The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  Suzette and Ron frowned, looking confused; Midge’s eyes teared up, and Me’chelle nodded.

  “Instead, Jason and I went to the movies the day after their funeral,” Paloma said quietly. “Just another of those moments you never really forget,” she said, glancing over at Kristof, who had tears in his own eyes. “We watched all three movies that came out that week in our local theatre: Mermaids, Edward Scissorhands, and Looks Who’s Talking Too. We never even saw the first Look Who’s Talking movie until much later. We just wanted something to remember along with the sadness; something good.”

  “Well, what was the last movie you saw with.-”

  Kristof’s words were cut off by a nearby round of Whistling Pete rockets.

  “Dead Poets Society;” Jason answered once it was calm again. “We watched it in June of ’89 a week after it came out. Father hated the ending, but it was such a good movie. Mama even watched that one with us.”

  “I think that was the only movie she ever watched with us,” Paloma put in as another round of fireworks interrupted. She disengaged herself from Jason and moved to sit down near Me’chelle on the couch, with Midge, who had been taking the conversation in quietly, on her other side.

  Midge and Me’chelle each reached out a brown hand and covered hers, and she accepted them. Tears once more slid down her cheeks, and then, footfalls from above.

  Apparently E. T. was over, or they were pausing for more snacks.

  “Mama! Can Sue Ellen and Izzie stay the night,” she heard her daughter yell before she made the landing. “In my room? Can they?”

  “You’ll have to ask their parents,” Edward replied in her stead. “I see no reason why not, if things stay on the quiet side,” he continued.

  Paloma watched her daughter turn pleading eyes to Justice and Midge, and then to the Waldorfs. “And the boys want Neville and Didier to stay, too. We already knew Clay and Charlie couldn’t stay,” she continued.

  “Well, they’ll have to call home and find out, then; same thing. It can’t get raucous, or the stay-over’s off,” Edward told her as the rest of the teens trailed in.

  “So, can they?”

  Paloma watched both sets of parents eye one another before nodding, and the kids gave a whoop of delight. “Call Juanito and Fifine Noel from in here, using Papa’s phone,” she told them. “We’d like to hear their answer for ourselves.”

  With a sigh, Cherish retrieved the phone from her father and gave it to Chosen. “It was your idea. You get to call them,” she told him.

  “Fine,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. He took the phone, quickly rubbed at his weary eyes, and told it to call the Iglesias house.

  “I sure hope they’re still awake,” he muttered as they all waited for an answer. “I sure don’t want to be the one who wakes your Papa up if he’s got work in the morning,” he told the brothers at his side.

  Neville gave a little, nervous laugh, but nodded. Didier just stood watching the phone, as the rest of them waited in silence.

  Finally, on the sixth ring, the holoscreen blipped to life, and a sleepy-looking Pilar answered.

  Paloma heard Chosen groan before he asked to speak with her parents, and then, after a quick conversation, it was decided the boys could stay, after all.

  “So, is your movie finished,” Kristof asked when the conversation was over and the phone had been handed back to Edward.

  Most of the kids shook their heads, in varying degrees. “We got too excited about the possibility of a sleep-over. Now we can finish the movie,” Izzie piped up. “After we grab more snacks.”

  Eighteen

  St. Louis, Missouri… July 4, 2025

  Kaleo watched the Fergusons walk back in the direction of their apartment before heading toward the train to head to his hotel room.

  How he’d gotten back into their good graces after how he’d fumbled the other day when they met, he wasn’t sure, but he knew God had a hand in it.

  And, of course He did.

  The I Am wouldn’t have sent him to Earth in the image of a human to help this family if He didn’t know that they would welcome him into their lives, would He? That wouldn’t even make any sense.

  Thankfully, Angus wasn’t showing any more signs of distress with his health, but Kaleo knew that, sooner than any of them wanted, things could turn again. And that’s what the I Am sent him for.

