Christmas Eve

Miguel Rivera glanced in the mirror and thought he looked pretty damned good for his age. He didn't have the deep wrinkles of some of the seasoned officers and only had a touch of gray starting at the temples. Other than that, his wavy black hair was still full and thick. He smiled as he thought how he still wore the same size, while he buttoned his uniform shirt over his flat stomach, on his last day of walking his beat. The last day, he thought. It seemed like only yesterday when he set out on foot to patrol the city streets that first time, twenty-five years ago. It's a day he never forgot.

He loved his city during the hustle and bustle of the holidays, back then. It was a magical time when the department stores put on whimsical displays and people crowded the streets, their arms filled with packages. You could smell the chestnuts roasting at the carts on the corners and hear the shrill sound of bell-ringers cutting through the noise of the traffic, asking for money for their red kettles.

Miguel leaned against the street light that first day, just watching the crowds while he waited for his partner. It was a time for families and a time for everyone to be a child again. He wasn't that far removed from his own childhood being only twenty-one and a second-generation police officer. He smiled as two brothers chattered on about asking Santa for baseball bats and gloves, holding on to the hands of a man he assumed was their grandfather. He remembered how exciting it was to wait in line to see "the man", ride the monorail and walk through the Magic Corridor in the department store.

It was their beauty that caught his eye. A mother and daughter, dressed alike in royal blue coats with white fur collars, were part of the ever-growing crowd. Both had blonde hair, though the child wore a matching hat with white fur trim to cover her ears from the softly falling snow. The mother held one gloved hand while the little girl's other hand was exposed, tightly holding a red and white striped peppermint stick. He watched them being tossed around the crowded sidewalk. Everyone was always in such a hurry around the holidays.

Most said it was divine intervention that the child's gloved hand slipped away from her mother's. If it hadn't, she would very likely have died when her mother fell off the curb, into the heavy traffic. Miguel still remembered how she trembled in his arms as he held her after lifting her to safety. He had never seen a cherub before that day. She was everything he had ever seen depicted in paintings. She had round cheeks, big blue eyes that were brimming with tears and a perfect heart-shaped, rose colored mouth. Miguel continued to hold the crying child tightly, while they put her mother's body into the ambulance.

A female officer took the little girl from Miguel and assured him that she would locate family members immediately. Although he never saw her again, Miguel prayed for her every night. Not a Christmas went by that he didn't wonder what became of the little angel.

As much as he loved the streets, Miguel now realized that they needed much younger men protecting them. They weren't as safe as they used to be and most of the citizens of the county no longer came downtown. Instead they sought the security of the suburban malls that had sprung up. Today, he walked with his partner and the young man who would replace him. Miguel purposely hung back, walking behind the pair, so that their bonding could begin. Monday, he moved inside the precinct, wearing a suit and working as an investigator.

Now that he would be leaving the streets, Miguel thought that he might begin to explore relationships away from work. Up until this change, his biggest fear was leaving a widow and children behind. Sure, he had dated, but he had always kept women at arm's length. Now he wouldn't have to worry about the everyday dangers. Yes, maybe it was time to get out and start seriously dating. Who knew? Miguel might even become a step-father to a family.

He never heard the warning, but became aware of people screaming and running. He looked ahead and saw the two officers, guns drawn, ordering a man to drop the gun he had pointed at them. He put his hand up to his shoulder radio, at the same time he reached for his gun. Miguel never fully got it out of his holster before the bullet tore through his body. As he fell to the ground, he heard shouting and gunfire. He closed his eyes and prayed.

It felt as though his life's essence was flowing out of his body. He could feel snowflakes coming to rest on his face before he felt incredible pressure on his abdomen. Miguel could hear a female voice yelling for people to get back and he forced himself to concentrate on that voice. He tried to speak, but couldn't. He tried to move, but couldn't. It was all he could do to finally open his eyes.

At that moment he knew he must be dying because Miguel was convinced God had sent an angel to escort him to Heaven. He was vaguely aware of her talking to him. As she did, her breath created a halo that hung over her blonde hair. Tears seemed to form in her blue eyes. Her voice got farther and farther away, but he concentrated on her heart-shaped rose-colored mouth. That was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.

