“Malik,” he suddenly heard, aware that Jason was back on the screen talking to him and that Mrs. Ogawa had signed off. “How are things at the office? Clients getting results?”
Thankful for the change in topic, Malik smiled.
“Two new clients and one case finished,” he reported. “I also understand that the Cohen fellow has found some new updates on the case he and Edward were working together before… before you left on vacation,” he said, hoping the intense dislike he felt for the man didn’t seep too much into his voice.
“And your favorite plate just got broken,” he put in for good measure. “I suspect it wasn’t on purpose, but that is what you may have heard when you rang on.”
Jason nodded; scrubbed a hand over his tired-looking face, then smiled. “Alright,” he said, his voice cordial; calm. “I appreciate the report. Either Edward or I will be in touch again soon.”
Forty Six
Jerusalem, Israel…
Masao waited patiently for Jason to finish his phone call, though part of him wished to blurt out what was on his heart. Never one to blurt, he didn’t wish to begin now.
Not when things were critical. Not when his father was on his deathbed and may still not know Jesus Christ. Not now, when he was closer to his childhood home of Inakadate-mura, in the Aomori Precinct of Japan than he’d been in years – the area that hadn’t been annexed in from Kodaji or lost to Onoe Town in the 1950s.
Masao took a few deep breaths as he tried to compute what would be necessary to make the trip. A call will not be the same, he thought, but it would get me in touch with him much faster. He would know that I did what I could to be timely. And it sounds like time is, as cliché says, of the essence.
The trip was long, no matter where he flew in from, and from here, he would guess that it would be at least twenty-two hours to get to Narita International Airport in Chiba before trying to locate a pilot that would take him, not to the airport in Aomori, but straight to Kuroishi, several miles from Inakadate. And that was if he could even get a flight so soon. He hadn’t expected that there would be this type of emergency while overseas.
As Jason hung up with Malik, Masao glanced down at his sandwich, suddenly losing his appetite: he’d get it boxed to go, after all.
“Sorry to hear about your father,” Edward said softly, startling him. A couple of men at the window began to bicker, and Masao rubbed his temples before nodding.
“Thank you.” he murmured back, his stomach now protesting against him. “I… I hope that I may seek prayers from you all… for me and my father both; also for the doctor caring for him. I am not aware of my father allowing a doctor to step foot on his farm in more than fifteen years, so this, I know, is serious.”
Edward nodded, and Jason moved closer to him. Masao, for the first time in his life, truly began to panic. Needing air, he abruptly stood. “I… I must walk. I will be back,” he told the men whose eyes were now on him. He pulled his wallet out and removed a few bills before making his way outside.
Jason moved to follow Masao out the door, but found Edward and Zollo restraining his arms. “Leave him be for a while,” Zollo told him. “You remember what it was like when you learned about your parents?”
Jason met Zollo’s eyes quickly. The sense of dread and misery he’d felt when Miss Isabella had told he and Paloma about their parents shot through him, and instantly, he felt ill. Slumping over in his chair, he nodded, and the hold on his arms released.
How could this possibly be the same?
In his heart of hearts, even during his parents’ brief service, there had been relief. Not relief that they were gone, but relief that they had known Jesus as their savior; relief that their mother wouldn’t have to go through the pain of cancer treatments, and their father wouldn’t have his heart played like a yoyo with varying diagnoses. Relief that he and Paloma wouldn’t be added stressors in an already stressful situation… even relief that they got to see Jesse again, even though he still wished they had lived.
Oh, but had they lived, how much different would their lives now be? Would he have married Me’chelle and had his two beautiful kids? Would Paloma have ended up working for the Peacocks and therefore met and married Edward? Would they be here in Israel now with these people?
Jason closed his eyes against a wave of nausea and nostalgic pain, only to be eye to eye with Zollo again when he opened them. “Well,” he sputtered, “aren’t you going to answer those questions? You’ve done so well with others that I’m surprised you haven’t done so yet.”
He knew the words were cruel. They were downright rude. But right now, thinking about what Masao must be going through, there was no way he would try to compare the two situations.
He couldn’t.
“I believe we both know the answers to the questions in your heart, and true, the two are different,” Zollo said calmly, acknowledging Jason’s pain and questions both as their eyes continued to hold. “But there is a reason for each beyond human understanding. A reason that is not the place of men or angels to judge.”
When Jason finally looked away, he was aware of the eyes of the other men at the table watching the interaction; could sense them listening.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he let out a ragged breath; he took a sip of water, and then a second.
“I think that prayer would be a really good idea,” he said, his voice shaking. “In fact, why not begin now?”
Forty Seven
St. Louis, Missouri… August 7, 2025
Romeo watched as two of the men from the funeral home - David Amsel-Meir and Ramone Etxebarria - moved silently along with the crowd into the small off-white chapel, slipping into the third to last pew for the upcoming service.
“There’s more room in the front,” he told them. “Please, feel free to move forward and get to know a few people in the time prior to the service.”
His stomach felt as nervous as watching a child carry a big bowl of wobbling Jello across a brand new carpet.
Angus.
He’d done that.
