Providence: On Angels' Wings by Lauren Wynn

Author:Lauren Wynn [Wynn, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-10-20T23:00:00+00:00

I have spent my entire existence preparing for what I knew to be true, never anticipating that I would choose the unknown. That I would turn left instead of right. That I would say yes instead of no. And because of that one choice, in that one moment, my existence will forever be changed. And, at least for today, I have learned that I cannot do life on my own. It may even take a little white dove to lead me along my path.

The Boys

I peek out a hole in the board covering my bedroom window. It is a crystal-clear evening—well, morning—nearly half past three. The air smells fresh and feels moist from yesterday’s rain—well, the air through the window. The loft actually stinks of mildew. I shuffle into the living room where Leo and Grant are reading at the dining room table. They both peer up from their books and I unfurl my wings.

“Ah yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Leo exclaims.

Grant checks his watch, stands up, and unfurls his.

“Sweet,” Leo says in a high-pitched voice as he stands up and follows suit, as if he needed Grant’s approval.

We stroll out the door into the hallway and take the stairwell up to the black-topped roof of the loft. Only a sliver of moon shines, which allows us to fly relatively undetected.

“Where to?” Grant asks, spreading his white wings.

“Anywhere.” I grin mischievously.

Between working during the day at the firm, spending evenings with Providence, and answering calls throughout the night, I haven’t had any time to hang out with Grant and Leo, except for our extremely brief morning meetings in the park. I’m psyched to go flying with them. Plus, it may be one of my last trips. Before my mood has a chance to slump, Leo takes off, so I spread my wings wide and follow.

The wind blows over and under my wings, my white feathers wave ever so slightly, and I feel the breeze float across my face. If I were human, streams of water would be flowing from my eyes, a natural response to the direct gusts of wind. We hover above the three-, four-, and five-story brick buildings in Over-the-Rhine, making slow arching circles like hawks hunting for food. The streets below are lined up in a perfect grid. The neighborhood remains quiet, apart from the banging of a metal garbage can that a cat knocks over. Grant banks hard to the east flying quickly toward the sixteen-story twin towers, rising and diving in steep swoops. I trail him closely. Together we look like fighter jets on a midnight getaway. We soar around the mint-green dome of Saint Xavier Church, each tapping our hands on the gold cross that tops it off. Then we head straight for the towers. Various lights throughout the tower windows and crown are lit up, showing the gray granite, circular exterior, but no one seems to be moving inside at this hour. I swoop around and in between the east and north

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