It was three days before Miguel opened his eyes. His mother started crying, offering her thanks to Saint Michael. Although his father appeared to have his emotions in check, Miguel could see this had shaken him. Papa had watched his own partner be killed in the line of duty. The young petty thief, who was shot and was killed by Miguel's fellow officers, was only sixteen years old. His bullet had ripped through Miguel's abdomen, but he would be fine. Miguel's desk job would have to wait. Right now, he just wanted to sleep.

After another forty-eight hours, Miguel was fully conscious and lucid enough to give his nurses a hard time. When his mother came in to visit, she was thrilled he was able to talk and looked so much stronger.

"Dios mio, Miguel," the older woman said. "Don't ever put your Mama through anything like that again. My heart almost couldn't take it. I went to extra masses and prayed to St. Michael every day."

"Michael, the patron saint of police officers. Your archangel sure came through, Mama," Miguel said with a weak smile, and then remembered something. "Mama, I know you have always believed in angels, so I know you won't laugh at me. Mama, I think I saw one that day. I could see her face but I couldn't hear what she said to me."

"Miguel, it's very possible an angel was with you, but it's rare when they're seen. "

"But I can tell you exactly what she looked like. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. Mama, I think I saw her halo."

"Hijo, there was so much going on that day. A young woman saved your life, perhaps it was her."

Miguel frowned and thought before saying, "Perhaps, Mama, but she seemed like an angel to me."

That night Miguel slept fitfully. He dreamed of gunshots, screaming, and angels. Anyone observing him would see him thrashing about in the bed. When her hand went to his forehead, he instantly calmed down. His eyes fluttered open and he saw her.

"Shhhh, calm down. You're fine -- you're safe and you're fine. Try to go back to sleep," she said, softly.

Miguel refused to believe he was dreaming; not this time. "You're here," he said.

"Go back to sleep, Officer Rivera," she whispered. "You're just having a bad dream."

He knew he wasn't dreaming. In his dreams there was no pain. In his dreams he couldn't smell the soft scent of this angel. In his dreams he wouldn't have felt the warmth of her hand. Miguel strained to sit up, but she gently pushed him back onto his pillow.

"We'll talk again, but now you need to sleep," she urged.

"But who are you?"

"Eve."

Miguel went back to sleep but this time his dreams were different. He was waltzing with his angel in his arms.

The infection that developed took the doctors by surprise. Miguel spent days in a medically induced coma, the only way drugs could help his body recover. It was a frightening period for everyone who knew him. During this time his fever would rage and the dreams would come, but they weren't nightmares. Each night, his angel would be there, putting cold compresses on his forehead and urging him to relax so that he could heal. Miguel only slept peacefully after she visited him.

As fast as the infection arrived, so did Miguel recover. A bullet wound like his would have kept a younger man down, but not Miguel. He was more determined than ever to start his new job, after having worked long and hard to achieve this new position. The occupational therapists had a hard time slowing him down so he didn't cause additional damage to his body by doing too much. Miguel no longer felt the angel visit him at night, but he knew she was there. Perhaps it was the fragrance that seemed to linger -- floral tones with a hint of sandalwood. It was the only time he had ever smelled it.

Although Miguel's mother wanted her boy to come home with her, he insisted on moving back to his own apartment. Mama had stocked his refrigerator and freezer with food and cleaned his apartment from top to bottom. She also promised to visit him every day, but Papa talked her out of that, as long as Miguel promised to telephone them with daily reports.

That first night at home, his angel didn't come. Miguel dreamed he was walking with her in the snow. When she looked at him, he knew that all was well with his life. They seemed to walk for the longest time, holding hands, but never going anywhere. The next morning he woke himself saying, "Eve".

