Edward tried to nod his head, getting even dizzier. He put his hands on either side of it, instead, to try to settle himself. His heartbeat ran rapidly, and he waited for someone else to speak.
“Go ahead,” Tom told Rose as he handed the sea sponge to her. “I think you’ll do a much better job than I,” he said. “My hands are good at really small details, but under a bright light. This is anything but,” he concluded with a laugh as Rose moved toward the mirror.
“What if I do half of what’s left and Eugenie, the other part,” she said, pausing, hand mid-air with the sponge before she gently bussed and caressed the glass with it. “After all,” she continued, her voice so low Edward had to strain to hear it. “She did find….”
Allowing her words to trail off, and not waiting for an answer, Rose daubed at the mirror in short, delicate strokes. Soon, she was handing the sponge to Eugenie.
Eugenie’s eyes were wide, and Edward could tell even from six feet away that she was nervous. He watched her take a few deep breaths before she handed the sponge to Cherish to dip, squeeze, and hand it back to her. And then, with Jason only needing to catch a couple of very small areas with the cloth, she finished the first rub-down of the mirror.
As planned, the sponge was then exchanged for a cloth much like the one in Jason’s hand. Cherish dipped it into a second bowl of water – the water from Siloam now – and handed it to Masao. Bowing slightly toward her in thanks, he double-checked that it was wrung out enough and then carefully began the process all over again.
Edward took a sharp breath in, and it made him even more dizzy.
Was he seeing things, or was there something happening to the consistency of the mirror?
Cherish resoaked and wrung the cloth again and Masao started back where he had left off from the first section where the head of the angel met the multi-colored wooden wings.
Wings Timothy had carved with special care so many centuries ago.
Wings that reminded Edward of both the angelic realm and of fire.
Had they been created with the dual purpose in mind? Made to have people think of both Heaven and Hell at the same time, even if they weren’t concentrating on it, Edward wondered.
He watched as Masao made another pass across the mirror with the cloth, the movements slow and sure. And for a second time, something seemed off.
Off, like there was an extra twinkle to the mirror. A twinkle that couldn’t have really been there when Timothy made it because mirror-making techniques weren’t as advanced.
Not as advanced, he thought, smiling as he folded his arms against his chest. His eyes were riveted on the mirror; riveted on the movement of Uncle Masao’s hand; the Siloam water dampened microfiber cloth in his hand. Yeah, right. This mirror is beyond anything they’ve created today, even if we don’t know precisely how it works.
He took another deep breath and tried to remain calm as he saw yet another twinkle shimmer across the surface. Masao kept up the barely-there horizontal rubbing another couple of more rows before he paused.
“This mirror is looking so much better,” the man said, handing the cloth back to Cherish to re-wet it again “But how can it look so good, since it’s as much of an antique as-?”
“Listen, Man,” Quentin put in, interrupting Masao. “Don’t really matter how pretty dis mirror be, or isn’t, do it? We jus’ gotta clean it best we can and move on, right? And what be da purpose of dat trip, an’way? Why we done risk our lives fo’ dat thing? Pretty ain’t ever’thin,’ ya knows.”
Sighing, Edward forced himself not to speak.
After all this time, did Quentin still not understand the importance of what was happening? Even after he was somehow brought back from the brink of death? Even after he, Paloma, and Justice had sat down with him to tell him about their time behind the mirror – indeed, time in Heaven, itself?
“Patience, Quentin,” Dirk instructed, not unkindly. “You will see, as will the rest, what this is all about in time. Do not interrupt the process.”
Edward watched Quentin send Dirk a sheepish look and smiled before he glanced over at the clock: Masao had to leave in less than half an hour.
There was truly no time for dawdling.
Ever since Quentin had woken up in Chicago, Edward noticed that his whole attitude had shifted. Why, Edward didn’t know, but who was he to argue with the man’s progress?
Cherish handed the cloth back to Masao for what was likely the last time, and Edward watched as the man meticulously, gently, rubbed it against the mirror to wash the last little bit.
Though they hadn’t used any soap for fear that it would harm the mirror, the gleam that rose from its depths was undeniable.
“That should do it,” Masao announced to the small crowd. “Now, it dries the rest of the way,” he said even as Edward gasped.
The sparkle and shine of the mirror was gaining in brightness. It was becoming so bright, he wondered if he’d need to close his eyes, but he forced them to stay open.
Are my eyes playing tricks on me from the dizzy spell, he wondered before looking around. But no, others around him were squinting; Jason and Eugenie had their eyes nearly closed. He could tell they were fighting to keep them open, even as he was.
The mirror continued to become more and more brilliant, and then, suddenly, in a flash of light, it seemed to shatter, leaving only the frame and backing.
Edward’s eyes widened, the light went back to normal, and he carefully made his way toward the mirror, doing what he could to avoid the crowding of everyone else that was heading toward it.
“Wait,” Masao shouted, halting everyone in their tracks. “Let Rose and Edward come and see first,” he instructed. “We don’t know what happened, and we don’t understand, but they are the two who crossed over into…” Masao’s words trailed off even as a few people stepped back. Some remained where they were, not seeming to care what Masao was saying.
