the end of the month…if I'm alive. The tears kept coming, feeling the lump in her throat.

You'll be alive, if I have anything to say about it. He knelt in front of her and pulled socks on her feet. We're going for a little ride. I want you to meet some friends of mine.

You think I'm crazy, don't you?

His eyes met hers. Not at all. I think you're in a bad place right now, but not crazy. I want you to get some help.

She shook her head. I can't afford help.

You need help and I'm going to make sure you get it. I care and I won't let you down.

She leaned closer to him as he put her shoes on her feet. Why do you care? Who are you?

I'm your guardian angel. He grinned and she saw slight dimples beside his mouth. Now let's go for a little ride. Do you have a purse or something?

Yeah. She stood up and grabbed it off the counter. I need those pills. I need to return them to Rachel.

His expression indicated surprised. You don't want to take them?

It's not worth it. Nothing's worth it anymore.

He took the pills from her, pocketed them, and led her toward the door. "I'm glad to hear you say you're not taking the pills. You are worth it. Your baby's worth it. He grabbed her coat from the hook on the door and pulled it on for her. Life is a gift. Don't ever take it for granted. He flipped off the light and guided her out the door, closing and locking it behind them. You never know when your guardian angel's going to show up and save your life, turning it all around."

Is that what you're doing? She felt the tears in her eyes again. Are you really my guardian angel?

Yes, I am. He ushered her down the stairs with his hand on her back, guiding her along the way. I'm here and I want to help you.

She lowered her head. I don't feel so good.

I'm not surprised. Are you going to vomit?

I don't know. She stopped on the bottom step, grabbed her stomach, and leaned against the wall. I feel terrible. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't see what came next.

He lifted her up. The door opened, and cold air and snow met the skin on her face. She opened her eyes to see herself being placed in the back seat of an SUV.

James handed her a small bucket as he stood at the open door. Use this. We're going on a trip.

I want to die, she muttered. I feel terrible.

I won't let you die. He shut the door. As soon as he crawled into the front seat, his cell phone rang. Hello, James Pierce.

He was silent for a moment while Gina's stomach rumbled. Waves of nausea hit her, but she just closed her eyes, willing her stomach to stop.

Yeah, I'll be there in about 15 minutes, he said. Have an orderly meet me at the door with—

She didn't hear the rest of his conversation. The vomit made its way to her mouth, and she leaned over, dumping the contents into the bucket. Vodka was nasty going down, but nothing like coming back up again. Since that was all she had in her stomach, it was even nastier. She never was a good drinker—if there was such a thing.

He stopped at a red light, so she opened her eyes. She felt miserable.

I'm on my way, he said, still on the phone. Have everything ready. No insurance. He looked back at her. Yep. Beautiful and definitely not a drinker. He moved his gaze back toward the front, ended the call, and took off.

Gina closed her eyes. Could life get any worse? She needed help and she needed hope. It seemed as if James was giving her both things.

You okay back there? he asked.

Ugh. Tell me it's going to get better? Can you give me hope?

More than you know. There's always hope. I want you to memorize the following Bible verse for me. From Psalm 62, verse 5, 'Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him.' Can you recite that for me?

She couldn't believe it. She wanted to die, and he was telling her to memorize something? You're quoting me Bible verses?

Yes, because guardian angels do things like that. That verse will get you through this more than I can. It's hope, Gina—hope for the future, for your life, and for your baby's life. God doesn't want you to kill yourself. God wants you to live, so you can help Him. Now recite it after me. 'Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.'

He sounded insane, but she trusted him, for some reason. 'Find rest, O my soul, in God alone.'

'My hope comes from Him.'

He was right. God probably wanted her to live. She was so thankful James had saved her. He was something special and she had to do this for him. 'My hope comes from Him.'

Now say the whole thing.

"'Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him.'' She said it more than once, repeating it over and over again.

Now that you know that verse, I want you to remember it. Life is important. He took another road, slowed down, and stopped. As soon as he got out of the car, he opened the back door. Take her into the E.R. and I'll be right there. Can you get rid of the bucket contents?

Sorry, Gina said. I really don't feel well.

I know. It's okay. James helped her out of the car. This man will take you some place warm. I'll be right there.

She grabbed her purse and stared up at the building in front of her, sudden dread hitting her. I can't afford the hospital. Gina headed for the road, pulling her purse up on her shoulder. Her stomach rumbled, causing her pain. I have to get a cab. While holding onto her stomach, she inched toward the road. Taxi! She couldn't even motion to any of the passing