ANGELS AT WAR

CHAPTER 3

ARCHANGEL QUERIDA

THEY WHO SIN AGAINST ME WRONGS THEIR OWN SOUL (Proverbs 8:36)

            Jenny Oakley lay sprawled on her bed; her position reminded her of making snow angels as a little girl. She glanced at the bottle of pills on her nightstand and then back at the ceiling. What was she to do? Twenty-two, single, poor and pregnant. She turned her head back to the nightstand, recalling the haunting words from Becky yesterday. Then she watched her hand move toward the bottle.

            “Jenny,” Becky had begun her judgement with a soft tone. Her condemning words ironically sounded soothing, sweet and dripping with honey. “Given what you confided to me the other day, I’m afraid I had to make a tough, tough decision. But as head deaconess, it’s my responsibility to uphold integrity… I’m afraid I can’t allow you to teach the children’s Bible  class going forward.”

            “Stop tempting her with the pills,” I told Vermillion.

            “She has free will,” he replied menacingly. “You put things in her way; I put things in her way.”

            “Why are you so filled with hate? Why do you want to destroy a sweet, innocent girl?”

            “Innocent? Ha! She’s a fornicator. She doesn’t even know if the daddy of her love child is Devin Hart or Jimmy Stetson.”

            “No thanks to you taking advantage of her desperation.”

            “Oh poor little heartsick Jenny. The Christian Bible tells its believers to come out of the world, not adopt its philosophies. She should have kept her skirt on until she was married, right? Not only that, she became intoxicated and had a one night stand with Jimmy Stetson.”

            “If anyone sins, they have an Advocate with Jesus,” I told him, paraphrasing 1 John 2:1.

            “Oh yeah? So apparently she had to use that Advocate over hundred times during the last two years. Every time she climbed into bed with old Devin baby.”

            “In her mind she was committing to him for life.”

            “Really?” he drawled sarcastically. “Funny, I never heard any vows. Never saw a wedding band slipped onto her finger. As matter of fact, in the beginning, as I’m sure you recall, he told her a man has needs. He suggested he would move on if those needs weren’t met. Shouldn’t he have at least suggested establishing a home together one day? She gave into ‘a man has needs’ without so much as a hint of commitment.”

            “They met in church, so she assumed he was in it for the long haul.”

            “Are you excusing sin?” he taunted.

            “Of course not! But I am trying to keep a desperate young woman from destroying herself for eternity.”

            “Too late, old friend,” he replied, emphasizing old and our former friendship before he became part of the third of angels cast out with their leader.

            “Why are you so cruel? Jenny’s done absolutely nothing to you.”

            “Oh yes she has, by default. We were kicked out of heaven for what you call sin. She’s a sinner. Jesus called Satan a murderer (John 8:44). Well old friend, this little hussy considerers herself a believer, while at the same time she’s contemplating murdering herself along with that little bun in the oven.”

            “You seem to be ignoring a huge difference.”

            “Am I? Or is sin not sin then?”

            “You and your cohorts sinned in the light of God’s glory. Without a fallen supernatural being taking advantage of weak human nature.”

            Vermillion grunted angrily and coaxed Jenny to not only reach for but grab the pills. I blocked and countered by causing her to notice the mail she had thrown onto the nightstand before she crashed onto her bed. Of the three pieces, two were junk mail. Then she frowned at the anonymous note I had arranged to arrive in her box.

            I might have had a text sent, but this was the summer of 1990, several years before cell phones. The brief communication simply said, ‘You can’t change the beginning, but you can start now and change the ending. Before you do something desperate, go talk to the two potential fathers. And I do mean both! They have a right to know.’

            Her frown deepened as she reread the note. She unconsciously opened the drawer of the nightstand and pushed the pills inside and closed it. Vermillion expressed frustration. He called me a few unflattering names and threatened to double down.

            Jenny wondered who of the two women she had confided in had sent the note. But wait, she thought, as an old saying came to mind. ‘Can three people keep a secret? Yes, if two are dead.’

            Maybe Trixie had told the other two girls she went out with during that night of indiscretion with Jimmy Stetson. What was she thinking that day, before it turned into night? But she had been curious.

            Curiosity is one of the most successful tricks my counterparts use, curiosity of the forbidden. What would it be like to smoke a cigarette or even a joint? What would it be like to experiment with some form of forbidden sex? What would it be like to try a beer or wine cooler?

            In hindsight, Jenny spending an evening with wild young women, who went by the names Trixie, Roxy, and Skippy, was poor judgement. Especially when Trixie declared happily, “We’re virtually the same size!” She then proceeded to dress Jenny like her peers. Complete with a low cut top, high rising skirt, black stockings, and shoes with three inch heels. Then they decorated her head with what seemed like a whole can of hairspray and gaudy make up.

