The Immortal Beloved by DJ Birch

chapter 1

Spencer should have lived a long, full life and spent his final moments in peace surrounded by family and friends. Instead, his body clung desperately to life. I looked on, helplessly, at the plethora of IV tubes and monitors hooked up to his comatose form at the ICU at Hershey Medical Center.

I could only hope he would pass over before his young wife Wendy saw him in this state.

"Doctor, is he in there?" Wendy's familiar voice floated from down the hall.

"Remiel, I don't want her to see me like this," Spencer's soul desperately pleaded to me as he wavered between the two worlds.

"I'm sorry," I confessed defeatedly. "There's nothing I can do."

Wendy burst through the swinging doors. In-stinctively, she stepped forward but stopped her-self.

"God!" Wendy swallowed hard, stumbling back.

"I wish I could hold his hand." Crouching down, Wendy buried her face in her hands and began to sob. The doctor placed an awkward, comforting pat on her back.

"I don't want to leave her, but since I can see you, I sense I'm not going to survive this, am I?" Spencer asked, his voice hitching.

I regrettably shook my head.

We looked down at the scene of Spencer's small body in the bed and Wendy kneeling beside him.

All one could hear were the sounds of the heart rate monitor, the labored breaths of the ventilator, and the awful cries of Wendy's ultimate suffering.

~

A short time after I brought Spencer to Paradise, I was summoned before the Archangels.

"Remiel," Michael began. "You have done a fine job bringing Spencer Bronson home. We can trust you to guide them back on the path of righteousness."

In return, you rewarded Spencer with an ischemic stroke at forty-five.

"Yes, sir," I replied flatly.

"We want you to know" -Raphael smiled -"that your devotion and faith has not gone unnoticed."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, Elizabeth Clark needs your guidance once again," said Gabriel.

Now, that was a name I never thought I would be

called upon for again.

Without thinking, I asked in disbelief, "Elizabeth? I thought she still had Candace... and what about Rebecca or Mickey?"

The council was patient with my inquiries.

"You're right, but as you very well know that as time changes, humans change," Raphael explained. "All we know for sure is that Candace is not there for Elizabeth the way she used to be. We are going to send Candace's guardian to work with her as well.

Elizabeth will be going through tough times soon and will need you more than ever."

"More than ever?" Spencer's comatose body on life support was still ingrained in my memory.

I couldn't bear to see another assignment suffer.

"How much more tragedy does poor Elizabeth have to endure?"

"Remiel." Michael's stern voice brought me back

to my senses.

I knew better than to lose my composure. I was

stronger than that.

"None of us know every detail of His great plan. Whatever challenges Elizabeth must face will be as they should. She will have you and Him for guidance."

"I will send down messages when they are given."

Gabriel softened his eyes and tried to reassure me. "Neither of you will ever be alone either."

I nodded affirmatively and asked the final question, "Where must I go?"

"New York City."

~

Has it only been three years?

The thought of seeing her bright face again made my heart soar. She was one of those lights in the world. She could make others smile even when she was crying on the inside.

Descending to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a crisp September Friday, I tried to recall the last time I had seen Elizabeth.

High school can be a reformative and, at times, a traumatic period in a young human's life. I was not sure what it had done to Elizabeth. At least she was finally out of the awkward stage, or I hoped she was.

At the glorious museum, I glided past Van Goghs and Mary Cassatts. Gabriel had told me that Elizabeth was somewhere in the Impressionism exhibit, and…

I stopped dead in my tracks. There she was. I could recognize that mass of blonde mane anywhere. What caught me off guard was the beautiful profile behind it as she flipped her hair from one side to another in contemplation.

Elizabeth was gazing at The Water Lily Pond. Lost in deep thought, Elizabeth cocked her head and sucked in her cheeks. She held her arm against her chest and used her hand to play with the golden cross dangling from a necklace.

I walked directly in front of her, blocking Monet's masterpiece. She did not so much as blink.

Her eyes, scanning the tiny, fine points of the painting, still sparkled like emeralds. She blinked, and a small grin came across her face. How I wished I could read minds.

"Lizzy! Come on! You've been staring at this one for ten minutes." A brunette swooped in and slid her arm under Elizabeth's.

"Candace, it's Monet, my mom's favorite. The last time I was here, I was nine, and she showed me this painting." Elizabeth turned around, accidently hitting her friend in the face with blonde waves.

"How many times do I have to tell you to watch where you whip that thing," Candace spluttered before she rolled her dark eyes. "Finish up reminiscing, and let's go. Rebecca got lost somewhere in the Expressionism section, and we have to find her."

"Ladies." The girls turned around to face a rail-thin man in jeans and a button-up green shirt with thick-rimmed glasses. "I hope we are keeping our voices down out of respect for others."

"Yes, Mr. Hans," Elizabeth replied.

"And I know you both are exploring the other parts of the museum because you have completed your assignment on art inspired by Grecian culture." He indicated to the tablets tucked under the girls' arms.

"Oh, yes, sir." Candace nodded and batted her eyelashes like the way she always did when she lied.

"We just finished looking at The Death of Hercules."

Elizabeth coughed. "Socrates."

"I mean Death of Socrates," Candace corrected herself.

"We leave in a half-hour, so make sure you wrap it up." Mr. Hans twirled his finger and walked away.

"God, he's pretentious." Candace turned to her friend. "How far have you gotten on the online thing?" she inquired, clicking on her tablet and scrolling through the sheet they had to fill out.

Elizabeth pulled up one of her navy knee-high socks that had fallen and smoothed out her plaid skirt. "I'm, like, halfway through. How about you?"

"Didn't even look at it yet. Let me see yours." She reached for Elizabeth's tablet, but her friend stepped back.

"Not again, Candace," Elizabeth said firmly. "You nearly wrote down the same answers word for word from my AP Comp homework last week. You said you only needed to look at two!"

"And I did!" Candace defended herself. "Plus, like, four others..." she trailed off.

"Mr. Hans is going to figure it out."

"No, he won't. You look so cute when you're worried." Candace grabbed her friend by the arm and swiftly snatched her tablet. "Now, stop being paranoid, and I'll buy you a cappuccino at the café."

Knowing she would lose one way or the other, Elizabeth sighed. "At least try to write the answers in your own words.".

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