Read Chapter 1 Chapter 1
Year 1940
It must have been one hundred degrees in the shade. A slight breeze moved up the valley as Consuelo lifted her long, black hair to let the gentle wind cool the nape of her neck. “Ah, now that feels good,” she murmured to herself as she struggled to adjust the basket of wet clothes riding on her hip. “Hurry up, Terry,” she called to the young boy behind her. “We got chores to do and little time to do ‘em in. It’s hotter than a by-god today and this heat’s gonna dry the garments afore we get ‘em hung.”
The brief moment of relief not only allowed her younger brother time to catch up, but also gave Consuelo the opportunity to see if anyone was following them. Once convinced that they were indeed alone on the hillside she continued, her bare feet stepping gingerly over the uneven terrain, Terry stumbling along beside her as they maneuvered up the slight incline.
She was fourteen years old. The place she walked was the backyard of her home, a three room, wooden shack nestled in the hills of the small rural community known as South Mill.
Despite the serenity of the quiet afternoon, Consuelo seemed anxious. Her blue eyes darted about constantly surveying her surroundings, as she urged her younger brother to keep up the pace. The clothesline was atop a rocky incline, and when they reached their destination, Consuelo set her heavy burden down. As she did so, a loud explosion echoed through the valley and instinctively she flinched, dropping to the ground.
Mimicking her actions, the young boy beside her covered his head. He too had heard the sound and rushed to hide his face behind his sister’s thin, willowy frame. “Is Papa coming?” he cried.
“No,” she reassured him, realizing they were alone and safe. “I think it’s Ok, Terry. It musta just been the wind bangin’ on somethin’ somewheres.”
A few feet away stood a little wooden shed that her father often used as a smokehouse for meat. It sat atop the small hill, unprotected from the sun’s rays, heat waves dancing off the tin roof. Consuelo paused and studied the windowless, clap-board structure as it soaked up the morning heat, a lump of sympathy forming in her throat.
“Consuelo.” Startled by the sound of a woman’s voice calling her name, the young girl froze. “Go to him now and offer words of comfort.” The tone was one of calm authority and Consuelo spun around. She looked to the hillside behind them but saw only the dense forest of trees. She searched the rocky terrain that led to the house beyond, but there was no one in sight. In fear, she scrambled behind a large oak tree and pulled her younger brother to her for protection.
“What is it?” cried Terry. “Is Papa coming?”
“No,” she replied guardedly as she looked into her brother’s worried face. “Didn’t you hear that?” He was only six years old, and as he clung to her, she could read confusion and fear in his innocent, dark eyes.
“Go to him,” the mysterious voice once more commanded. This time the words hung in the air as a faint whisper, barely audible above the sound of wind rustling in the tree tops.
“That!” exclaimed Consuelo fighting the panic as she pulled her knees up to her chin and closed her eyes. Terry copied her actions and together they huddled beside the massive live oak waiting for the threat to reveal itself.
As they remained still, the world around them seemed to come alive. The gentle breeze became gusty and blew the leaves in swirls down the rocky slope. Birds burst into song. Squirrels raced and jumped from limb to limb. Then, like a messenger sent to calm the storm, a ray of sunlight filtered through the tree branches and touched her arm. As the heat radiated through her, Consuelo’s fear faded and the warm sensation slowly seemed to melt away all anxiety.
Slowly she opened her eyes. Again, she studied the nearby shed, and although the voice must have been a figment of her imagination, she knew it spoke the truth. With worry and concern, she watched heat waves rising from the smokehouse roof, and knew she must help the hostage trapped inside.
Taking Terry by the arm, Consuelo led him into a sitting position at the base of a small tree. There she slipped a rope around his waist and gently tied him to the trunk. “Want to play the feather game?” she asked with a smile. His hands quickly raised in anticipation as he waited to receive the honey she spread onto his fingers. They had played this game many times before and Terry could not contain his enthusiasm. “Now wait,” she commanded. “You know you can’t lick your fingers yet.” Reaching into her pockets, she produced a feather and placed it on his forefinger. “OK, now you can start the game.”
