by Quinn Loftis
“It’s time to get on the bus,” the lady from the Department of Human Services said, reaching out a hand for Emma to take.
Emma stared at the offered hand and then stood on her own. She wasn’t a baby; she didn’t need anyone to hold her hand just to get on a stupid bus. She took her seat by the window, not looking at the lady as she sat down next to her. Emma was sure that the woman had told her her name, but she couldn’t remember it. She didn’t even remember the aunt’s name that she was told she was going to live with.
“Now, Emma, I need you to listen to me very carefully, alright?”
She turned her head to look at the woman.
“I’m going to give you my number, and if for any reason you don’t feel safe at your aunt’s house, you call me immediately, okay?”
Emma was eight-years-old, but she was not ignorant of the world. Her parents had always been very candid about the things that happened to people in their neighborhood. Her mama had said more than once that the world was the devil’s playground, and we were the toys he desperately wanted to possess. She knew that there were bad people in the world, people that let the devil play with them, but she had never faced one in her life. If this aunt was going to be the first play thing of the devil’s that she would meet, then she would do it with her head held high and her shoulders pulled back. She nodded at the lady who had been waiting for a response.
“My mama told me that one of the best ways to defeat evil was to face it head on with confident that the battle was already won. She said, 'if you didn’t give it a weakness to feed on, then it could not possess you.' I’m not weak, ma’am.”
The sadness Emma saw in the woman’s eyes told her that she didn’t think Emma was strong enough to face what was coming. Then I’ll just have to prove her wrong, right Mama? She thought to herself as she turned back to look out the window. She watched as the trees and ground rushed past them, taking her closer to a future filled with uncertainty and without her parents in it. Now, more than ever, she would have to lean on all the things her mother had taught her. If she was going to survive and come out on the other side still able to find her destiny, then she was going to have to fight for it. A memory came back to her then from one day during a history lesson. She’d been learning about the different wars in which the United States had been involved. Emma had asked why the U.S. seemed to always have to help other countries with disputes that didn’t seem to concern them.
“Because it was the right thing to do. When the strong stand by and watch those weaker than them being destroyed and do nothing, that is when you will know that our country has become a Godless one. We are strong and have been blessed abundantly; therefore, we will fight when no one else can, and sometimes a clean fight isn’t enough to keep us safe or ensure the safety of others we are responsible for. Sometimes, Emma, we have to fight dirty.”
Emma wasn’t sure what her mama had meant by fighting dirty, but deep in her gut she had a feeling she was going to learn very soon what it was and whether or not she had it in her to do it.
Chapter 4
“To see a cup or chalice in your dreams means that a great challenge will soon come your way. The choices you make during the trial will either destroy you or make you stronger.”
It had been three days since Dair had seen Serenity. Though he hadn’t seen her, he had not left her completely unsupervised. Raphael had been kind enough to keep watch over her, but not without dishing out several jibes about Dair being ‘whipped’ and having a few too many laughs at Dair’s expense. In the meantime, Dair had taken care of two rather easy assignments. Both humans had accepted the direction the dreams Dair weaved for them and had made plans to move forward in the direction he had encouraged. He wished they were all that easy.
“You are getting that mopey look again,” Raphael’s voice broke the silence that had become the norm for them.
Dair shot him a glare. “I don’t have a mopey look.”
Raphael laughed. “Dearest brother, I hate to tell you this, but ever since Serenity has come along and tied you up in knots, you have been exhibiting a plethora of new looks that I’ve never seen on you before. And mopey is most definitely one of them.”
He didn’t respond. Perhaps, because he knew his friend was right, but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. It was bad enough that the angel kept reminding him that he was going to have to face the consequences from the Creator at some point. It was a constant dull ache in the back of his mind, one that he kept ignoring.
“You only have two days left, Brudair. Surely the Sandman, lover of the night, powerful immortal, can handle two more days away from his love?”
“When did you get so talkative? The Raphael I remember was one of few words.”
His friend shot him a wicked smile, one that should not be on the face of an angel. “Talking has never been this fun before.”
“Let’s just move on to our next human.”
Raphael held his hands up in surrender. “Lead on fearless rebel.”
“I liked you better when you didn’t talk,” Dair grumbled and then closed his eyes, concentrating on the power flowing inside of him like an electrical current. In order to find out who his next assignment was, he simply had to tap into the heavenly realm with his mind. The name was whispered into his mind and just like that he knew where he was supposed to go.
Emma Whitmore, the name filled his mind and he felt a tightening in his gut. After the dream he had weaved for Serenity involving little Emma, he had known that they were tied together in some way. He just hadn’t known the reason would be making an appearance so soon. He had seen Emma before, but not as an assignment. It was because she had seen him. She was one of those children so in touch with the world around her that she had absolutely no problem believing in something that most would or could not. He had been on an assignment in her town, weaving for one member of her church. She had seen him while visiting that person in their home. He remembered how she had motioned him to follow her outside and then turned and looked at him with her hands on her hips. She was so small, yet so very brave.
