The Hidden Deep

by Christa J. Kinde

  “You may.”

  Kester was easy to talk to, so Prissie didn’t mind bringing her odd questions to him. “I was just thinking … Koji says that angels don’t need to sleep.”

  The Worshiper laced his fingers together. “That is true.”

  “Then why does Tamaes sleep on top of the barn?”

  Kester hummed, lifting his gaze toward the rooftops. “He is not sleeping. He is dreaming.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  He pondered for a moment before confessing, “I have never had to put our dreams into words before, but I will do my best to explain. We do not dream as you do, yet you are able to dream with us.” Noting Prissie’s deepening confusion, Kester tried again. “It may be simplest to think of it as an avenue of communication. Messengers are best equipped to open the way, but each of us is able to find respite by inhabiting dreams. They carry us to different places. Some bring us closer to home, and others bring us closer to those that are far away.”

  “You dream about heaven?” Prissie asked, trying to make sense of Kester’s words.

  The angel’s smile took on a wistful quality. “I do.”

  “And Koji dreams about Ephron.”

  Kester nodded. “Since Ephron was taken, Tamaes has been searching for him in dreams. He is coordinating the search with Harken’s assistance.”

  “Why is Tamaes the one doing all the dreaming?” Prissie asked. “Isn’t Jedrick in charge of your team?”

  “Our captain has his own concerns, and Tamaes volunteered. Jedrick entrusted the task to him.”

  “But isn’t he supposed to be following me around all the time?”

  Gazing off into the orchard, Kester replied, “Tamaes and Ephron were very close, and their affection for each other fosters a sense of remorse, as well as a sense of urgency.” Offering a small smile, he added, “However, you can rest assured that your Guardian knows his place.”

  “Oh.” Quickly changing the subject, Prissie asked, “So dreams let you talk to each other when you’re apart, almost like cell phones?”

  “I do not think technology can replicate the experience, but yes, we can reach out to each other across distances.”

  “Does that mean you can hear Harken’s voice in your head?”

  “I can, provided he has a message for me,” Kester replied. “In fact, he says the meal is ready.”

  Right on cue, the dinner bell that hung just outside the kitchen door rang out, summoning everyone to the house.

  Dinner was served family style, so after the respectful hush that settled while Jayce gave thanks for the meal, the kitchen burst into happy confusion. Exclamations and laughter rang out on every side as platters and bowls filled with home cooking made the rounds.

  Koji was fairly bursting with happiness to be sharing the table with four of his teammates, and every so often, his fingertips tapped the back of Prissie’s hand. It was a habit he’d adopted in recent weeks whenever he wanted to catch her eye, and now she wondered if he was making do since he couldn’t send her the kinds of silent messages Kester had described. When she turned to see what he wanted, he rolled his eyes toward Baird, who was so engrossed in his conversation with Naomi that he passed everything on to Kester without taking any food. The redhead might have gone hungry if it wasn’t for his apprentice, who calmly filled both their plates.

  By the time all the individual conversations ebbed and expanded to include everyone at the table, Prissie was feeling much more comfortable in her role as hostess. The four angels were teammates behind the scenes, but there was no need to hide the fact that they were good friends. Harken and Milo lived in neighboring apartments over The Curiosity Shop, and Baird and Kester led music at the DeeVee, where Milo attended midweek services. Their intertwined relationships seemed perfectly normal.

  “Rehearsals start in a few weeks,” Grandpa Pete remarked. “You boys are helping out this year, right?”

  Baird had just taken a huge bite of a potato roll, so he elbowed Kester, who promptly answered, “Yes, sir. The first rehearsal is the second week of October, and this year Baird is in charge of the band and orchestra.”

  “So it’ll be both?” Pete asked, frowning slightly. Prissie knew her grandfather wasn’t very pleased that the committee had decided to mix things up this year by performing an updated arrangement of Handel’s Messiah. Despite assurances to the contrary, he was pretty sure their newfangled ideas were going to ruin his favorite part of the holiday season.

