by Laury Falter
“She has talent, Eran,” said an Asian man with a braided white beard, hanging to his knees. A staff lay at his feet until he reached out his hand. As if he were beckoning it, the staff levitated and moved effortlessly into the man’s waiting palm. “You may think about sparring with her from now on,” he added, chuckling.
The men laughed and turned, as if they knew their warring session was over. Gracefully, they lifted off the ground, floating up over the trees.
Eran offered me a hand as I picked myself up, but I ignored it.
Once on my feet, he inspected me. “Are you hurt?”
I rolled my eyes. “I wish you’d stop asking that.”
“And I wish you’d stop placing yourself in danger so I wouldn’t need to ask.”
He lightly snickered and delicately pulled a piece of straw from my hair, his hand coming so close to me that I quivered with excitement.
“Don’t worry. No one will throw you to the ground again,” he commented.
“Is that what happened?” I asked, brushing myself off. “It was so fast…”
This time he allowed himself a hurried laugh at my expense. “Ivan mistook you for me. I stepped in to stop him from pummeling you.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling ridiculous. “Thank you.”
He blinked in surprise, taking a step back with mock sarcasm. “What was that? Did you actually thank me?”
“I don’t mind thanking you when it’s due.”
“Well, like I’ve said, you’re hard to please.”
I grinned back, showing no hint of repentance.
“So,” he said, leaning back against the side of a boulder. “You found me.”
“I did,” I said, taking a place beside him.
“I’m not surprised.”
“Really? Why is that?”
“You’re a smart girl. I knew you’d figure it out,” he said, casually scuffing his heel in the dirt.
I thought at first that he was trying to avoid my eyes when delivering his compliment, but then he glanced up and gave me a wide grin.
“Well, I’m still a little confused. I mean…I saw you on earth. How can you be here when…when you’re supposed to be on earth?” I shrugged, impulsively.
“I would have thought you’d have figured that out by now too,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest, amused.
“Nope…” I replied, plainly.
“Now why would you think I could appear in both places?” he asked, teasing.
I let my gaze drop, thinking through the possibilities. “You’re supernatural. That much is obvious. But…ghosts don’t talk on earth, do they?”
He laughed lightly. “No, not often.”
“So…you’re not a ghost?” I asked, and to prove my point, I added, “Because you do talk to me.”
“Correct.”
“Then…are you a messenger too?”
He burst out laughing, cocking his head back so he could release it with full force. When he finished entertaining himself at my expense, he still didn’t answer me.
“Are you?” I demanded.
He drew in a breath and clapped his hands in his lap, as if he were going to be here for a while. “There are various ways souls can return to earth, Magdalene. In ghostly or silhouette form – as you’ve seen me – is just one of them.”
“So you’re not a messenger…but you return to earth in ghostly form…”
“That’s right.” He was staring at me, waiting for me to piece it all together, which was taking an infuriatingly long time.
“And you return to earth…when?”
“Only to see you.”
He admitted this so readily and without any reservation, causing me to glance up at him. His smile had faded, and he was watching me with a deep interest. Our eyes met and I felt my pulse quicken; although, I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
“Really?” I whispered, incredulously.
“Really,” he replied softly.
I had trouble understanding how this handsome, ethereal man would purposefully seek me out. There were plenty of other better-looking girls to watch on earth. I never saw myself as anything remotely close to beautiful. My eyes were too large.
Still, here he was, the one I daydreamed about…the one I was always thinking of, admitting he thought about me too…at least, on occasion.
Reality hit me, realizing exactly when those occasions were.
“Oh,” I said, hating how my voice sounded bashful. “You come to earth to save me.”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Now why would I come to earth only to find you and only to save you?”
I gasped, instantly feeling ridiculous. I closed my eyes and felt my body cave with embarrassment. Of course…the reason was so obvious I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it sooner.
When I opened my eyes, he had lifted his eyebrows in expectation.
“So? Would you like to say it out loud?” he persisted.
“You return to earth in ghostly form when you think I need saving…because you’re a guardian.”
He smiled back in his breathtakingly attractive way.
“Did I figure it out?” I asked, waiting for affirmation.
It felt like a decade passed before he finally answered, though I’m sure it was only as long as it took for him to open his mouth and speak.
“No.” He shook his head and then leaned toward me, so close his sweet-scented breath brushed lightly past my cheeks. “I am your guardian.”
I stood there, stunned, unable to inhale for far too long.
“Breathe, Magdalene,” he said with a smile. “Not that you really need to here, but familiarity with the basics is important in surprise situations.”
I drew in a breath, only slightly acknowledging that it felt good. “You watch over me…and only me?”
He nodded. “And that’s a very good thing. I don’t believe I’d have time for anyone else. You keep me quite busy.”
“I do?” I asked, still too stunned to comprehend all of this. I have my own personal guardian?
“Far more so than anyone I’ve ever guarded.”
