Divinely Yours Read online

  “A boss asked one of his employees, ‘Do you believe in life after death?’” Doris said. “‘Yes, sir,” the new recruit replied. ‘Good,” said the boss. ‘Because after you left early yesterday to go to your grandmother’s funeral, she stopped in to see you.’”

  The crowd responded with a polite smattering of laughter. Skye shifted in her straight-backed chair. It was probably going to be a long drawn-out event.

  “I’m pleased to welcome all of you to the Hospitality annual awards banquet,” Doris said. “Every day the young men and women of this sector welcome thousands of the newly deceased to Heaven and convince them there is, indeed, life after death. Tonight some of them will be honored with promotions to guardian angel. This is also a very special year because one of our own, an extremely talented and evolved greeter, has been chosen to go down to Earth.”

  Rhianna gasped and pinched Skye’s elbow. “Did you hear that? I was told it’s been three years since a greeter’s been chosen for Earth duty. I’m dying to know who it is.”

  Skye shrugged and used her WishBerry to hustle up a dirty martini, extra olives. Likely the person they were going to choose wouldn’t be anyone she knew.

  The ceremony wore on, beginning with all the first-year greeters trotting up to the stage for certificates of service. Brock whistled and clapped vigorously when Skye went up to retrieve her plaque for tidiest cubicle. After all the frivolous awards were given out, Doris started on the promotion an­nouncements. Skye yawned, wondering if they could risk sneaking out early.

  “Our final candidate for promotion to guardian angel is Rhianna Roe,” Doris said.

  Rhianna was sucking down a White Russian. When she heard her name called, her lips froze on the straw.

  “Go on, Rhianna,” Skye said. “Get your wings.”

  Rhianna wandered to the stage in a daze, a foamy line of milk still clinging to her upper lip. The room hummed with the announcement. Rhianna Roe promoted? The redheaded rebel? They’d been told surprises occasionally happened at the annual banquet, and Rhianna’s appointment as a guardian angel trainee had been the biggest one of the night. People would be dishing about it around the Hospitality water cooler for weeks.

  After an astonished Rhianna returned to the table, Doris once again approached the microphone. “And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.”

  “Obviously you’ve been brown-nosing behind everybody’s back,” Skye said in a teasing voice. She poured champagne into a flute and handed it to Rhianna.

  “I don’t even look good in white. It washes me out,” Rhianna said. She stared at her promotion certificate with an incredulous expression. “You think these wings are real gold, or will they turn my uniform green?”

  “Sweetie.” Brock nudged Skye’s shoulder.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not excited,” Skye said, ignoring Brock for the moment. “Think of all the perks. Partial omni­science, access to classified secrets of the universe, not to men­tion the occasional breakfast meeting with the Supreme Being.”

  “Grits with God.” Rhianna nodded. “Could be interest­ing.”

  “Skye,” Brock said, this time louder.

  “Hush, Brock,” Skye said. “Can’t you see I’m congratulat­ing Rhianna?” She lowered her voice to speak to Rhianna. “Handsome men are such a needy breed. Like pedi­greed poodles.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Who would have guessed my closest friend—”

  “But, darling,” Brock continued, “they’re calling your name.”

  “Huh?” Skye slowly turned her head. A hush had settled over the room and everyone in the ballroom was gawking at her.

  “Yoo-hoo! Skye Sebring,” Doris said, fluttering her handkerchief. “Come on up here. Don’t be shy.”

  Skye rose tentatively from her seat and shot Rhianna and Brock a dumbfounded look as she hustled to the front of the room.

  “Every once in a great while a greeter shows such extraordinary promise she or he is selected to live their very first life on Earth,” Doris said to Skye once she’d arrived onstage. “You are that greeter, Skye Sebring. You’ve been chosen to be born on Earth. What an honor. We’re so proud of you.” She flung herself at Skye, enveloping her into a bosom-crushing em­brace.

