I spent last night with Grace, filling her dreams with warmth and softness. I have been doing the same for many nights. It seems the easiest way to reach her right now, and little by little her outlook is brightening. She will rest her hand on her stomach and smile to herself, or she will begin to poke around the apartment, thinking I’ll put the crib here, and here’s a space in the fridge for milk, and what color do I want for the baby’s blanket? She no longer feels dismayed when one of her coworkers asks about a baby shower, or when her father calls with yet another suggestion for diapers or onesies or baby oil. I would not say yet that she is excited, but she is beginning to be able to see the possibilities for happiness here.
Two nights ago she felt the baby move for the first time. She was struck breathless by the wonder of it, and I too felt that wonder, lifting me without the need for wings.
I was meditating on this feeling when Lubos found me. “Brother,” he said with a smile, “you are far into your spirit today.”
“The love between a mother and child can be so wondrous, brother,” I answered him, “and I have had the privilege of seeing it begin to form.”
His eyes widened. “You have been blessed indeed. I have not been so lucky in my years.”
I shared with him, then, the various states of my charges and what I have been doing since I saw him last. He listened and saw and congratulated me for my work.
“And you?” I asked him. “How are your charges? How is Freya?”
He hesitated a moment. “It is good that you ask,” he said. “I would hate for you to think that I seek you out only to ask for your help.”
“Why not?” I asked. “I know that you are busy, as am I. And it is always a blessing to be able to help you, my brother. But why do you need my help? Is all well with Freya?”
“Oh, yes, she is quite well,” he answered, “but I have noticed a new dynamic between her and Peter that I am not certain about. Will you come?”
What could I say? Of course I went with him.
We came to Freya and Peter while they were on a date, dinner at a lovely restaurant where the tablecloths were white and the silverware was polished and the candles provided soft, low light. Freya provided such light, too—her aura was radiant as she listened to Peter, a steady, low glow of emotion that warmed and filled her.
“She loves him,” I said, astonished. “Or she is coming to love him.” She never came to this feeling with Ryan, not that I ever saw—she cared for him, certainly, but not with this combination of admiration and affection and desire that all perfectly balance one another to make all that once sustained her seem unnecessary. Indeed, she had hardly touched her meal, though Peter was nearly finished with his.
“It is beautiful, truly, but it worries me a bit,” Lubos said. He gestured to Peter with one wing. “You can see that he does not have the same depth of feeling for her, and it seems to have put them out of balance.”
My heart tightened within me. It was true—there was passion and admiration in Peter’s aura when he looked at Freya, but it was not nearly the same. And it was nearly impossible to see, but I watched for some time and I am certain there was a faint trace of smugness underneath his other emotions, as if he is congratulating himself for making a woman like Freya look at him like that.
“Does he dominate most of their conversations?” I asked Lubos.
“He does, quite often.”
“And Freya bows to his opinion when there are decisions to be made?”
“Yes.”
That did not sound like my fire woman at all. I turned to Lubos. “My brother, I cannot tell you how to manage your charge—I least of any angel! after what I have done to you—but I do not like this. I have seen how a man can use a woman’s feelings against her, and I am afraid of the damage it might cause Freya if Peter were to begin taking advantage.”
“I find it difficult to believe that he would do such a thing,” he said, surprised by my vehemence.
I looked again at Peter, and it is true, he has none of the pride or need for control that I saw in Thomas. But the more I looked at him, the more I saw self-satisfaction in his eyes and his smile.
Perhaps I am projecting my own guilt about Thomas and Shannon onto him. Perhaps I am wrong. But I would much rather be wrong and Freya be safe than for something cruel to happen.
I told Lubos this, and he acknowledged it, looking back at the couple with a sigh. “It will be difficult to convince her to slow down,” he mused. “And I hate to take away the delight she has in him.”
I looked at Freya, the ember-glow of her aura, and spoke from my heart. “When I first saw this woman, she blazed like a flame,” I said. “I would want her to have a love that makes her blaze brighter, not restrain herself in an effort to match another.”
Lubos smiled. “You truly do have a way with words, brother. Thank you for your opinion. I will consider it very carefully, and I will do all that I can for your fire-woman.”
She is not mine, of course, but I am glad that he is aware of the dangers. I have said nothing, because it was not my place, but this match has not sat easily with me since he first showed them to me.
I want the very best for this inspiration of a woman, this brilliant human. I want her to be safe and well and loved, as much as all my other charges. It is harder to wish this for someone for whom I can do nothing to make it happen, but I still do. I always will.