old man standing at the counter buying a newspaper, a woman browsing in the mystery shelves, and two young girls sitting on the floor in the Young Adult section, giggling over something. She would usually ask them to get up off the floor in case someone tripped over them, but what were they hurting? If someone said something, she would ask them to move, but for now, she would let them be. Two more women came in and headed straight for the Christmas cards. She supposed she'd better be thinking about Christmas. It was still a few weeks away, but she hadn't done anything at all about it except to let Cate decorate the front window.
Thinking about it, she began to panic. She needed to buy something for her parents, and James' parents, and get them shipped back to Chicago. That was really the extent of her familial obligations, well, except for James' sister. They'd never really liked each other, never hit it off, but she should send her something. And, of course, Jason and Cate, but they were easy. She'd run over to Elysian Fields, the famous Sarasota gift shop, and buy Cate a crystal or some silver earrings--something Sarah would like for herself, following her mother's advice when picking a gift for a childhood friend--and she would give Jason money. She'd slip a $50 bill in a Christmas card, and he'd be thrilled.
And speaking of Christmas gifts, what, if anything, should she get Zach? She laughed at herself--she'd be to dinner once with him, and seen him maybe a half dozen times, if that, and she was thinking about what to get him for Christmas! And what did you get an angel, anyway? They probably already had everything they could possibly want . . .
It was silly, she knew; she would probably get him nothing, and she might not even ever see him again, but it was fun to think about, so while she walked around the store seeing if anyone needed help, straightening up the odd shelf, picking up a stray coffee cup, patting a little boy on the head as he played with a toy car while his mother shopped, she thought about what she would get Zach for Christmas.
Gloves, maybe. A warm hat. She'd knit him a hat! Oh yeah, she didn't knit. It was Cate who knitted. She'd ask Cate to knit him a hat! A book, but what kind of book? Poetry? What about music? A book was probably safer, because who knew what kind of stereo equipment they had in Heaven . . .
"Sarah?"
She had been standing in the poetry shelves--well, "shelf," really--holding a book of Edna St. Vincent Millay's sonnets pressed to her chest as she thought about Zach.
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight 3
She started, and hurriedly shoved the book back onto the shelf. She looked up into Zach's face, and she felt blood rush into her cheeks. Oh, damn! She hoped he hadn't seen the book, but from the smile on his face, she assumed he had. Oh well. Might as well make a fool of herself sooner rather than later.
"Hello!" she said, pressing her back against the bookshelf in a futile gesture of hiding the books. Why couldn't she have been standing in the Travel section? Or Cooking? He reached behind her and pulled a volume from the shelf.
"Whom will you cry to, heart?" he read, and continued:
More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost. 4
She looked into his eyes. She felt dreamy and slow. "Are you really an angel, Zach?"
"Yes, Sarah, I am."
"Are all the angels beautiful, like you?"
He laughed. "I'm afraid it's part of the job description."
She suddenly pushed away from the shelf. "Let's get out of here!" She rushed into the office and grabbed her bag, flying by Cate at the counter with a, "See you tomorrow!" Cate countered with, "Call me later!" and Sarah waved at her as they rushed out the
Thinking about it, she began to panic. She needed to buy something for her parents, and James' parents, and get them shipped back to Chicago. That was really the extent of her familial obligations, well, except for James' sister. They'd never really liked each other, never hit it off, but she should send her something. And, of course, Jason and Cate, but they were easy. She'd run over to Elysian Fields, the famous Sarasota gift shop, and buy Cate a crystal or some silver earrings--something Sarah would like for herself, following her mother's advice when picking a gift for a childhood friend--and she would give Jason money. She'd slip a $50 bill in a Christmas card, and he'd be thrilled.
And speaking of Christmas gifts, what, if anything, should she get Zach? She laughed at herself--she'd be to dinner once with him, and seen him maybe a half dozen times, if that, and she was thinking about what to get him for Christmas! And what did you get an angel, anyway? They probably already had everything they could possibly want . . .
It was silly, she knew; she would probably get him nothing, and she might not even ever see him again, but it was fun to think about, so while she walked around the store seeing if anyone needed help, straightening up the odd shelf, picking up a stray coffee cup, patting a little boy on the head as he played with a toy car while his mother shopped, she thought about what she would get Zach for Christmas.
Gloves, maybe. A warm hat. She'd knit him a hat! Oh yeah, she didn't knit. It was Cate who knitted. She'd ask Cate to knit him a hat! A book, but what kind of book? Poetry? What about music? A book was probably safer, because who knew what kind of stereo equipment they had in Heaven . . .
"Sarah?"
She had been standing in the poetry shelves--well, "shelf," really--holding a book of Edna St. Vincent Millay's sonnets pressed to her chest as she thought about Zach.
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight 3
She started, and hurriedly shoved the book back onto the shelf. She looked up into Zach's face, and she felt blood rush into her cheeks. Oh, damn! She hoped he hadn't seen the book, but from the smile on his face, she assumed he had. Oh well. Might as well make a fool of herself sooner rather than later.
"Hello!" she said, pressing her back against the bookshelf in a futile gesture of hiding the books. Why couldn't she have been standing in the Travel section? Or Cooking? He reached behind her and pulled a volume from the shelf.
"Whom will you cry to, heart?" he read, and continued:
More and more lonely,
your path struggles on through incomprehensible
mankind. All the more futile perhaps
for keeping to its direction,
keeping on toward the future,
toward what has been lost. 4
She looked into his eyes. She felt dreamy and slow. "Are you really an angel, Zach?"
"Yes, Sarah, I am."
"Are all the angels beautiful, like you?"
He laughed. "I'm afraid it's part of the job description."
She suddenly pushed away from the shelf. "Let's get out of here!" She rushed into the office and grabbed her bag, flying by Cate at the counter with a, "See you tomorrow!" Cate countered with, "Call me later!" and Sarah waved at her as they rushed out the
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