  The room thundered with an applause that seemed to have no end. People sprang from their seats, rushing the stage. In moments Skye was swallowed up by dozens of well-wishers. Rhianna fought her way through the crowd and sidled up to Skye, whispering in her ear, “What’s this you were saying earlier about brown-nosing?”

  Four

  Ryan Blaine gingerly eased out of bed so as not to wake his wife. She wore a black satin sleeping mask and was plugged into a machine that played the sound of the rain forest. She’d swallowed a Lunesta before retiring. Most likely a twenty-gun salute wouldn’t rouse her, but it didn’t pay to take chances. Not if he didn’t want to get caught.

  He tiptoed toward the door, failing to see his twenty-pound free weights in the darkness, and stubbed his big toe as he tripped over them.

  “Cheese and rice!” he screamed. Ryan’s mother had taught her children never to take the Lord’s name in vain, so he’d de­veloped a couple of replacement phrases over the years. “Cheese and rice,” he hollered once more before clapping a hand over his mouth and freezing in place as his toe throbbed.

  He stood motionless for a couple of minutes, alert for the slightest stirring from the bed. As soon as he was satisfied his wife was still sawing logs, he crept down the hall to his office and locked it. He listened intently for a moment until he felt safe enough to pick up the receiver.

  “It’s not like it’s phone sex,” he whispered to himself as he punched in the number from memory. Although frankly, he’d probably prefer that Susan catch him talking dirty to someone named Naughty Nina. Phone sex he could explain; this he couldn’t.

  “Hello. Welcome to the Minerva show,” said the now-familiar honeyed voice.

  “Hi, Minerva. It’s Alone in Atlanta...again.”

  “Good evening, Alone,” Minerva said warmly. She didn’t seem to mind him calling several times a week. “Having trouble sleeping?”

  “’Fraid so,” Ryan said as he relaxed into his easy chair. Her voice was soothing, like Zoloft for the ears. “Tonight was a tough one. I got a little choked up, which isn’t like me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened, Alone?” He liked her use of the word “me.” It made him feel as if they were enjoying a private conversation over a nice glass of Merlot, in­stead of one shared with thousands of her listeners.

  “The fireflies came out for the first time this year. I never used to notice, but she did,” Ryan began. “Last summer when she spotted the first firefly, she made popcorn, set out some chairs, and invited me out to the lawn. We sat outside, just listening and watching bugs light up the night.”

  “That’s a lovely memory, Alone.”

  “Tonight when I saw my first firefly of the year, I rushed into the house to find her, but then I remembered I can’t tell her, because she isn’t...She...”

  “You okay, Alone?”

  “I’m okay. Perfectly fine.”

  Not that he was fooling anyone, least of all himse1lf.

  “Thanks for sharing, Alone. I know how difficult it can be to get over the loss of a love. Sometimes it takes years. Did you have a song in mind tonight?”

  “You pick one, Minerva. You know I’m lousy at that.”

  “How about ‘Baby Come Back’?” Minerva said. “I’ve got my fingers crossed. Maybe she’ll return one day. Here’s your song. And don’t forget. You’re not really alone anymore. Mi­nerva is right here rooting for you.”

  “Thanks for listening.”

  Ryan hung up the phone and turned on his radio so he could hear his request. His back shook and the features of his face contorted, but he didn’t make a sound. Just as the song
finished, he thought he heard footsteps in the hall. He watched the doorknob, tensed like a cat, expecting any moment for it to rattle as his wife demanded entry.

  If she ever did catch him, Ryan wouldn’t be able to explain his actions since he didn’t always understand them himself.

  But he had no intention of giving up the calls. Talking to Minerva provided much-needed relief after a bone-wearying day of playing the role of loving husband. And sometimes, even though he knew it was impossible, he almost believed the woman he’d lost was actually hearing him.

  Five

  “I need more greeters,” Doris Fain said to the person on the other end of the phone line as she motioned Skye to sit. “An epidemic’s brewing in the Congo. Newcomers will be stacking up like cordwood.”

