Twenty Four
Jerusalem, Israel… July 21, 2025
Chesed and Chayyim waited in near-silence for a space to open up at the Western Wall, or HaKotel HaMa'aravi, as it was called.
The Wailing Wall. The Kotel. The Kosel. And to the Arabic of the city, Ḥā'iṭ Al-Burāq.
They had heard all of these names for it and more in their time on Earth; their time in Jerusalem.
And it seemed to be more crowded than it had ever been.
At least on a Monday.
At least since they’d arrived and begun visiting it for prayers every day but the Sabbath.
A commotion had drawn them, not for the first time, toward the Dome of the Rock before they made their way to the wall itself; the golden globe atop the blued shrine having been hit by a large bird; it looked like a Black-wing Kite, or maybe an osprey. Hard to know until someone announces it.
But the hubbub seemed to Chesed a warning. He felt bad for the bird, but perhaps the event was a warning of upcoming change.
Chayyim had said he wasn’t so sure.
Things happen, and God knows all, but does God cause it all?
They knew this was not the case, and so he had a fair point.
Chesed moved toward a group of older men who seemed to be preparing to leave, and motioned for Chayyim to follow. “Fix your kippah,” he whispered once the angel-man was closer to him. “We are in a holy place.”
“But we’re by the-”
“Yes, I know, but even still that’s holy to somebody, and many believe there is similitude between the three,” he whispered back as they moved quickly, quietly, reverently forward.
A pair of shel yad-clad guards, bayises evident underneath their rolled-up shirtsleeves, spoke in hushed tones as they walked past on patrol. These tefillin; these shel yad, were reminders of the Torah’s significance, and God’s.
Chesed nodded, but did not make direct eye contact with either guard – one with long hair pulled back in a leather strap, and the other, closely shorn - as he and Chayyim made their way to the rough-hewn wall to pray.
It was here that Chesed felt closer to the Godhead Who had sent them down from the Valley of Thrones into this place. Here, at the wall, where he knew they must wait and pray until the others arrived.
Here where they were called to get to know the city, and prepare Jerusalem with a layer of prayer, for the Godhead had shown a foreshadowing that surprised and saddened even them.
As Ezer and Elihu, looking down on the Earth from the heavenlies, they weren’t as close to the situation; they had met part of the team of people on their way here; they had known the Great I Am had a plan for all of this, but now, in human flesh, it was different.
They had feelings; human feelings; they made mistakes, though the Perfect One sent them, and they knew only enough to be prayerful, a little frightened, and in awe.
And so, they came; they wrote as well as recited their prayers, and prayed within themselves. Sometimes twice a day, sometimes only once, and never on the Sabbath, they came. And they made sure to presence themselves at the same eatery they first visited; talk with the same group of men, young and old, and the occasional mother who ventured in to pick up sandwiches for her children on days she hadn’t gotten things quite prepared.
And it was that presencing – at the eatery, and here, at the wall – that got to Chesed.
Never in the thousands of years he had come and gone from the earth had he been around so many people; at least in a consistent way. The only time they were alone for prayer and rest was when they went back to the little apartment they shared and spoke with the I Am from there, instead of here.
For both were necessary.
And both were heard.
Twenty Five
Vancouver, Washington… July 21, 2025
“Well, less than a week to go, and I still don’t know what’s going on with Kristof’s friend. Shouldn’t she have arrived by now,” Paloma said as she checked the ripeness of watermelons and placed one in her basket.
Tawny and Me’chelle nodded, neither of them saying a word as they walked further down the aisle toward the salad greens.
“I’d just ask him about it,” Me’chelle finally said once she’d chosen a cabbage, placed it in her cart, and smoothed her brilliant red tunic. “Maybe she changed her mind, and he’s embarrassed to tell us, or maybe she’s meeting us there,” she suggested.
“But don’t you think that’s an important detail,” Paloma retorted as her Andromeda rang, making her jump.
“Well,” Tawny put in, the vee of a frown evident between her eyebrows. “Me’chelle has a point, if its embarrassment.”
Checking to see who was calling, Paloma answered it, making sure to go screenless.
Lovan.
Moving away from the cart, she allowed Tawny to push it so she could concentrate on her conversation.
“Hey, what do you need,” she asked in greeting as she followed her friends toward the next section of fresh organics.
“I’m worried ‘bout my Dad,” he told her quietly.
It was difficult to hear him over the voices and carts milling around her, and she pressed her earpiece closer. The little grey bud hurt her ear at times, but it was the only way to have a private conversation.
“Is something wrong,” she asked.
“Auntie ‘Loma, you know with Quentin Quimby in da picture, it ain’t gonna all go smoothly, don’t you?”
Me’chelle nodded her head at the peppers, and Paloma shook her head.
“Nothing but a pineapple left on my list from this section,” she said, interrupting her conversation with Lovan a moment.
“What?”
“Sorry; at the grocery store. So you were saying…?”
“Can’t really tell you from here; I’m at work, but just be prayin’ for him, will ya? Somethin’ just isn’t jiving, and he mentioned last night he ran into Arthur over at some pizza place. Nearly went to blows, he said.”