“A guardian…” I whispered to myself. The surreal haze I was lingering in was lifting; I jerked my head up to catch his eyes. I needed his attention, because I wanted full disclosure. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were when we first met?”
“And make my job that much harder on me?” He scoffed.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You were dead set against anyone protecting you, Magdalene. What would you have done if I’d announced I was solely there to protect you? Hmmm?”
Despite myself, I had to agree. I would have done everything in my power to get rid of him.
As if he’d heard my thoughts, he added, “You would have done your best, irritating me to no end, trying to ensure I wouldn’t show up when you needed me most. That would have just frustrated me and it would have been ineffective. You’ve perfected the art of pushing others away, and you would have used that art on me. I won’t let that happen.”
I believed him, and regardless of my harbored resentment at needing to be watched over, I was glad it was him doing the watching.
He unclasped his hands and moved to place them on either side of his thighs. My hands happened to be in the same position and whether by accident or by design our hands gently brushed.
“Oh, my apologies.”
“It’s alright,” I responded, a little too quickly. “Your skin…it’s not hot here,” I added, attempting to divert him from thinking I enjoyed the contact with him a little too much…even though it was the truth.
That was when it dawned on me that as our skin had made contact; I would swear he felt the same surge of excitement rush through his own body. Though it was brief, he quickly returned to his typical indifference.
“Everything here is a fabrication…” he was explaining, “including our bodies. On earth, there are…limitations to how we can project ourselves.”
&
nbsp; He fell silent, scuffing the ground again with his foot. Even though he seemed calm, I still had excitement running through me. To break the silence, I asked the first question that came to mind.
“Are you always around me, with me?”
“When you need me I’m there – even if you don’t see me.”
“Were you there at the shanty?” I didn’t bother giving him any clues or hinting to which shanty. If Battersbee had been right, Eran wouldn’t need any assistance.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he repositioned his staff against the boulder. I got the feeling his action was merely to avoid looking directly at me.
“I was,” he finally admitted.
“Why? I wasn’t in any danger.”
“No, you weren’t. But you didn’t know where you were going so you could have been.”
“I see.” My heart sank; his reasoning was perfectly understandable and had nothing to do with wanting to be near me.
As if he sensed this reaction, he started shifting his feet again uncomfortably. The gravel beneath them made a loud scratching sound.
“Have you always been around me? I only just started to see you…”
“I think you saw me once when you were a baby…” His face twisted, appearing to be caused by a painful memory. “I wasn’t able to save you then.”
My heart stuttered. “When I died…” I whispered. He nodded in confirmation, his eyes focusing on the ground; his gestures giving me the impression he felt guilty. I didn’t like seeing him in pain. It was odd, but I also felt his sensation of guilt course through me, like searing hot liquid flowing through my veins. I almost mentioned it, but held back. I didn’t like that feeling, or the fact that I knew he was feeling it too. Trying to suppress these feelings, I briskly changed the subject.
“You said there are other ways you can visit earth. What are those?”
He drew in a deep breath, trying to shake free from the emotions that seemed to be overwhelming him. I felt them begin to dwindle in me like a flame being snuffed out, as he refocused his thoughts. “Umm…well there are a few ways. We can be reborn…such is the case with you. We can go as a hot, white light and that is typical when you are filled with powerful emotions. And we can also fall to earth. Although any one of us can fall, that is often times reserved for those souls who have committed a sin such as injuring those on earth. Thankfully, they are rare because those souls can be powerful – often times bringing to earth with them some ability they had here and all too often using it against others.”
“Those souls end up on earth? Surrounded by people who can’t protect themselves? That doesn’t seem fair.”
Eran looked at me with a hinting smile. “That’s why guardians were created.”
“Ah…have you always been a guardian? I mean…you’ve been to earth a few times – once every century in fact – and during unstable times.”
He lifted his eyebrows in astonishment, so I freely admitted how I figured it out.
“I saw the list of your lives.”
“I see,” he replied, smiling to himself. It was obvious he was flattered. “Yes, I’ve lived a few lives, each one purposefully chosen during those time periods. I believe each soul is drawn to earth at specific times for specific reasons. Mine was to fight.”
“To fight?” I repeated, shocked. “Why?”
“I was needed, Magdalene. I told you…I appear when I am needed.”
I felt myself gawking at him, pondering how the word ‘altruism’ had taken on a completely different meaning to me now. Some people might assume my act of delivering messages was altruistic on some level, but it was laughable in comparison to Eran’s actions. He risked pain and injury, even his own life, for others.
Uncomfortable with my stare, he straightened his back and drew in another long breath. Suddenly, his exasperated tone returned. “So…now that you’ve interrupted my skills training, what can I do for you?”
“Oh…uh,” I stammered, breaking free of his striking face. “That was skills training?”
“It was. Even us heaven-bound souls need to keep up our skills, so we train regularly with each other. It keeps us sharp. But I assume you came here for a different reason…other than to discuss my training.”
