Eden p-3

by Jamie McGuire

  “Seriously?” I said to no one in particular.

  Beth’s mouth pulled to one side. “I was looking forward to their sweet potato fries.”

  I felt my eyes bulge. “Jared!”

  Chad huffed. “They still have one on the east side. On Hope Street, I think.”

  “I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe they….” My voice trailed off, too upset to finish.

  Beth rubbed my shoulder. “That has to be upsetting. I’m sorry, honey.”

  Chad grabbed Beth’s hand and stomped up the stairs. “This is not a tragedy. It spoils the sentimentality, yes, but it’s still the same building. Make new memories. I’m hungry.”

  Jared pulled me to his side. “It’s bothersome, but Chad’s right. We can’t do anything about it. If we are in the mood for sweet potato fries, we can go to the east side.”

  I nodded. “They have them at Cuban Revolution downtown, too.” Jared nodded, and then led me up the stairs. I trudged behind him, unwilling to let go of my disappointment.

  We stood in line with Beth and Chad. Jared reminded me that because I was pregnant, I should skip the sushi, so I grudgingly looked for something else. Double disappointment for the day. I silently hoped Bex wouldn’t be busy later. I had a sudden urge to take a swing at someone.

  We went to Shanghai. It still overlooked Thayer Street just as I remembered, and it still had some leftover lighting from Blaze. Beth giggled at Chad’s overzealous appetite. Jared smiled at them, and reached under the table to touch my knee. Life seemed so ridiculously laid back that the only issue I had to complain about was the closing of our favorite restaurant. That thought caused the corners of my mouth to turn up, and I continued shoveling my chicken and shrimp Pad Thai. As much as I wanted to hate their food out of spite, it was good. So good, in fact, that my plate was empty before Chad’s.

  Beth stared at me. “You should have mentioned earlier that you were hungry, Nigh. We wouldn’t have waited until you were starving.”

  “I didn’t know I was starving,” I said, leaning back in my chair. I looked down, noticing that my stomach had already started to pooch out.

  Beth rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. If you even think about saying you’re fat….” Her words fell away as she noticed my protruding belly as well. “Food baby?”

  I looked to Jared, and nodded. “Real baby.”

  “What?” Beth wailed.

  “That was a productive honeymoon,” Chad said.

  “When were you going to tell me? I’m your best friend, and I had to find out because you started showing? How long have you known?” Beth was obviously upset, but her high-pitched whines had garnered the attention of everyone in the restaurant.

  Jared leaned in and kept his voice low. “Just a few weeks, Beth. You’re one of the first to know, I assure you.”

  Beth frowned. “She’s already showing and you’ve only known for a few weeks? I don’t believe it. You’re only going to have a real, live baby. Why would I need to know something so trivial? It’s not like I need to prepare at work or anything.”

  I smiled. Beth was grumbling to herself at that point. “I should have told you earlier, Beth. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  A grin exploded across her face, and she rested her chin on her fist. “You’re forgiven. When can we go shopping? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” I didn’t mirror her fervor, instead sensing the same overwhelming nausea I felt when Lillian bombarded me with wedding magazines two years earlier.

  Jared took a breath. “We don’t know. It’s still new and overwhelming to Nina, so perhaps giving her a break from the reality of it would help the most for now.”

  “Oh. Right. You’re right. We can talk about all that later,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

  We finished eating and left. A minute later, we waited at the light — the same light Jared had honked at me nearly scaring me to death right after we first met. Beth had resorted to not talking at all, instead of risking saying something she wasn’t supposed to. Chad tried distracting her with other questions, but she only offered nods or head shakes.

  Just as the light turned green, an arm reached across me, grabbing Jared’s elbow.

  “Long time no see,” Kim said.

  Beth smiled, but Kim was obviously not in an amiable mood.

  “I said I would call you,” Jared said.

  Kim raised an eyebrow. “I know you did. Three days ago. I’m not waiting any longer, Jared.”

