“Actually, I was just taking these to the conservatory.” She frowned at me. “Michael didn’t tell you that the dinner was being held in the conservatory, did he?”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I don’t even know how to get to the conservatory.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m heading there,” Veronica beamed. “Follow me.”
The box Veronica was carrying looked heavy especially with her slim frame, but cherubim were also not lacking in the strength department. I followed behind her until doors needed opening.
The conservatory was a much more intimate setting than the dining room. The sun, heading towards the horizon, set the contents of the room aglow. In the center of the room was a large circular table with five chairs spaced evenly around it. Veronica set her box down on one of them. “Do you need a hand?” I asked her, watching her as she pulled out what looked like the convent’s best dinnerware, and began to place it around the table.
She spared me a glance to shake her head but continued with her task. “I’m good, thank you. Why don’t you sit down? The others will be in soon.”
“Are you sure there is nothing I can do?” I asked. I felt uncomfortable allowing her to do all the work.
“It’s my job,” Veronica assured me. “I don’t mind. Besides, Michael would not be happy if he found you helping me with this.”
“This?” I repeated. “Why not?”
Veronica shrugged. “We all have our jobs. You are an angel. Actually,” she frowned. “You’re an archangel in training. You have a job as a guardian. Like Cupid says, I’m ‘the help’. That’s my job.”
I pursed my lips but said nothing. I'd At heard Cupid refer to Veronica and the other cherubim as the help before. I also knew Cupid adored Veronica and there was no way he used that term maliciously. That being said, there was something bitter in Veronica’s tone, and I found myself starting to question just how she and the other cherubim felt about their role. She had mentioned on several occasions that the reason she was here on earth, rather than heaven, was because the cherubim were sure a war was coming and this time they would spend it on the front line.
I waited until she had set one place before taking the seat. “I never knew Paddy, St Patrick, I mean, was a woman. Well, St Patricia would obviously be a woman, but St Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland? I never saw that coming.”
Veronica looked up and over at me. The look of confusion was brief and quickly replaced with a burst of laughter. “No, you wouldn’t. She got her sainthood during a very sketchy period in history. She isn’t the first woman who had to pretend to be a guy. It’s a shame she was nearly 2000 years too late for the women’s rights movement.” Her pretty features grew sad. She finished setting the table and then stashed the box into a cabinet.
“Humans can suck big-time," I muttered. “So, is Paddy Raphael’s second-in-command? Can a saint be second-in-command?”
“It depends on how you look at it,” Veronica said returning to the table. “Personally, I like to think that she is the one in charge. After all, the wife is the one who usually is.”
I let out a squeak as my jaw hit the floor. “His wife? Paddy is Raphael’s wife? They’re married?” I stared at Veronica, my eyes wide; convinced she was pulling my leg.
“That’s what I said,” Veronica shrugged.
“You said angels were not allowed relationships,” I said my tone accusatory.
Veronica shook her head. “No, humans and angels are not allowed to be in relationships. Angels and angels don’t do relationships. A saint is not a human or an angel.”
“What on earth are they?” I asked.
“Well,” Veronica frowned looking thoughtful. “They used to be human. They were special humans, I suppose. Very special. They’re a bit like you in that respect, but they accomplished something in their life that was truly extraordinary; something which took
“No,” I said. “Actually, I don’t even know how to get to the conservatory.”
“Well it’s a good thing I’m heading there,” Veronica beamed. “Follow me.”
The box Veronica was carrying looked heavy especially with her slim frame, but cherubim were also not lacking in the strength department. I followed behind her until doors needed opening.
The conservatory was a much more intimate setting than the dining room. The sun, heading towards the horizon, set the contents of the room aglow. In the center of the room was a large circular table with five chairs spaced evenly around it. Veronica set her box down on one of them. “Do you need a hand?” I asked her, watching her as she pulled out what looked like the convent’s best dinnerware, and began to place it around the table.
She spared me a glance to shake her head but continued with her task. “I’m good, thank you. Why don’t you sit down? The others will be in soon.”
“Are you sure there is nothing I can do?” I asked. I felt uncomfortable allowing her to do all the work.
“It’s my job,” Veronica assured me. “I don’t mind. Besides, Michael would not be happy if he found you helping me with this.”
“This?” I repeated. “Why not?”
Veronica shrugged. “We all have our jobs. You are an angel. Actually,” she frowned. “You’re an archangel in training. You have a job as a guardian. Like Cupid says, I’m ‘the help’. That’s my job.”
I pursed my lips but said nothing. I'd At heard Cupid refer to Veronica and the other cherubim as the help before. I also knew Cupid adored Veronica and there was no way he used that term maliciously. That being said, there was something bitter in Veronica’s tone, and I found myself starting to question just how she and the other cherubim felt about their role. She had mentioned on several occasions that the reason she was here on earth, rather than heaven, was because the cherubim were sure a war was coming and this time they would spend it on the front line.
I waited until she had set one place before taking the seat. “I never knew Paddy, St Patrick, I mean, was a woman. Well, St Patricia would obviously be a woman, but St Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland? I never saw that coming.”
Veronica looked up and over at me. The look of confusion was brief and quickly replaced with a burst of laughter. “No, you wouldn’t. She got her sainthood during a very sketchy period in history. She isn’t the first woman who had to pretend to be a guy. It’s a shame she was nearly 2000 years too late for the women’s rights movement.” Her pretty features grew sad. She finished setting the table and then stashed the box into a cabinet.
“Humans can suck big-time," I muttered. “So, is Paddy Raphael’s second-in-command? Can a saint be second-in-command?”
“It depends on how you look at it,” Veronica said returning to the table. “Personally, I like to think that she is the one in charge. After all, the wife is the one who usually is.”
I let out a squeak as my jaw hit the floor. “His wife? Paddy is Raphael’s wife? They’re married?” I stared at Veronica, my eyes wide; convinced she was pulling my leg.
“That’s what I said,” Veronica shrugged.
“You said angels were not allowed relationships,” I said my tone accusatory.
Veronica shook her head. “No, humans and angels are not allowed to be in relationships. Angels and angels don’t do relationships. A saint is not a human or an angel.”
“What on earth are they?” I asked.
“Well,” Veronica frowned looking thoughtful. “They used to be human. They were special humans, I suppose. Very special. They’re a bit like you in that respect, but they accomplished something in their life that was truly extraordinary; something which took
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