            She felt like a clown and could hardly walk in the shoes. She regretted accepting the invitation Trixie had regularly offered her. The two women worked together as waitresses at a diner. Trixie was always sharing stories with her coworkers about carnal adventures she experienced with her girlfriends. And, well, Jenny was curious, telling herself she was just going to be an observer.

            Jenny rarely drank alcohol and had never had more than one in a sitting before that night. But she had downed two wine coolers before they even had left Trixie’s apartment. She was buzzed and kind of liked it. She also felt quite sexy for a clown.

            By the time they stopped at a third bar, Jenny was feeling no pain. She was also starting to feel no coordination, and before they exited Roxy’s car, she ditched the three inch heels for her own flats.

            Guys were hitting on her left and right! But she just giggled and replied ‘no thanks’ to offers of drinks or dance. Trixie playfully rebuked her. “Honey, when you dress hot, guys tend to want to keep you cool.”

            “What do you mean?” Jenny asked naively.

            Trixie emitted a throaty laugh. “I mean you drink for free.”

            “Check it out, Jimmy Stetson just came in,” Skippy declared as she pointed to three guys who came in together and sat at the bar.

            “He’s just a tease,” Roxy lamented. This comment made Jenny frown. She had only ever heard of girls labeled teases.

            “Tell me about it,” Skippy lamented. “I practically told him I wanted to go to bed with him and he blew me off.”

            “I guess all three of us have struck out with him in one way or another,” Trixie said.

            “Not many guys in the bar scene are out of our league,” Skippy drawled. “But Jimmy Stetson’s in a league of his own.”

            “Now don’t give him so much credit,” Trixie differed. “He’s just a hot construction worker, not some millionaire playboy.”

            “Maybe so,” Skippy said. “But I’ll make out with a Sting look alike any day.”

            “I think he looks more like a modern James Dean,” Roxy differed. “All cool and brooding.”

            “I say he looks like MacGyver,” Trixie added, then turned to Jenny. “What do you think?”

            “I agree with Trixie, when I knew him he always reminded me of MacGyver.”

            All three stopped with drinks half way to their mouths. Skippy asked, “What do you mean when you knew him?”

            Jenny shrugged. “Jimmy and I shared a lab table in science our senior year of high school.”

            “Go say ‘hi’ to him then,” Skippy challenged, seeming a bit jealous.

            Roxy pointed at Trixie, Skippy and then herself. “One, two, three strikes, we struck out.” Then she challenged. “Batter up!”

            If Jenny hadn’t been so buzzed, she would have sunk down in her chair, or maybe even have fled. On the other hand, she never would have admitted knowing Jimmy if she had been sober. But with her inhibitions down, she boldly arose and went to her former classmate and immediately teased him about a little accident he had. “Hey big fella, break any beakers lately?”

            He squinted at her with a smirk as his brain processed who the woman in front of him was. Then he grinned, “Jenny Oakley?”

            “One and the same,” she said a little drunkenly as she spread her arms.

            “I beg to differ,” he replied.

            She frowned. “What do you mean?”

            “You’re not the same Jenny I remember.”

            Understanding his implication, she cocked a hip, put a hand on it, and flipped her hair with her other hand. “You like my new look.”

            He turned to fully face her on his bar stool and folded his arms. “No offense, but I liked the old Jenny better.”

            Her face held a dumbfounded look as she gazed at him. He laughed. “Sorry, that was cold. I had few beers before we got here, it must have given me diarrhea of the mouth.”

            “No, that’s okay,” she giggled and actually touched his arm. “Would you mind telling me why? Just tonight with this little experiment, I’ve had more guys, um, checking me out, than I ever have before in my whole life. So I find it a little puzzling that you preferred the old me, so to speak.”

            “Believe it or not, I prefer a pretty girl who dresses wholesome. Keeps a guy guessing.”

            Jenny’s buzzed brain had trouble comprehending. She didn’t mean to make audible her thought. “Me pretty?”

            “Yes, you pretty,” he grinned.

            Despite the effects of adult beverage, she now blushed. Jenny had always felt filled with not quite. Her sandy hair was not quite blonde. Her gray eyes were not quite blue. Her eyes were not quite good enough to avoid glasses. Her teeth were not quite straight enough to avoid braces. Her grades were not quite an A average. Never interviewed quite well enough to get a good job.

            “So you don’t typically dress like this?” he asked.

            “No, never, I mean until now, you know tonight,” she pointed at her girlfriend’s table. The three were staring but looked away as soon as Jimmy’s gaze turned on them. “Trixie talked me into it.”

            “Oh yeah, how come?”