“Yes,” I said, noticing how much more handsome he looked now that I had seen him in action. “I-I have a message to deliver.”
“To me?” he asked, bewildered, catching me with his blue-green eyes again.
“Yes, it’s from someone I know at my school,” I said, wondering if my heart would ever stop fluttering whenever our eyes meet. “His name is Gershom. I don’t think you’d know him. Born in my time. But he said to tell you that you should consider returning to earth.”
Eran was clearly taken aback. “And you said his name is…Gershom?”
“Yes, he’s a friend of mine.” I paused, realizing how easy it was to admit, despite what I learned about him.
“Did your friend say how he knew me?”
“Just said he’d heard of you.”
“Heard of me? How…?” Eran asked more to himself than me, but I answered.
“I’m not sure, but he knew your name and when you died last.”
Eran sat transfixed for a moment. When it didn’t look like he had any more questions to ask, I asked one of my own.
“Eran…is this…where you live?” I couldn’t imagine how this boulder-lined clearing could offer a comfortable existence.
He chuckled to himself but didn’t answer. Instead, he took my hand, drew me up, and led me across the clearing. Again, my heart throbbed when he touched me. Because of it, my awareness was less on where we were headed than on the feeling of his solid, protecting grasp.
I did notice though that by the time we’d taken three steps, the clearing was fading and another place was taking shape. It appeared as if someone had tossed water on a giant canvas all around us and blended the two scenes together.
It was dusk here and everything was damp. The air was chilly and smelled of freshly fallen rain. Overhead, clouds were beginning to clear and along the mountains patches of fog clung to the jagged peaks.
We stepped out onto a rutted wood dock with a small red boat tied to it. On our right, a brook bubbled down and over rocks, flowing into an enormous lake behind us. The dock was met by a muddy, dirt road that cut through a grassy hill, leading to a log cabin at the top. The cabin was cloaked in the shade of giant ponderosa pines but with the hazy yellow lights inside, and smoke drifting up from the chimney, it looked welcoming. Two dogs ran around the side of the cabin and bounded down the hill toward us.
“This is Annie and Charlie,” said Eran, as the dogs happily circled us, rubbing against our legs until we reached down to pet them.
“French mastiffs,” he explained, just as I was about to ask what kind they were. “Got them during my time in France. They didn’t survive guarding my estate during the rebellion, but they were waiting for me when I returned here.” He watched as the dogs continued jumping up to lick my face, unable to contain their excitement.
“Wow, it’s almost like they know me!” I said, laughing.
Eran chuckled through his nose, as if in response to a secret joke.
“They’re sweet,” I said, as I stood.
Eran appeared to appreciate this, smiling to himself as we headed toward the cabin.
I immediately felt at home in Eran’s heaven. In fact, it seemed oddly familiar somehow. Without having to look, I already knew there was a hammock hung between two pines and an Adirondack chair with a steaming pot of what smelled to be coffee set on the ground next to it. I also knew the layout of the cabin before I stepped foot inside. I couldn’t discern if this was because it was exactly how I saw Eran, rugged but comfortable, or if there was some other reason that evaded me.
In the distance, a wolf howled, and I smiled to myself.
“What?” Eran asked, noticing.
“Oh, it’s just so…perfect.”
“Yes, I
think so.” He sighed, seeming to savor the air here.
“Is this where you’ve always lived in the afterlife?” I was intrigued, never having been able to ask others how they came to create their own existence here.
“I built it bit by bit. Like most others build theirs. You know…” he said, resolutely.
“Actually, I don’t.”
He paused on the dirt path, openly studying me. His eyes widened slightly and realization spread across his face. “Of course you don’t. You couldn’t, could you?” He fumbled, and I could see he understood something for the first time. “Without knowing where you died last you wouldn’t be able to find your past lives or your permanent residence here. Am I right?”
I nodded. “Being able to just visit has its disadvantages…I’m here on passport.”
He seemed to contemplate this as we stepped onto the porch. Stew was simmering inside, and it smelled delicious. I was slightly surprised when my stomach growled, which had never happened here. Eran had really gone to great lengths to make his piece of the afterlife as real as possible.
“I never considered that…that you would be…limited here,” he said, thoughtfully.
“More than you think. I can’t fly like others and how we got here just now…passing between realms by stepping through…I can’t do that either.”
“Huh,” he muttered. “I never knew that.” He said this in a way that made it sound like he’d known me as a messenger for a very long time.
“You know…that stew smells great,” I said, hinting.
He took the bait and replied with a grin, “And I’d say it’s just about ready.” He opened the door and ushered me in.
Inside, the cabin was rustic and relaxed. It was a single room with just a table and some chairs, a worn leather couch, and a wall entirely covered with cluttered book shelves. The kitchen, with dated, worn appliances, was immediately to the right from where we walked in. A fire was burning in the hearth, where a small iron pot hung over the flames containing the bubbling stew.