  “Yes, sir,” Kester repeated politely. “The orchestra has been retained, but other non-period instruments have been added.”

  Baird jumped in, excitedly explaining, “Choir members shouldn’t have any problem picking up the new arrangements. It’s the same old Messiah, but we played with the pacing.”

  Tad surprised everyone by quietly interjecting, “I was thinking of maybe joining the choir this year.”

  Grandpa Pete looked like Christmas had come early. “Good! That’s good, m’boy!”

  Grandma Nell leaned forward to catch Neil’s eye and asked, “What about you? Your voice has settled.”

  The sixteen-year-old’s face scrunched thoughtfully as he chewed, and Prissie suspected him of drawing out the suspense before he finally answered. “Guess so. If Tad does.”

  “There’s a bunch of young people from the DeeVee that’ll be joining the choir this year, and every one of them is a first-timer,” Baird said with a sidelong glance in Grandpa’s direction. “They’ll be relying on those with more experience to learn their parts.” Pete harrumphed, and the redhead went on to reveal, “Milo’s a newbie, too.”

  “How wonderful,” Grandma Nell enthused, passing the biscuit platter along to the mailman. “What about you, Harken?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” the old shopkeeper assured with a ready smile. “This year’s performance is sure to be memorable.”

  Prissie couldn’t help but notice that for angels who only needed manna to survive, their heavenly guests could put away a lot of food. It made her feel good to watch people enjoying something she’d helped prepare, and they lingered at the table for quite some time after the empty plates were pushed aside. Finally, Naomi stood and announced, “I’ll put the coffee on. Shall we move to the family room?”

  Immediately, Baird raised his hand and waved it like a schoolboy hoping for attention. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I did promise Prissie that if she could wrangle us a place at your table, we’d sing for our supper! Kester and I came prepared!”

  Jayce shook his head and kindly said, “There’s no need to repay us for your company.”

  Baird nodded, but countered, “Just the same, we’d love to sing with you. I guess you could call it our kind of hospitality.”

  “Meals and music are often best when shared with friends,” said Kester.

  “Fair enough,” Jayce agreed. “What did you have in mind?”

  The red-haired Worshiper bounced from his chair and swept the table with an assessing gaze. “When we packed Harken’s trunk, Kester here got a little carried away. There must be half a dozen pieces of precious cargo out there, which means I need at least six hands. But God only saw fit to give me two! I’m taking volunteers!”

  All five of the Pomeroy boys and Koji scrambled to follow Baird out the door, and Kester quietly gathered his dishes and carried them over to the sink. Grandma Nell was quick to scold. “Let us take care of that, young man.”

  The serious-faced musician inclined his head and graciously replied, “Pardon my intrusion.”

  Grandma Nell tutted. “You’re not intruding. You’re just being over-helpful! We’ll exercise our gifts, freeing you up to exercise yours.”

  Kester’s dark eyes warmed with the smile that graced his lips. “I shall bow to your wisdom. Thank you, Mrs. Pomeroy.”

  Grandma Nell shook her dishtowel at Pete, Jayce, Kester, Harken, and Milo, chasing them out of the kitchen. “Off you get, the lot of you! And call me Nell!”

  Naomi laughed at
her mother-in-law’s good-natured bossing and accepted a quick one-armed hug from Jayce, who kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, ladies,” he said, including all three generations. “We’ll get out from underfoot.”

  Prissie moved to help with the clearing up, and a moment later, there was a clatter-bang as the boys returned with Baird. She peeked into the front hall long enough to see that they were weighed down by four instrument cases and two amplifiers. Jude popped into the kitchen to report, “Mister Baird’s guitar is blue!” before disappearing back into the living room.

  A few moments later, the strains of a wistful melody filled the house, and Prissie realized that one of those cases had held Kester’s violin. Grandma Nell sighed happily as she loaded the dishwasher, and Naomi’s expression grew dreamy as she transferred leftovers into storage containers for the fridge. While she dried the pots and platters that needed to be done by hand, Prissie stole peeks into the living room where Beau and Neil were giving Baird a hand setting up the equipment.

