The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  How could she not see that?

  Gaspar closed his eyes a moment as he tried to reel his thoughts and emotions in; tried to slow his galloping heart.

  “Would you like to hold him,” he heard Galya say after a while.

  How long had he sat there, eyes closed to his own family?

  Taking a deep, shaky breath, Gaspar opened his eyes. The sight in front of him took what he had left of breath away: Galya’s hair glowed in the waning light, and her sparkling eyes barely shone in the shadows. In her arms, against her sheet-covered chest, little Timmy sucked on her first finger, his little hands wrapped around it. His eyes, so much like Galya’s, seemed alert and bounced a little from one thing to another.

  How much babies could see right away, he had no idea, but at least it seemed that Fernand Timothy Delacroix Aiton was at peace with what he was able to observe.

  “Oui,” Gaspar whispered, trying to remember how to hold his arms for the transition. After a few awkward moments, he was holding his son for the second time since he’d been born.

  Giving Timmy a finger to suck on, he watched in awe. Time seemed to stand still.

  The next thing he knew, he was waking with a start as Timmy was taken from his arms by Mrs. Duchamp. Suzette helped him stand, and he stumbled down the hallway to his room next door.

  Images of his wife and son flooded his senses as he removed the extraneous layers of clothing and lay down on the cool sheeting. And as he fell asleep, something in the back of his mind niggled at him.

  Something was about to happen, but what? And why?

  Had God told him, or was it just a sense he got?

  Yawning a third time, his eyes closed, he allowed sleep to overcome him.

  He could worry about change later.

  Later, when the niggle went away or got stronger.

  Later, when his head wasn’t so fuzzy and his eyelids were able to be propped open.

  Later, when sleep wasn’t calling his name from a deep place of need.

  Thirty Five

  Portland, Oregon… July 27, 2025

  Masao Ogawa turned left into the parking lot for The Grotto and sighed, fatigue overwhelming him not for the first time in recent days.

  How long had it been since he’d visited? Had it been with Tom and Tawny Henleigh and their kids a few years prior?

  Shaking his head, Masao found a spot near the bookstore and slid out of the car, making sure to lock it behind him. He headed to the entrance of the building to meet the rest of the men going on the trip to Israel, and, not seeing any of them, moved off to the side to look at the glass-enclosed Madonna figures while he waited.

  He glanced at his watch. Twenty past two.

  Where were the others? Hadn’t Casimir, Dirk, Omega, Ferris, and Zollo all insisted this was an important meeting? The meeting that would determine how the group of travelers went about gathering what they needed in order to find the truth?

  Something like that, anyway.

  But hadn’t they already found the truth? Wasn’t the trip to Israel more about closure? And if it wasn’t, then what had the angel-men meant?

  As Masao made his way around to the final Madonna, he heard Jason and Tom’s voices in the distance. Moving back toward the entrance to the bookstore, he watched the pair - followed by most of the rest of the men going to Israel with them – through the store glass until they rounded the corner in near-silence.

  “Where are Quentin and Lovan,” he asked Edward as the group headed toward the benches in front of the main part of the Grotto to sit down.

  Candles blazed in rows on both sides of the open air sanctuary near the prayer rail up front, and only a handful of other people were occupying the space around them. Most were moving from the inner chapel toward the parking lot, or into the chapel itself.

  “Quentin had to work until one, and so Lovan was picking him up and they should be here soon. They called Jason about ten minutes ago to say they got stuck in traffic, but would be here as soon as they could,” Edward told him in hushed tones. “And though they’re coming to this meeting, it turns out Dirk and Ferris won’t be going to Israel. Just Zollo, Casimir, and Omega. Something about protection for those behind and watching the house.”

  Masao nodded, a warmth seeping through him the hot day couldn’t account for.

  They were really doing this.

  They were heading to Israel, and landing on International Friendship Day; on Tisha B’Av. They would need to fast, then, and he knew it. Fast with those fasting to commemorate the destruction of both first and second temples and the exile of the Jewish people from their land, among other events that had occurred through history on that date.

  After all, when in Rome, right?

  It would be difficult not to show their excitement and joy during such a time of mourning, but Masao had done his homework and knew that, in order to show solidarity with the people of the land, they must fast in conjunction with them.

  Masao sat in silence as he watched Tom take a candle he brought with him up front, walk to the left side of the stage, and set it in an empty place, lighting it. Then, he went to the stone kneeler and silently knelt, placed his elbows on the alter rail and began to pray.

  Tom was still praying when the angel-men showed, and was just getting up when Masao spotted Quentin and Lovan walking in their direction from the parking lot.

  Once Tom had rejoined the group and everyone was assembled, Masao suggested they take the elevator to the top level for more privacy.

  “Maybe go to the labyrinth for a little while to pray and think before discussing our ideas for how to do this,” he said, heading to the bookstore to purchase tokens for everyone to do just that.

  Once he’d bought the tokens, he rejoined the group and they filtered through the turnstile and over to the elevator.

  It took three trips to get everyone up to the top level.

  Allowing Tom and Dirk to take the lead, Masao followed the men through the Stations of the Cross and, eventually, they arrived at the labyrinth.