Paloma drew in a shaky breath as she tried to think of what to say.
If Quentin had told Arthur Reynolds of their trip to Israel, then what?
As far as she knew, there had only been five other people to be allowed out of the country while on parole in the last ten years, and all had been under circumstances only known by the State.
The State, and the people involved, of course.
“Did he say if Israel came into the conversation,” she finally asked Lovan.
“That be just it,” he told Paloma, causing her to nearly drop her phone. “Arthur somehow found out, and it wasn’t from any of us. How would he know, ‘less his P.O. foun’ out and tole him? And why would they?”
Paloma placed a hand on the cart to steady herself, and Tawny and Me’chelle each moved closer. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, and her heart pounded inside her head.
“Auntie ‘Loma?”
“I’m here.”
“What are we gonna do about it? Arthur done said he gonna tell the worl’ all about Quentin’s sins so Israel won’ let him in… even if he did get clearance already.”
“What is it,” Tawny asked her in a whisper as an older woman harrumphed, then moved around them with her overloaded cart.
Paloma put a finger up into the air as she tried to catch her breath.
“Hey, you breathin’ heavy, Auntie. You okay?”
“I just… You’ll have to talk to Me’chelle. I’m…”
She fumbled with her Andromeda and forwarded the conversation to Me’chelle’s phone, which pulsed once before the woman answered.
“What’s happening,” she heard Me’chelle say as she looked Paloma in the eye.
Tawny motioned for her to follow, and with effort, the two moved toward some seats at the back of the store.
Several minutes later, when Me’chelle joined them, she was shaking her head. “I’ll look into it this afternoon when I get home, Lovan,” Paloma heard her sister-in-law saying. “Paloma has enough on her plate. But we�
�ll get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
Heart still racing, Paloma moved to stand and nearly fell backward in the effort.
“Nope; not doing this again,” Tawny told her. “Me’chelle, call an ambulance.”
“I’m f-”
“Girlfriend, you are not fine, and we all know it. Shoot, even Lovan could tell, and there wasn’t no image open for him to see how pasty pale you look, or to see them veins on your forehead startin’ to pop from stress.”
Paloma sighed as she listened to Me’chelle’s phone call.
“That’s right. We’re at the Trader Joe’s off Mill Plain,” she heard her say. “Back of the store where they put those new seats in.”
After another moment, Me’chelle hung up.
“They’ll be here in less than five minutes, and you best not argue with them. Just let them check you out; make sure you’re alright. I’m guessing it’s anxiety, but one never can be too sure, especially now that we’re getting on in our years,” the woman told her, pushing back her white-threaded brown hair: natural once more, for the first time in nearly a decade.
“Fine,” Paloma acquiesced, her heart still pounding. “Fine.”
“I’m alright, really,” Paloma found herself telling Edward for the third time as he drove her home from the hospital that night. “Just a little anxiety; nothing that will kill me,” she tried to reassure him.
Of course, she knew it was useless. She may as well sit in silence.
He already knew what Me’chelle and Tawny had told the paramedics; already knew what the paramedics had told her; already knew what the doctor’s orders were.
She was busted. And she hated it.
How would her household run efficiently without her? She wasn’t even supposed to give instructions; she’d been ordered to relax, to be on bed rest as much as possible, and to avoid any and all stress between now and the trip to Israel.
And even while in Israel, the orders were to keep the stress low.
Now, how that would work, she didn’t know, but Edward had heard it all, so she had no excuse; no way out of the doctor’s orders.
She’d taken care of Edward during his times of need after hospitalization, and knew he’d take Dr. Fujimoto’s words in all seriousness, and as to the letter as possible.
Even making sure she did the mandatory relaxing.
Did she even know what relaxing meant anymore? It had been so long since she’d spent a whole day on her own, taking care of her own needs, it was probably before she had the twins.
Sighing, she succumbed.
Maybe bed rest would actually do her good. Catch up on reading, listen to music, let someone else do the cooking.
May as well give it a try since I don’t have much other choice without rebelling, she told herself as the van pulled to a stop.
Edward got out, came around the vehicle, and opened the door for her, insisting on carrying her purse for her, like he had when they’d left the hospital. And when they got inside, he pointed his finger teasingly toward their room even as Confetti came rrrowling over to them. She followed them all the way down the hall.
Setting her purse down, Edward helped her with her shoes like he used to, and pulled the bedspread away from the bed so she had the sheet available. He turned the fan on and set the air conditioner in the window with care, and then, he put on quiet music.
With the kids away at her brother and Me’chelle’s for the night, Paloma was thankful for the gentle easing of the coming night.
Though it had been a scorcher, she’d spent a lot of the day being tested, talked to, and treated. Now, with doctor’s orders of rest, she had some idea what Edward must have felt like.
Sure, anxiety was nothing like what Edward had gone through, and in her heart, she knew it wasn’t a fair comparison. But this episode was giving her compassion for those she’d never really considered at risk.
She’d known people with invisible illnesses and not always considered that they were going through. But now, knowing that she’d been dealing with one, herself, how could she not?
