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adolescence, genderless in its perfection. The undercurrent of
dominance/submission and the potential for sexual menace that existed between
human males and females simply was not an issue with Joth. The fact that she
was completely at ease with an utterly nude individual standing less than two
feet away from her was a testament to that.
Still, she doubted she'd be able to hail a cab in the company of a bare-assed
angel, even if it was Caucasian. From a distance.
"C'mon," she sighed. "Let's see about getting you something to wear." Some
digging in the foyer closet turned up a black ankle-length duster, a pair of
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baggy-fit jeans last used to repaint the dinette set, and a pair of battered
leather moccasins used for schlepping garbage down to the basement. "Here,
these should do for now," she said, shoving the cast-offs into the angel's
pale arms. Joth proceeded to rub the bottom of the moccasin against its
cheek.
Fifteen minutes and a hasty explanation as to what clothes were and which item
was to be used to cover what part of the body later, Lucy had succeeded in
getting the pants and moccasins on Joth. She eyed the angel's gleaming wings,
which were spread so that they framed its golden head. "Can you, uh, hide
those things?" she asked.
"Hide?"
The angel's habit of repeating every question posed to it was really starting
to get on her nerves, but she supposed she ought to cut it some slack. After
all, it clearly wasn't used to verbal speech. They probably used some form of
telepathy in heaven or wherever it was from-and she still wasn't a hundred
percent sure if Joth weren't some wacky space-brother from another planet.
"You know-fold your wings?"
"Fold my wings."
Lucy watched in amazement as the hummingbird-colored pinions folded
themselves, one over another, and came to rest against Joth's broad, muscular
back. Despite their size, they doubled over very compactly, seeming to hug the
angel from behind like a second set of arms.
The simple grace and unspoken strength of the act reminded her of Mose, the
black man who once worked for her grandparents. However, what she saw in her
mind's eye was more like a film was unwinding in her head than a memory being
sparked.
She could see Mose standing in the doorway of the old barn, harnessing the
mule Pappy stubbornly insisted on keeping. Mose's denim work shirt was rolled
up past the elbows, revealing arms the color of licorice that rippled with
clean muscle. She could smell saddle leather, horse liniment and Mose's sweat,
as well as hear his voice, surprisingly soft and sweet for a man his size, as
he sang under his breath. She could even make out the beads of perspiration
shining on his forehead and arms in the thick heat of an Arkansas summer.
She hadn't thought about Mose in years-not since Mam-Maw wrote during her
junior year at college to inform her of his passing. He'd been a gentle, solid
man-not very well educated, but far from unclever. He'd had a knack for
working with wood, creating simple, but lovely, tables and cupboards. She'd
been quite fond of him as a small child, before adherence to social taboos of
race and station had been expected of her.
It was with a small shock that she realized she had never spoken of Mose to
anyone outside her family-not even Nevin. She'd learned long ago that New
Yorkers simply didn't understand how someone could grow up in rural Arkansas
and not be a knuckle-dragging redneck with a Klan robe tucked away in the hall
closet. They certainly wouldn't understand her waxing sentimental over the
hired hand who used to help her grandmother turn over the mattresses and had
made her a tiny matching table and chair for her seventh birthday.
"You are thinking of someone."
Lucy stiffened, automatically defensive. "Oh, yeah?"
"Mose."
Her heart skipped a beat, then began pounding furiously to catch up. So she'd
been right about the angel being telepathic. Still, it was rather
disconcerting to realize someone had actually read her mind.
"How do you know his name?"
"I look into your eyes and see him there."
"But-how?"
"I don't know."
She believed the angel when it told her this. After all, she wasn't exactly
sure how she breathed, but she still did it. She wondered if the flashback was
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