Undone by a Broken Angel

6.) Thinking Back

“That is why, for God’s sake, I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

-2 Corinthians 12:10

I wake up facing a rotting wall in complete darkness- the sun hasn’t yet risen.  I don’t forget what happened yesterday- who would?  I sit up, pushing away the blankets and stretch.  Somehow I made it under the covers last night.  My cloak is draped over the headboard.  I bring my foot up to check my scraped up feet, but all I see is pink new skin.  They’re healed already?  How is that possible?  Did Jack do it?  Is there more to him than my initial impression of him? 

Speaking of the devil, he’s sleeping next to me.  I had forgotten about the one bed.  I had assumed that he would be a gentleman and sleep on the floor, but that obviously never crossed his mind.  He rolls over and his hand flies out, landing on my hand.  I jump from the contact.  The evil feeling he gave me yesterday is much stronger today.  So much stronger, that I have to keep myself from suddenly getting sick.  It grabs at the pit of my stomach and nauseates me.  What causes it, and how can I get it to stop?  I kick him to wake him.

He groans and rolls over the opposite way, falling onto the rat poop floor.  He scrambles awake, and stands up acting as if he had meant to fall.

I start to laugh from his moment of clumsiness, but instantly stop.  He’s standing tall above me- so confidently- without a shirt on.  He’s perfect, everything is perfect.  His muscles are shaped round and strong.  They sculpt his entire torso- including his arms.  His black wings show on either side of his body, making him look like an angel who could destroy anything at any second.  Blood rushes to my face- I can feel heat wash over me.  What is happening to me?  Before I look for too long, he reaches for his shirt and  pulls it over his head, easing his wings through two slits in the back.  I try not to look disappointed.  “Put your cloak on,” he demands and I scramble to do as he asks.  “We need to leave soon.  Eat your breakfast,” he demands, pointing to the bread and cheese I didn’t eat yesterday.

I chew on it while he’s in the bathroom.  I go in when he’s finished, leaving him some bread.  Can’t let a man go without his food.

The intense evil feeling I felt radiating off him before is less intense now, I notice as we make our way out of town.  How can such a nice guy feel so evil?  It doesn’t make any sense.  He’s supposed to be a mortal angel, right?  God isn’t evil, so why does he give me a dangerous feeling?  But there is also a good feeling to him.  Plus, he hasn’t hurt me, or tried to, since I’ve been traveling with him.  He’s actually innocent.  And stubborn, and quiet.

We walk a short ways away from the village buildings and the dry ground under our feet crutches loudly in the dark and silent knight.  “We’re going to fly all day.  We won’t rest until we get to our next rest stop tonight,” he informs me.

This information makes me feel uneasy.  I’ve never flown before.  As soon as my wings started to make an appearance, my guardians locked me away.  I used to sit in the ballroom, looking up at the sky in longing, wishing I could soar with the birds in vain.  Back then I understood that my daydreams were just that- dreams, but now, I face the truth that I have to fly whether or not I’m ready.  I know for sure I don’t have the muscle mass; also, how can I do something I’ve never been taught how to do?  My anxieties swirl in me like angry bees.

“That long?” I wonder, knowing we’ll be flying for at least eleven if not twelve long hours.  

“Think you’ll be able to do it?” he asks, reading my mind.

“I’m not sure,” I honestly reply.

“Well, it’s not like you have much of a choice.  We can’t land during the day in such populated areas.”

“Populated? It took a day’s travel on foot just to find one stinking crappy town filled with rot and stench!”

“No, you don’t understand.  A full day of flying will take us as far as several weeks on foot would take us.  We’ll be in very populated areas by nightfall.  We can’t be seen by any humans, okay?”  He’s all business now, my feeling about the situation either being ignored, or looked over.

I nod.  That’s true.  I can imagine why it would be bad if humans see us, but I’m scared.  I’m not ready to fly for so long.

“Let’s go,” he yells, taking a running start before his enormous wings expand, catching enough air for his feet to leave the ground.  He glides up into the sky and then pumps his wings, hovering in place, waiting for me.  “Come on!” he shouts with a huge smile on his face.  He’s happy to be back in the sky, that I have no trouble seeing.  It was my fault that he has had to walk for a day, something he is obviously not used to doing.  I feel bad about it, but then again, it may have been good for him.  How often does he get to walk with a woman like that anyway?  Not very often given that he’s been alone for a very long time.  His smile also tells me that he doesn’t want to be alone anymore, now that he’s found someone to talk and fly with.  A companion.  And I want to know more about where I came from and who I am.  Jack is getting me closer to the questions I have been wanting answered since the orphanage.  He might have unlocked some of my memories, as I had a memory come back to me yesterday.  Jack is the key to everything right now.

