“Well, I think it’s safe to say today wasn’t our best effort,” Edward finally said, pushing away from the table before carefully standing up. “We had a few meltdowns, and we had a few lashings-out, but in the end, I think the talk we finished right before you got home will put a few things in perspective. Or at least, I sure hope so…”
Fifteen
Edward nestled into bed next to his wife, exhausted.
What a day!
He was so tired, he’d decided to wait until after getting sleep to shower, though he tended to prefer one before bed.
“I’m so sorry you had to witness that earlier,” he whispered into the night as he pulled her close, into his arms. “Cherish had such a meltdown that it really upset the boys, and then they both got into it with her when she finally came out of her room, almost calm.”
He sighed as he thought back on the events earlier in the evening.
“You know, I’m beginning to think that, at least for a while, we need to do family prayer time every day… not just for meals, but for everyday life. We used to, but… how did we get out of the habit,” she responded, moving her fingers in a trail up his arm. “It doesn’t even feel like we’re a family anymore… today, I walked in and it was like looking at a room full of strangers with the faces of loved ones painted on.”
Edward nodded in the dark and cringed.
“I can believe it, and again, I’m so sorry,” he replied. “Why don’t we pick that one up tomorrow… between breakfast and school? I know it means having breakfast ready earlier, but if God and family are the priorities we say they are, we’ll just… we’ll do it, and we certainly won’t complain, since it’s a privilege not everyone has; safe prayer in their own home.”
He paused a moment, tears threatening to rise to the surface, and he mentally shook them off. “I should have realized-”
“Hush, now,” Paloma told him, moving her fingers to his lips in the dark of the room. “This isn’t your fault. Getting ill wasn’t your fault. God has a purpose in all of this, even if we have no idea what it is. We just… we just have to trust that He’ll be able to handle it, right? Whether it’s your sight, or your heart, or your brain… whether it’s the safety or the security of our family, or anything else.”
“I suppose so,” he said, smiling bittersweetly before kissing the top of her head. “I suppose so…”
And he did see, and he did suppose… he just wished God would hurry up and help him figure out how to drive again in the event his sight wasn’t completely restored. Without that bit of independence… without a way to go to the office at least sometimes… would he ever feel complete?
As silly as it felt, and as silly as it might sound to others, it’s exactly what kept going through his mind. The loss of that one independent act – to work and back alone, with nothing but a stop for tea and a snack on the way between – was too much to think about; it was too much to ponder as a permanent state.
I suppose that if You’ve kept me alive all this time, Lord, You have a reason for my life… whether I know about it or not. And whether I can drive again; whether I can do research as effectively as I did before… or whether I can’t… I guess I just need to trust that You’ve got something up Your proverbial sleeve that will keep me going. You’ve done it before… I know You can do it again… even though right now, in all honesty, God, I just want to kick and scream like Cherish did; I want to stomp around and complain that it isn’t fair. I hate this… but I know You work all things together for the good of those of us who love You. You promise that. So… even as we lay here in the blackest of nights emotionally, well, God… I choose to trust. I have to trust… and I will.
“Aw, man,” Duncan exclaimed as he put his dirty dishes in the sink. “Family prayer time? I thought we were done with that kind of stuff.” He came back to the table and slumped down in his chair, glaring at Edward.
“I bet this was your idea, wasn’t it,” he asked pointedly as Paloma quickly put the milk back in the fridge.
“We thought you all liked sharing time together in prayer,” Paloma replied, to Edward’s relief. “And it was actually my idea, thank you very much, Young Man.”
“Well, I don’t got anything against prayer itself, or even praying together, but why does it have to be before school, when we’re trying to get ready and stuff. Can’t we at least wait until everyone’s home for the day and…?”
“Well, I don’t like it, either,” Cherish said, pushing her plate away, into the center of the table, where it hit the French toast plate. “Is this just because I didn’t want to do my math last night? I hate math, but seriously?”
Edward began to laugh, and all eyes turned toward him.
Did the kids seriously think they wanted to pray all of a sudden over a skirmish with math?
“Sorry,” he said, laughing again. “I’m not laughing at you, but this is just…” He tried to find the right words and glanced at each of them in turn. “I’m laughing because I was going to suggest this the day I collapsed, you guys. And if I hadn’t survived that, I wouldn’t be here to listen to all of this. I’m thankful even to hear complaints.”
Paloma smiled at him, and the kids glanced between themselves before anyone responded.
“You were going to…?”
Chosen’s eyes got wide and Edward saw tears beginning to form.
Now what did I say, he thought. I’m thankful. So thankful even for the things that I’m not too happy with, because I’m still here. Don’t they realize that?
“Now, listen,” he said, trying again. “I didn’t mean to upset you guys. I love you. Tremendously. I’m just trying to express that I’m glad to still be alive. It’s… I’m not sure how else to…” He turned to his wife for help. Did she, at least, understand what he was trying to say?
“Listen, kids, we can talk about that later. But for now, let’s say our prayers and finish getting ready for the day. Time’s cruising on past us,’” Paloma announced, smiling at him.
