Arms of an Angel Read Online Free PDF Page A

moment the words left my mouth. You never disappoint,
do you Claire?”
    “ I certainly try not
to…”
     
    The conversation continued with the expected
tones and volleying banter for a few more moments before they again
said farewell. Each stated again how much they were looking forward
to Sunday brunch.
    “ Good night, Garrett,”
Claire’s voice caressed his ear.
    “ Yes it was,” he said. “See
you Sunday.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    Claire was surprised to see it was nearing
10:00 the next morning when her eyes finally fluttered open to
stay. After but a moment’s hesitation she threw back the covers and
climbed from the comfort of the silky sheets. The carpet was soft
beneath her bare feet. Her robe caressed her body with a velvety
delight and Claire realized her senses were on edge. She was
feeling life full out. No drugs, scant alcohol, no man to share her
bed. This was reality.
    Another reality hit her as she entered the
bathroom and met her own reflection in the etched glass mirror. The
deeply cut lines framed her like a beautiful portrait. As she
stared at herself, she realized how easily she may not have
awakened that morning. Had it not been for the chance crossing of
paths with Garrett… he really was her Clarence.
    “ Oh God,” she whispered,
“forgive me. Make me see that I am not worthless. No matter what he
told me…I can be something to someone…” A sob replaced her words as
tears began to fall. She didn’t bother to stop them. It had been a
very long time since she’d cried.
     
    Throughout her long, steamy shower the tears
came. Though thought did not accompany them, Claire felt refreshed,
purged when she emerged from the glass cage. She had the
overwhelming desire to do something she hadn’t done in years…paint.
With a smile she toweled off, dressed quickly and headed to the
sunroom.
    Claire opened the double
doors that led into the spacious corner room. The light filled her
eyes, flooding in from the floor to ceiling windows on two sides
meeting in the far corner. Claire had always loved this room. It
had been her favorite place as a child; a haven and a place where
fond memories were made. This was the one room Claire had left
untouched after her parent’s death when she’d moved into the unit
full-time. The sunroom needed no redecorating to reflect her. It
had always been her room.
    She pulled open the carved wooden doors of
the spacious storage closet and marveled at its contents just as
she had as a little girl. She looked over the vast array of art
supplies, so well stocked it rivaled the local shop. She wondered
how many had gone bad after years of non-use.
    With a deep breath she picked up the old
market basket and began to fill it with whatever she believed she’d
need. Brushes, jar, pallet, paint tubes… She tucked a canvas board
under her arm and grabbed a folded tabletop easel. Satisfied she
pushed the doors closed with her foot and went to the table by the
windows.
    What a view, she thought as she looked out
over the city with a renewed love for the sights. She wondered if
Garrett had met his destination and was now in the throws of a
country brunch. She smiled as she turned back to setting up her
table.
    Two hours later, Claire was satisfied with
her creation. It was different and perhaps not as good as some of
her past work. After all, it had been years since she’d painted;
not since her father had said it was a worthless pursuit and would
take her nowhere. The cancer had hit right after that; another blow
to her usefulness in life, according to dear old Daddy.
    Claire fought against the pain. Her whole
life she’d tried to please him. And then she’d tried to show him he
was right. That had almost resulted in her own end. She looked at
the painting; an angel slightly resembling Garrett reaching out to
an unseen victim. Only her hands were visible. They were Claire’s
hands, wearing her mother’s rings. The fingertips of the left hands
were barely