I take a deep breath and open my wings up.  They’re a lot bigger than I remember- about twenty feet long on each side.  Not heavy, but not light either.  They have been folded for far too long, my joints stiff and achy- they want air, wind, space, and freedom.  I can feel it in my very soul the need to soar in that vast sky.  I sprint without thinking, feeling the wind catch in my wings, my muscles already itching to flap them- to give me the proper lift.  I don’t even have to think about it as I push my wings down and pump, jumping up off the ground, leaving Earth, and pulling my way up beside Jack.  Beside him, laughing from the enjoyment of finally being free, free of my restraints, of gravity, and of my past.  I am finally feeling true freedom in the sky- where I belong.

He leads me high up into the sky until we’re just barely under the clouds.  We fly northwest in a straight line.  He doesn’t look back at me.  I assume it’s because he’s giving me a chance to learn how to fly on my own without his help and spares me the embarrassment.  He sure seems to know just what I need.

“You know what I love about being up here?” he suddenly asks.

“What?” I reply.  I don’t have the mental capacity to guess at the moment.

“There’s no one to bother you.”

His answer makes too much sense.  I lived in solitude for seven long years, and no one to talk to but my bitter guardians, so I shouldn’t understand what he’s saying, but I do.  Calm, peace, and tranquility.  You can’t find anything so relaxing than being up here in the sky.  Nothing happens up here.  Nothing but a breeze and the sound of our wings flapping.  However, now that he has me along, that’s not particularly true anymore.

“I suppose you’d like to know more?” he asks.

“You don’t have to read my mind to know that,” I reply with a sarcastic tone and a sideways glance.

He smirks and speaks loudly so I can hear his every word: “Long ago God created angels, and soon after,  humans were created.  Lucifer was a pure blood angel that envied God’s power.”

“What’s a pure blood angel?” I ask, interrupting.

He looks annoyed, “Pure blood angels are angels that have never been human.  They are created to help God with his everyday tasks.  Anyway, God had enough of Lucifer, so he cast him and his followers out of heaven.  He became Satan.”

I’ve heard this story in the bible, but I don’t remember reading anything about pure blood angels.

“Satan was angry at God, so he decided that he was going to destroy God’s precious human race.  He turned his followers into demons, and made them invade the bodies of innocent humans.  The demons, however, were not strong enough to stay in the bodies- it only took a short prayer to cast them back to hell.  So, Satan went back to work and created a new race of his own, but he is not God.  He does not possess the abilities God has, so his race is imperfect.  Reapers, as we've come to call them, cannot live unless they have the energy of a human- more specifically, a human soul.  Satan wasn’t able to give them personalities, let alone a face.  All they feel is the need for death, and it doesn’t matter who they kill as long as it’s not one of their own.  They spread disease and destruction.  They cause discord among human nations.  God, as you can imagine became enraged with Satan’s creation, and sent his angels back down to Earth, in mortal form, to destroy them.  Do you understand?”

“I think so,” I reply, but that doesn’t mean I believe any of it.  All of it sounds fantasized .  “Why didn’t God just send his angels down as they were instead of having them born like humans? And don't tell me ‘because God works in mysterious ways.’”

“Even God doesn't have the time to create so many souls,” he answers as though reiterating something he was told as a child.

I guess that’s logical, “So I’m really an angel?  I’ve been to heaven before?”

“Yes, of course.  You’re a mortal angel.”

Mortal angel.  It sounds so fancy, so important.  Could my life mean more than my Guardians made it seem?  Was I really born to be part of the ongoing war between heaven and hell?  I can’t decide now while I’m concentrating on staying in the sky.

Flying isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but it does have a level of difficulty.  I’m using muscles I’ve never used before.  Muscles I never thought existed.  Not only am I using my wing muscles, but I’m using my abs and leg muscles to keep me parallel to the ground.  We fly like this for several hours.  It gets really boring really fast.

