Three years earlier

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Pastor Andrews and his wife Susan became like family to Jubilee in the months during her recovery. They drove her back and forth from her apartment to her rehab program at the hospital. Susan would often drop by Jubilee's apartment with a pot of soup or a lasagna. Jubilee was constantly invited over to their house for dinner.

Her injuries were healing at a remarkable speed. At first, Jubilee could barely use the bathroom without a nurse assisting her, but within a week she was walking on her own again, albeit slowly, and so she was released from hospital stay. In another two weeks her back brace was no longer necessary, and the scars on her forehead had faded. Within a month she no longer even had a limp. The doctors were all perplexed by her record time recovery. William and Susan simply smiled and said that the hand of God must be upon her. She said nothing, only looked at the angel who stood by her side day in and day out.

William soon invited her to his church. To appease him and Susan she attended occasionally, but the experience always made her feel uneasy. At nearly every service her senses were battered with an onslaught of different sights and sensations. The other members of the congregation, sitting amongst the pews around her, emanated lights and colors of varying intensity. Some glowed like William and his wife, but many were shrouded in something dark and unpleasant that trailed after them like a cloud. The overall experience made her feel lightheaded and sick all at once.

One time, sitting in the pews during one of William's sermons, she mentally asked the angel how it was that he was the only angelic being there with her.

The only one? he had asked, seeming amused. Heavens no. But you can hardly handle what you are seeing as it is. Imagine if you saw every single angel, archangel, demon, principality, or fallen angel that was following every single human…not to mention the many others that are just drifting about. It could make you pass out again, at best…or drive you mad, at worst. At this, his tone became more somber. And we can't have that.

Jubilee gulped. Demons? The thought struck fear into her heart. She hadn't seen one since the car wreck, and it hadn't occurred to her that she might ever see one again. To be honest, she had sort of repressed the incident. Surely she wouldn't have to see one again, would she?

Goosebumps formed on her arms at the thought, and a sudden chill washed over her. She shivered and hugged her arms to her chest, drawing concerned gazes from the people sitting beside her. One man offered her his sweater but she shook her head, feeling slightly nauseous.

Have courage, said the angel in a steely tone, touching her elbow lightly and giving a hard and steady gaze at something beside her that she couldn't see. She didn't want to think about what it might be. Don't be afraid.

The angel's words and supernatural touch soothed her somewhat, but didn't keep her from thinking that perhaps, for now, repressing such thoughts wouldn't be such a bad thing. She spent the rest of that service staring ahead at William's form at the pulpit, and trying to think of nothing.

Eventually the angel did explain to her what he meant when he had talked to her about fear, back at the hospital. But, interestingly, it was William who brought it up first.

"Don't be afraid of making new friends," he said one night when she was over for dinner. Susan had served meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

"Hmm?" Jubilee managed around a mouthful of meatloaf. "What do you mean?"

"I noticed that you don't talk a whole lot with the others after service," said William. "It's okay if you're shy, but it's okay to make new friends too."

"Hmm," said Jubilee again noncommittally, as she pretended to be unusually interested in her mashed potatoes.

The truth was that she could hardly keep her head straight whenever anyone at church tried to talk to her. There was one girl, Alexa Marie, who had approached Jubilee with a group of girlfriends after her first service. Susan had introduced Jubilee to everyone as a new visitor, and no doubt this girl thought it charitable of herself to associate with an outsider. A thick gray gunk had clung about her that made Jubilee feel woozy as she got close.

"Hi!" she had said with a big, plastered-on smile. "I'm Alexa Marie. My daddy's one of the deacons and we own that big Italian restaurant down the block. You're Jubilee, right? What do you do?"

"I, uh—" began Jubilee, her head swimming with nausea. A greenish, putrid cloud hung between all of the girls who were currently eyeing her and measuring her clothes, demeanor and overall worth with their eyes. I'm a thief and a liar, an unpleasant voice said in the back of her head. She fought to push it down, glancing about wildly for her guardian angel but unable to see him for the moment. "I don't do much of anything, really. I mean, um, I sell some stuff online, I guess…but I think I'm looking for something else to do."

Something about dying and getting a second chance at life really made one reevaluate one's life choices. Jubilee hadn't stolen anything since her release from the hospital. Nor had she reentered the nightlife scene. Her funds were slowly running out, despite the fact that the Andrews had so generously footed her hospital bill.

"Oh," said Alexa Marie with a look of disinterest and dismissal in her eyes. "That's nice."

"Are you looking for a job?" another girl asked. Red streaks of light spiked through the air from her. "Lexy, she could wait tables for you," she suggested with a giggle.

Alexa Marie smirked. "Maybe," she said. "I'll have to ask daddy."