The memory crashed over him like waves in a stormy sea, and threatened to sink him there in front of everyone who had come out to pay their respects to his son. His eyes searched for Calico and he saw her looking at him from the front of the room where she’d been speaking with the pastor and arranging photos.
Their eyes locked, and he took a deep breath. He nodded to her.
They could do this… not on their own, but with God on their side. They could, somehow, some way, do this. Even if it was the furthest thing from what either of them ever imagined would happen in their lifetimes.
With effort, Romeo turned back toward the incoming mourners to greet them. Brice and his family arrived, along with Calico’s siblings and their spouses, whom Romeo had met officially the night before. Annabella, Marcos, and Felix each greeted him and gave him brief hugs, though Felix’s wife, Jasmine, continued to be as aloof as she’d been the night before.
As aloof as she’d always been when she wasn’t overly assertive, from what Keith Morrison and Calico had both said when he’d asked about it.
Amos and Prudence soon made their way inside, hugging him on the way, Prudence’s usually over-exuberant attire replaced with somber trappings, the only color detail mere hints of silver accenting her shoes and in her hair. Behind them, Justice’s brother, Keith and his wife silently nodded as they passed inside, Keith shaking Romeo’s hand, their eyes meeting.
Kaleo came up the steps two at a time toward him, and behind him, the rest of the ‘Aukai family, whom Romeo and Calico had only met two days prior, after their flight had arrived twenty minutes late and Christina ‘Aukai’s missing piece of luggage was found.
Calico had insisted the night after Angus’s death that Kaleo was an angel, but if that were so, then how did he have a family who knew and loved him? How was it that the families of the children ‘Aukai Children’s Learning Center took care of sent cards with condolences if Kaleo was of a sup
ernatural realm rather than an earthly one?
Kaleo’s youngest daughter, Haukea, stopped for a moment at the top of the steps, tears in her big brown eyes. She wore a simple black sheath dress, much like the ones her mother, Christine, and sisters Leilani and Kalani had on, though the accessories were decidedly more artistic than the classic ones the other members of her family had chosen.
“Kaumaha au nou,” she said as she shook his hand, her voice a near whisper. “I am so sorry for your loss. We all are. And I wish there was more we could do….”
Romeo could smell the plumeria of the young woman’s perfume as the breeze picked up, causing her black waist-length hair to undulate around her. “Your presence and prayers are more helpful than you know,” he told her, hoping she wouldn’t break down sobbing just yet.
“I just… I work with the three to seven year olds in the learning center, and I can’t imagine…” Haukea shook her head vigorously. “I just… there are no other words than kaumaha au nou. I will say pule hoʻouluulu for you and Calico.”
“Um…?”
“Prayers for healing. God has healed your son by bringing him into His arms, but it will take time for the two of you to come to such a place. Healing is often slow when death occurs. Many are afraid, or confused. And there are many who see death only as a curse, and never as a blessing. We miss our loved ones,” she told him as more people came in behind her, nodding or waving to him before heading to the pews, “but we will see them again. If they are like Angus; if they knew and loved Jesus, we will see them again.”
A light mist began to fall as Haukea shook Romeo’s hand again and moved inside to sit between her mother and sister Leilani. Romeo waited for three more people who were coming up the walk before gently shutting the doors behind him. As he made his way to sit beside his wife, the sound tech in the balcony pressed “play” on the first song: All My Tears.
It was a song that Romeo had never heard before; a song written by a woman named Julie Miller, but in this case, recorded by Jars of Clay.
It had taken hours to decide on the music; music he and Calico never thought they’d have to put together. Music that would live within their souls for all of their days. Music that, now that it was playing, was tempered by a rare August rain that was now coming down heavy enough to be heard on the church’s roof.
And when the song was finished, Pastor Rosenthal – who had been so kind to help them through the process – made his way to the platform.
“It is with great joy and awesome sadness that we gather here this hot, wet August day,” the pastor began. “We have joy because we celebrate the life Angus brought us; the life the Creator gave him, and blessed us to be touched by. And we have sadness because, as good as God is, sometimes we don’t understand His ways. Ways that include saying goodbye prematurely to those who will forever be in our hearts, but who are no longer before our very eyes,” he continued as a flash of lightening lit the windows up behind him, making him glow gold for a moment.
Calico jumped, and Romeo held her even tighter, tears coming to his eyes as he continued to listen.
“Angus’s parents have asked for this to be simple and short. After prayer, we will open the floor to people who would like to share their thoughts and memories, and then, Calico’s sister would like to speak on behalf of the family before I wrap things up with a-”
A boom of thunder interrupted the pastor, who wiped his pale, wide brow with a bright red square of cotton. “With a parting word,” he said, finishing as lightening lit him up from behind, not for the first time. The rest of his sentence was cut off by more thunder.
“So,” the man finished, “the floor is open. Who would like to begin?”
Romeo could hear people shifting in their seats behind him, but didn’t look back. Within moments, the pastor had called Prudence Song Patil toward the front, and for the next fifty minutes, he listened to memory after memory from the people around them. Before he knew it, it was time for Annabella to speak.