My mind wanders to six years ago- a time before I had my wings:

I can’t be more excited than I am right now.  Not long ago I was an orphan, but I’ve been the daughter of my Mama and Papa for thirteen years now.  They’ve given me everything I’ve needed to live, but somehow my life with them doesn’t feel right compared to the lives of my peers.  They get hugs and kisses all hours of the day, but I’ve never been hugged or kissed.  It doesn’t bother me that much, but it does get lonely sometimes.  Mama never looks at me more than twice at one time, and Papa is very strict on my studies.  I have a better education then my friends, so it all evens out, I guess.

But today is my thirteenth birthday.  Not just any regular old birthday, no, today I graduate from girlhood to womanhood.  It’s a tradition that once a girl becomes a woman, she will stop wearing the white dresses she’s always worn, and wear any color she wants.  Mama had me fitted for my dress last week- a dress I have not yet seen.

Right now, I’m in the flower garden choosing the flowers that will be woven into my hair for my party.  I can just imagine the flowers decorating my long dark curls.

“Abby!  Come here!” my Papa yells for me from inside the house.

“Coming, Papa!” I yell, gathering all the flowers I picked into my arms, I jump up to run to him.

He takes the flowers from me and drops them on the table.  “Before you go get ready, tell me who Abraham was.”

It’s not uncommon for Papa to give me pop quizzes.  “Abraham was a follower of God long ago who was promised a son despite his old age.  Later, his son became the father of twelve sons- each one starting the twelve clans,” I easily respond.  The story caught my attention better than any of the other stories I’ve read in the Bible so far, so I basically have it memorized.

“Very good.  Have you read all of Exodus yet?”

“Yes, Papa, I have.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, it had many wonderful stories in it,” I hell him honestly.

“Good.  You may go up and get dressed,” he dismisses me.

I can’t contain my giddiness as I run as fast as I can up the stairs to my room.  My room is the only room in the house that has a balcony facing the gardens.  I have French doors that open to it and long flowing milky white curtains that hang there.  I have white walls with a light wood border.  My bed has red covers and sheets, but the canopy is white like my curtains.

My Mama is standing by my dresser with her maid beside her.  She gives me a warm smile.  “Happy birthday, my dear girl,” she says.  Her voice is sweet, but I know better than to run up and hug her.  Mama doesn’t like hugs.  “You’re getting so big!  In just a few years I’m afraid boys will be coming over and begging for your hand in marriage.”

I blush at this, but it’s true.  A lot of my friends are already married, though they are a couple of years older than I.  I don’t even know half of my friends anymore because of it, but maybe when I get married we can get in touch again.  We’ll have more things in common then.

Mama’s maid pulls out my dress for me to see.  It’s big, is a deep dark red color, and has a corset to it.  Indeed it’s an adult dress.  A woman’s dress.  My dress.  It’s so pretty, so elegant, that I’m basically jumping up and down in excitement.  I pull off my stockings and wait impatiently as the maid undoes the laces of my dress.  As the dress falls to my feet, they both gasp in shock.

“What?  What's wrong?” I ask.  Maybe I got dirty between now and last night’s bath?  Really dirty?

“Abigail, you have- you have wings!” Mama yells at me.

How stupid.  “Very funny.  Can we put my dress on how?”

“I’m not being funny, Abigail,” Mama snaps, “Put your dress back on.”

“But I want to wear my new one!” I whine.

“No, your party is cancelled.”

“Why?!”  To have planned a party in honor of myself, and then have it ripped away from me in just a second, is very hard for me to understand.  What did I do wrong?  I’m a good girl.  I do everything they ask me to do.  No hugs, no kisses, just study and play.

“You have wings, you wart!”

“No, I don’t!” I yell back.  It’s a huge rule to never yell at Mama and Papa, but Mama is being mean.  She called me a bad name, and all I can see in her eyes is hate.  I don’t understand what I did wrong.

“Yes you do!” She grabs my arm and pulls me to the mirror, spinning me around so that I can see the reflection of my back. There I can see what my mother is so distraught about.  There are two lumps that are going to be wings someday.  Someday soon.  There they are, the curse of my happiness.

Mama and Papa lock me in the ballroom, and I am never allowed out again.  They hold a service for my funeral, saying that I died tragically- falling off the balcony.  Now, I’m a dead freak, never allowed to feel the breeze or the sun on my skin again.

“Hey! Hey!!”

I am pulled out of my memories and I’m suddenly flying alongside Jack again.  I completely forgot where I am and have look around like a fool to remember.