“Who are you and why are you in Mr. Shaw’s house?”
“Aren’t you scared of me?” he asked her. “Don’t you wonder why the adults didn’t see me come in?”
She shook her head. “Grown folks miss a lot of things. They only see what’s right in front of them and only if it makes sense.”
“You’re perceptive for one so young.”
She shrugged. “I’m a genius; my mama said so.”
Dair had decided to tell her about himself, though he didn’t fully understand why. Call it loneliness or perhaps simply the need for someone other than the angels and the Creator to know him, but he felt compelled to do so. She had listened attentively and asked a few questions. But mostly she just accepted it.
“I can’t say that I would want your job. But then again, even though nobody knows it, you help change the world. That’s a pretty big deal.”
When he had left her that night, it was with a little less weight on his shoulders as she had allowed him to see himself through the eyes of a child’s innocence. She had given him a gift and she didn’t even know it.
“Who is our next human?” Raphael interrupted his thoughts.
“Her name is Emma. She is in Yellville, though that is not where she was the first time I met her.”
“You have been to see her before?”
Dair shook his head. “Not as an assignment.” He quickly filled Raphael in on how he had met Emma and then rubbed his face in a very human gesture. “I knew she would be on my list eventually, I just didn’t know it would be this soon, or that she would wind up in Yellville.”
“Do you think it might have anything to do with your Serenity?”
“I’m sure she does, but in what way, that I don’t know. I’m not often privy to the whats and whys of the future of humans only that they are very important people.”
“Back to Yellville it
is,” Raphael said as he shot into the air leaving Dair to follow.
Emma’s aunt had been an hour late in picking her up from the bus station. When she did finally arrive, Emma had known immediately who she was. She was the spitting image of her mother, only it looked as though life had taken her through the wash and then beat her with a stick one too many times. She looked much, much older than her mother and much less happy. This was a woman who had not had much good in her life. Emma didn't know whether it was by her own doing or because it was simply her lot in life.. She did know that the life she had known in Memphis was just a memory. Once the DHS lady had spoken to her aunt, whose name she remembered was Mildred, she had been very reluctant to let Emma go with her. She kept telling Emma to call her anytime she wanted. Finally, Mildred had taken Emma’s hand and drug her to the beat up old station wagon that waited for them in the parking lot.
The wagon had seen much better days. Emma sat in the car trying not to shiver. Either her aunt had some moral objections to using the heater, or the clunker just didn’t have one that was operational. Emma would bet on the latter. She clenched her teeth together to keep them from clicking together. Emma tried to distract herself from the cold by staring out of the window and taking in the small town that would now be her home. The sound of the wheels crunching on ice and snow as her aunt navigated the streets reminded her of the few times it had snowed in Memphis. Her mom hated to drive in the snow and would only do it if there was no other option. Emma had ridden with her once and had been blessed with the privilege of hearing her mother’s commentary all the way to the grocery store. Snow seems to bring out the idiot in everyone, Emma, she told her. People see white stuff on the ground and suddenly everyone is a stunt driver and their cars are magically indestructible. You’d think they would learn from all the other idiots in the ditches, but nope, they just go right on acting like fools. Emma smiled on the inside as her mama’s words filled her mind. When she let go of the memory and refocused her eyes, she realized they were pulling into the driveway of a house that looked as though it should have been surrounded by a yellow strip bearing the words CONDEMNED written over and over. But because it did not have such a cautionary strip, she deduced that this was her aunt’s home and, by default, now hers as well. Find the good in every situation, Emma Jean, because if you don’t you will face a life full of disappointment and sorrow, more of her mama’s wisdom filler her head. She wondered what good her mama would have found in that situation. Knowing her mama she would say something like, be thankful you have four walls and roof over your head. Emma would ask, what if it’s full of other critters that had taken up residency in it? Where is the good in that? And her mama would answer, the good is knowing that you would have someone to complain to about the dwelling’s management. No one likes to complain alone. Emma nearly laughed out loud as the car came to a stop. Her mama was wise, but she had a wicked sense of humor too.
Without a word, Mildred slid out and slammed the door shut and Emma reluctantly followed. She ambled after her aunt, dragging her heavy suitcase up the rickety wooden steps and into the house. As she inched slowly into the living room, Emma noticed the faint smell of wet dog. She imagined it was only faint because the overwhelming scent of cigarette smoke saturated everything in the house. Emma’s mama had tried to instill in her not to be judgmental, that God loved every person He created, but boy was it hard not to judge her aunt. Just from one glance around her, the first thing she deduced was that Mildred was lazy. Emma had a feeling that wasn’t going to bode well for her.