  He didn’t want this job, but some angel had to take it.

  “Oh, I Am, while I don’t understand why I, specifically, was sent, I trust You. I Am, I don’t know why this child has to go through such pain, or why this family has had to endure so much, other than to glorify You, and in You their lives will, indeed be glorified. Help me do my best to keep things on track and remember to worship You, as I did in Heaven. Help me not get distracted by the humanness of all of this, but to keep my mind on You and Your way and will,” he prayed quietly as he walked toward his destination.

  The sun – even hotter than the day he’d arrived – beat down on him, reminding him of a kiln.

  Did they even have kilns anymore?

  A sudden bump from behind as he moved to board his train startled him, and he jumped. “’Scuse me, young man,” an elderly woman, her tresses swept up into a silvery bun and her deep brown eyes twinkling behind the horn-rimmed glasses she wore, making him smile.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, folding up her cane as she wobbled ahead of him in line, her pass hanging on the side of her purse from a short chain.

  “It happens,” he told her as he paused to wipe his brow with the back of his hand.

  He noticed she had on what looked like a wool suit, nearly the same brown as her eyes, but much darker than her wrinkle-laden skin.

  “You aren’t hot in that,” he asked her as they sat across from each other in the half-filled car.

  “It’s what I got; I used to live in Alaska, and my son moved me here to live near him; don’t have the money for new clothes,” she whispered, leaning toward him slightly.

  Kaleo nodded, and his heart skipped a beat.

  Isn’t there something we can do for her, Mighty One, he prayed silently.

  Empty your money clip for her; I will provide, he sensed the One intone to him moments later. Get off at the same stop she does, and slip it into her purse as you go out the doors so she doesn’t know it’s from you.

  Empty his money clip?

  Kaleo shrugged, hoping that nobody would catch him at it.

  The last thing he needed would be for someone to think he was taking instead of giving.

  A few minutes later, when the woman moved to stand, he stood; only one stop ahead of his, so he could walk if need be, despite the heat.

  As sweat rolled down the side of his face, he reached inside his pocket, disengaged the money from his clip, and readied himself to leave the train behind the woman.

  He felt tall, towering over her; she couldn’t be more than five one, could she? And that’s if she was standing up straight.

  As the doors opened, Kaleo did his best to block the view of his activity from those around them as he slid the money along one side of the button closure, taking care to do the task before the woman moved. And then, heading in the same direction as the train, he quickly made his way toward his hotel, thankful nobody had called him out.

  Lord only knew if the woman would use the money for clothes, or food, or whatever it was, but He also knew what she needed.

  Kaleo considered what he’d just done, and thanked the One that his hotel room was paid up for the whole month, and there was already food there.

  He thought about his earthly wife and children; the photos in his wallet. The phone number that he’d found.

  It might be about time to make that phone call.

  But who would be answering, and how was this going to work?

  Nineteen

  Meridian, Mississippi… July 4, 2025

  The ringing of the phone awoke Prudence from her nap, startling her out of yet ano
ther dream about Lani, Vela, and the gang; about Matteo.

  As she moved to pick up the phone, she noticed the name: Mr. Gerard!

  Springing into action, all memory of her dreams were whisked away as she sat up, ran her fingers through her hair, and instructed the phone to answer without holoscreen.

  “Good day; I’ll have the screen up soon, Sir,” she said by way of greeting, before he could even say a word.

  “It’s quite alright; no need for it if you don’t wish it. I called to inform you that the move is on, if you and Amos can be ready within a week, then all’s the better,” the man’s disembodied voice replied, a hint of laughter in it.

  “You mean…?”

  “I mean, the other couple I discussed it with was amenable to the switch, and so you’re on; they’re hating the heat in St. Louis, and I told them it wouldn’t be much better there in Meridian, but they jumped at the possibility of a smaller city and new people,” he replied as Prudence carried the phone into the bathroom to brush her hair.