“What were you thinking about so hard?” he asks.

I wonder how long I’ve been spacing off.  I’ve never had to talk about my experiences at my guardian’s home.  I’ve never really talked to anyone.  Not that I’ve had anyone to talk to besides “God”.  So talking about it now would be a little... well, uncomfortable.  There are so many bad memories- terrifying memories- that will only harm my laid-back mood.  Besides, he’s keeping a lot from me, so why do I have to tell him everything?  “Oh, sorry.  I wasn’t thinking about anything in particular,” I say with a smile, not very convincing, but hopefully he’ll stop bothering me.

He doesn’t push the subject, which I appreciate.  Jack is a mystery to me, and even though I trust him, I still can’t bring myself to reveal every little aspect about myself.  And he’s at fault too for not telling me where we’re going or who I am.  I know he knows, I can see it in his eyes when he glances at me, but I’m thankful that he doesn’t try to force me to tell him.  The memories really are too painful and confusing to open up about.

We continue to fly northwest until nightfall, the cold air nipping at my exposed skin.  The wind has been blowing at us for quite some time now, and my muscles scream in pain.  I want to stop, but Jack seems too intent on going as far and as fast as we can.  I can’t upset him.  Just before I’ve reached my limit, he informs me that we’ve reached our next stop, and that we’ll be diving down to the ground.  I breathe in relief.

“Just watch and do as I do,” he says, diving head first.  His wings fold up half-way to give him more speed.  I do as he does, and suddenly wish I hadn't.

I’m going too fast-way too fast.  My stomach is all the way up past my feet, trying to keep up with my body.  Air rushes past me, tearing at my clothes and hair.  I try to slow down.

“Do as I do!” he yells at me correcting me despite what my fears are telling me.

I gulp and do as he says.  I try not to think about it, but then something inside me switches on.  Suddenly, it’s fun!  I can’t help but laugh hysterically, feeling my adrenaline mask my pains.  It feels so good, so refreshing.

“That’s the spirit!” he yells, laughing with me.  He flashes a grin at me, happy with my reaction.  This must be what he was watching for, as if he knew I would react this way.  Maybe this is what happened to him when he flew for the first time.  I assume he lived a normal teenage life.  I wonder what his parents are like and if they love him like normal parents- like the parents of my friends from childhood.  I can’t help but compare Jack to a mama bird pushing it’s baby out of the nest.  He’s raising me to be like his, I mean, our race.  I smile back.

Jack lands before me, gracefully, in a clearing.  He opens his wings just before his feet touch down, which allows him to hop to a stop.  He folds his wings up and turns to watch me.

I, on the other hand, am a total mess.  I’m going way too fast to land cleanly.  I open my wings up, and feel the strain from them being pulled back.  I scream in pain and tense up.  I catch a glimpse of Jack’s look on his face as we both realize that I’m going to hit the ground hard.

He runs to catch me, but I collide with him instead; we fall onto the ground- Jack softening my landing.  I don’t feel anything broken or hurt besides the tension in my muscles.  I try to get my wings folded again, but my mind is in confusion and can’t identify my wings at all.

“Ah!” he says, trying not to move.  Jack is under me- being squished by me.

I scramble to get off of him, but no matter how I try to approach it, our faces get dangerously close to each other.  I see his eyes very clearly now.  They have pretty gold flakes in them.  Heat rushes to my face again and I try to hide my red cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry!” I apologize.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, “are you okay?”  He tries to get up, but we bonk heads.  He lays back down, a blush playing on his cheeks.

“Yeah.  Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”  I finally understand what it is I should do and roll off of him onto my back next to him on the grass- the soft, un-embarrassing grass.

“Well, that was interesting,” he looks over at me and chuckles, “Your face is red.”

“So is yours!”  We look away from each other in embarrassment.  How can I be so clumsy?

“Don’t worry, my first landing was worse.  I broke my leg,” he says.  His words don’t help much.  What was he going to do if I broke my leg?  Carry me on his back the rest of the way?  I blush from the thought.  “But David fixed it right up for me,” he adds.

Who’s David?  “I bet you didn’t land on a woman like I did to you.”

He’s struck silent.  “There were no women to land on.”  He looks so sad, so lonely.  Are there really no women left?  Were there none, what, six, seven-ish years ago?  “Come on,” he says, “Abby.”