"No thanks," said Jubilee more bluntly than she meant to. She had to get away from these people. Whatever it was that all the colors and smells coming from them meant, it was making her sick.

They didn't talk to her again after that. Sometimes they would point at her from across the pews and giggle amongst themselves though.

A few others in the congregation were much nicer to her, and less of a mental task to talk to. But every time the inevitable question, "What do you do?" would put utter dread in her. They always wanted to know about her; who she was, how she got to be where she was now. These were questions she didn't want to answer, memories she didn't want to entertain. And so she put up walls, formed vague answers, and talked little.

"Jubilee?" Pastor William's voice brought her back to the present.

Jubilee looked up at him, her fork hanging in the air halfway from her plate to her lips. It had remained there for the last half minute while she was lost in thought. She set it down guiltily. "Yes?"

He gave her a look of compassion. "What are you afraid of?"

She glanced at the angel who glowed silently beside her. He gave her an encouraging gesture. With a sigh, she said, "Of talking about myself."

"Why?"

"Because people would dislike me if they really knew me."

"That's not true at all," interjected Susan. "How could you think that?"

Jubilee hesitated. These were the only two people who she had come to feel somewhat safe around, but even they didn't know about her past and all that she had done. Thankfully, they respected her boundaries and never prodded her on the subject.

She gazed down at her half-eaten plate, no longer hungry. "I don't really want to get into it," she said softly, "But I did some pretty stupid things before…before all of this happened."

Susan reached over the table to take her hand. "Everybody's made mistakes, sweetie."

"And your past does not define who you are," William agreed.

Jubilee looked up at both of them. Her eyes were wide as memories swirled behind them. "I told you about—about what happened to me. About what I saw." She swallowed. "I was going to hell." She let the last statement sit for a second, before continuing, "There must have been a reason for that."

Susan did not let go of her grip on Jubilee's hand. "And then you went to the other place," she said. "There must have been a reason for that."

"Jubilee," said William, "You have no idea how inspiring your testimony would be to so many people, if only you shared it. I know you said no when I asked you to share with everybody at church, but—I wish you'd reconsider. It would change people's lives."

The thought of what William was asking her, once again, to do, sent fear deep into Jubilee's heart. "Who would believe me?" she protested. Beside her, the angel had dimmed.

"More people than you'd think."

"But I'm nobody. I'm nobody special. Even if they did believe me, how would it help them to know?"

"They would know that you don't have to be 'somebody special' to be loved by God. To encounter Him. To get a second chance."

"You don't understand," said Jubilee. "If they understood who I really was—if you knew what I've done…" She bit her lip, before continuing softly, "It would make the whole story a disappointment."

William shook his head. "There is nothing you, or anyone else, has ever done, that can't be forgiven and redeemed."

Jubilee thought of Alyssa crying. She thought of all the people whose trust she had gained just so she could steal something out of their homes, or closets, or wallets. She thought of all the hearts she had broken.

"I doubt it," she said.

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Next to her, the angel disappeared.

She took the Metra transit train back to her apartment that night, insisting for the Andrews not to trouble themselves. Her car had sold a week ago to pay for her rent. William and Susan had offered to be her ride until she got back on her feet, or even lend her one of their two cars, but Jubilee couldn't bring herself to continue accepting such charity. She had taken advantage of the charity of others' far too often in her life already, and guilt overwhelmed her.

Sitting on the train, she reflected over what William had said to her last.

"Read Paul's story, in Acts," he had told her as he dropped her off at the Metra station. "About how he came to believe." And then, just before she had closed the car door behind her, "You don't have to feel guilty anymore, Jubilee."

With a sigh, she reached over for her backpack sitting on the seat beside her and pulled out a slim book. It was a copy of the New Testament which William and Susan had given her. She began aimlessly flipping through the pages.

Try chapters eight and nine, said the angel. He was standing beside her, his balance perfectly steady as the train car lurched forward. Of Acts, he clarified.

She glanced up at him. You're back, she thought.

No, you're back.

She measured him for a moment with her gaze. I stop seeing you when I feel afraid, she realized at last. Why?

The angel, seemingly pleased with her question, seated himself gracefully on her right in an empty seat. Everything has a frequency that it vibrates at, he began to explain. Which typically determines its physical density. Every rock, plant, tree, animal, human…even the seat you're sitting on. He gestured at her seat, then at himself. I am an exceptionally high vibrational being. Now, humans, He gestured at her and everyone else on the train car, Their frequencies can vary slightly from moment to moment, depending on the state that they are in. When you are in a state of fear, for example…you vibrate at a much lower frequency. And that makes it much more difficult to see or grasp things of a high frequency.