Edward waited for Rose to move ahead of him, and then followed, getting in closer to the mirror. He watched Rose as she slowly got down on her jean-clad knees and scooped up some of the fragments that were scattered like confetti on the ground.
Heard her gasp.
“It’s not sharp,” she announced, looking at it closer. She held her hand out to Edward, and he accepted the offering of fragments.
She was right.
Edward brought his hand closer to his eyes; brought the contents therein closer to see it, only to see that, like the first and last doors of the musical stairway to Heaven, and the valley there, the fragments seemed to be made of rainbow eucalyptus.
He whistled, low and long.
Well, he thought, trying to decipher the meaning of it all, a rainbow is a promise. He moved away from the area by the mirror for others to see, heading into the dining area to sit down and think.
Rainbows and promises, he thought again. The first rainbow was after the flood, and Noah and his family were on the ark. They’d made it through the long-haul when nobody else had, and God offered a promise.
Paloma stepped toward him then, a handful of the colorful, dusty chips with her.
“From early glass to rainbow wood,” she asked him softly. “If this has to do with…”
“I think so,” he told her, trying his best not to nod in the event it would make him dizzy again. “Some sort of connection between the ark and promise, the musical stairway and its doors, and the lesson God has for us in this,” he continued, “and I wonder…”
Paloma nodded.
“What do dis even mean? What you two even be talkin’ ‘bout,” Quentin nearly shouted.
“God promises to make everything turn out for the good of those who love Him, and let’s face it… our lives would have been so much different had I stayed in the 1690s and Rose in the 1930s. Had this mirror not existed; had God not used it to help His plan along, then I can’t even imagine how things would have turned out,” he said quietly, shivering at the thought of marrying young, high-pitched, spoiled Jurriana
Rufet. “Had it been decommissioned before all of this…”
“I can’t imagine what life would have been like without you; without the kids. Without Rose and little Nathaniel, and without having met…”
Edward nodded this time.
“We’ve been blessed beyond measure, even through the hard times,” he acknowledged as he saw Masao heading toward them.
“What’re you talkin’ ‘bout,” Quentin asked again before Masao could get a word in edgewise. “What all dis got ta do wit goin’ ta Israel an’ me nearly dyin’ and dis mirror ‘vap’ratin into somethin’ else? Ya’ll said you done gone ta Heav’n, but I still ain’t got it.”
Edward looked pointedly at him and held up a finger, which caused Quentin to silently fume.
“Well, we’re off to Japan,” Masao finally said, reaching to shake Edward’s hand, then bend in to kiss Paloma on the cheek. “But first, I wanted to let you know… my father’s doctor called this morning to say that I was not the only one speaking about the Lord to him. Dr. Mitsushima said that he believes there is a good possibility that something got through to him before he passed away.”
With tears in his eyes, Masao turned to beckon his wife and they quietly said their goodbyes as Quentin continued to pout and fume in silence. Edward watched as Masao and Anouk Chanel Ogawa – one of the most humble couples he had ever met – left on the next leg of their life adventure. And as he did, he said a quick prayer for those leaving and those staying.
A prayer for closure, and of peace.
A prayer of understanding, and a prayer of willingness to move forward into what God had for them in the future.
A prayer for wisdom in how to answer Quentin’s questions in the best possible way, and for him to have good discernment about sharing such delicate information.
But most of all, he said a prayer of thanks for all God had done for them.
Quentin Quimby, included.
Epilogue
Portland, Oregon… September 2, 2025
A weary Masao made his way toward Rutherford Research, thankful to be home.
His time with Anouk Chanel in Japan to put his father to rest had been unsettling, at first, but then, he’d met the primary and secondary doctors on Haruto-san’s case. And in speaking with them after the funeral, Masao felt hopeful.
More hopeful than he’d felt leaving Edward and Paloma’s house after the glass in the mirror had disintegrated into wood dust before their very eyes. More hopeful than learning Ferdi’s story, awesome as it was, in Jerusalem. More hopeful, even, than Nathaniel’s birth.
If someone had asked him where his hope had come from, Masao believed he could tell them in theological terms, and even in emotional ones, as long as he didn’t need to mention his father’s passing. If they asked him about why he sensed hope even in that, he wasn’t sure he could tell them.
There had been something about Dr. Mitsushima’s words that had brought him a great comfort; something in the pastor’s words. Even something in Dr. Kota’s, and he had made it clear that he himself was not a Christ-follower, but a Buddhist.
With a sigh, Masao stopped at a light three blocks from his destination, waited in silence, and then continued on his way. When he arrived, he noticed two men he didn’t recognize leaving the parking lot in a well-kept green 2017 Mazda.
Edward, Jason, and Malik were standing outside the door waving goodbye to them, and they waved hello to him as he pulled into the spot the Mazda had just vacated.
After following them inside, Jason offered him some water and, declining for the time being, followed them into Jason’s office.
It felt cramped with so many people, but nowhere near as much as the Stuart home had last time he’d been in the States.