  If I didn’t know of her struggle with exhaustion, I would have thought she’d broken her nose. The purplish skin under her eyes looked like twin bruises. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, and her shoulders sagged. I knew that look all too well, and I understood her desperation.

  “I’m sorry. You’re just going to have to.”

  Kim took a step toward him. “I don’t think you heard me. I’m. Not. Waiting. Any longer.”

  Jared sighed, but he didn’t flinch from her glare. “We’ve discussed this.”

  “Yes, we have. A lot.”

  A nervous giggle emanated from Beth’s throat, and she shifted uncomfortably. “Waiting for what?”

  Jared and Kim looked at Beth, and Kim shot an amused glare back at Jared. “Tell her.”

  Jared frowned. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “What are we waiting for? Again?” Beth said, her voice still unsure.

  Kim crossed her arms. “My ancestors are Crusade Knights, and I inherited the duty of watching over a book my great-great-times-a-thousand grandfather took from a church in Jerusalem.”

  “Is it worth a lot of money?” Chad asked.

  Beth jabbed her elbow in his ribs.

  “Kim,” I warned.

  “So Jerry over here is half-angel, and he’s the only one strong enough to help me get it back without getting myself killed. Only he’s being selfish, and even though I helped him save Nina’s life, he’s not going to help me take it back, now, because he got what he wanted and isn’t going to hold up his end of the deal.”

  “Kim!” I yelled.

  Beth began laughing hysterically. “Oh, wow! That’s a whopper!” Her Oklahoma accent came back with a vengeance. “Where do you get this stuff, Kim?”

  Kim looked to Jared, desperation in her voice and tears in her eyes. “You need me on your side. Don’t forget that.” She walked away, leaving Beth and the rest of us quiet and unnerved.

  Jared watched her trudge back to the Sentra. “We’re running out of time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Breakthrough

  The oak tree loomed over us, casting a large shadow from the afternoon sun. The sweet summer breeze wafted along the uncut grass, making the delicate petals of the flowering dogwood dance with the violets. Heaven never felt quite as close as when I was on a blanket with Jared by our oak tree, with our names scrawled elegantly in the bark.

  Bean had grown for weeks without threat, but Jared and I weren’t fooled into thinking we would live the entire summer without event. We enjoyed the peaceful moments while we still had them, and that afternoon was no different.

  Jared was studying Shax’s book. He hunched over the ugly pages, knees up. One hand held the ancient leather apart while the other rested on my stomach. The book seemed out of place in our quiet, beautiful afternoon.

  Jared’s phone buzzed. He barely glanced in its direction and continued reading. He did that often when Kim called, resorting to ignoring her instead of repeating his reasons for holding onto the book. I could relate to her misery. Even so, it was easier to look the other way while Jared searched for answers while he could. To admit that to myself made me feel horrible, but it was a necessary evil. The choice to be a better mother than a friend wasn’t really a choice at all.

  A motor hummed in the distance. “You should probably get your sneakers on,” Jared said. “Bex is here.”

  Bex was bringing firearms today. We would add target practice to our daily sparring session. His motorcycle came to a stop at th
e edge of my blanket.

  I looked up at him. “That blanket is worth more than your bike.”

  Bex took off his helmet and snorted. “Negative.”

  “Sentimental value,” Jared said, keeping his eyes on the book.

  Now fourteen, Bex’s body had filled out. He was an inch taller than Jared, and could have been mistaken for a man in his early twenties. Except for the childlike sweetness that remained in his eyes and his occasional displays of inexperience, I would never believe that he was the same person as the eleven-year-old I had met a few years before. It was disturbing.

  I must have looked ridiculous in my black leggings and white t-shirt with Bean balled noticeably in front, crouching and ready in front of what looked like a full-grown man. Bex could have wadded me up like a piece of paper on my best day, and I knew if anyone had witnessed a pregnant woman trading punches with someone twice her size, they would have called the police.

  “Bex,” Jared warned without looking up.

  Bex’s nose wrinkled, irritated at Jared’s instruction. “I know. The subtle distention of her middle section is a constant reminder not overdo it. I won’t hurt your messianic spawn, Nina.”