  The three women didn’t take long getting the kitchen squared away, and they joined the menfolk. Naomi walked around the room, lighting candles, and Grandma Nell cozied up to her husband on one of the love seats. Tad, Zeke, and Jude watched with undisguised interest as Kester opened another case and withdrew an acoustic guitar. The black instrument gleamed in the lamplight, and Zeke boldly reached out to touch the pattern of paua shell insets that ringed its sound hole. “What’s this for?” he asked.

  “That is called the rosette,” Kester answered. “It is purely aesthetic.”

  The eight-year-old stared at the tall man with a blank expression until Baird leaned over and translated, “He means it’s pretty.”

  “Oooh!” the boy breathed, staring critically at the decoration. “I guess that’s okay.”

  At that moment, Baird turned expectantly to the room at large and held up the end of a cord. “Juice, please?”

  Jayce chuckled and guided the redhead over to the corner so he could help himself to an outlet. Neil smirked and said, “Baird likes it loud!”

  “I do at that,” the worship leader readily agreed.

  “And Kester is the lyrical band member?” guessed Naomi.

  “Hey, I can do lyrical!” Baird protested. So saying, he plugged his blue guitar into the power supply, made himself comfortable, and gave an experimental strum. Then, he deftly picked out a sweet melody that sounded like it belonged in a music box or maybe a merry-go-round.

  Koji glanced around the room, located Prissie, and sidled up to her. Tapping the back of her hand, he whispered, “Kester’s music made everyone sigh, but Baird’s music makes everyone smile.”

  “Which is better?” she wondered aloud.

  The young Observer said, “Both are good.”

  Baird finished with a small flourish and waved off the smattering of applause. “Everyone get comfy,” he invited, for most of the family was still standing around. “We’ll do one song for you, but then let’s sing together. All of us … any old thing … I totally take requests … and have yet to be stumped!”

  As he rambled, Prissie’s brothers vied for seats in the wide couches and deep chairs arranged around the room. There was plenty of space for everyone, but that didn’t stop the siblings from jostling. Neil and Tad tossed a few throw pillows around until their mother sent them The Look. Prissie ended up on one of the sofas, tucked between Beau and Koji.

  A hush fell while Kester tuned his guitar, plucking stray notes as he fiddled with the knobs. It wasn’t a melody, but the notes didn’t clash. Prissie thought they were like the tunings of an orchestra, not the main event, but a signal that something was about to happen. Slowly, a tune emerged from the random cascades, and Baird picked up a harmony line. The two Worshipers exchanged a brief glance, then switched roles, with the mentor taking the melody as his apprentice modulated through the opening bars of an old hymn that just happened to be Grandpa Pete’s favorite.

  The old man harrumphed, but he looked rather pleased as the young men sang their way through every verse. Once the song ended, he gruffly said, “Not many people know that hymn, nowadays.”

  “Many things are forgotten as time passes,” Kester replied gravely. “However, I believe there will always be those who remember.”

  Prissie settled back into the couch cushions and stared in amazement at the two Worshipers. What Kester said was true. He and Baird would live forever, so all the songs they knew would never be forgotten.

  “Now taking requests!” the redhead warbled.

  For a few seconds, the Pomeroys just exchanged glances, but then Jayce reached into the bookshelf next to his chair and started passing out books with deep red bindings. “These should help,” he declared.

  Baird’s eyes widened. “Oh, man! You keep hymnals in the family room?”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” quipped Neil as he ferried copies over to Harken and his grandparents.

  The redhead actually got a little misty-eyed as he laid his hand over his heart. “You guys make me so happy!”

  Harken accepted one of the books and casually checked the printing information. “These are quite old. I’ve seen a few of them come through my store.”

  Pete Pomeroy nodded. “When the church replaced their hymnals the last time, they gave folks the chance to purchase the old ones. I bought a stack.”

  “More like two stacks,” countered his wife with a teasing smile.

  The old man explained, “I remember when these were new. My mother headed up the fund-raiser that brought ‘em into the church, so I wanted to hang on to some and pass them along.”