Terry happily began licking his fingers in a futile attempt to remove the feather. Consuelo watched her brother and smiled at his childish enjoyment. “There, that ought to keep you busy for awhile,” she commented to herself.
With Terry occupied, she once more studied the ramshackle, wooden structure that was her home. Nestled in the shadows of giant oak trees, it appeared quiet and tranquil, the only movement being the burlap curtains gently swaying in the open windows. Feeling confident that she was temporarily safe from her father’s scrutiny Consuelo moved to the shed.
Without making a sound, she left Terry and slipped quietly behind the abandoned smokehouse. There, she crouched down on her knees, and pressed her face against a broken board. Peering into the darkness, she spoke quietly. “You doing all right?” she whispered. Hearing no answer from within, she spoke a bit louder. “Eugene, it’s me Consuelo. You all right?”
“Yeah,” responded the weak voice of a young boy.
“I’ll bring you some food as soon as Papa falls asleep,” she said to reassure him.
“Water,” he croaked.
“Yeah, that too,” she added and then stood up. “Now, I got to go. He might be watching.” Consuelo did not wait for a reply as she hurriedly turned and left.
In the dark confines of the small wooden building the prisoner lay in misery. He was ten years old. His body showed signs of malnutrition and his reddened cheeks revealed the fever that left his mouth parched. His name was Eugene and, in his father’s eyes, his crimes were numerous. Accused of disobedience for abandoning his father during a midnight burglary and laziness for refusing to learn the trade, Eugene had been sentenced to four days in the smokehouse.
The first day in solitary confinement had been a welcome relief. Although he was afraid of the dark, the monsters lurking in the corners of his cell were less frightening than his father. At least here he was safe from the leather strap.
Sometime during the second night, a terrible, familiar chill overcame his frail body. He had suffered from the fever many times before. It was one of the many reasons his father hated him so. At ten years old, a boy is expected to do his share of the work, and Eugene did not quite live up to those standards. He had tried his best to be healthy and avoid his father’s wrath but he could not control the fever whenever it came and enveloped his body. He was “weak and useless”. These were his father’s words and Eugene took them to be true.
Now, on the third day of his confinement, he was lost in a sea of delirium. Sweat drenched his flushed face as he lay exhausted on the floor of the dusty cell. His sister’s voice had interrupted a nightmare and awakened him from a fever induced sleep. The understanding that she would return with food and water gave him hope, and he soon slipped into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
Eugene was in solitary confinement from his family but he was not alone. During the three days of imprisonment, his protector had remained close, silently keeping him company. Concerned with his physical health, and anxious about his present condition, she floated just above him in her robes of iridescent white. The thin garment shimmered and glowed, illuminated with a soft light of unconditional love that originated from within the creature’s very core. Her long hair of orange and yellow danced in slow motion waves, cascading down her back and around her glorious face. Her eyes were twin jewels of jade green that sparkled with affection for the child she loved beyond reason or explanation. She was a being of the universe, made from the Father’s hand and commissioned specifically to accompany Eugene on his journey through life. She knew the only way to accomplish her mission was obedience to the Father. She also knew of no better weapon of protection for her human, than unconditional love. With commitment as her focus, she dedicated her very existence to the weak, fragile creature lying in the dirt below her. He was innocent and vulnerable to exploitation. Although she had no control over the physical conditions that formed his world and shaped his destiny, she was steadfast in her devotion to his spiritual well-being. It was not her mission to forge his path. Her mission was to guard the precious treasure that was his soul so that he would, someday, claim his place in eternity. She was his angel.
“Eugene, nourishment will soon arrive. I have intervened on your behalf.” She drifted in the air above him, her face just inches from his. At the scent of her breath in his nostrils, Eugene stirred. The angel smiled. “Rest and sleep. I will remain by your side. Although you do not yet have the luxury of knowing human tenderness, I have enough love within me to sustain you. You will survive this ordeal and together we will nourish the spirit that dwells within you. Stay with me. Rely upon me. Learn to hear my voice and feel my presence in your life and I will lead you beyond all human suffering. Know that you are a spiritual being temporarily housed within a human body. Feed that spirit and you will fulfill your destiny upon this earth.” She knew her words were beyond a child’s comprehension but, they were seeds of knowledge planted in Eugene’s mind that, over time, would germinate and grow.
