Eternal (Eternal series)

by Chantelle Nay

  He'd gotten a job after school at the local feed store, which just so happened to be owned by Chuck's dad. That should have helped him to spread his focus out to other things, but it hadn't. He found himself daydreaming about her while he was working.

  He'd often "wake up" from these daydreaming sessions to discover he'd loaded a truck, had a conversation with the customer, taken money and made change without remembering any of it.

  Maybe if he could just talk to her for a few minutes... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was as if they were magnets; he felt pulled to her until he decided to make a move, then the magnets were suddenly reversed and pushing against each other.

  Maybe it was his fear of rejection. She'd never given him a smile or even a kind look since that first day when he'd driven her from the lunchroom. It still didn't make any sense. He'd never been shy, never been afraid of talking to a girl before. It had always come easily to him.

  He watched almost every day as Emma walked to her car. He thought she'd looked his way a few times, but he couldn't be sure. She didn't acknowledge that he existed. She seemed to be in her own world.

  He could understand why Chuck had made that comment the first day about Emma keeping to herself and no one knowing much about her. She was a walking mystery. He'd been watching her for over a month now and he was no closer to knowing her than he'd been the first day. He didn't know what he was going to do about it. All he knew was that something had to be done, and soon, before he went totally nuts.

  

  “I hope you don’t mind my saying so but you don’t really talk like an angel.” Emma said as she stood over the stove stirring the hamburger she was cooking for dinner.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Micah questioned.

  “Well, I guess I just thought that you’d be a little more…. I don’t know—proper or something?”

  “Like I said before, I’ve been around a long time. I’ve picked up some bad habits.”

  Emma laughed. “I doubt you have any bad habits.”

  “Well, that depends on what you count as a bad habit?”

  “I don’t think I need to explain bad habits to an angel,” Emma said with a huff.

  “I think you do,” he said playfully, “you’ve got me intrigued now.”

  “Okay, swearing for instance. That’s a bad habit.”

  “I agree,” he mused. “Cursing is totally unacceptable not to mention very unladylike. What else?”

  “Then there’s drinking, smoking, and chewing of course.”

  “Of course,” he sounded amused.

  “And then there’s all the gross ones like: picking your nose, spitting, burping, and farting.”

  “Well, I can assure you that I have none of those,” he chuckled. “Although I’d have to say that last one isn’t really a habit, but more of an involuntary release as I understand it.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Emma laughed, “but it’s still gross,” she added, wrinkling up her nose.

  “I love it when you laugh,” Micah confided. “I think it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.”

  “I doubt that,” Emma said, blushing. “Aren’t there angelic choirs or something where you come from?”

  “I’d trade them all for you,” he admitted quietly.

  That had sounded somewhat like a love declaration, but she couldn’t be sure. Micah was always being sweet with her. He was an angel after all. Emma could feel the blush filling her cheeks as she looked in the cupboard for the can opener then proceeded to open the spaghetti sauce.

  There was something she'd wanted to ask Micah since the first time he'd spoken to her but she'd been afraid of his answer. She hadn’t wanted to upset the delicate balancing act going on between them. But she couldn’t avoid it any longer and now was as good a time as any. Besides, she had to know.

  “Micah.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do angels ever….show themselves to mortals?” This seemed like an innocent enough question to start out with.

  “Not very often, but on some occasions when necessary, yes they have shown themselves.” Micah's answer seemed very nonchalant; he must not have suspected her intent.

  Emma decided to say it quickly and get it over with, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

  “Do you think you'll ever show yourself to me?” Her heart began to race as she worried about what repercussions this question might bring. After she'd blurted it out she instantly wished she could take it back. It was too soon. She should have taken more time to try to get the words to have the effect she desired.

  Micah was quiet for a long time. She should have just kept her mouth shut and left well enough alone. She was such an idiot, always ruining everything.

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea Emma,” he sounded unsure.

  She shut off the stove and turned around, looking for a dishtowel to wipe her hands with. “Why?” She tried to sound calm, but she was upset that he didn't think it was a good idea. Emma thought it was the best idea ever. “Would you get in trouble for doing that?”

  “No, not really in trouble. I just don’t see how that could be of any benefit. There's no reason for you to see me.” He sounded firm on the matter, but Emma knew there must be some way to negotiate. If he could speak to her, then why couldn’t she see him?

  “Does talking to me have any benefit?" she asked firmly, "What is the reasoning behind that?”

  “Maybe you’re right Emma. I probably shouldn’t be talking to you.”

  “That’s not what I meant, I just….”

  “I told you that I would though, as long as it didn’t interfere with your life,” he said, cutting her off. “But showing myself to you would just involve you deeper in a reality that has nothing to do with the one you live in now. Can’t you see that?”

  “Please,” she sounded pathetic when she tried to beg, she was wringing the dishtowel tightly in her hand. “Just consider it, okay?”

  “Okay, but you need to accept that the chances aren’t good. I don’t want you to get your hopes up Emma. There is no reason to change the way things are between us now.”

