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  My Cheeky Angel

  Angels with Attitudes Series,

  Book One

  By

  Mimi Barbour

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,

  and incidents are either the product of the author’s

  imagination or are used fictitiously, and any

  resemblance to actual persons living or dead,

  business establishments, events, or locales, is

  entirely coincidental.

  Angels with Attitudes Series – Book One

  Published by Smashwords

  COPYRIGHT 2011 by Mimi Barbour

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used

  or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without

  written permission of the author except in the case of

  brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Rae Monet

  Edited by Nan Swanson

  Also: Author of

  The Vicarage Bench Series

  She’s Me

  He’s Her

  We’re One

  Together again

  She's Me

  “She's Me is a delightfully deep read.”

  ~Kimber, Fallen Angel Reviews (4 Angels)

  He's Her

  “Quirky and sparky and Ms. Barbour gets the mix

  right....A great little story. Recommended.”

  ~V. Scurfield, WRDF (Fantastic, Stays on Shelf)

  We're One

  “You definitely need to pick up WE'RE ONE and all

  the other stories in this series. You will not be

  disappointed.”

  ~Roberta, You Gotta Read Reviews

  (rated - You Need to Read)

  Together Again

  “I don’t think I have ever read a spirit-travelling book until now and I must say I think this is a fascinating subject. What was most intriguing was how the author accounted for every question I could possibly have pertaining to this particular time travel. As much as I loved the plot line in the book, what I will forever remember about this book is it made me laugh. Not just a little bit, but with Mrs. Dorn’s shenanigans I laughed out loud constantly.

  This is definitely a book I highly recommend. ”

  ~Val, You Gotta Read Reviews

  (rated - You Gotta Read

  Dedication

  I would like to dedicate this book to my wonderful son.

  Because of him, I believe…

  …in the possibility

  of Angels.

  Prologue

  Chloe the three-year-old tattler tugged at Annie’s shirt to get her attention. “Carlton barfed again. His tummy is sick, and he’s real mad.”

  “I know, sweetheart, I’ll be right there as soon as I get Maggie’s ponytail unstuck from the bicycle wheel.”

  “He’s crying for you. He won’t let anyone else clean him. Mrs. B. told me you were to come right now. I think she’s mad, ’cause her face is all scrunched up.”

  “You tell Mrs. B. that Maggie is also upset, and I can’t leave her. Go on now.” Annie’s attention returned to the chubby girl whose head was twisted at an awkward angle while strands of her unruly hair were wrapped around the spokes in the wheel.

  “Maggie, how in the world did you get your hair caught in here? Hold still, darling, Annie’s almost got it. Don’t cry now, and stop pulling.” Annie gave one last yank and the snafu came loose. “There now, you’re free. Come here, sweet girl.” Annie scooped the sobbing child into her arms. Before Annie could clean her tears, Maggie grunted, heaved, and the back of Annie’s shirt was covered with the little girl’s lunch.

  First the stench attacked and then the wet heat soaked through the material. Talk about the proverbial straw. Could this week get any worse?

  “Hey Annie,” her co-worker, Darlene, called out. “Mrs. B. is about ready to loose it with Carlton. How about a hand?”

  “Tell her I’ve got my own mess to clean up. Maggie’s been sick also.” Annie imagined herself following up with something like—“Am I the only one here? What is it with everyone lately?”

  “It’s not our fault you make yourself indispensable to every kid in the place.” Then the skinny girl flopped off toward the other room, leaving Annie reeling with the knowledge that she’d actually been voicing her thoughts. Man she was a mess. A path to her backbone opened, and the decision that had been facing her for weeks got made. She needed a change before she came to hate the kids, her day-care job, and herself. The time had come. Annie Hynes was about to burst out of her cocoon and grow up!

  This internal decree lasted until the end of the grueling week, and then she began to waver. Old habits kicked in that fuelled her insecurities. Should she just up and change, take a new job, be someone different? Lead a life opposite to the way she’d always lived?

  Could she?

  My Cheeky Angel

  Chapter One

  Today is the first day of the rest of your life.

  Annie Hynes shivered as she read the hokey words from the page of the woman’s magazine she’d picked up when sleep eluded her. For some strange reason this corny cliché, or one similar, had repeatedly appeared to her in the last several weeks. Actually, ever since she’d decided to change her life and then chickened out.

  Each time she’d opened a book, checked the advertising on a bus, or watched a television show, the implication stared her in the face, and her suspicion that all these messages were not coincidental really creeped her out.

  Her eyes were drawn back to the crinkled page held in her fist. The writing glowed and seemed to be moving in and out. She couldn’t turn away. Then the words echoed in her mind like the chorus of a song, sung over and over. She flung the journal away from her, shook her head, and gave her eyes a good rubbing.

  Okay now, this was really getting spooky. She peered around her room while tiny shivers crisscrossed over her body and woke up her nervous system. Covering her eyes and squirming lower, she snuggled under her colorless beige duvet.