  While Doris talked, Skye smothered a yawn. She’d always been a poor sleeper, but last night she’d tossed and turned so fretfully she’d woken up wrapped in her bedclothes like a mummy. And she’d experienced the same peculiar dream again, the one she could never quite recall.

  After a few minutes of grumbling about her staffing woes, Doris hung up the phone and pushed aside a foot-high stack of papers. “Here she is, the woman of the hour. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing with calls of congratulations. Have you heard from the Divine Digest yet?”

  “No.”

  “You will. A reporter called me, and they want to do an ar­ticle. Possibly a cover piece. What do you think about that?” Doris asked. Although she had no wrinkles, Doris still managed a grandmotherly look. Whorls of tight curls covered her scalp, and her faded blue eyes begged for a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles.

  “Well, I—”

  “Don’t wear prints. Solids photograph better. They’re very anxious to interview the young woman who’s causing such a stir. Did you know it’s been three years since a greeter’s been chosen to go to Earth?”

  “Yes, I’d heard, but—”

  “And to top it off, you’re only a first-year greeter. I don’t remember a first-year greeter being chosen ever. Most people have been in Heaven twenty years or more before they go to Earth. You’re truly an exceptional case.”

  Skye scooted her chair closer to Doris’s desk. “You see, that’s precisely why I came to talk to you this morning. You claim I’m exceptional—”

  “Extremely so,” Doris said with a nod.

  “But I’m having a little trouble understanding why. After all, what have I done to merit being sent to Earth? I could list at least a half-dozen people who are more deserving.”

  Doris shook a finger at her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Skye. You’re a top-notch greeter or you wouldn’t have been chosen to go. Everyone in the sector is proud of you.”

  “Well, that’s lovely, of course, and I appreciate their sup­port but...they shouldn’t be proud of me,” Skye said abruptly. “I don’t deserve it.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’ve done bad things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Remember that time someone piped in ‘Highway to Hell’ through the Hospitality Sector sound system, practically causing a riot among the newly dead?”

  Doris frowned. “I certainly do.”

  “That was me! I did it on a dare after tying one on at the Live a Little Lounge.”

  “Good Lord. What a mess that was.”

  “Exactly. And now you understand why someone who is capable of such a heinous prank can’t possibly accept this honor.” Skye gazed shamefully at her shoes.

  “Agreed.”

  Skye stood. “So, if there’s nothing else—”

  “Only one problem. You didn’t do it.”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “No, you didn’t. Don’t you think I know who the perpetrators were? This is Heaven. You can’t get away with anything here, my dear.”

  “Well, maybe I didn’t actually do it,” Skye said. “But I wished I’d thought of it. Honestly, Mrs. Fain, if you send me down to Earth I’d probably end up being a menace to society, maybe even a sociopath. I have no inkling why you chose me.”

  “I didn’t choose you.”

  “You had to. You’re my direct su­pervisor. Who else would have chosen me?”

  Doris jabbed her pen skyward. “The SB Sector.”

  “Supreme Being?” Skye said with a reverent whisper. “She’s the one who wants me to go to Earth?”

  “Precisely. And naturally, nobody ever questions the infi­nite wisdom of the decisions from the SB.”

  “Isn’t it possible She made a mistake?”

  “What...did...you...say?”

  “Well, personally, she’s not infalli­ble. What about the platypus? And hail? Is it really necessary to have balls of ice falling from the sky? What possible purpose—”

  “The SB does not make mistakes. We may not always understand why She does what She does, but I can assure you it’s all part of a divine plan.”

  Skye had heard the “divine plan” explanation before. Sounded like a convenient way of covering up any number of blunders.

  “So basically you’re saying I don’t have a choice? That I have to go to Earth?”

  “It’s an honor!”

  Skye snorted. “That’s what they used to say to the virgins they hurled into volcanoes.”

  “No need to get dramatic. I think you’ll enjoy it. Now your first step is to enroll in Earth Orientation classes.”

  “And afterwards I’ll be born in some strange women’s uterus?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me! I’m very happy in Heaven.” She was being flooded with an unfamiliar and extremely unpleasant emotion.