Miguel had strict rules to follow. He truly felt if they didn't say he couldn't, then he could. One restriction was that he was not allowed to run. The doctor never said he couldn't walk, so walk he did. At first he walked around his block, and within a few days, was walking around the block eight times during one session. He decided to venture further, walking in the direction of the park. With its ponds, basketball courts, jogging and bicycle paths and an ice skating rink, it was a popular city destination. An unexpected warm spell came through this early December morning and exercise enthusiasts were out in droves.

There was snow on the lawns of the park but the sidewalks were dry. The skaters were racing around the rink while in the middle the more serious skaters practiced their jumps and turns. Miguel stopped to get a bottle of water and then sit on one of the nearby benches to rest before heading back home. A small voice broke through the attention he was paying the skaters.

"I never skated that well," the small white-haired woman said from the opposite end of the park bench. "But back then, we skated on frozen ponds, not man-created rinks."

Miguel looked at the old woman, bundled under blankets, her hands pointing to the skaters. "My granddaughter is quite a skater, much better than I could ever dream. She's so talented. She just seems to float across the ice."

There was something so familiar about her, yet so strange. Her words were melodic and peaceful. Her little blue eyes were bright and sparkled with excitement. She reminded him of someone but Miguel couldn't remember whom. He moved closer so he could hear her better.

"Hi, my name is Miguel. Are you sure you're warm enough?" he asked, smiling at the old woman.

"Oh, don't bother yourself; I'm a tough old bird. Thank goodness this sun is out, though. Sometimes I come here and not all the layers in the world can keep me warm. This is the first I've seen you here, officer."

"I'm normally at work but I'm off for the next few weeks. Do you like to come watch the skaters?" Miguel asked her, now noticing the shape of her mouth. It was perfectly heart-shaped.

"I'm here when my grand-daughter comes to skate. She works nights and she likes to get some exercise in before her shift. In the summer she runs and I sit and wait for her. Of course, when there's too much snow during the winter, I choose to stay at home. What brings you to the park today?"

Miguel knew he was staring, but he was also not sure why. This elderly woman mesmerized him, with her youthful attitude. She seemed frail but full of life. There was something that made him want to sit and talk with her. He could swear she used molasses and vanilla as cologne. "I was walking the park and needed to take a break. I had a little accident and I'm walking before I can run. Which one is your grand-daughter, ma'am?"

"Oh, call me Granny -- everyone does. It's so hard to see Evie out there with so many skating. She's wearing blue and she has blonde hair. I think she's spinning in the middle, right now."

Miguel immediately saw her. It was his angel, gliding across the ice and then spinning like a top. He stood and walked toward the fenced in rink, just watching her artistry on the ice. No wonder Granny seemed so familiar! Now he would finally have answers. He turned to question the old woman, but she was gone. How could she have disappeared so fast? Had he been watching the young woman that long? Miguel turned his attention back to the ice, but couldn't find her anywhere. At least now though, he knew where to find her.

If only it were that easy. All the next week, it didn't matter what time of the day Miguel returned to the park, he couldn't find the old lady or her grand-daughter. There were times when it was just too cold to stay and wait. Miguel began to question his sanity -- an angel, who was real, an old woman who looked like her, and no way to find either of them.

After another morning of hoping to find her, Miguel left the rink disappointed once more. He was carefully making his way down the icy sidewalk towards home when he glanced inside one of the coffee shops. Seated at a table near the window was the old woman who had asked him to call her Granny. Without hesitation, he stepped inside to speak with her.

"Granny?" How are you? I haven't seen you at the park lately," Miguel said, greeting her warmly.

"Oh Miguel, how are you feeling? I've been a little under the weather so I've stayed away from the park. Please, join me," Granny replied. "I trust you're beginning to feel better."

"Stronger every day, Granny."

"Well, you'll be back on the force before you know it," she said, with a knowing smile on her face. "Are you here for a cup of coffee? They really know how to brew a good cup. Or is it my company you're seeking?"

Miguel was confused for a moment. He didn't remember telling Granny about being a police officer, but then he remembered very little about their conversation once he saw his angel.

"Um....well....you see....," Miguel stammered. "I was wondering about your grand-daughter. I think I've seen her before."

"Chances are that you have. After all, I told you she spends time at the park."