She stood to remove the rest of the dishes from the table as he and the kids went and washed up, then they met together in the living room.
As they circled up in the living room, each of the kids took to their knees along the couch, and he and Paloma shared his recliner, and Paloma began to pray aloud.
“Lord God, we come before You, humbled. You know the mess we’ve been in and all we’ve been through, but today, we want to take the time to worship You. You have been so good to us, through pleasant times and painful, through the better and the worst of it, and we thank You, O God. We thank You because we wouldn’t be here without You; we wouldn’t have made it this far on our own, without Your guidance and Your grace. So we praise You today; we thank You today. You are awesome, holy, and wonderful, and we want to tell You that we know it. Even when we’re down here complaining about life, we know… You alone are God and You alone hold us in the palm of Your hand, in safety.”
Edward patted Paloma’s hand as he raised his eyes toward the ceiling, then picked up where she left off.
“We thank You for keeping our family together, and for keeping us alive. You know the terrain both behind and ahead of us, and indeed, all is in Your hands. I thank You for giving me another opportunity at life. Only You could have orchestrated things the way they occurred in order to keep me here, continuing on as a husband and father who loves his family more than words can say. So, thank You, God. From the bottom of my everything, thank You!”
Tears streamed down his face as, one by one, the kids added to their prayers. And just as Cherish was finishing, the timer Paloma had set to get out the door went off.
Suddenly, everyone was scrambling to fetch their things, but Edward simply waited out the rush, thankful that things were moving back to the right track.
Mark watched Eugenie as she prepared to head for work, glad for the day to spend with his daughter.
Not that he relished being around the child when she was home sick from school, but he was sure ther
e were things they could do together that didn’t require him to touch her.
Just the thought of germs made him want to scream and run in the other direction.
Since he had yet to take on many clients, and they’d moved to Vancouver to be closer to their support system, he was able to concentrate on getting his marriage and family back on the right track.
And yes, he’d written a letter – a single letter he didn’t plan to repeat – to Arthur Reynolds without telling anybody, but what could it hurt?
There had been no real address on it, and he had merely forgiven the man on paper; he’d forgiven him as a way of releasing him. And it had taken everything within him not to berate and belittle his past decisions, despite that was what he’d truly wished to do.
Yet Mark knew in his heart that, whatever Arthur chose to do from now on, it would have no effect on him and his family. He’d made sure of that, as sure as he could be, by using the false address. He’d mailed it from Gresham to throw the man off the track of where he and Eugenie had relocated to with Majesta, and he hoped that would be the end of it.
“Alright, I’m off now. Are you sure you don’t want Angelique to come watch her so you can get things done?” Eugenie’s eyebrows lifted with her query.
“Nonsense,” he replied, letting go of the thread he was fiddling with on his trousers and straightening up to look at her. “We’ll be fine, I assure you.”
“Well…”
“Really, we’ll be fine,” he said again, standing now to hug her goodbye at the door. He moved toward her, expecting she would return the gesture, only to see her pulling back.
“What’s wrong,” he asked.
“Your breath!” She curled her nose up at him as he tried to advance again.
“Hey, I brushed my teeth,” he argued back as she started to laugh, hugging him anyway.
“I hope Majesta doesn’t wilt,” she replied back, opening the door as she shouldered her purse. “Brushed or not, that’s horrible.”
She grabbed her briefcase; glanced at him one last time, and smiled.. “See you two later.”
Once she left, Mark checked on Majesta again and, finding her asleep, went to brush again.
He shivered as he put his toothbrush back down after sanitizing it.
Germs.
Disgusting!
Part Two:
Fragile Ties
Sixteen
Paris, France… May 11, 1702
Roisin stirred the stew she was preparing as she pondered over all that Maurice had disclosed to her in the last few nights. In the background, she could hear the rain pouring as though it would never stop, and lightening flashed too close for her comfort.
She jumped, causing the spoon to splash some of the hot liquid up toward her, onto the top of her dress.
Had Maurice and that Herbert fellow – along with one other guard – really foiled a plot to kill James Francis?
Really? Could it be true?
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know exactly how they’d accomplished it, but was thankful her friend’s son was still alive and well, in spite of the stresses of his position in the French, Irish, Scotch, and English communities.
Since James Francis had become the King of England, at least in the eyes of the Jacobites, there had been turmoil. Then, when Anne took over England after William had died, well… things had become more than the people could bear.
The war she remembered reading about in history had occurred, and none too few had died.
A trembling went through her at the thought of the loss of so many lives.
Lives on both sides of the war.
She had been thankful that their beloved James Francis – their daughter’s favorite playmate growing up, though he was much older than she – had survived. That Maurice and his associates had overheard some of Louis’ own guards discussing the man’s demise amongst themselves was just… it was unbelievable.
Another clap of thunder followed by quick lightening abruptly interrupted her thoughts. Her mind turned backward a page to when she’d come through the mirror, and she shivered again, in spite of herself.