I purse my lips.  He’s really going  to call me that?  We get inside the town and I notice that we’re not in Italy anymore.  The buildings look like they were built to withstand winters.  They look friendly though, and I can’t detect any sort of rotting smell.  It feels comfortable, like it should.  A little cold, though.

This time Jack knows exactly where to go and leads me right into a charming little inn.  There’s flowers planted in hanging pots outside the front door that gives the place both a pleasant smell and a splash of eye catching color.  Inside the door is what looks like a pub.  There are several tables in the large room.  Majority of the customers are sitting at the tables closest to the roaring fire and farthest from the door.  Is it really that cold outside?

A very round lady comes out of a door that separates the room and the kitchen, balancing a tray of warm drinks on her hand.  She looks up at us and smiles wide, her eyes glistening.  “Jack! Long time no see!”

They know each other?  Okay, now I have to look at her better.  She has fiery red hair that is apparently really hard to control, but it suits her face.  She has brown freckles that cross the bridge of her nose, and eyes that are like liquid gold.  Besides her ugly dress and apron, she’s a beautiful young woman.

“Hey Sarah, how’s business?” he asks.

She laughs, “Same as always.”  She looks at the group of people sitting at a table near the fire.  They’re staring at her with angry eyes, so the drinks she has must be for them.  “If you’ll excuse me,” she says running to them and handing out the glasses, then rushes back to us.  “How can I help you?  Do you need a room?”

“Yes, we do,” he replies, pulling me up next to him.  His hands squeezing both my shoulders.

“Oh, goodness me, who is your friend?” she says surprised.  Did she really not see me, or was she ignoring me?  Maybe she didn’t want to see me.  I notice her refusing to glance my way, her eyes glued on the handsome man squeezing me and smiling like a fool. Could it be...

“This is Abby McKinley,” he replies, lifting an eyebrow.

Oh boy...

“You’re married?” she asks, clearly disappointed.

He nods, “I’m taking her to meet my parents.”

Her face falls.  Defeated.  “So you found your match, huh?  Well, let me get you two a room.”  She grabs a key off the wall from behind the bar and leads us up the stairs and down the hall a ways.  “I’m afraid this is the only room I have left,” she says, swinging the door open to reveal a small room with two twin beds.  I can’t help but laugh.

Jack empties this coin purse in her hands.  “I’m afraid this is all I have on me.  I could bust some tables like always?”

Like always?  He comes here often?  Is it because of her?

She nods, “Come down whenever you’re ready.”  The vacates the room without another word.

I fall on a bed in exhaustion.  “I call this one!” I announce.

“Would you like a hot bath?” he asks.

“That would be wonderful!”

So he trots into the bathroom and gets the water running.  I know it’s ready when he leaves to go earn some money.  With him gone, I strip down and dance my way into the bathroom.  The water is steaming hot, calling me to it.  I slowly sink into it and the water sears into my skin, sending a shock up my body as goose pimples develop all over my skin.  I didn’t know I was so cold!  My skin soaks in it’s warmth, begging for more.  It takes several long minutes to get used to the temperature.  Soon, I am able to let the water caress my tired and tense body, feeling it loosen up my knotted muscles.  I sigh and allow myself to relax.  My mind wanders again to my former home:

The room is pitch black.  I’m still not used to being here- being trapped here.  Just a few weeks ago my guardians banished me to live the remainder of my life in this room, not being able to leave for anything.  It’s so lonely.  All I do during the day is read books and listen to the birds sing outside my windows.

I don’t understand my guardians though.  How did they know that the little knobs on my back would eventually be wings?  Wouldn’t anyone else take me to the hospital to get it checked out?  I didn’t even know they were going to be wings until they put the idea in my head.  But, they grew out, spreading out feathers of all shapes and sizes and set themselves in an organized manner- great big white wings, beautiful and powerful.  Just what exactly am I?  I’m a freak; what else?

Hostility.  I sense hostility.  I hear a creak from the double doors that are constantly locked.  Someone is coming in... I’m scared.  Terrified.  Whoever is sneaking up on me has a murderous intent.  I slide out of my bed and crawl along the wall until I’m at the doors.

They’re searching for me.  They get frustrated and light a candle.  I see my father’s face in it’s light.  What’s he doing in my room in the dead of night?  Something catches my eyes, and in the candlelight I can see that he’s holding something.  Swords.  He has swords.