  “I don’t understand Micah. If it’s not breaking any rules, why are you so against it?”

  “It’s just not necessary. You need to accept my answer Emma. Why are you always in such a hurry to change things,” his voice sounded slightly agitated.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” Emma was the one who sounded agitated now.

  “You should slow down sometimes. Mortal life is a gift. I don’t understand why you feel it necessary to rush through it.”

  “Life is short. Haven’t you ever heard that one? I’m not getting any younger. I’m trying to experience everything possible in the time I’ve got. Slowing down isn’t really an option.”

  There was a short pause before he answered.

  “I guess you’re right. I know that I don’t always see things the way you do. Time's not a factor for me. I'm not trying to tell you what to do; I just want you to enjoy life as it comes. Mortality is such a short span of time in your eternal existence. You should appreciate what is has to offer.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” Emma felt a little smug.

  “I meant enjoy the mortal part, not the angelic possibilities.”

  "It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice in the matter,” Emma muttered under her breath. “I guess I have to go along— for now.”

  Emma wasn’t about to let this go. She was determined to find a way to see him. He hadn’t said never, so there was still reason to hope. That small piece of hope would fuel her creativity in getting him to yield in the end.

  “It’s for the best Emma, you’ll understand someday.” He was calm and reassuring, and Emma couldn't help but feel a little guilty. She was going to make him go against what he believed was best for her. She knew it was selfish, but she was only human.

  Emma knew what she wanted, whether it was best for her or not.
>
  

  Micah knew that he was getting in way too deep.

  It had all started out quite innocently, but it had gotten out of hand somewhere along the way. He had found ways to justify the amount of time he was spending with Emma, but now she wanted him to show himself to her.

  That would not turn out well. If she saw him, if he became that close to her, things would change. Besides, he knew it was wrong, just like he'd known it was wrong to speak to her the first time, but he couldn't make himself stop.

  He wanted so badly to be close to her, but he was starting to realize that it was for all the wrong reasons.

  

  Destry had searched the local telephone book but it had turned out to be useless. There were three Baker’s listed and he didn’t know Emma’s parents’ names. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway because only post office boxes were listed, not addresses.

  He’d considered just driving through the whole town looking for her car. There weren’t that many houses, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to find her crappy old navy blue Chevy citation. There couldn’t be very many of those around.

  Following her home from school would have been the easiest option. But she seemed overly paranoid and probably would have noticed that she was being followed. He didn’t want to totally freak her out.

  The last resort was to ask Chuck where she lived. He really didn’t want to do that, but he was out of options. That’s when the perfect opportunity presented itself.

  “Hey Destry,” Chuck called out as he jogged to catch up with Destry in the parking lot after school.

  Destry turned and smiled. He hoped Chuck hadn’t noticed him watching Emma as she got into her car.

  “I was wondering if you’ll cover my shift today at work,” Chuck said breathlessly.

  “Why would I want to do that?” Destry countered.

  “Because, I got some stuff to do.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Yeah, stuff.”

  “It’s not illegal again is it?”

  “It’s better if you don’t ask questions. Let’s just say the less you know the better. But I really need you to cover for me. If you do this I’ll owe you big time!” Chuck was pleading.

  “So if I do this for you, you’ll do something for me? No questions asked?” Destry said with a sly smile.

  “Yeah, sure, anything you want,” Chuck said happily.

  “I want you to tell me where Emma Baker lives,” Destry said flatly.

  “What? Why would you…”

  “Uh, uh, uh,” Destry cut him off. “I said no questions asked.”

  “Fine, I’ll tell you where she lives, but I don’t understand why you care.”

  “Well that’s not for you to understand, just tell me and then get out of here before I change my mind.”

  Destry slowed as he passed the little house. “So this is where the mysterious Emma lives.” He whispered to himself. He didn’t know why he was whispering, it’s not like there was anyone there to hear him. It must have been because he felt sneaky driving by her house for no reason. But this was something he had to do, even though he knew it was a bad idea. He’d never have thought he would stoop this low. He was an official stalker now.

  After that, driving by her house became an obsession, even though it was out of the way and on the opposite side of town from where he lived. At first it was enough just to drive by. He told himself he was just checking to see if she was home. Then he started trying to figure out which room might be hers. Pretty soon he had started driving by after dark to see if her light was on. He’d wonder what she was doing. The longer he did this, the closer he wanted to be. But getting caught looking in windows was out of the question.

  He had no idea what he would do if she saw him. There was no escape out here in the open, no place to hide. It was all quite maddening and it had gotten out of hand but he couldn’t make himself stop. He wanted to know her, to talk to her. Why was it so hard to get close to this girl? What was it that he was afraid of?

  

  It was April. Micah had been withdrawn over the last week since Emma had brought up the whole seeing him thing. Emma didn't understand it. She knew there had been people—even if they were ancient ones—that had seen angelic beings.