But what would she say? She had notes from loved ones, and had likely gotten to know him some through stories, but something inside of Romeo buckled when he watched her walk toward the front of the room and stand behind the podium.
Her long, newly-dyed red hair was pulled back into a bun and tears criss-crossed her face as she began to speak.
“As a family, we wish to thank you all for coming. And I will be the first to admit that circumstance never allowed me to hold little Angus’ hand, or listen to his stories, but I feel all the more close to him, hearing about the love, humor, and joy he brought to so many of your lives,” she began. “And it grieves me to no end, watching my sister lose her only child. I wish I could take her pain away, but I know there is a reason for everything,” she continued. “There has to be… for we serve a big God Who knows more than we do about life, and love, and the future.”
Romeo listened, intent on absorbing what he could of the moment. Listened to Pastor Rosenthal’s message, and finally, though the storm still raged outside and his heart was a storm of pain, he led his wife downstairs to where the reception would be held.
Nachum, in the form of Ramone Etxebarria, waited for the Fergusons and their extended family to pass his pew and head downstairs before whispering a quick word to Ravid – now David Amsel-Meir – to follow his lead.
“We were sent to do more than create a beautiful display with that box,” he whispered again. “We were sent to console and to help show the way.”
David – who stood a good three inches taller than Ramone at 6’1”, with brilliant blue-green eyes and a flat-top haircut to his dark blonde hair – nodded back. “That makes sense,” he agreed. “This has been a bittersweet day for them, hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
Lightening crashed around them once more, creating a shattered effect on the floorboards as they walked toward the back of the church and took a right to head downstairs. They found Angus’ loved ones in the open-air expanse, tables full of food on the north and south walls, and a table with more photos and memorabilia on the east wall. Seven round tables stood, each with six chairs, scattered through the center of the room, and people were lined up at the food tables chatting in low tones.
Ramone moved to stand in line behind the Patils on the north side of the room, and David followed suit.
“Thank you for coming,” Prudence told them softly. “Calico mentioned that she met you both at the… at the funeral home?”
David nodded. “That’s correct,” he said, speaking for the pair of them. “Ramone is a box-carver, and because the model the Fergusons wanted for their son was not available, he came in to carve the top of a blank. I do paintings for families who want them for memorial services. I also do shadow box displays, like that one over there,” he said, pointing to the memory table.
“Not that the lightening outside is helping to keep the showcase looking it’s best here, but when they get it home...,” Ramone continued, allowing the words to trail off as he sensed Felix and Jasmine Jenkins getting into line behind them.
Lord, touch their hearts and help them to come to truly know You, he prayed silently. Remove the stony areas of their hearts and draw them close to You, for Your name’s sake, and bring the Ferguson, Jenkins, and D’Angelo family together in solidarity as they get to know each other again, as they adjust, as they become more of who You created them to be.
As the line moved forward, Ramone moved with it, and then, taking a deep breath, he turned to greet Felix and Jasmine Jenkins. “Hello,” he said, putting out his hand and smiling. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Ramone Extebarria, and this here, on my left is David Amsel-Meir. I understand that you’re family of the… family of the dearly departed.”
He looked into Felix’s eyes for a bare moment, and the man gave an near-imperceptible nod. “We are.” Felix accepted the handshake, and then shook David’s hand. “And we’re brokenhearted for all that Romeo and Calico have been through, wishing they’d let us get clo
ser, sooner than this.”
“Just a tragedy that it took losing their son for them to let us into their lives,” Jasmine said, her voice wavering as it rose from low and steady to high-pitched and accusatory. Words of war. Words of pain. Words of confusion.
As Ramone had tumbled to Earth, the histories of the people they would encounter had been intoned to him, and Jasmine was among them. One memory – a scene with her father – stood out as a seven-year-old Jasmine sat in a lawn chair in her front yard calling her father, suitcase in hand, to come back.
Before that, her heart had been tender. After that, she’d cried herself to sleep every night for more than three years and then, just as quickly as the surprise of her father’s desertion had been, so quickly did her nightly tears stop. She resolved to harden herself against pain, hating herself for what she believed had been her fault. Not understanding that her parents’ divorce was more about their inability to share a life together than a lack of love for her, she cut the ties to her heart from the people around her altogether.
But neither parent ever explained what happened, and other than when the divorce was finalized those three years later, when her father wanted to remarry, she never saw him. So, she projected her pain onto others, not sure what else to do.
Those “others” had included Rosemary, Felix, and Annabella Jenkins… now part of her family. But how could she have known then what she now knew? And would it have changed how she’d treated them?
Ramone didn’t think so, but who was he to judge her?
Trying to come up with a response to her outburst, he said another quick prayer in silence.
“So how long has it been since you’ve seen your sister,” David asked, stepping into the gap of awkward silence as he turned to Felix. The line moved forward, and Jasmine shooed them forward with it.
Though David’s tone was conversational, Ramone watched Jasmine’s face harden even more even as Felix answered. “We saw them a couple of years ago, but the last time I got to have a conversation with her? A whole lot longer than that,” he disclosed. “But I’d rather not talk about that. You’re upsetting my wife.”
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 110