  “You can hide all you want but the fact remains, you won’t be happy until you change your boring old habits, Annie, my love.”

  Annie shot into a sitting position and scanned the room again. Not a person in sight. But she’d definitely heard those words. Her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth and wouldn’t let loose.

  “No, you haven’t lost them.”

  “Ha-haven’t lost what?” Annie’s squeak echoed in the empty room, and added to her uneasiness.

  “Your marbles!” the raspy voice teased.

  Annie scrambled up toward the headboard and hugged herself. “Oh, my god! How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”

  “Okay, hold onto your big-girl panties. What I’m about to tell you will be hard to believe, but it’s true, all the same. I’m your Guardian Angel. Aww, now… Close your mouth, Annie, and don’t panic. Look! You can call me Celi.”

  Annie snorted. “That’s it! I’m signing myself in for the works—padded cell, drugs, shock treatments....”

  The laugh she heard couldn’t possibly be described as feminine and musical, more like a rusty smoker grudgingly letting loose. “You’re okay, kid. Because I like you, I’m gonna cut you a break. Look at the end of your bed and don’t turn away, no matter what.”

  Compelled to obey, Annie sat as if in a trance. She watched as a dazzling, misty-like mass seemed to grow in front of her, where the form of a person could be seen slowly emerging. The woman’s face and expression came clear before anything else. She looked to be about the same age as Annie. Plain to the point of ugly would b
e a fitting description—until she grinned. When her eyes lit with unholy glee, anyone near her would have no option but to smile back and fall in love.

  Mud-dark hair and deep-set eyes the same color didn’t enhance, and neither did the prominent nose and sharp-edged cheekbones. In fact nothing in her face could be called beautiful, or even pleasing, except for the sheer joy in her expression.

  “Well? Aren’t you the coy one? Most people either faint, or have loads of questions.” Perched on the end of Annie’s bed in a yoga lotus position, Celi waited and watched. Her long shift of luminous white covered all but her bare, pink nail-polished toes.

  Annie quickly shifted her feet to tuck them under her, then swallowed repeatedly and wondered if her breathing would ever return to normal. She opened her mouth to the first squeak, and snapped it shut before the wail forming could get loose. Since Celi had laughed when she’d knuckled her eyes, Annie didn’t go there again. Instead she reached under the duvet and pinched herself.

  “Hurts, don’t it?” Annie heard the snigger of enjoyment and knew she’d been caught in the act.

  “Can I touch you? Are you real?” She reached her hand across the divide, trembled, but kept coming. She had to know if she was seeing things. Or whether a creature called Celi actually sat at the end of her bed.

  Satiny-smooth, Celi’s skin emanated warmth. And Annie’s fingertips tingled once they’d skimmed the surface. “You are real.” Her voice reflected her wonder. “I never believed guardian angels existed.”

  “Think back to yesterday.” Celi sinuously waved her hand in front of Annie.

  One second she sat, staring at an angel, and the next she saw herself, in all her poor-little-ole-me misery, carelessly stepping off a curb on Fifth Avenue. A quick-thinking lady had grabbed her back in time from being pulverized by a speeding blue pickup. Her savior had shaken her and shouted a warning. “Hey, lady, open your eyes. Life’s too precious to throw away, and too short not to live every minute.”

  “It was you. You saved me from getting run over. And your words have stayed with me. They’ve been repeating in my brain, driving me half around the bend.”

  “Good! I’ve been trying to wake you up for some time now, but you’re stubborn. Your problem is that you refuse to see what’s right in front of your face.” Celi pointed to the words on the page that miraculously appeared once more clutched in Annie’s hands.

  She reread the message. “My problem is that I don’t want to be me anymore.” Whispered out loud, the words held much more power than when they were hidden thoughts.

  “Why not? You’ve a beautiful spirit, Annie.”

  “But I’m miserable. My life is boring. I’m goofy over a man whose only interest in me is to be his buddy, probably because I look like a guy and—and my job is going nowhere. And worst of all, this month is countdown to my thirtieth birthday.”

  “So make the changes you decided on weeks ago. All those motivational speakers you paid big bucks to listen to spouted some wise words. If you don’t like who you are—change.”

  “I want to. I really do. B-but I don’t know how.” A nagging inner voice wouldn’t let up and the singsong refrain of “we’re certifiable” wouldn’t stop.

  Celi chuckled and leaned closer. Her hand lifted and touched Annie’s cheek.“No, you aren’t certifiable, just scared. Look! You can do it. How many books have you devoured on the subject? How many daydreams have you romanticized? How many nights have you cried yourself to sleep? What better time than now to make a fresh start?

  “I know you’re right.” Her thoughts kicked in again and slipped out of her mouth before any idea of shutting up even hit her. “But I can’t seem to take that first step. I need help. I’m just plain old Annie Hynes, a tomboy, almost a virgin, and—and I’ve never seen myself any other way.”

  “And I’m just plain old Celi. But watch what a person can do if they really have the will.”