  “Good gracious, Skye. No need to work yourself into a state. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  Fear. That was the emotion she was experiencing, and it felt horrible. It made her hands quiver and her thoughts gallop in a half-dozen different direction.

  “Get the SB on the phone,” Skye pleaded. “I know She’s supposed to be infallible, but I’m not ready for Earth. I know I’m not! I won’t go.”

  Fear had taken her hostage; tears gushed from her eyes and the shaking in her hands spread to her entire body. Her super­visor eased open her desk drawer. Skye assumed she was reaching for a box of Kleenex until she saw the familiar aero­sol can.

  “What are you doing?” Skye said.

  “I think you know.” Doris took aim with Tranquility In a Can and hit Skye between the eyes.

  “Stop it!”

  But it was too late. Her face was covered with the fine mist.

  “You’re not thinking rationally,” Doris said. “This wasn’t some careless selection from an SB Sector pencil pusher. This came directly from Her office. The orders were stamped with Her seal.”

  Skye responded with a dreamy nod.

  “Chin up, Skye,” Doris said. “Earth isn’t such a dreadful place. I’ve been there myself. Eleven times.”

  “You’re right, I’ll love it there. What a glorious planet.” Skye floated around the cubicle, sing­ing, “For the beauty of the Earth! For the beauty of the skies!”

  Doris examined the label on the can. “I hope I didn’t give you an overdose.”

  “Not at all,” Skye said. She snapped her fingers and shim­mied her hips. “I feel the Earth move under my feet. I feel the sky tumbling down.”

  “That’s lovely, Skye. Would you stop singing for a moment, please? I have a favor to ask you.”

  “My wish is your command,” Skye said.

  “Early this morn­ing, I received a call from an Ethel Long. Her niece Chelsea was one of your clients, and the girl’s having a hard time ad­justing to Heaven. Her aunt would appreciate it if you’d take her under your wing and spend a day with her next week. Turns out the girl really took a shine to you. How’s that sound?”r />
  “Divine,” Skye said. She kissed Doris on both cheeks. “I’m delighted to assist. Thrilled. Elated. Whatever you want!”

  An hour Skye was coming down hard from the dose of TIC as she en­tered the Hospitality break room to grab a cup of coffee before her shift.

  Two of her coworkers, Glory and Joy, were sunk down on the sofa, so engrossed in whatever program was on the big-screen television they didn’t even look up to greet her. That suited Skye. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment.

  “Now that’s what I call biceps,” Glory said.

  Skye stirred sugar into her coffee, her gaze skimming her coworkers.

  “Look at him,” Joy said, fanning herself with a napkin. “The heat is rising from the TV in waves.”

  Skye, who’d been half listening to their conversation, glanced at the TV to see what the two women were getting all worked up about.

  “Not him again,” Skye muttered as she watched the now-familiar billboard man extricate himself from an embrace with a woman wearing a Grace Kelly-style head scarf and sun­glasses. Then he mounted his motorcycle, gave the woman one last smoldering look, revved his motor, and sped off, his tires kicking up a spray of gravel.

  “Your boy is definitely a looker, but he’s also careless,” Skye mused, turning away from the television. “Where’s his helmet?”

  At the sound of Skye’s voice, Glory bounded from the couch, upending her Cracker Jack box. “Skye! Way to go,” Glory said.

  “Kudos,” Joy said bitterly. She’d been Greeter of the Month three months running and hadn’t even been promoted to guardian angel.

  Skye knew she was the talk of the sector. No doubt every­one was wondering why an undistinguished greeter like her­self had been singled out when there were so many better candidates to choose from.

  “It still hasn’t sunk in yet,” Skye said quickly. She left the break room and hurried to her office, nearly spill­ing her coffee. Her mood wasn’t helped when she sat at her desk, checked her email, and read one from Doris:

  Earth Orientation class begins tomorrow evening at 7 p.m. after your shift. Book list is attached, as well as important information. Please read carefully.