Jubilee felt tempted to take notes. So, she began slowly, If someone is afraid, or angry, or sad, then it's impossible to see or hear from angels? She gave him a sharp glance. What good are you then? No offense, she added hastily. Communicating mentally made it much more difficult to censor bluntness.

The angel shook his head. I didn't say it was impossible. Just not easy, and not usual. He pointed at her. You, my human friend, are one of the few unusual cases throughout history. Or one of the many, depending on your perspective. He pointed at the book in her lap then. Read chapters eight and nine for another unusual case.

Jubilee obeyed, turning the pages to the book of Acts. She read in silence for a long moment. Around her passengers sat twiddling their thumbs or looking at their cell phones, completely oblivious to the girl with a huge angel sitting beside her. One by one they got up and disembarked at each of their stops, until Jubilee was the only one left. Still she read, and then reread again.

At last she looked up. Is this Paul, as in Saint Paul?

The angel nodded. As in the twelfth apostle, and the one who was commissioned to write most of that book you are holding.

"Huh," said Jubilee aloud. A pause as she thought. "I see the point William is trying to make," she said at last. "Paul was a murderer. And yet…" She gestured at the bible in her lap.

The angel smiled and nodded again.

Jubilee leaned back in her seat, staring up at the ceiling of the train car. "I'm a thief and a liar," she said softly to herself. "And yet…" She trailed off for a moment, then looked to the angel again. "And yet here you are before my very eyes."

Here I am, the angel agreed.

A beat passed as Jubilee mulled all this over. At last she asked, very quietly, "Why would He choose people like me? Like Paul?"

The angel smiled but didn't answer.

She tried another question. "What am I supposed to do now?"

The angel seemed as though he were about to speak, but at that moment the train doors opened and two policemen strode into the train car, chatting with one another as they took their seats several feet down from where Jubilee was sitting. Jubilee turned her eyes back towards the book in her lap so that it wouldn't look like she was staring at and talking to thin air.

"I don't know, Steve," one of the officers was chuckling. "This one's been giving us the slip for a while now…maybe we need someone like L to bring him in!"

"L?" The other officer, Steve, scoffed. "L's the greatest detective in the world. He works the big cases out of Europe offered by Interpol. Not small town cops like us trying to track down a petty thief."

"We're not small town cops, Steve, we live in Chicago," the other officer reminded his colleague.

"I know that, Kevin," said Steve, rolling his eyes. "I meant we're small compared to what a guy like L's used to. He doesn't accept anything less than global. This sort of case would bore the pants off him."

"I bet he'd still do it," insisted Kevin. "I hear the guy is obsessed with getting every criminal in the world locked up, no matter how big or small."

"Right," Steve snorted. "No retirement for him then."

Jubilee briefly wondered to herself whether policemen were supposed to be talking so openly about their work. She was, after all, right there. This seemed sloppy and highly unprofessional.

No need to judge them, came the angel's voice from beside her. Besides, they don't know that you're here. You've been blocked from their sight.

Jubilee glanced up at the angel, alarmed, then at the two policemen. They indeed seemed to not notice her at all. What? she thought. Why?

You're meant to hear this.

Jubilee's sense of alarm grew, though she wasn't sure why yet. Why? her mind demanded again of its own accord. But the angel didn't have to speak, because the officers were continuing their conversation.

"Either way," the first police officer, Kevin, was saying, "I hope we catch him soon. I'm tired of all these rich snobs filing complaints and threatening to sue us if we don't get them justice."

"Him or her," Steve said.

"What?"

"You hope we catch him or her," Steve clarified. "It could be a woman, you know."

"No way," said Kevin with a tone of wonder. "You think the Jade Jeweler is a chick?"

Steve shrugged. "Could be. Lots of pro thieves are women these days. You'd be surprised what they can pull off. Most of them figured out that they could fly under the radar more easily."

Jubilee felt her blood go cold. The Jade Jeweler? She recalled that, a few months ago, she had had a particular affinity towards stealing jade pieces. Two ironies suddenly hit her with painful acuity.

One, the moniker that the police had chosen for her had the same initials as her actual name.

And two, it was her who had done sloppy and unprofessional work. It hadn't even occurred to her to diversify the items she should steal. And, just before she had stopped her thieving career, she had committed the biggest blunder of all when she stole Adam's credit card. For one thing, making his acquaintance for a whole two weeks in the first place was a mistake. She didn't know what had gotten into her to do such a thing. Loneliness channeled into recklessness, perhaps. And he was a trust fund kid with multiple credit cards given to him that were shared by his family. He probably never even looked at his bank account or kept track of his expenses. And his parents would assume that any wayward purchases came from either him or one of his rich siblings. As long as she made only a few minor purchases and withdrawals here and there (and minor, for this guy, was anything short of a thousand dollars), she was sure to slip by undetected. Or, at least, that was what she had convinced herself to believe. Then Adam had told her he loved her, and it had obviously addled her common sense even more. What kind of thief decided to disappear immediately after stealing a credit card, in a con situation like that? How obvious had she wanted to be? But, for some reason, the confession had sparked something in her, an excitement that frightened her with its realness. Adam may have been naïve and ignorant of many things, but he was, if nothing else, genuine. And the possibility that that offered her scared her…scared her with all the things she would have to confront and let go of, if she ever wanted to choose that possibility. So she ran.