  Aside from a young Filipino woman and her small son, who were just leaving, it was empty.

  His thoughts turning toward Mark, who was finishing the first week of a three-month sentence in jail, Masao decided that, perhaps, that’s where his own prayers should begin.

  Stepping onto the bricks, he quietly began pouring his heart out to God. About Mark, about his family, and about Israel. About the mirror, and Timothy, and everything they’d learned in between the creation of the mirror and this moment of silence.

  And when he was finished, there was a certainty in his heart. Not that he knew what would happen, but that all would, indeed, be well, as had been promised more than once by the angels during the time he’d gotten to know them.

  That, no matter what happened, it was for the best.

  Even if he didn’t understand.

  Seated together near the rose garden in front of the monastery, Lovan glanced around at the men he’d agreed to meet, wondering what they’d think of his idea.

  Was it dumb, or would it help?

  After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat.

  “Yes, Lovan,” Jason asked him from his left hand side. “What is it?”

  “Well, it might be kinda stupid, but I jus’….” He hesitated a moment more before continuing. “I had an idea ‘bout getting some of the water to the mirror, and maybe it could work, and maybe not, but I jus’…”

  Suddenly, all eyes were on him, expressions of interest, curiosity, and even relief playing off the various sun-splashed faces.

  “Go on,” Edward encouraged him, looking him in the eye and nodding encouragingly.

  “Well, security’s still real tight, I guess, after what happened last year in Italy,” he began, “but if we all had water bottles…,” he asked, “then couldn’t we get rags or something to dip into the pool an’ fill the bottles when we got back to the hotel? Or is that… would that not work?”

  For a moment there wa
s silence, and all he could feel was his racing heart as his father eyed him warily. And then, Dirk spoke.

  Dirk, who wasn’t even going.

  “Not a bad idea at all, but let’s consider that a large number of water bottles would be suspect. One large one, though, or some other type of container is exactly what is needed. You’re on the right track, young man,” the angel-man said, his blue eyes twinkling and the Jesus fish tattoo along his jaw wriggling with his words.

  “What about one of those fancy new styles of urn,” Jason asked quietly. “Or a carafe or something? That might work, right? Lovan’s idea is good, just maybe not the right container, is all.”

  The man gave him a thumbs-up sign, much to Lovan’s embarrassment.

  “If we did that, would we need two… one for water, and one for supplies so it isn’t as suspicious,” Justice asked, a smile spreading over his face even as he shielded his eyes from the sun that was beating down.

  Kristof suddenly frowned, readjusting his posture. “Sorry,” he said, grimacing. “Hate this stupid catheter and bag!”

  “Well, there’s an idea,” Lovan said. “Kinda… gross idea, but another thought.”

  “What are you talking about,” Justice asked, glancing between Lovan and Kristof. “You alright,” he asked the older man, who finally stood up with some help.

  “Fine,” Kristof whispered. “Just embarrassed.”

  “What were you saying,” Masao asked Lovan.

  “The catheter and bag, it…” Lovan looked over to Kristof, then around at the others. “We could rig something to fill a bag like that, couldn’t we? Jus’ have some sorta suction device on the top of it, and have it hang outta someone’s pant leg?”

  Murmurs rose around him, and the tone, mixed, made him uneasy. “‘Course could be other, easier things like water droppers or somethin’,” he added quickly, wiping a hand over his forehead to reduce the tickle of sweat beading there.

  “They got cameras on the pool,” his father finally asked, breaking through the tension and excitement.

  “No cameras,” Masao said quietly. “And this surprises me, but really, it is for the best. The biggest thing will be not being obvious. Oh, and, yes, no fist fights.”

  “What about memorial necklaces,” Edward suddenly said, a smile widening on his face.

  Everyone turned toward him, and Lovan held his breath a moment, letting it out slowly.

  What did necklaces have to do with getting water?

  “You know how Rose and her siblings had their Saint Peter medals… she still has one, and gave me her old one,” Edward said, gently tugging it from underneath the collar of his burgundy and gold-striped shirt. “I’ve seen people with necklaces that hold a little stone or other memorabilia, and the rest of it is water. Like a small vial.”

  “Wait, but….”

  Quentin’s outburst caused Lovan to startle, but he stopped as soon as he started.

  “If we went to the pool a few at a time, and had some sort of container – a sealed carafe, a water bottle, whatever – we could empty and sterilize the necklaces when we got to Israel and use them to collect what we need.”

  “But how much do we need,” Jason asked. “I mean, are we just washing the mirror, or are we soaking it?”

  “I think if we just got enough to wash it… allow it to connect with its roots, as it were,” Masao said, “we would need only a cup, maybe a little bit more.”

  “Well, that shouldn’t be so hard,” Ferris piped in. “That way, you could send it to us waiting in the States, or, if you prefer, bring it back yourselves. Whichever seems more likely to work, right?”

  “Well… I don’t know about the mail, but also, airport security will be tight. We should pray on that a bit, but I think maybe we have the start of a plan,” Masao said as Lovan noticed a couple moving in their direction.