            Inhibitions loosened her tongue some more. “My boyfriend of almost two years dumped me for someone else a couple months ago. A few weeks ago he pleaded with me to take him back, saying he made a big mistake. I gave in and took him back. Long story short, a couple days ago, not even a month into our reunion, he tells me he and his wench got back together.

            “So, at work. Trixie and I are both waitresses at Grandma Em’s Diner. I was crying on Trixie’s shoulder about being played, or whatever it was he pulled… By the way, I wasn’t literally crying on her shoulder, it was ah, um, what do you call it?”

            “A figure of speech.”

            “Yes, a figure of speech. So Trixie convinced me that the best medicine would be a fun girl’s night out. Then before we left her place, she talked me into wearing some of her clothes.”

            “So you’ve never dressed like a stripper before?” he asked bluntly, almost insultingly.

            “No, never,” she said wide eyed. “As a matter of fact, I was wearing her shoes with three inch heels, but I put back on my own shoes that have none.”

            She kicked up a leg to reveal her low heeled pumps, and the shoe slipped off her foot and sailed off in an arch ten feet away. “Opps.”

            Jimmy retrieved the shoe. As he sat back down, he asked his buddy, “Don, will you slide down another stool so Jenny can sit down next to me?”

            “No problem,” Don grinned maliciously through a weeks’ worth of stubble and winked.

            “Sit down and give me your foot,” Jimmy ordered.

            Jenny obeyed with her eyes still wide and placed her foot on Jimmy’s lap. What happened next is why alcohol is called spirits. The more you use and abuse the substance, the more a being like Vermillion has a door open to tempt or even destroy a soul. Due to their inebriated state, coupled with lust and desire, my enemy’s work was made easy. I, on the other hand, was pretty much a helpless witness.

            Jenny was so enraptured by Jimmy holding both her foot and her shoe, she was oblivious to how high her already short skirt had hiked. I made her aware of his pause as he replaced her shoe on her foot, and she noticed where his eyes were transfixed. She wiggled on the stool as she worked her skirt back down to mid-thigh. Jimmy found this act of modesty in her immodest attire all the more alluring.

            “You must be Cinderella,” he grinned as the shoe fit.

            She giggled. “Then you must be my prince.”

            He kissed her and the table of three applauded. Their applause rippled into more clapping and cheers throughout the tavern. Jenny looked embarrassed, but Jimmy somehow looked both annoyed as well as amused. “Why can’t people mind their own business?”

            The night quickly became a blur. She vaguely remembered her and Jimmy stumbling into her apartment. She recalled their passion as if it was a dream. She with skin crawling remembers the morning quite well though. She was so nauseous she couldn’t make it to the bathroom and threw up in her garbage can. Thankfully, Jimmy had slipped out before she woke, so she at least didn’t have the embarrassment of him watching her hurl.

            Jimmy never called and Devin was back with the other woman. What should she do? Who sent the note? What did it matter? She read it again. Start where she was? She could change her ending?

            So start as single pregnant woman who was beyond broke with almost a thousand dollars debt on one of her credit cards and six hundred on another? Vermillion had her considering abortion, so I devised a plan of my own.

            Emma, the older lady that lived below Jenny on the ground floor, hated to impose on people. Let’s just say I persuaded her to call Jenny. “Hi Honey, I hate to bother you, but my brother is coming for supper tonight and I discovered I have a mouse nest in my little grill. With my recent hip replacement, I’m skittish about walking it down to the edge of the woods to get rid of it.”

            “Oh, Mrs. Vargus don’t you dare try to do that,” Jenny told her kindly. “It’s no problem at all. I’ll be right down.”

            Jenny gave a little squeal of surprise when she cleaned out the grill. She had expected the little pile of fluff to be empty. But as she dumped it at the edge of the woods, four hairless babies and the mother fell onto the ground. The mother began to hall her baby mice away one by one.

            Despite the monster a thousand times bigger a few feet away, the brave little creature came back for all four of her offspring, hiding each one safely, in her tiny mind, under some leaves. Jenny put a hand to her mouth and whimpered as tears flowed down her cheeks. “Lord, please forgive me for what I was considering. A mouse is a more devout mother than me.”

            She resolved to contact Devin Hart that very day. As a matter of fact she would call him as soon as she was done helping Mrs. Vargus. He did have a right to know he was likely going to be a father.

            She bit her lip. Likely! Why did she have to have that one night stand with Jimmy Stetson? That was so unlike her! Now she couldn’t be one hundred percent certain that the child was Devin’s, just mostly sure.

            “Hello?” A male voice droned over the phone line.

            “Hey Devin, it’s me,” Jenny said evenly. “We need to talk about something.”