It’s Thorny Thursday. Not sure about the thorny part in this story, but — well, you tell me about the romance part.

——

They say that opposites attract. That was certainly true of Michael and Sarah. She was so pale that she blended in with the crisp, white sheets on her bed. Michael was so dark that on a moonless night he could move about unseen, which he often did. They were also opposites in their personalities. Sarah was highly temperamental, barking at anyone over the least thing that displeased her. Michael was so tolerant that nothing upset him. And when Sarah was around him, nothing seemed to upset her.

“Sarah,” said her mother Gretchen one day while pinning the hem on Sarah’s wedding dress, “you’ve been so good lately that the angels will claim you to be among their number soon.”

Normally, Sarah would snap at her mother over such a statement, but now she just laughed. Her wedding to Michael was a week away, and preparations were going smoothly. Everyone who had been invited had accepted, and the presents were flowing in. All was set at the church and then at the hall where the reception would take place. Hemming the gown was the final touch. She stood patiently while Gretchen continued pinning.

“No such thing as angels,” said Sarah when the pinning was done.

She took off the dress and handed it to her mother.

“Of course there is,” said Gretchen. “And one day you’ll see them.”

“Sounds like I shouldn’t be good,” said Sarah. “What about Michael? He’s always good.”

“Always? You only see him for an hour or two every day. What about the rest of the time?”

Theirs had been a whirlwind romance. Michael had seen Sarah out strolling one night. He had been entranced by this pale vision that seemed like a ghost walking along the path beside the stream that ran through the woods just outside of town. He had startled her when he came up to her from the dark of those woods.

“Sorry,” he had said, smiling in his very open manner. “Seems like we were both out walking. Do you come here often?”

“Uh, no, not often,” she said, frowning slightly. “Who are you?”

“Michael,” he said. “Come back tomorrow night. I’ll be here.”

And she had … and the next night … and the next. Then he had come to her house to meet her mother, a widow. He had chatted with the two women, enjoyed a fine dinner of schnitzel, sauerkraut, and kartoffeln, prepared according to the recipes Gretchen’s German mother had taught her, and then went off into the night, disappearing into that darkness after walking a short distance. Gretchen had noticed how calm and even cheerful her daughter had seemed during Michael’s visits. No complaints about the sauerkraut being too sour, the cushion of her favorite armchair in the living room being too lumpy, or the toothpaste tube not being properly squeezed from the end.

“You’re so sloppy, Mother,” Sarah would say, “and why can’t we have better things?”

“Your father died with no life insurance,” Gretchen would reply, “and we have to make do on my meager salary at the grocery store.”

But such complaints ended when Michael came on the seen. His dark skin would make Sarah stare at him sometimes, wondering how someone could be that dark. But his dark eyes could hold her spellbound as he told her of his life, growing up in a slum and raising himself out of it with his wits and intelligence.

“I got my doctorate in psychology at twenty,” he had told her. “My private practice is now quite successful.”

“I should come there sometime,” she had told him. “You can examine me on your couch.”

Michael had laughed at that. Then he had proposed.

Sarah was still a student at the university, so Gretchen hadn’t been happy at first. But the effect Michael had on Sarah convinced her mother to let things proceed.

On the wedding day, a week after hemming the wedding dress, Gretchen helped her daughter into it. Sarah looked even paler swathed in that white satin. Her mother put the veil on her and then stepped back to see.

“Totally angelic,” said Gretchen.

Sarah just smiled.

“Well, time to go to the church,” said Gretchen. “The limo your uncle hired for you is here.”

Sarah nodded and walked outside, her mother carrying the gown’s train. They got into the limousine and sat calmly as the driver took them to the church. He pulled up out front as people were awaiting them. The driver opened the back curbside passenger door and helped Gretchen out. Then he held out his hand to Sarah. She took it and stepped one foot, clad in a white satin slipper and white nylons, onto the sidewalk. Then she exited the vehicle, smiled at the driver, and looked up at the steeple on the church where the bells were ringing. People stood back as she approached the front door.

Suddenly, they gasped. A pair of white wings grew out of Sarah’s back and spread out, lifting her off the ground as they caught the breeze that had begun to blow. Sarah just smiled and continued upward.

“Sarah! Come back!” called her mother.

But Sarah continued smiling and ascending into a mass of pure white clouds hovering overhead.

Gretchen ran inside the church to get Michael, but he wasn’t there—just a note addressed to her:

Sometimes angels are born. Sometimes they are made. I knew that Sarah was the latter. I was sent to bring that about. She will be waiting for you with the rest of us angels. But no rush. — Michael

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