“So how did things go,” Edward asked him as he sank down into one of the new, overstuffed corduroy plaid chairs Jason had bought since Masao’s last visit. “Anouk Chanel spoke briefly with Paloma and Me’chelle, but…”
Masao nodded. “Good. Very… it was sad, but it was hopeful. I cannot say why. I do not understand it. It was as if one of the….” He paused, glanced quickly to Malik. “It was is if Dirk or Casimir were with us the whole time,” he said, hoping his point would be made. “Very comforting, despite that there is no way for me to really know for sure what was on my father’s heart when…”
Edward and Jason nodded; even Malik nodded, as though he understood.
Had something happened while he was gone? Happened when they were in Israel? Malik had never really seemed interested in things of this nature, from what Masao recalled.
Malik cleared his throat. “Please forgive me. I do not wish to intrude, I…” He looked to Jason for a moment, and Masao saw him nod. “I will not say that I am a Christian,” Malik tried again, “but I am curious now. I… I have a family to think of, and I do not know which path I will take… which path I will continue on and therefore encourage my family to continue on, but… I have been observing for many years now and… I am curious.”
The man shrugged as though to explain his reasoning was sound, though it buoyed Masao even further.
How 2025 could get any better than this, he couldn’t even imagine unless, of course, Malik and his family made decisions for Christ. His father might have, though there was no way for him to know in certain terms.
But with Malik…
With Malik, there was possibility. With Aisha and their children, there was a hope and a future, if only they would grasp onto it. And Masao sensed that this family – this family he had barely known but learned to care about – was part of his prayer focus from now on.
As a tribute to his father.
As a tribute to his faith.
As a means of showing the Fakhourys that people who followed Christ were there to love and care about others, and not judge them.
And as he continued talking with the three men before him, Masao vowed that, until his dying day, he would continue to pray for the salvation of the Fakhourys and those who were in their close circle.
It was the least he could do, and yet, the best he could do.
And he wondered why he hadn’t begun sooner.
Kristof looked into the eyes of his new bride and smiled as he ushered her into the condo that Edward and Paloma had insisted that he accept. The condo they lived in when they were first married.
The condo that Paloma lived in when she and Edward first met, and that her father before her had designed.
It felt good, having both anonymity and space. That nobody recognized him as famous anymore with all the changes to his body, and that he now had privacy, brought a smile to his weary, timeworn face.
Good, letting go of the past and allowing himself to forgive what cannot be changed so that he could walk into what future he had left. A future he could spend with Imogene at his side, though Constance still had a place in his heart; his son, a place in his heart.
“Do you mind if we go and visit the cemetery tomorrow,” he asked her, his voice a mere whisper.
He had wanted to go the day before, but being Labor Day, knew it might be crowded. He waited for a response, and watched as Imogene turned toward him, the silence between them palpable but not uncomfortable.
If she said no, he’d already decided, he’d be patient and hope he was still around come the anniversary of his son’s death. Then, perhaps, she would go with him.
“If that’s what you want,” she told him, “I’ll take you down there and let you visit. And I’ll…”
She paused, and worried her bottom lip with her teeth a moment. “I’ll wait in the car if that’s all right. I’m not sure that I can….”
Kristof nodded at her in understanding.
It is an awkward request, he thought. She only met Constance once, and that was when…
He shook the memory away and smiled.
That was then, and this was now. He would not purposely do anything to cause her to be uncomfortable. Not three days into being married.
“Thank you,”
he told her simply. “I appreciate it more than you will ever know.”
Vancouver, Washington
“I’m telling you, Daniella,” Paloma said as she looked into the holographic eyes of her mother’s best friend from childhood. From where she sat on the old green velvet couch, she could see the old mirror frame where it still sat near the recliner as they spoke.
“It was so surreal that I have no words for it… but we’re moving forward and life is good.”
“Sounds great,” the hunched-over, thin woman with greying wisps of hair told her. “And that Lovan went and asked Kanoni’s father for her hand once she comes of age? That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve heard in years,” she continued, the smile she gave revealing a chipped front tooth.
The phone alerted Paloma to an incoming call and, seeing that it was Edward, she quickly said her goodbyes and told the Andromeda to accept the incoming call. Daniella’s face disappeared, and Edward’s appeared, along with Masao’s, Jason’s, and Malik’s.
“Hey,” she greeted them, looking from face to face, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. “What’s up?”
“Malik invited us – you and I, Jason and Me’chelle, and Masao and Anouk Chanel – over for dinner tonight,” her husband told her, his voice sounding a little tight. Paloma glanced from Edward to Malik, who nodded and smiled.
They had never been invited to the Fakhoury’s house. She had only been there once, in an emergency, and a handful of other times to pick up their son for school when Aisha was ill.
She smiled, trying to gauge her response.
While part of her wanted to shout for joy, another part of her was worried, since it was new. But then again, so much new happened throughout life, she had learned to stop being scared of it a few years ago.
At least, for the most part.
“You can tell Aisha that I, for one, would be delighted,” she told the men. “Is this for a special occasion? Should I bring anything?”
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 113