My heart beats faster.  He came here to kill me in my sleep!

“Come out, Abigail!” he shouts.

Tears fall from my eyes.  I thought they loved me!

“There you are,” he says, spotting me.

I can’t move.  I’m frozen with fear.

He hands me a sword.  “Quit your crying and defend yourself!” he lifts his sword over his head and swings it down at my face.

Through reflex I block it.  He keeps swinging and I am barely able to block them.  I watch his feet and his blade to see how he’s able to swing it so easily.  I copy him as best I can and get the hang of it.  I keep up with him, watching the candle light reflect off the edge of his blade.

He yells instructions at me.  I don’t know if he’s helping me or not, so I ignore him and learn on my own.  Before I can strike, however, I see that I’ve worn him out.  He’s panting and shaking.  I corner him against a wall, but as I bring my sword back to finish him off, he escapes through the door.  I didn’t see it, I forgot about it, and It caused me to lose.

I’m left alone in the dark again, confused, shaking, and terrified.  Will he do it again?  Will I be murdered by them eventually?  How much longer do I have to live before they kill me in my sleep?

“Abigail?” he knocks on the bathroom door.  “Aren’t you done yet?”

How long have I been in here?  The water is cold and my hands have turned to prunes.  “Oh yes, sorry, I’ll be out in just a second.”  I get out and dry myself off and stop.  My dress is out in the room along with everything else...

“Do you need your dress?” he asks, laughing.

“Thank you!” I open the door a crack, hiding my bare body behind it.  His hand pops in holding my slip.  I grab it and put it on.  “I’m ready for the rest,” I announce.

“Just come out.  The lights are out so I won't see you,” he says dryly.

“What?”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable sleeping with a full dress on?”

Yes... “Even so, it’s not proper.”

“We’re going to be together for a very long time, so we better just get comfortable now instead of then.”

He has a point.  I have no idea where we’re going, so I don’t know how long it will take to get there.  But I’m sure that I’ll know him for the rest of my life.  Plus, he’s not going to give me my dress anyway.  “You’re a jerk, you know.”  I hear him laugh.  I sigh and open the door.  I spot him sitting on the bed with his back to me.  His back... so broad and muscular.  His shirt is draped over the head board, leaving him completely shirtless.

I feel blood rush to my cheeks.

He laughs as he looks over his shoulder, “come on, you look tired.” 

"I thought you said you wouldn't be able to see me," I scold, wrapping my arms over my chest.  All he gives me in reply is a louder laugh.  I quickly crawl into bed, close my eyes, and wait for sleep to come.  Behind my eyelids I can see his back, his glistening muscles exposed in the moonlight.  Beautiful... so beautiful that it makes my heart beat faster.  This is not going to work... I need sleep, but it’s like his image is burnt into my mind.  I force myself to think of something else, but I come up blank.

Jack gets up and goes into the bathroom.  I hear him get in the tub and wash up.  I left him cold water.  What am I doing?  I use up all the warmth in the bath water as he goes down to work for a few hours to collect tips.  All to keep me comfortable.  I feel a pang of guilt in the core of my stomach.  I need to change the way I’m behaving.  I need to help him, not take everything he has.

When he gets out and lays in his own bed, I whisper, “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and for working so hard tonight.”

“You’re thanking a person you don’t know?  You’re thanking a person who took you from your home?” he wonders with confusion written all over his face.

I sigh.  “I’ve been conflicted on whether or not you kidnapped me, but in reality it was I who took your hand.  I chose to go with you.  I'm in this now.   Wherever you go,  I go.”  I let my words sink in before I add, “and besides, that place hasn’t been a home for a long time.”

He doesn’t say anything for several minutes, until, “Sarah gave you a new dress as a wedding gift.”

“Sarah, the lady who likes you?”

He grunts.  “How did you know?”

“I can tell.”

He sighs this time.  “She may have a crush on me, but I could never be with her, even if I did like her.  She’s human and it’s not allowed.”

“What?  Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter right now, just go to sleep.”

Could it be that he brought me here just to get her off his trail.  I laugh and throw my pillow at him.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“I take it back, I don’t thank you.  You used me.”

He laughs and says, “I thought that you would have come to that conclusion quicker!”

We laugh until we run out of breath.  I finally drift off to sleep just as I faintly hear Jack whisper, “Goodnight and sweet dreams, Princess.”