But perhaps, truth be told, a part of her had wanted to get caught.

She deeply regretted that part now. Stupid, she chided herself. What had she been thinking?

She had been thinking that if Adam really loved her, then he would never report her. She had been thinking that if that were the case, then maybe, one day, she'd consider the possibility that she had found something more valuable than the things she stole. Something that was priceless.

She hadn't been thinking at all.

If Adam ever decided to turn her in—or perhaps he even had by now…it had only been little over a month since she'd seen him last—then it would be no hard task for the cops to connect all the dots. She'd be dead.

"This isn't the kind of crime that gets a death sentence, anyway," Steve was saying. "Maybe just a few years in prison. A decade at the most, if he or she gets really unlucky with the judge. Either way, I hear that L only takes on cases that end with life in prison or a death sentence."

Kevin whistled. "That's intense," he said. "And a decade? Really? The Jade Jeweler only steals from the rich. He's not hurting anybody. If you ask me, a few of his victims probably needed someone to take their heads out of their butts for a bit."

"Yeah, but he or she ain't Robin Hood," said Steve. "The Jade Jeweler may be stealing from the rich, but he—or she—is also keeping everything for him or herself. Face it, Kevin," he waved a hand dismissively, "Every thief is a thief because they're selfish."

Selfish. The truth of that word hit Jubilee like an arrow in the heart. Everything that she had done in the last couple of years had been completely self-serving, without consideration of anyone else. Even now, it was true. More than anything else she was feeling at the moment, more than the guilt and the shame, was one singular thought.

She didn't want to go to jail.

Fear wrestled against remorse within her, and ultimately won out. She had to get out of town, she decided. The next stop was hers and when the train arrived, she hurried off the train car, alone. The angel had faded from her vision at some point. When she reached her apartment at the end of the block, she bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Within the next hour, she had torn through all her belongings in a flurried attempt at packing, and thus discovered the old Visa lying at the bottom of one of her suitcases. It felt like the answer to an illicit prayer, for she had been anxiously pondering over where she could go, what she should do next. When her eyes fell on the Visa, her heart momentarily dropped to her stomach as she remembered her mother, who had lovingly handed it to her on the day of their flight together to Japan. Keep it, she had told Jubilee later when she tried to hand it back. You might get to use it again someday.

Jubilee's mother used to always keep her passport and traveling papers for her, because when they traveled, they traveled together. Did she have any idea, back then, that the cancer was working itself to her brain? Did she know that the next time her daughter decided to travel, it would have to be without her?

Jubilee shoved these thoughts away. Opening her laptop, she quickly pulled up the page of a travel website. Flights sometimes attempted to fill up their remaining seats by making them cheaper than usual at the last minute. Perhaps she could book one.

Her mouse hovered over the purchase button when she found a flight. If she did go to Japan…then what? What would she do? Where could she stay? Perhaps there was volunteer work she could do…but weren't you supposed to apply for that first? Though surely, if she showed up on the doorstep of one of those places, they couldn't turn her away. In any case, she had enough money to last her for a few weeks, maybe more, while she figured things out. Surely she could come up with a plan by then. She always did.

You could stay here. The thought drifted gently into her head, against her will, before sharpening into a distinct voice. Jubilee felt a light hand on her shoulder, and a dimly glowing presence beside her. You could make things right, the angel was saying. It vaguely occurred to her that this was one of those rare instances where she could hear him even though she was still afraid.

Jubilee paused but did not turn towards the angel. I could never make things right, a voice in her head whispered. Knowing that the angel could hear her thoughts, she quickly said aloud, "Paul traveled to Asia too, after his conversion." It was a weak joke, but a good point. She had skimmed past chapters eight and nine and knew that that was what happened. But she knew what came after that, too.

He also went to prison, the angel said, as she knew he would. She didn't reply. Then, looking sympathetic, he said, Know this, human. All things can be made to work out for good... Here he paused a moment, like he was listening, before adding, almost begrudgingly, Whatever you choose.

Her fingers hovered over the button of her mouse, one click away from her fate.

"I'm sorry," she said at last. "I'm not Paul." She clicked the button.

She was going to Japan.