  So why couldn't she receive such a gift? She was different, wasn't she? There was evidence that she was at least a tiny bit special. She could feel Micah's presence, she could hear his voice. He'd been spending everyday with her for over a month now.

  Why did this have to be so complicated? Unless...maybe—her heart fell at the thought— he didn't want to be seen. Maybe she wasn't as important as she thought.

  As she shuffled quickly into school that morning, she headed straight to her locker to drop off her jacket and backpack before heading to English class. She spun her combination lock without looking at the numbers and lifted the latch on her locker. As the door swung open, a pink piece of paper floated out and landed at her feet. She quickly bent down and snatched it up.

  She unfolded the pastel colored note:

  Happy Birthday Emma,

  I hope you have a great day!

  It was handwritten. Below the writing there was a delicate white daisy blossom that had been dried and pressed inside the paper. She couldn't resist lifting it up and smelling it. Even though it was dry she could still smell the sweetness of it.

  Emma's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and she looked around for any sign of the culprit. Her eighteenth birthday was on Saturday which was tomorrow, but who would know that. And who at this school would even care?

  The hallway was full of teenagers hurrying in different directions, but none of them gave her a second look. Could it have been Micah? She didn't see how that would be possible, but who else could it be?

  Emma folded the note gently and placed it between the pages of her book to keep it safe and hurried to English still wondering where it had come from.

  Chapter 7: FLESH AND BLOOD

  Sunday afternoon was dinner at Gram’s after church, just like always. Gram had made Emma’s favorite cake in honor of her birthday. Emma picked through it and tried to look pleased but it obviously wasn’t working.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Gram asked, raising an eyebrow in Emma’s direction. She could tell that Emma’s mood sucked; she'd always had a sixth sense about those kinds of things.

  “Nothing,” Emma sighed.

  “You could have fooled me,” Gram snorted. “It looks like someone ran over your cat or something, but I know that ain’t it, cuz you ain’t got a cat. So…give it to me straight, I can take it.” She planted herself on the sofa next to Emma who knew at this point that there was no way she was going to avoid an explanation.

  Catherine and Cody were busy in the kitchen, washing up the dinner dishes. Emma knew she only had a little time alone with Gram before they finished and came back into the room.

  She decided to let Gram in on her inner turmoil. Maybe she could help. After all, any bit of advice at this point would ease a little bit of the burden.

  “Well, I was just wondering—hypothetically of course—if you’ve ever seen someone, who wasn’t alive…. like a spirit?” Emma peeked at Gram sideways trying to gauge her reaction, fully ready to be laughed at. To Emma’s surprise though, Gram seemed to be concentrating real hard, like she was actually considering Emma’s question seriously.

  “I don’t think I could rightly say that I’d seen a spirit before, but I know they’re out there,” she finally said.

  “How do you know that?” Emma questioned, interested in Gram’s point of view on the matter.

  “Well, I wouldn’t want you spreadin’ this around or nothin’, but I often find myself talkin’ to your grandpa. Lots of times I feel like he can hear me, and there are times that I would swear I can hear him talkin’ back to me. Some people might say that I’m just a crazy old woman, and maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m just hearing what I know grandpa would say if he were he
re.” She eyed Emma carefully, trying to judge her reaction too, Emma guessed.

  “So, what do you believe Gram?” Emma urged. “Do you think grandpa’s actually talking to you, or is it all just craziness and delusions?”

  “I like to think he's really there, talkin' and listenin' both. Your grandpa and me, we’ve got a lot of history, you know. I don’t think all that ends just cuz ya die. He’s still out there, watchin’ over me, and probably still cussin’ me for all the stuff I do that rubs him wrong.”

  “So it’s possible then—in your opinion—to have a relationship with a so-called spirit?” Emma inquired, trying to look innocent in her line of questioning.

  Gram looked at her sideways, judging her expression.

  “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a relationship,” she snorted. “It’s kind of one-sided, if ya know what I mean.”

  “It’s not one sided if he’s…I mean if grandpa’s talking back. That’s two-way communication, right?” Emma was grasping at straws.

  “Take it from me honey; I’ve been without your grandpa for 16 years now. And while I might be able to placate myself sometimes by talking to the air and believing I hear a response; it’s not the kind of relationship I’d wish on anyone. I miss your grandpa more than you know. I’d much rather have his arms around me again, or be able to sit across the table from him and see him smiling at me the way he used to, than what I got now. Flesh and blood definitely trumps spirit any day of the week,” Gram stated firmly.

  “Yeah, I guess,” was all Emma could say. She knew that Gram had a point, but certainly Emma’s own experience was an exception to the rule.

  When she talked to Micah, it was as if she could feel his arms around her. He was no memory of someone she had loved and lost. He was an angel and he really did speak to her, there was no question about that.

  There was still one disturbing thought Emma couldn’t push from her mind. She may never be able to physically touch Micah or have him touch her. Could she live through the rest of her mortal life, with someone who couldn’t provide her with the comfort of physical contact? Would she ever see him smile or look into his eyes?