Reacting to her words of comfort, Eugene closed his eyes. A feeling of contentment slowly enveloped him. “Know this, Eugene,” she whispered with a smile, “You are loved.”
It wasn’t long before the creaking wooden door slowly opened. Eugene had not heard anyone approach and fear suddenly forced him awake. With relief, he realized it was his sister and younger brother. They entered quietly and shut the door behind them. Eugene perked up as he smelled the aroma of biscuits in the small cloth bundle she carried. Eagerly, he reached out to take the food and water she offered.
“Papa is asleep,” she explained as she watched Eugene quench his thirst. “I think he done forgot ‘bout you cause he didn’t say nothing at supper. Usually he sees your empty chair at the table and he starts a cussin’. Today though, he just didn’t even notice you weren’t there.” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, hoping this bit of knowledge would make her brother feel better. “All I could bring ya was a couple of biscuits and two pieces of bacon. I saved the bacon from breakfast. The biscuits we done made this afternoon. Terry, he got burnt by the oven again, didn’t ya Terry?” she said laughing. As she spoke, Terry held up his forearm and showed Eugene the blister that had formed there. “Crazy fool!” she said with a giggle. “I only done told him twenty hundred times not to reach in without a towel but he’s ‘bout as dense as a bucket of pea soup. Ain’t we lucky papa only dropped him on his head once?” Again she laughed softly and Eugene smiled at her soothing conversation.
Consuelo always had a way of lightening the mood and he was glad that she cared enough to bring him food. Terry joined them in their laughter, unaware that he was the subject of their joke.
“Crazy fool!” giggled Terry and he clapped his hands with joy.
The angel hovered close by. She took pleasure watching the human children communicate and laugh. Kindness at any level is good food for the soul. The child, Consuelo, had not only brought nourishment for Eugene’s body, she had delivered a bit of healing to his heart. It was an act of goodness that the angel would implant into Eugene’s memory. Someday he might have cause to remember his sister’s compassion and repay her thoughtfulness.
As the children huddled in the shed enjoying a peaceful moment, the angel suddenly became alert to an approaching dark energy. She rose into the air allowing herself space to identify the nature of the force and evaluate its strength.
Hatred and violence radiated from the black cloud that slowly spread up the hillside like a dense fog. She knew the source. A carrier of evil, known in the spirit world as a fallen one, had taken up residence inside the family home and accompanied the man who now walked up the pathway from the house. With leather strap in hand, Eugene’s father was heading for the smokehouse.
Feeling the need to initiate a confrontation, the angel left the children and flew outside, meeting the small withered creature face to face. “Keep your distance!” she commanded, extending her arms in a show of power and strength.
“But I have been invited! Even you, with your grand display of intimidation cannot interfere with free will,” the creature shrieked.
“Do you dare to test my boundaries?” the angel threatened with steady voice. “You are not allowed here! Be gone into the shadows or you will feel the burning sting of my light.”
Voicing a whimper and a moan, the vile creature with bent features scurried into the shadows on leathery wings. “You may feel victory today, but you will not win the final battle” he cried in retaliation. “I can feel the dark side of your precious one and he is silently calling out for the gifts that I can offer. One day he will be mine.”
The angel turned away, ignoring the shallow threat. She was not interested in trading insults with the lowly. Instead, she felt the need to focus her attention on the familiar scene that was about to play out below her. In the next few minutes her beloved child would once more feel the anger and wrath of a man who had the honor of being a human father. It was not her place to judge humans or their actions, and it was not her position to interfere. As it is with all beings of creation, Eugene’s destiny would be shaped by pain and pleasure, and for his development, she must allow these things to be.
Today Eugene’s body would feel suffering, but she would be there to help him endure the physical hurt. Eugene’s heart would feel rejection, but she would cradle it with undying love. Eugene’s mind would register injustice, but she would cloud his memories allowing him the healing power of forgetfulness. Through it all Eugene’s soul would remain untouched and unspoiled. It was her mission to see that it was so. She knew her place in the universe and she knew her commitment was beyond compromise. This child, Eugene Lassiter, was hers to protect and defend. She would not fail.
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