“Now listen up y’hear.” The thick country accent came out from the scratchy, dry throat of her aunt. “I ain’t got no time to coddle you like no baby. You hungry, you fix your own food. If’in you has to use the bathroom, then go. Don’t be wetting the bed neither. I have no idea hows my sister, snob that she was, raised you, but in my house you gonna help. You wash the dishes, pick up the trash, and wipe things down. You ain’t living here for free just cause you kin. You gots to earn your way. Now my shows fixing to be on and I don’t like to be disturbed so go play outside or to your room. Yours is the first one on the left just down that there hall.” Her aunt pointed in a vague direction as her eyes were already glued to the small television directly in front of an old recliner that creaked loudly as she sat down in it. It wasn’t from her weight, because Mildred was little more than skin and bones. Her tall form looked near skeletal. Heavy lidded, bloodshot eyes stared out at the television from deep sunken sockets.
Obviously dismissed, Emma grabbed her bag and headed to the indicated hallway in search of her new room—her new life. She took the first door on the left and walked into what could only be described as utter chaos. There were newspapers stacked along the wall nearly halfway to the ceiling. There were trash bags overflowing with clothes and old shoes stacked in one corner, and because the room was so small, about three feet from the door was the bed. It was piled with all sorts of broken and discarded knickknacks that Emma’s mama would have labeled as pure junk. The room smelled as if something had died in it about six months ago, but only after it had rolled around on the inside of another dead animal. She tried not to gag as she walked in and was reluctant to set her bag down for fear of irreversibly staining it. She heard a scurrying to her right and turned just in time to see a tiny mouse squeezed through the stacks of newspaper. Immediately following it, an orange cat lunged, swiping a second too late. The cat growled at its escaped meal and twitched its tail back and forth angrily.
“Well, at least I’m not the only one that has to live in this junkyard,” she mumbled. She stood there a minute longer before she remembered another thing her mama had told her; Emma, if you want something in life, you have to go after it. Nobody is going to hand it to you, and if they seem like they’re trying to, then there is something in it for them. You can dream all day long about having a hot meal, but if you don’t do the work to earn the money to buy the food and then don't get off your rear end and actually cook it, you will end up going hungry, and you will have no one but yourself to blame.
No one was going to clean this disgusting bed for her. Either she would do it, or she’d sleep standing up. I’m not a victim, she told herself. Then she set her suitcase down and pushed the sleeves of her plaid shirt up. It was time to get to work. She sure as heck was not sleeping standing up tonight. With one eye open maybe, but not standing up.
“Just a heads up.” She looked back at the cat who was still twitching angrily. “I completely accept work done by animals, so if you or your tiny dinner there wants to help clean up what is obviously your home, then please don’t not help on my account.” Did she really expect the cat and mouse to turn into some Disney characters and begin whistling as they worked? No. But it was nice to have someone to talk to. She had a feeling she was going to get mighty lonely, very fast.
Night had begun to fall when Emma realized that it was getting a little difficult to see in the room. She went to flip on the light but nothing happened. She stood there in the darkening room trying to decide if she should ask Mildred for a light bulb or just go seek one out herself. Her desire to avoid any conflict with the obviously disturbed woman won out and she set off. Rather than searching the kitchen or utility room, she went into the bathroom, hoping that there would be more than one light in it that she could pilfer without anyone being the wiser. She found it, two doors down from her room, and when she flipped on the light, she found what she was looking for. Above the mirror three bright bulbs were sticking out of the sockets. Emma flipped the light back off and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before attempting to climb up on the sink to retrieve one of the bulbs.
Once back in her room a new dilemma occurred. How on earth was she going to get the bulb into the socket when it was way up on the ceiling and she was way down on the ground?
“It appears that you have a bit of a dilemma.” Her head whipped around and she saw him—the Sandman whom she had met a couple of years ago. She knew him inst
antly. He wasn’t a figure one was likely to forget. But he wasn’t alone; he had, what appeared to Emma, an angel standing with him. She was pretty sure that her estimation of the stranger was correct, as he had huge white feathery wings poking out of the back of his leather jacket and a glow seemed to emanate from him.
“Are you here to see my aunt?” Her voice rose in confusion. She just couldn’t imagine her aunt being someone that would change the course of history.
Dair shook his head. “No, little genius, I’m here for you.” He reached out and took the bulb from her hand, removed the old one, tossed it into the now overflowing wastebasket, and screwed in the new one. Because of his height, he could have easily touched the ceiling if he’d have wanted to. Emma was frozen in place as she tried to make sense of what he had just told her. She couldn’t imagine anything was special enough about her that could influence anything or anyone, let alone the entire course of history.
“I’m only eight-years-old,” she pointed out.
“Just because I’m here now doesn’t mean that your destiny will be fulfilled immediately. I am simply to put you on the right path through suggestions in your dreams. Age has nothing to do with it,” Dair told her.
“Can’t you just tell me what to do since I can see you?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t know what your destiny is. I only know enough to point you in the direction you should go, and I can only relay that information through dreams.”