  He glanced toward the roses, and the Mary fountain behind him, then back toward the couple who were quietly approaching. He did his best to be discreet when he nodded his head in their direction. “Company,” he whispered.

  Helping his father, Edward, and then Tom to stand, Lovan waited for the rest of the group to prepare to leave. The portly couple heading their way, who he guessed might be either Russian or Ukranian, smiled as they approached. The woman gave him a little wave when their eyes met, and he looked away abruptly.

  “Well,” Tom said, his voice loud in Lovan’s ear, “let’s all pray on it and work it out from here. Maybe the women can help us out with the logistics, now that we’ve got a quasi-plan. Or the twins, despite their not wanting to go.”

  “Wait,” Lovan said as they began walking back toward the elevator as a group, “Duncan and Chosen are still not budgin’ on goin’?”

  “Nope,” Tom said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think it’s just you, Izzie, and Kate going, last I heard. Of your generation, anyway.”

  Lovan pulled a leaf from one of the maples they passed and sighed.

  Of course none of the other guys were going.

  That would be too convenient.

  Arthur waited for the line in front of him to move forward and sighed.

  Here we go ‘gain, he thought as he watched the young, beer-bellied Plaid Pantry attendant flirting with a skinny blonde woman three inches taller than he was while ringing up her ice cream, chips, popcorn, and chocolate milk. There were two more people in front of Arthur, aside from the woman, both female.

  This attendant was notorious for flirting with each female customer that came in, and sometimes Arthur wondered if it was character or training.

  He checked his watch: another fifteen minutes before he was supposed to meet Benedict Shiloh up the block so the man could help him out with a letter he’d been trying to get written right.

  A letter he dreaded writing, but knew he had to.

  A letter that might never even be read through, but that, if it was, he wanted to make a good impression with.

  A letter that terrified him as much as it gave him peace.

  Thirty Six

  St. Louis, Missouri… July 29, 2025

  “I still can’t believe… I just…”

  Tears coursed down Calico’s face anew as she finished the last of the phone calls she needed to make, setting her notepad and pen aside.

  Even splitting the task of making arrangements and notifications up with Romeo, and having help from Jessica, Prudence, Robert, and Amos, she had a difficult time trying to make sense of things.

  “When I told God I would accept what He wanted, I never really thought that…”

  Romeo shook his head in agreement. “But we have to remember, he was our gift. God didn’t have to give him to us. He chose to. And like Job said, God gives and He takes away.”

  Anger surged through Calico. “That isn’t helping,” she told her husband. “Yes, God gives and takes away, but why did He have to take Angus so early? Why get Prudence attached after all she’s been through with her son, and why did we have to say goodbye to him? It should be his saying goodbye to us. Years from now,” she nearly shouted as she sank into the couch beside him.

  “Do you think they’ll come, now that all of this is…?”

  “I don’t see how they wouldn’t, now that they’re stuck in the program by default. They tried so hard to find us, and for what… all that time, HUVA had been so good to us; good for us. If Felix and…”

  Calico sighed.

  Another topic too sore for her heart.

  If Felix and Jasmine, and Anabella – who she learned went by Annabelle now – along with her husband, Marcos, were going to be part of their lives now that Angus was gone, what was she going to do? And how would they respond?

  Brice had assured her that he would speak with Felix and Jasmine personally, and have Justice get in contact with Marcos and Annabelle, but what was she going to say to them? How would they respond to her? And if Jasmine still carried the animosity she had in younger years, what would happen at the ceremony?

  Calico b
it her lip.

  They had found such a beautiful urn. Not anything traditional, though it had crossed their minds. They wanted Angus to be free, and so they had chosen a box with a swan on the cover.

  They had not found one with ducks they thought Angus would like, but she thought he would have liked the swan, with its wings open to fly as it lifted from the water in black and white relief against the pale sage green of the box itself.

  “I don’t know,” she finally replied, resting her head against Romeo’s broad shoulder. “I think… I think that Felix and Jasmine, being part of the program now… I think they’ll come. But I’m not sure about Annabella. She and her husband will be hearing all of this for the first time… I don’t know that they’d want to reconfigure their lives simply to see me again. I just… I don’t know.”

  “Somehow, I think…”

  Calico nodded. “Yeah, I know, but…”

  “It isn’t impossible. I mean, we were entertaining an angel without knowing it. What’s to say that…”

  Calico nodded her head. True enough, she thought. And I didn’t see it coming at all.

  “So, if God loves us so much that He sent an angel to stay with us through this hard time – to help us transition – what makes you think that He would love us any less now, when you need…?”

  Calico allowed the question to hang in the air, nodding again as she idly futzed with one of the buttons on Romeo’s staid chocolate-colored shirt.

  What God had done at the hospital was nothing less than a miracle. Showing the doctor that God loved her, Kaleo had later led her to Christ, once her shift was over.

  It just hadn’t been the miracle Calico had been hoping for.

  It was great, and she knew that God had orchestrated it… that the doctor might never have come to Christ had Angus lived; had they not accepted what happened, even though they didn’t like it. But it didn’t make her heart ache any less, or her eyes tear up with less vigor.

  She knew that God would continue to guide them… so why did she feel abandoned and out of sorts?