  “I can understand that,” Harken said as he flipped through the pages reverently. “Wasn’t she the church pianist?”

  “That’s right.” Grandpa Pete nodded to the upright piano tucked into one corner. “That was hers. Ida learned to play it,” he said proudly.

  “My younger sister,” Jayce explained to the two who were newcomers.

  Prissie had good memories of what Grandma Nell always called “hymn sings.” Aunt Ida would play, and everyone would gather around with the hymnals. It had been a winter tradition, and snowy days were right around the corner. Quickly, she called out the number of the hymn that Aunt Ida had always requested, and Kester struck a chord.

  “Prissie?” Koji’s black eyes sparkled as he studied her face. “Which part do you sing?”

  As the others began, breaking into four-part harmony, Prissie murmured, “I always sing the melody with Momma.”

  “I will sing with you.”

  She glanced around at the others. Neil attempting to growl out bass notes that were just under his range, and Milo coaxed Tad into joining him on the tenor line. Feeling enormously self-conscious with so many angels in the room, Prissie tentatively joined in, adding her voice to the mix.

  They took a break for pie and coffee, then migrated back into the family room, anxious to return to the music. Kester traded his guitar for a harp, and Milo requested a gentle hymn that Prissie couldn’t remember ever hearing before. It was sweet and beautiful, and she noticed Grandma Nell dabbing at tears before it was over. The hour had grown late, and Zeke was yawning when Kester changed to the lullaby that Prissie now thought of as his.

  It was as if everyone was reluctant to let the evening end, but finally, Harken said, “These two could probably go on all night, but this old man has a shop to open in the morning.”

  He began the goodbyes while Kester played softly, and Baird stowed the instruments and coiled the cords. The older boys helped him carry the gear back to Harken’s car, then returned so the redhead could enthusiastically thank Naomi and Nell. He caught Prissie’s eye and gave her a wink that let her know he’d be getting around to her soon enough.

  In the midst of the noisy leave-taking, Kester returned to the family room and opened the piano, running his fingers over the keys. Prissie and Koji listened curiously as he once more chose random notes before slipping into a few practice scales. Grandpa Pete ambled o
ver and said, “It’s fallen out of tune and isn’t much used these days. Our Ida married a fine man, and she travels with him. They’re missionaries.”

  Kester hummed thoughtfully, then offered, “I would be pleased to tune this for you sometime. It is within my abilities to do so.”

  “Really? We’re hoping Ida can visit for the holidays, and it’d be good to have it ready for her. How much would you be asking?”

  The Worshiper shook his head. “I would ask for nothing.”

  “That wouldn’t be right,” argued Pete. “Either set a price or work out a trade.”

  Kester bowed his head. “I will give the matter some consideration.”

  “You do that,” Grandpa said with satisfaction.

  The rounds of goodbyes seemed to go on forever, but finally, Momma worked it so that Prissie could have the last word with her guests. Shooing her out onto the porch with them, she herded the boys toward their bedtime routines.

  “Thank you for coming,” Prissie said, looking from one angel to the next. They all smiled at her, but it was Baird who stepped forward. She supposed that made sense, because Milo had said he was older than the other three, which probably gave him some kind of seniority. She sort of expected him to say something grand. He didn’t.

  Baird wasn’t very tall. In fact, he and Prissie were the same height. He searched her eyes for a moment before blurting, “Will you freak out if I hug you?”

  Prissie blushed and awkwardly said, “It’s okay, I guess.”

  Taking her at her word, the Worshiper stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, giving her a friendly squeeze. “Thank you for today, Prissie,” he said seriously. “I thank you, and I thank God for this day of rest. Your family has been such an encouragement.”

  “R-really?”

  “Totally,” he said with feeling.

  Searching her mind for some kind of response, she lamely offered, “I didn’t know angels needed encouragement.”

  Baird released her, stepping back. “Even an angel’s wings grow heavy once in a while,” he confessed with a little half-smile. Glancing at Kester, he brightly announced, “Tonight, I’m gonna write a song!”