How could she not have considered anxiety disorder a big deal? Dr. Fujimoto’s interview proved she’d dealt with it for years and had just hidden it well. That didn’t make others’ health issues better or worse, just different.
“And now, I’m going to take Confetti and we’re leaving you be,” Edward whispered even as she began changing into something cooler. “I’ll bring you snack after a while.”
Paloma nodded, ran her fingers through her hair a moment to unruffle it from changing, and laid down as her husband picked up their curly calico fur-ball. The cat was purring so loudly, Paloma chuckled as she turned over. Soon, she heard the click of the door, and she was left alone with the soft, soothing strains of Mozart.
Within minutes, she was asleep.
Twenty Six
Portland, Oregon… July 24, 2025
“I guess she just up and had an asthma attack on top of an anxiety attack, from what the doctors could figure out,” Jason heard Edward telling Malik as he walked in the door of Rutherford Research.
His sister had definitely had a rough Monday, and had been ordered to take it easy until time to leave for Israel next Tuesday. She’d have to take an inhaler with her on the trip, and they’d given her a two week emergency prescription of anxiety-reducing medications Jason knew she’d only take if her life depended on it.
It’s got to be driving her batty, he thought as he waved at the men, who stood over by the microwave oven. With the kids, Edward, and even Kristof doing everything around the house, and with Kristof’s lady friend, Imogene, finally having shown up.
Imogene was driving Kristof back and forth between Paloma’s old condo he’d moved into and the Stuart house so the pair of them could help out where they could; mostly taking care of Confetti and making sure the hens out back got water through the day, retrieving and sorting the mail, and other small tasks they insisted on helping out with. And Imogene, in the meantime, had insisted on taking over cooking lunch and dinner for everyone until the day they were ready to board the plane.
Jason and Me’chelle had been invited over the night before to meet her, and she was rather nice. Once a golden blonde, Imogene’s hair was now half-grey, and her eyes, surrounded by a flock of crow’s feet, were a lively, brilliant topaz color. She was around the same shape as his sister had grown into – a large hourglass – but her charisma and charm suggested she was more at home in the world of things classic and elegant than creative and romantic.
Her cooking wasn’t as great as Paloma’s, but it was definitely passable, and Jason knew his sister and her family were thankful for the help.
“What caused such a turn of events, my friend,” Jason heard Malik asking Edward as he booted his Imagebar up. “Our Abdul, he has had some problems with asthma, as well.”
Jason glanced at the clock before moving toward where the pair were waiting for him.
Yared and Earnest would arrive within minutes for the first day of three days of debriefing before being left to work side by side with Malik in their absence.
He momentarily pondered the wisdom of leaving Yared and Malik here with only Earnest to referee them, and sighed.
God would have to watch over the trio, just as He’d have to watch over Jason, Edward, Masao, and the rest of their ragtag group of Israel sojourners.
After much discussion, they’d decided to leave the mirror where it was: in the attic at Edward and Paloma’s, where it had been placed once more after their sojourn into the Valley of Thrones.
Just thinking of that valley sent rivers of rippling shivers through Jason, and he was thankful that some of the angels who had guided them through the stairway to Heaven and into the valley would be with them, continuing to be their guide.
All they had to do was, somehow, get some of the water from the Pool of Siloam back to Vancouver, and wash the mirror with it; that was it. That was their biggest task, aside from visiting, itself.
&n
bsp; They still hadn’t figured out how, though.
Oh, several ideas had come up, but which would be the least suspicious? They’d already decided the men would visit the Wailing Wall the first day, and they would strategize the second day as a group.
The Pool of Siloam, he knew, was south of Jerusalem, and the water that flowed to it from Gihon Spring and Hezekiah’s Tunnel. Apparently, the tunnel was named after Hezekiah, since he’d had it built. The pool itself was close to the South, or Dung Gate, and the tunnel was one of only two ways to get to it.
And how would they go unnoticed while they walked to Hezekiah’s Tunnel, waded their way to the pool, collected enough of its water to be useful, and back to their hotel without getting into any debates with the various factions living in the land? And what of the IDF… the Israeli Defense Forces that mandatorily and voluntarily meandered the land, making sure there was peace where possible, and taking measures for war if needed?
“Earth to Jason,” he heard Malik saying all of a sudden. He blinked his eyes and shook his head.
“Sorry, I guess I got lost in my-”
“Edward was saying that Earnest called him to say he and Yared will be about ten minutes late,” the slim, cordial man in front of him said, giving him a toothy smile.
Nodding, Jason apologized quickly.
“It is nothing; we all have days when our thoughts take us places we did not expect, or places we dream of, yes,” Malik returned.
“True,” he heard Edward reply, even as he heard the phone in Malik’s office ring. He moved toward his own office, and Edward followed him, while Malik moved to answer his phone.
“Thinking of Paloma, or Israel,” his brother-in-law asked him as he heard Malik answer the phone in Arabic.
Jason heaved a sigh, opening a drawer on the left side of the desk. “A bit of both, I suppose; I was thinking about Israel, but also about how we’re going to be able to…”
He allowed his words to peter out.
He pulled out the notebook he’d been putting his ideas into the night before, set it on his lap, and shut the drawer again.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 101