  “Within a week, though? That’s the deal,” she asked, clarifying. “I’m sure we can do that. I’ll talk to him and explain,” she said. “He’s on shift right now, but should be home,” she looked at the clock on the phone’s bar, “oh, another two hours. Well, I can go tell him before that,” she said, plans for the move already roiling through her mind.

  “That’s the deal. I’ll tell them to head out in a week, and I expect the same of you; that way, neither has to go without longer than the other. Should be the same approximate travel time, one would assume,” Mr. Gerard informed her. “And it’s not as if either of you, nor either of them, have much other than clothes and such to pack, correct?”

  Prudence thought of the wedding gifts she and Amos had just received, and how they’d have to return some of them in order to pack light.

  Nodding, she remembered the holoscreen was off. “True,” She finally agreed. “Just personal items, pretty much. Everything else belongs to the hotel; we didn’t need to buy furnishings or anything,” she continued. “And some of our wedding gifts, but others can be returned,” she assured him, her words gathering speed.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, chuckling. “No need to do that unless they’re large items,” he told her as she ran the boar’s hair brush through her tresses. “We can have things shipped pretty easily. No need to take your memories, or the love behind the gifts away,” he concluded, to her relief.

  Smiling, Prudence set the brush down just a little too heavily as she thanked him and closed off the conversation.

  After making sure the call had disengaged, she told it to dial Clementina and waited for the woman to answer.

  “Guess who’s moving to St. Louis in a week,” she said when her friend’s large, dark face and bright blue braids popped onto the screen.

  “You’re kidding! A week?”

  “Sounded like it was a week, or not at all,” she told the woman, who looked like she was preparing to leave her car.

  “Well, then, I guess we have a goodbye party to plan,” Clementina said. “Does Amos know yet?”

  “I was just on the way downstairs to tell him,” Prudence replied, smiling. “I don’ t know who will be more thrilled… us, or our replacements.”

  “Oh, I could venture a guess, Honey, and it ain’t the replacements. I know you love that little boy and miss him. and now, you’ll get to work with him again, and his parents,” her friend said, running a hand over her braids before putting on some deep burgundy lipstick. “And much as we’ll miss you two, I’m sure Angus misses you more.”

  Prudence grinned as she thought of seeing the Fergusons again; of hugging little Angus and taking him swimming and getting to know a new city.

  “I’m just thankful Mr. Gerard and this other couple have been so willing. I’m not sure what I would have done, otherwise. I might have had to leave the company altogether just to go see them, long as Amos would have approved. This way, no need to,” she told Clementina.

  “Well, there ya go,” her friend said once more, pushing a pair of sunglasses on. “Well, you go tell that man of yours the good news; I’m outa here for the rest of the day with errands.” And with that, Clementina’s thumb moved to the center of the screen, and it blipped off.

  One week, she told herself as she prepared to go find Amos. One week, and we leave to go see Angus, and Calico, and Romeo. One week before life begins to feel normal again in a new city. I can do this. I can make it another week.

  Thoughts of her husband – with his patience, love and understanding – floored her all over again as she made her way toward the door, exited, and headed for the elevators to go downstairs.

  Just another week, and we leave. Less than two weeks before I see that sweet little boy again, so much like my Matteo. We can watch cartoons and go swimming, and I can help his parents with making sure he is taken care of, she thought as the elevator dinged and she boarded it, pressing the One key.

  Thoughts of watching Murshmellow People and Minkle and Stub, of Scooby Doo and The Archies with Matteo came to mind, and she wondered if Angus would like the ones he hadn’t seen. She knew he loved Minkle and Stub, but who didn’t? They were great! And she’d seen him watching The Archies more than once.

  But did he ever watch the others?