  The pantomime being performed in front of Annie left her speechless. First Celi pushed her choppy, straight hair back from her face and magically a brush appeared. She combed it through the ugly color, and as it unsnarled the locks, a lovely chestnut brown emerged. Silky waves framed her face like nature had envisioned when the shape had been formed. Next she passed her fingers over her eyes and her thick, untamed eyebrows recreated themselves to arch perfectly. At the same time a slight hue could be seen to enhance the now sparkling brown orbs, and golden glints sprang to life, accentuated by the added color. Last, she patted her face and faint tinges of pink-toned makeup sculpted her cheeks from sharp to soft, lovely curves. A stunning beauty had replaced the earlier unattractive woman.

  “Look closely, Annie. My basic features are the same. I’ve only brought them to life with cosmetics and tricks. But even those wouldn’t be enough for a person to be truly beautiful. You, my dear, were born beautiful. Accept your heart’s truth. Make changes, yes! Realize your potential. But what’s more important—allow yourself to feel happy. I’ll be watching. Talk to me whenever you feel alone or frightened. I might not always answer, but I will listen. I love you, Annie.”

  Celi blew her a kiss. A serenity of sweetness overwhelmed Annie, leaving her swooning in the loving feeling. Her eyes closed in order to absorb every nuance, and when they re-opened, Celi had disappeared.

  Annie didn’t lie back on the bed; she collapsed. Quivering, while questions raged through her, she replayed the uplifting experience. How many people needed an angel to jump-start them and wake them up to their potential, she wondered? Finally, after reasoning through the unreasonable, she just accepted. The truth stared her in the face—it was past time. If changes were to occur, they needed to be now. Instinctively Annie knew it. Like a baby, who knows the right time to be born, she realized she needed to grasp this moment, step up, and be reborn. Or, shut down her inner visionary nagger and her celestial spirit for once and for all, most likely with the help of a two-hundred-dollar-an-hour shrink.

  Annie let her thoughts continue to roam. And she knew the first area in her life that needed tweaking—her career. She’d always loved being a child-care worker at a prestigious day care center in Manhattan; she felt safe there. Her boss had used the phrase “over-qualified” in an attempt to discourage her from applying in the first place, but she’d begged for the position and had gotten it.

  The other girls she worked with were all friendly, but the turnover in staff had made it impossible to get too attached to any one person. Popular girls her age, totally involved with their own full lives, didn’t feel the need to put themselves out to the shy girl in their midst. Her friendship mechanism seemed faulty anyway, and her utter lack of self-confidence didn’t help in the “making friends” department, either.

  Her one salvation—the munchkins loved her. With them she could let down her guard, be her jolly self, and the more she did, the better they liked it. She’d roll on the floor concocting new games, play puppets making up characters guaranteed to have them in stitches, and the daily cuddles helped her as much as they settled the little ones. For a few hours each day, life became fun. Tiny loving arms and doting affections were her reward, and, until recently, had been enough.

  Guiding naughty fingers away from picking at out-of-bounds areas, singing the same songs over and over, and rereading favorite children’s stories appeared pathetic as highlights of a workday. Then again, to give up a surety for a vague, frightening future worried the stuffing out of her.

  On the other hand, all her schooling was going to waste. The shame of never using the many degrees she’d attained seemed silly. She’d topped the class in every course and left with enough honors to shock her contemporaries.

  Recently, she’d been offered a new job, one too good to turn down, but since it happened to be in a totally different field, scaredy-cat Annie couldn’t make up her mind. Unsettled, she knew the decision had to be confronted. Tantalized by the notion of meeting new people and making new friends, she fidgeted and hummed, then finally gripped the ragge
d ends of her short hair and pulled. What the hell was she going to do?

  How ironic, she thought. She’d attained her degree in psychology for a specific reason. She’d wanted to comprehend why she suffered from so many fears, and why she was happier talking to herself than opening up to others. Clearly it was a crutch. Recognizing the problem appeared to be one thing, but quitting the behavior took on a whole new concept. The hovering loneliness wasn’t apparent when she spent so much time in her own head. It remained a wacky addiction, but it worked for her.

  Inner silence permeated. Then a familiar rasping voice echoed around her. “Live, Annie. Stop making excuses, and stop hiding.”

  Annie scrunched her pillows behind her neck and lolled against them. The magazine slipped over the side of the bed and flopped onto the floor unnoticed. She wished Celi had stayed longer, but she recognized that the final decisions were up to her. Whether she followed through on the advice had to be her choice.

  How can I ever tell anyone what just happened? Nope, probably shouldn’t, especially if I don’t want to be rushed into a psych ward and spruced up with a garment of the white wrap-around variety. Giggling with slight hysteria, she covered her mouth and scanned the room, just in case.

  Her beige, unadorned bedroom loomed in her vision and bugged her. Not enough to make changes, but enough to indicate that her decorating motivation followed everything else in her life—dithering and procrastination being her preferred course. What a loser!