Angels of Light

P. B. Lamb

Description

This fantasy fiction novel pulls elements of religion, fantasy, and spiritual teachings together. The unique blend of research, facts, and fiction make for an uncommon story line.
On a fall afternoon in Southern Maryland Jessica finds her mother's lifeless body in her bathroom. She was already aware something was amiss before she arrived at her home. She knew without being told something bad happened. She isn't psychic but she always knew unexplainable things. On the day of her mother's funeral she finds out she's instantly responsible for her half-sister, she receives visitors from beyond including her own mother's spirit, and a new handsome man shows up on her doorstep. Everything she thought she knew about her life unravels as she finds herself on a journey in which all of creation is now relying on her to find her path.
This fantasy fiction novel pulls elements of religion, fantasy, and spiritual teachings together. The unique blend of research, facts, and fiction make for an uncommon story line.

Sujets

• Fantastique
• Romance fantastique
• Ángel (desambiguación)
• Angels of Light
• Angels
• Romance
• Fiction
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 14 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665574556
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

ANGELS OF LIGHT
P. B. Lamb


AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 P. B. Lamb. All rights reserved.
Cover photo: David Avant, NGA Photography
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 11/02/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7454-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7455-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022919892
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue

Dedication:
I dedicate this book to my entire family. Without the support system I have this would not be possible. To my children you are my entire existence, without you my life would be incomplete. To my husband, my love, thank you for supporting this endeavor.
Love, P.B.
PROLOGUE
“W ake up! Please GOD Wake Up!!!!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs holding the body of my lifeless mother in my arms on the floor of my bathroom. My mother was a beautiful woman, tall, blonde, always tan with baby blue eyes, every man’s fantasy girl. I on the other hand was the attractively curvy, brunette with pale skin and dark green eyes. I wasn’t fat by any means, but certainly not model skinny like my mother. She could light up a room anywhere she was so full of life, she was always the quintessential southern woman who lived to charm the pants off men. Literally.
Now she was laying limp on my bathroom floor, how long had she been here I did not know. I had known something was bad, unbelievably bad. Something did not feel right in the atmosphere. I know that people would think “oh great here we go another self-proclaimed psychic,” if they knew about my visions and feelings. They would be wrong. I do not discuss what I see or feel with anyone, not even my best friend. I happen to see people after they are gone from this world. Other times it’s just a feeling like I can sense the air in the room or a person’s aura. In this case, while sitting at my desk in my office, I just knew something was definitely wrong in my own home. I knew it was dark and that it was going to change my life forever.
I sat in disbelief and shock as the police and EMS workers buzzed all around, eventually taking my mother away from me. How could this honestly be happening to me! Seriously! This is not how I wanted to end my year! I stared off, lost in my own thoughts as the police officer asked me questions. She was gone. My mother was gone.
CHAPTER 1
N ovember in Southern Maryland is a tricky time of year, as you never know what to wear when you walk out the door. Some days it may be warm enough that you can get by with a long sleeve, light shirt, or a short sleeve shirt and a light jacket. Then on other days it may be close to freezing, and you need a parka just to walk to your car from your front door. Today was one of those parka days it was a beautiful, clear blue sky, yet bitter cold with a forecast of temperatures dropping below freezing at midnight. My mother was gone. I was supposed to entertain family in my living room waiting to go to the funeral home. Accidental overdose was the official ruling in her death caused by a lethal combination of pain pills and alcohol. No, my mother wasn’t an alcoholic, nor was she a drug addict. Sure, there was speculation that she popped pills a little more often than she should have, but who were we to pass judgment?
Sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at myself in the mirror wearing black thigh-high stockings with a black garter belt, which I had recently bought at Victoria’s Secret, along with a matching black bra and panty set. I could not decide what else to wear. Mother always did preach the importance of being perfectly put together, all the way down to our under garments. My issue was what to put over them. I was much more comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt or sweatshirt, but today I was going to be representing my family in her honor. I decided on a black pant suit with a dark-grey blouse, my simple, classy black heels, and a long silver necklace with a silver heart locket on it.
The locket had been my grandmother’s and held a photo of my brother on one side and me on the other. Our younger sister was not included in the locket since my grandmother did not officially recognize her as her grandchild. She harbored ill will toward my mother for having a child out of wedlock. Needless to say, there was no love lost between my mother and my grandmother. Have you seen the movie Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood ? That just about accurately describes the relationship between my mom and her mother. Two polar opposite women related by birth. Each attempting to live life all while irritating the heck out of one other. I pulled my hair up into a neat bun and dabbed on a little eyeliner and lip gloss. No sense in putting all my makeup on at this point. My mother would probably roll over in her grave over my decision to not put “my face” on. Oh well, she was certainly quiet right now.
I was not sure if she would be one of my visitors in the coming days, but I was hoping she would at least say goodbye. When my best friend died in a car accident several years before, she appeared within a few days of her death. That was my first experience with a “visitor” from beyond the grave. At first, it freaked me out. I thought I was hallucinating, and that I was going insane. I mean, I have always been a spiritual person raised in the church my entire life, but I had not honestly believed in ghosts, spirits, or any of the sort. I refused to watch scary movies or television shows because ghosts and horror scared me. Imagine my surprise when my dead best friend visited me by my bedside in the middle of the night. Yes, there was screaming.
I took one last look in my full-length mirror and decided this was as good as I was going to get. “Take a deep breath, Jessica, and walk out the door.” Yep, she was here. I turned slowly to find my mother’s spirit standing at the end of my four-poster bed. She was in a white chiffon evening gown, the one that showed off her breasts and clung to her hips. She insisted that she would be buried in it so she wrote it into her will when my father died. Standing here, in the gown, and in death, she was still stunning.
Great, just great, now she shows up. I turned quickly and walked through the door . I am leaving her in my bedroom. She will have to wait. I have breathing human beings who require my immediate attention. Whose idea was it to give me the ability to see dead people? I looked up at the ceiling as if my thoughts were floating to God in a serious question and continued to the living room.
My brother, James, sat on my couch with a beer in his hand. I guess he figured it was five o’clock somewhere. He was tall and handsome like my father, and many times I would smile just looking at him. He was very GQ, with his chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. My sister, Jax—short for Jacqueline, was tall and thin. She had long, straight blonde hair, the same color as mother’s, with deep green eyes like mine. She stood by what I referred to as the “back wall of windows.” I had floor-to-ceiling windows, which went up two stories, all along the back wall of the living room. I was not quite sure what she was looking at, most likely nothing at all.
I had an amazing view of the Patuxent River if you were looking through the windows in the front of my house. However, in the backyard, I had a lawn of mostly grass with a few flower beds, a horse barn, and some trees. Today though the horses were put up in the barn, the grass was turning brown already from the cold, and the trees were practically leafless since it was well past the beginning of fall. Jax looked completely put off and out of her element here. I was glad she had at least put on a dress since she was like I am—a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl. My Uncle Bradley, my father’s only sibling, sat on the couch with my brother discussing how peaceful my mother is now that she was in heaven with her husband. No, she’s in my bedroom. Now I completely understood why my brother was drinking.
“James, you OK, bud?” I asked, sincerely. He raised his eyes to my face and smiled his trademark fake grin.
“Just peachy,” he said.
He gets that trademark fake smile from our mother. She was a professional at it. You could put the ugliest baby in front of her, and she would plaster that smile on then tell you the child was the prettiest baby she’d ever seen. My sister and I wore our true thoughts and feelings on