  Did he see the hilarity of Murshmellow People, with their fluffy, multi-colored, cotton-candy-like bodies and their gingerbread houses, with their nemesis, Waldo the cat, and his sidekick, Squidget the mouse? Had he ever watched Waldo following Squidget’s brilliant plans for capturing the Murshmellows to make a snack of them, and how it always backfired? Had he ever cracked up laughing watching the Murshmellows team up with their friends, the bluebirds, in their attempts to trap Waldo and Squidget in their plans?

  Well, maybe Angus was too old for it now, and maybe too young for Scooby Doo, but she’d at least see. That, she decided, would be a goal of hers; easily attainable. Just watch a few episodes of each with him and see what he thinks.

  It isn’t like Romeo and Calico would mind, would they, she asked herself as the elevator stopped and the door opened.

  And with that, she made her way toward the front desk to inquire her husband’s whereabouts, and allowed herself to begin to dream.

  Twenty

  Boston, Massachusetts… July 4, 1942

  Shiloh followed Steven through the firework-lit sky as the pair left the grocery store and headed toward where their family was waiting for them. The sun overhead was just beginning to lower, and sweat trickled down his temples as he concentrated on the task at hand.

  The cold weight he carried reached all the way to his heart as he thought of recent developments, and how life was unfolding for them all.

  Exasperated, he watched as his brother-in-law walked, head held low. Steps that would be sturdy were Steven sober were closer to weaving now.

  Confronting him hadn’t been a task Shiloh had relished, and he hoped to never have to do so again; not about gambling, and not about alcohol.

  When Steven had finally traipsed in the other night from his trip to the Rockford home, Shiloh had smelled rum on his breath and noticed an evident wobble to his walk. And when he’d sobered up the next day, finding nobody but Shiloh at the apartment with him still, Steven had broken down into tears and confessed his sins, as though he were speaking to the priest back in Gloucester.

  Thoughts of Steven’s father had gone through Shiloh’s mind as he’d waited for him to sober up; to sleep off the alcohol and get to the place where he would be willing to listen to reason.

  How Peter and Michael had been unwilling – or was it unable – to help deal with this family crisis, Shiloh might never know, but perhaps it was memories of Steven Sr. that had been the issue. Shiloh had witnessed some intense and embarrassing moments for the brothers, but he’d not had to live under the man’s roof; not had to endure all they’d gone through together, losing their mother and sisters, and then, their father to the drink.

  Didn’t St
even know he was going down the same dangerous path as his father before him, Shiloh had asked once he’d awakened and sluggishly gotten ready for work.

  Didn’t Shiloh know that Steven realized that, and hated himself for it, had come the reply between shaving and breakfast.

  And yet, here they were, less than forty-eight hours later, and Steven had gotten to some alcohol again. And this time, Shiloh couldn’t prevent the rest of their family, or their friends, from seeing the full effects of it.

  Pausing at a stoplight, Shiloh dared a glance over at Steven. “You can get through this, and we can help, but you have to let us help for that to work,” he said for the third time that evening.

  The sunset would arrive shortly, and the fireworks would intensify, but right now, they were the furthest things from Shiloh’s mind. How could he get through to Steven? Would it ever happen, or would it take something bigger than all of this? Didn’t he realize that, with it being a holiday and everyone getting together, it would be evident that he’d been drinking?

  First, getting drunk on a work-night and having to go in hung-over the next day, and now this? It’s a holiday, for crying….

  “Yeah, I know. I just….”

  The light changed as Steven spoke, the slur of his words well-hidden in their slowness. They crossed the street, turned left, and kept walking.

  The bag of ice in Steven’s hand began to slip, and he readjusted; switched it to the left from the right. “Sure you don’t want help with some of that,” Shiloh asked, changing the subject to something more neutral as he watched Steven try to rebalance the bags in his arms.

  “I got it. Stop your worrying, already,” the man nearly snapped even as Shiloh watched the bags slide further down. He reached for one as it began to fall, but neither of them could keep the watermelon it contained from falling to the ground and splitting open, chunks flying all over. A few bits spit up against Shiloh’s bare legs as he stopped walking.