"No, I think I've seen her someplace else - like I've known her or something. I don't know, and this probably all sounds very crazy."

Granny thought for a moment and then said, "I guess anything is possible. My mother always told me that anything is possible, if you believe. And you don't remember where you met her?"

"That's the really crazy part -- I don't know that I actually met her. I just...it's so hard to explain, but I need to talk to her to know for sure."

"I'm surprised you didn't see her when you came in. She left about that same time. She might still be waiting at the bus stop," Granny said, her eyes now shining.

"Really? Oh jeez, I have to see if I can catch her! I'll be right back!"

Miguel still couldn't run, but he walked as fast as he could, to cover the half block to the bus stop. He saw her step onto the bus, which pulled away before he could get to the corner. So close, he thought. It just didn't seem fair. A dejected Miguel walked back to the coffee shop to talk with Granny and maybe take her home so that he would know where they lived. When he arrived, there were two college-aged girls sitting at her table. Miguel simply went home.

Okay, he thought, how hard could it be to locate one little old lady in that neighborhood? She had to live in that neighborhood because there's no way she could disappear that fast without living close by. Miguel had never seen her move, but at her advanced age he assumed it would be a little slower than someone younger. He was going to be an investigator, so that's what he would do. Surely, there weren't that many white-haired women living in that area.

Apparently, Miguel was wrong. No matter who he questioned, no one seemed to know of an old woman fitting her description, living anywhere around the vicinity of the coffee shop. He even spoke with the wait staff of the cafe and none of them remembered her, let alone knew where she might be living. Between visits to the park and all of the stores in the surrounding area, Miguel was having no luck at all.

Miguel prided himself on being a strong man, but knew when to utilize the help available to him. His visits to the department-ordered psychologist aided him in working through his feelings on the death of the teen-aged boy and his own brush with death. He felt at ease enough to speak about, and debate, his thoughts on guardian angels. The more time that passed without seeing Granny and the young woman he thought of as his angel, the more Miguel believed in the existence of angels assigned to protect and guide our lives. He was ready to resign himself to the fact he would never see them again. He also decided to take some advice and return to the sidewalk where he had been shot. Although Miguel didn't feel like he had any underlying issues with the spot, he also knew there was only one way to find out. Maybe he would do that soon.

She came to him that night, in his dreams. It was as if she knew how much he needed her. Her blonde hair lay softly on her pale shoulders and she was wrapped in white gossamer. The fine silk was draped over her curves, delicately billowing out behind her as she crossed the room to him. Miguel sat up, shifting his legs off the bed while she approached. Not three feet from him, she let go of her covering. It floated behind her, looking like angel's wings, then eventually falling like a gentle rain onto the floor.

Eve stood before him, naked, trembling and smelling of the same floral fragrance. Miguel was afraid to touch her, for fear she would vanish. Instead, she offered her hand to him and when he accepted it, she pulled him to his feet.

"Miguel, I've been waiting for you for such a long time."

"You're here," he whispered, afraid to speak.

A shy smile and she answered him back, "This is where I belong."

In the little light that shone through from the street, Miguel's dark Latin hands cupped Eve's face and he lowered his lips to her perfectly heart-shaped mouth. He had always known her kisses would be wonderful, but he didn't know how wonderful they would be. He felt as if his body were floating in air. He moved his hands to her soft hair and relished the moment. He tasted a faint trace of peppermint on her lips as their kisses became more urgent.

Eve's arms snaked up around Miguel's neck and she held him close. He could feel her breath on his cheek during their never-ending kiss. He shivered as she tentatively pushed her tongue in to meet his. Their mouths opened and they began to consume one another. Miguel's desire was as evident as Eve's willingness to consummate their union.

He lightly moved his fingers down her spine to the curve at her waist. Eve pulled away slightly, breaking their kiss long enough to whisper, "Yessssss...." That was all the encouragement Miguel needed. His hands moved down to cup her round cheeks and pull her hips into his hardness. Eve arched her back, pushing her soft breasts into his hard chest. Her length molded to his.