  I shoved the heel of my hand into Bex’s stomach. He barely paused, but it was still thrilling to me that I landed it. “Someone’s been reading the List of Big Words, again.”

  Bex glanced to Jared, and then grabbed me. He twisted me around, more forceful than usual, pulling me into his chest. My neck fit snugly in the crook of his arm. “Okay. Now what?”

  I stepped on his foot, jabbed my elbow into his ribs, and then threw my head back. Bex dodged, but had he been human I would have cracked his nose.

  “Good,” he said, nodding.

  We went over the same old moves dozens of times, and then Bex showed me a few more. They were more offensive than defensive. Bex seemed to enjoy teaching those more, and I certainly enjoyed learning to attack more than I liked repeatedly attempting to free myself from an assailant.

  After an hour, Jared brought the bag of firearms over, and then handed me shooting earmuffs and safety glasses. We walked over to a small hill, where Bex set up several targets. He was as excited as I was, but it didn’t occur to me to ask why.

  I practiced with a handgun, a rifle, and a shotgun. When Jared and Bex were satisfied with my aim, Bex tied a rope to a branch of the oak tree and hung a large log from it. He unrolled a paper target, and then taped it to the middle of the log. He gave it a shove, and it swayed in a large arc back and forth.

  Jared handed me his sidearm. “Less than one percent of your targets will be stationary. You need to learn to hit a moving target.

  I lifted the Glock in both of my hand and looked down the sights.

  “Anticipation is key,” Jared said.

  I watched the log for a moment, and then squeezed the trigger. Bex leapt back with a yowl.

  I dropped the gun and covered my mouth. “Oh, God! I’m sorry!”

  Jared picked up the gun and tried not to smile. Bex, however, was rolling on the ground, laughing hysterically.

  I glared at him. “Not funny, you little worm! I could have given birth right here in the grass!”

  Bex immediately sobered, looking to his older brother for confirmation.

  Jared laughed. “She’s exaggerating just a little.”

  “Again,” I said, holding the gun in front of me once more. After six tries, I sighed with irritation and pulled off the earmuffs, letting them fall to the ground.

  “You’re thinking too much,” Bex said. He pulled his gun from the waistline of his jeans and pulled the trigger, never looking away from me. The target had a rip in the center where the bullet made contact.

  I blew my bangs from my face. “You can’t anticipate something without thinking about it.”

  Bex lifted his gun and pointed it at me, and I mirrored his action. We were at an immediate stand off.

  Bex smiled. “Yes, you can.”

  Jared palmed my arm and lowered it slowly. “It’s called instinct. It’s in your blood, Nina. You just need to give in to it.”

  I looked at the log. “Give in to it,” I repeated, raising my weapon.

  Bex shoved the log again.

  I shut out everything: the breeze; the birds; the strands of hair that kept sticking to my lip gloss. Everything was frozen, even my inner thoughts. My mind focused on the target, and I was in tune with everything. I could feel the movement of the log, the resistance of the rope as it rubbed against the tree branch, and even the wind speed and how it would affect the path of the bullet. I took in a deep breath and pulled the trigger. Bex grabbed the log and it instantly stopped.

  “Nice!” Bex said.

  The bullet had landed just a couple of inches above Bex’s. I smiled, and Jared pulled me to his side, kissing my hair.

  After that, Bex took the spare tire from under the rear of the Escalade and fastened a target to the center. He walked to the top of a small hill, and I stood halfway down. He let the tire go, and I took several shots as it rolled down the grass to the bottom, falling on its side.

  Bex sprinted to the tire and rolled it over, offering a thumbs-up and a smile.

  “You did really well today,” Jared said.

  I nodded. “I know.”

  Jared leaned down and touched each side of my stomach with his hands. “Mommy did good today, didn’t she Bean?” He waited a moment, and then stood. “Everything seems to be okay. Your pulse, Bean’s pulse, blood pressure and breathing are all normal. I don’t think Bean noticed.”

