Once Hannah was dressed again, she led me into the house. Hannah explained that her mother was sleeping, and quietly confided that she feared her mother was becoming ill. I tried to reassure her, but she told me that it was nothing to fear: if Mother got well or even died, it was the will of God. God had His reasons for everything, and Heaven is there to reunite loved ones who lost each other.
Being an angel, I had to concede that she had a good point. What she said was obvious to me, but it was surprising to hear it from a mortal. Ever since Adam and Eve lost the Garden, we angels had been of the opinion that Man was pretty much a lost cause, without the ability to understand the glory of God’s grace. Yet Hannah constantly showed unwavering faith: to her every single event in life was God’s will and therefore right, no matter how sad.
We got breakfast quietly, hoping to avoid disturbing her mother, but she must have awoken on her own, for she called for Hannah. She rushed immediately to her parents’ bedroom, ever the dutiful daughter. I followed behind slowly, unsure if I should enter the room or not.
Hannah decided for me, for she came out of the room to grab my arm and usher me in.
“She wants to meet you,” Hannah said, evidently having informed her mother of my presence. “Come say hello.”
I walked into the darkened room and approached the handcrafted bed and the small figure in it. She was visibly aging and tired, but she still smiled when she saw me.
“Oh my, Hannah, he’s beautiful. Like an angel…” She said weakly. Hannah and I shared a conspiratorial smile at her mother’s words, for they had innocently remarked upon what I truly was. Of course she didn’t know that, but it was still amusing to hear.
“Such lovely hair, like gold…” Her mother continued. “Come here, young man, so I can see you better.”
I knelt at her bedside obediently. She gestured for me to come close, and whispered so that only I could hear: “I know why you’ve come. You’re here for Hannah. Take good care of her.”
“I’m not taking her anywhere, good lady. I have come only to offer myself.”
“I know, son. I saw you…” She coughed then, spasms cutting off her words.
“Saw me? What do you mean?” I asked quietly, feeling a strange sensation run up and down my spine. What is it that people say, goose bumps?
“I saw you… in a dream… golden hair and a beautiful face, come for her… it is God’s will. You are meant for each other…” She stared directly into my eyes, her hand on my arm. She spoke with great insistence: “You must take care of her.”
“I promise to love Hannah with all my heart and do my best for her.” I vowed.
“No! Not just Hannah… soon, there will be a daughter…” And with those prophetic words spoken, Hannah’s mother leaned back in her bed and fell asleep, a look of relief and joy on her face.
No Man an Island 
4 comments
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November 30, 2007 at 7:38 pm
Suzanne Francis
“lost cause” is a cliche. I am not convinced he needs to use them all the time. It still makes you sound lazy.
“up and down my spine” I’d call this a ‘frisson’ or shiver. Goosebumps are when the hairs on your skin raise up. Also probably “up my spine” is more than enough. Adding down kind of makes it sound like an Elvis song (I’m in love, yeah, I’m all shook up…”
“for they had innocently remarked upon what I truly was. Of course she didn’t know that, but it was still amusing to hear.”
You don’t need that part. The reader can figure it out.
“And with those prophetic words spoken”
Ditto this. Obviously its a prophecy, if she is talking about something that hasn’t happened yet.
December 2, 2007 at 1:19 pm
nomananisland
As I’ve said, it’s tricky to balance how to best write Raphael. In a sense, I need him to feel to the reader like he’s stepped out of an older period of literature, when fairy tales and morality plays were standard, and writing lacked the more organic depictions it has today. But your comments are a good barometer for how well that’s working — I can certainly accomplish the same thing without being lazy, which means going through it and identifying what’s necessary and what’s not.
For instance, I’ve never liked the line about his amusement at the dramatic irony of Hannah’s mother’s comment. Readers would get it without his thoughts imposing on the idea. I can best explain that by saying that I try to think like the character when I write first-person, and Raphael, as much as he’s nicer than the other angels, still has some of the same tendency to condescend to humans. So, writing that particular thought was to hint at how smug he is. But, where it is in the text is unnecessary.
Basically, I need to go back and edit. Your helpful comments will certainly help me look for the clues for improvement, and I thank you again.
December 6, 2007 at 10:09 pm
azetidine
I read Raphael as not coming out of fairy tales and morality plays so much as cheesy movie dialogue. If you really want to give that impression, I’d go back to the Brothers Grimm, Lord Dunsany, the oldies but goodies, and raid some phraseology from them.
Then again, I haven’t read many of those stories myself, so you may have done that already and I just can’t tell. anyway. You’ll figure out how to get him to do what you want.
December 6, 2007 at 10:14 pm
nomananisland
Well, cheesy movie dialogue influences him also 🙂 . He’s actually doing exactly what I want, if you picked up on that.
Not to give too much away, but look closely at his first appearance in 52. The Wilderness – Deja Vu. There’s a reason I gave it that chapter title.