She had only meant to pull Rose Wishart-Laurent, poor child, back into 1930… not fall through it into a separate time entirely. At times she wondered what those poor boys must have been thinking when she disappeared, just as their sister had.
“Duffy,” she called. “Duffy, Clarice… time for a snack.”
Where did that pair run off to now?
Within moments, she heard both dog and daughter running in her direction from the back of their little house.
“We’re here, Mama,” Clarice called, sounding out of breath.
When Roisin turned to greet them, both were covered in mud.
Now, what has happened here, she thought, trying to figure out what her best response could be.
“Clarice,” she asked. “Have ye been outside with the dog?”
“Well… only a little, Mama. He had to… he needed a walk,” Clarice finally said after a few moments of hemming and hawing. “We didn’t go very far. You were taking a nap, and…”
Roisin set aside her stirring spoon and, turning her daughter around, moved in near the table. When would the girl learn that these were dangerous times? She needed an adult with her, even if it meant waking someone up.
Not to mention to keep her from looking like she’d rolled around with the neighbor’s pigs. It’d take an hour to scrub it out. “Go fetch ye something to dry off with, and come right back,” she finally said. “We canna have you coming and catching cold from the rain… nae you or the dog.”
Her daughter nodded, her head low. “Alright, Mama,” she said, nearly whispering. “Come, Duffy. Let’s go find something.”
Maurice waited impatiently at the gate for Herbert, yet again.
He glanced briefly over at William Bonhomme and sat down on the ground, his feet too sore to sustain his weight any longer.
Why was the man always late?
The sun would set any time now, and Maurice needed to be back on duty early in the morning. Now was the time to be at home, eating his meal quickly, and then curling up with his wife and letting sleep take his problems away… at least for the night.
He and his associates still had not decided what they would do with the renegade guards, but it was becoming evident, the King must be made aware of the situation, if it hadn’t gotten around to him yet.
Louis hated surprises, and James Francis liked them even less. This was perhaps due to the events with the “angel mirror” they’d spoken in hushed tones about.
What was it with this mirror, anyway? He had heard his beloved Roisin mention it in her sleep, as well. But as far as he recalled, he’d never seen it.
What any kind of mirror would have to do with what was happening with the pair of kings, he wasn’t sure, but he wished someone would fill him in on it if there were going to be any more repercussions.
“Je suis désolé, je suis désolé! Je sais que je suis en retard, et pas pour la première fois, mon cher Beausoleil. Veuillez m'excuser, s'il vous plait,” he heard Herbert announce from behind him.
Quickly turning around, he hushed the man, glaring at him in the process. “Veuillez, Herbert ... calme maintenant. Cela est destiné à être conservé de façon confidentielle, de ne pas diffuser des émissions dans le monde dans un cri. Let us find somewhere to talk, shall we?”
Herbert, a much smaller man, with crystalline blue eyes and golden blonde hair, backed away a moment before moving closer again, nodding. “Yes, yes, Maurice. You are correct, but where do you suggest? Everywhere, there is someone wanting to know what is happening, and we have no privacy without looking like criminals ourselves.”
“Follow me.”
Without waiting for an answer, Maurice began walking in the direction of his home. Roisin would understand… and maybe even be able to shed light on the situation.
Thankfully, he knew she would keep their secret. He just had to figure ou
t somewhere for Clarice to go for a couple of hours… maybe the neighboring farm, where she had some friends.
Yes. Home.
Home was always the answer.
Home, and a second set of ears to hear… even if there was no understanding of the context.
Seventeen
Seal Beach, California… May 11, 2020
Romeo yawned, stretching as he tried to wake up for the day.
How can it already be Monday again, he thought, glancing at the clock. The green glow from it read 5:57 AM. It feels like we’ve barely hit Thursday, and the weekend’s gone.
The sound of the waves rolling ashore began to lull him back to sleep, but he started back awake and pushed off his covers. He wished work didn’t call on him so early with this new client.
Careful not to wake Calico up, he gathered his things for a quick shower and headed into the other room.
Breakfast first, he thought, his stomach already growling.
He dropped his armload of belongings on the couch and tiptoed into the kitchen, hoping the oak floorboards wouldn’t creak under his weight. Once he got to the linoleum, he was fine. He rummaged through the cereal cabinet and – deciding on some toasted oats - set out his bowl and a spoon, found the milk hidden toward the back of the refrigerator, and finally sat down to eat.
Their new client seemed to be more of a challenge than even Calico’s case, and it stymied him that Brice would put them on the task. It would be a longer-term venture than his wife had participated in yet as a worker, and he worried that the man might bring to mind her own distant plight.
A former mayor, the man had been run out of town by a mob after a scandal between his wife and his pastor’s male secretary had gotten out of hand.
When he left, the secretary had not only slandered him, but threatened his life, if he as much as contacted the woman ever again, so there wasn’t even a way for a divorce to take place. Then the secretary’s wife had threatened to kill him because she figured he somehow knew about it to begin with, and her marriage was just as over as his own was.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 11