  “So we can keep going?”

  Jared nodded.

  I gestured to the book under his arm. “Did you find anything?”

  Jared’s small smile faded. “Feel like a trip to Woonsocket?”

  Bex helped us load the Escalade with our belongings, and then waved goodbye, peeling out on his motorcycle to head home to Lillian.

  Jared was quiet during the twenty-minute drive north. His eyes were locked forward, missing the incredible summer foliage on each side of the highway. I allowed it to distract me while Jared silently prepared questions for Father Francis. Poring over the same words over and over, not knowing what to look for, had to be frustrating. I reached my hand across the console, and almost instinctually, Jared covered my hand with his.

  Still beautiful, he wore the stress and worry of the years since we’d met only in his eyes. He seemed tired, and desperate, but determined.

  He squeezed my hand, brought it to his lips, then reached over to rest his hand on my stomach. He seemed to relax, then.

  “Maybe…maybe you’re going about this all wrong,” I said.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “What if you’re reading the wrong book? It’s too late to stop the prophecy. What you’re looking for is a way to get Heaven on our side, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You aren’t going to find answers about Heaven in a book about Hell.”

  Jared eyes flitted about for a moment, considering my idea. He didn’t answer, but he acknowledged my words with a nod. I covered his hand with mine, and let him return to his thoughts.

  We passed the rocky wall that welcomed us to Woonsocket, and then made our way to St. Ann’s. Yellow tape surrounded the church. The glass from the once exquisitely stained windows had been removed, and the holes that remained were covered with boards and plastic tarp.

  Jared parked, and we climbed the steps. He tugged on one set of doors, but they were locked. He tried two others, but they were locked as well. The tarp blew in the summer breeze, flapping against the building. The town seemed otherwise quiet.

  Jared turned and noticed a passerby. “Excuse me,” he said. “Is the church closed?”

  The man shrugged. “Father Francis has kept it locked. He hadn’t been actin’ right since the explosion.” He walked away.

  An explosion. Shax and his minions all but tore the church to shreds during our most recent showdown, and it left St. Ann’s looking
like a war zone. Some construction had taken place, but Woonsocket was no longer the booming industrial hub it used to be. The community that had once pulled together to fund the extravagant adornments of their social center with paintings and stained glass was now preoccupied with a recession and modern priorities.

  We walked to a side door, and Jared gave it a light tug. It caught again. “I don’t want to leave without speaking to him, and I don’t want to break in,” he said.

  “Call him.”

  Just as we stepped away, we heard a familiar voice.

  “Wait!” Father Francis called, walking briskly from the back of the church. “I’m here, lad!” He slowed to a stop, trying to control his labored breath. “I’m sorry. I was in the back building, praying. It used to be the school, you know.” His face dropped. “I’m ashamed to say I feel safer there, now.”

  Jared cupped the priest’s shoulder. “I understand, Father. Some things you can’t un-see.”

  Father Francis nodded, and then gestured for us to follow him inside. We walked behind him, waiting patiently for him to climb the steps into the side door of St. Ann’s.

  It was cold and drafty. The wooden pews and marble statues were covered with linens. An eerie feeling dwelled within the walls, and I could see why the priest didn’t want to be alone there.

  The faces of the angels and saints in the paintings looked down on us. I couldn’t help but think they seemed sad, waiting for someone to restore their home to its former glory. “Father,” I began, pulling my pocketbook from my purse. “I brought this hardship on you. Let me help.” I scribbled six figures onto a check.

  Father Francis’ eyes softened as he took the paper into his hands. “Thank you, my child. We need this more than you know.”

  “Father,” Jared said, pulling Shax’s book from under his arm.

  The priest’s eyes widened and he immediately looked away, shaking his head. “Oh, no! No, no, no. You mustn’t bring that here!”

  A soft ringing in my ears grew infinitesimally louder, sounding more like panicked whispers. I looked around the room, but we were alone. Just us and the hundreds of people in the paintings on the walls and ceilings.