Dream Angel : Heaven Waits Read Online Free PDF Page B

Sue and her friend had melted into the passing crowd. It was just Elvis and I, but he was busy inspecting his handiwork.
    “Why would anyone shoot a toilet?” I whispered.
    “Aw, it never worked right, anyhow.” He rubbed his chin pensively.
    “And…?”
    “It was running all the time, keepin’ me awake.” He threw me an impish look.
    I waited, thinking maybe there was more. His lips twitched with amusement, as he attempted to stifle one of his great laughs, and each moment that passed only escalated his amusement. Soon the sound of his chuckles spilled out into the foyer. I imagined the house swelling with happiness. His humor was always contagious, and I too, began to laugh openly. Our hysterics grew until a tour guide stepped back into the room with a look of befuddlement.
    “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to keep moving along. We don’t want to hold up the line.” The young man was polite but firm.
    Elvis and I looked around at the empty room and fell into another round of laughter. I held my hand up to hide my smile and tried to pull together a serious response.
    “I understand. Sorry, I’ll move along.”
    I began to make my way down the hall, toward the bedroom used by Elvis’ mother, but stopped when I heard Elvis growling from behind.
    “Listen, son.”
    I turned back to find Elvis, swiping at tears of laughter that were quickly drying with his change of expression.
    “This is my house. She’ll do as I say!” His words were heated, and the crystal chandelier rattled over head.
    The next scene played out before me like an Abbott and Costello meets the mummy skit. Elvis looked up and quickly stepped out of danger’s way, as though anything could harm him. The tour guide slowly turned his eyes upward as what little color he had drained from his face. I again started to laugh. The young man cracked and galloped right by Elvis as he rushed for the exit.
    “Boo!” Elvis exclaimed and I swore I saw the usher flinch.

Chapter 4
    They say every King needs a castle, and at the age of twenty-two Elvis had found his in Graceland. With its sharp color pallet, and flamboyant furniture, Graceland is as unique as its owner. Every room has a theme, and every fan has their favorite. And, I was no different. While Elvis’ chuckles fell silent, I collected my own humor and continued down the corridor to his mother’s room, my favorite room at Graceland. A thick chain strung across the doorway to prevent visitors from actually entering. I practically laid my body against it as I leaned in to admire the rich colors.
    The room’s lavish setting was a long way from Mrs. Presley’s humble beginnings in Tupelo. The bed was draped in rich amethyst silk. And a white Christmas tree, still decorated with purple ornaments, emphasized a regal feeling to the décor that would have made a queen feel at home. I marveled at the floor-to-ceiling violet curtains and matching bedspread.
    What grace, I thought. Was her son’s sudden wealth overwhelming?
    “Yes, it was.” Elvis’ velvety voice broke into my thoughts.
    I turned to find him leaning against the snow-white banister that led up to his private quarters. His gaze burned between us and added to his distinctive rebel-with-out-a-cause posture.
    You left without a goodbye , I internally sulked.
    “That’s because it wasn’t,” he said in a rather flippant tone. I could feel myself pouting, but stopped when Elvis jetted out his own lips in an exaggerated mope.
    For a time, I had wondered if angels could listen to our thoughts. Elvis had proven in the past that he could do just that, yet I had never directly asked.
    “Do you listen to all my private thoughts?” I said, hoping to sound confident, and in charge of my escalating emotions.
    His eyes sparkled. “Not all.”
    “Oh?” I walked towards him with all the poise I could muster.
    He stood up straighter and pushed out his chest but did not stop my approach. As I drew near, any frustration I may have