by Lis Wiehl
The most surprising thing of all, though, was that he recognized the woman. It was the famous American actress, the one who had dated Alberto, the soccer player. He froze where he stood, watching as she stepped up from the sea and crossed the beach and then the sea grass.
She paused and turned to look back in the direction from which she’d come. He followed her gaze and saw something submerged just beneath the surface of the water, a Jet Ski that had grounded itself on the reef, and beyond that, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, the dorsal fin of a large shark.
“Io ti conosco,” the boy said. “Lei è Cassandra Morton.”
“Hello,” she said cheerfully. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Do you know where I can find a phone?”
“È possibile utilizzare il mio cellular,” the boy said, reaching into his pocket and handing her his own cell phone. “Io amo i tuoi film.”
“Thank you,” she said, dialing the operator number and then, as it rang, turning to wave good-bye to the shark that had been following her all night. After starting the Jet Ski, she’d circled back to where the Freiheit had sunk, on the chance that Laurent—that CIA operative Matthew Shorter—was still alive, but she was alone on the sea, so she located the North Star in the sky and then steered a course to the east. It had been a long night, but she never doubted she’d make it to land. When the operator answered, she asked to speak to anyone who spoke English. A few minutes later, from a remote beach in Sardinia, she heard the phone ringing at Tommy Gunderson’s house, but then the call went to voice mail, so she left a message before handing the boy his phone back.
At the airport, she called her agent in Hollywood collect, woke him up, and had him buy her a one-way ticket home, first class. She was in the waiting area when she saw the news on the television. A terrible rain had caused a dam to burst in the town of East Salem, New York, she could understand, even though the newscast was in Italian. She borrowed a phone from a fan who wanted an autograph and called Tommy again, but again could only leave a message—she surmised that the flood had probably knocked out the landlines, and she didn’t know his cell phone number—and then it was time to board.
In the lobby of Northern Westchester Hospital, in the town of Mt. Kisco, just as the sun was rising in the east, the woman at the reception desk rose from her chair and walked quickly to catch up to the man who was trying to escape. He was dressed in a hospital-issued Johnny that opened in the back, though he’d managed to somehow secure a pair of pajama bottoms.
“Excuse me, sir—you have to wait,” she said, touching him on the arm to stop him. “You have to be discharged.”
Quinn McKellen turned to face her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want you to get into trouble, but I’m fine.”
“Sir,” the woman insisted, “you have to be discharged. Patients can’t just leave.”
“I’m a doctor,” Quinn said. “I’m a patient, and a doctor. I just looked at my MRI. I had a midgrade infiltrating multiform glioblastoma of the pons reticular formation, but I don’t anymore. There’s really no reason for me to stay.”
“Sir—”
“Please,” he said. “You have all my insurance information if it’s the bill you’re worried about.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “But you have to be released. By a doctor.”
“I am a doctor,” he said. “I can release myself.”
“Really?”
“Really,” he said. He looked at her name tag. “Ellen, it’s Christmas morning, and I’m fine, and I don’t want to spend it in a hospital if I don’t have to. I have …” He almost said family, but his real family was far away. “People. I have people I need to be with. I promise you I’ll check back with you tomorrow, and if they hold you responsible for letting me go, I will assure them I escaped and you did everything you could to deter me.”
A cab driver got out of his cab in front of the hospital’s main entrance and held the door open for Quinn. The woman looked down and saw that Quinn was stocking-footed.
“You don’t have any shoes,” she said.
“I’m not walking,” he said, getting into the cab.
The television in Tommy’s kitchen was tuned to the news. They were calling it the Miracle on 769th Street, which was approximately where East Salem would have ranked if the cross street numbers of Manhattan kept going. Miracle because after the dam holding back the waters of Lake Atticus had broken, the town of East Salem, New York, fifty miles north of the city, had been miraculously spared when the saturated ground under St. Adrian’s Academy for Boys gave way and collapsed, the landslide leaving behind a stone escarpment that diverted the path of the water, sparing the town and the thousands of residents who hadn’t had time to evacuate. Known casualties included a group of St. Adrian’s alumni who’d returned to campus for a holiday party, believed to number close to a hundred. The names had not been released, pending notification of next of kin, but according to a Detective Phillip Casey, one of the first to arrive on the scene, it was believed that both headmaster John Adams Wharton and school psychologist Adolf Ghieri had perished in the flood. The only other known victim was a research chemist named Andrei Guryakin who’d been working late in the basement of Building C, on the Linz Pharmazeutika campus, on the banks of the Georgetown River.
The cab Dani and Tommy took back to his house had been forced to detour several times where trees or downed power lines blocked the roads, making a trip that would ordinarily take forty-five minutes take twice as long. They’d passed dozens of utility company crews already hard at work. More good news awaited Tommy when he got home shortly before noon. Ruth told him the landlines were already working and that Cassandra had called and left two messages, one that she was safe, and a second message sometime later saying she’d heard about the flood and worried that everyone was okay. He sent her a text saying everything was fine.
At the airport they met Cassandra at the baggage area. She ran to Tommy and Dani and Ruth and Reese and hugged each one, saying she’d been so worried that they’d gotten caught in the flood, but somehow had had faith that they were going to be okay. She pointed out her one piece of luggage to Tommy, a large suitcase she’d purchased and filled with Christmas presents.
“I hope you like things made out of coral,” she said. “And salami. There’s not a lot to buy in Sardinia at the airport.”
“They make things out of coral and salami?” Tommy said.
“You know what I mean,” Cassandra said. “I would have asked Henry to recommend places to shop, but I lost the phone you gave me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tommy said. “Who’s Henry?”
“From the phone,” Cassandra said.
“Henry from the phone?”
“The personal assistance voice,” Cassandra said. “Like the one they have for iPhones.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Tommy said. “GPhones don’t have personal assistance avatars.”
“Well, of course they do,” Cassandra said. “I’ve been talking to him for the last—” She looked from face to face until she realized they weren’t playing a trick on her. “Then who have I been talking to?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “But if angels can take the form of bikers and Native Americans, I don’t see why one couldn’t be present as a phone avatar.”
Cassandra opened her eyes wide and then smiled.
Dani held out her left hand, where a large diamond glittered on her finger.
“Oh my goodness,” Cassandra said. “Tell me how he proposed.”
“Long story,” Dani said.
As they left the baggage area and headed for the one where the flight from London would off-load its cargo, Dani saw someone she knew. Ed Stanley was at the luggage carousel, waiting for them, wearing the same camel hair overcoat and Borsalino hat. He dragged behind him a small black suitcase on rollers.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a coincidence,” Dani said.
“No, it’s not,” Ed Stanle
y said. “Well, in a way it is. I’m flying back to Montana in an hour, from a different terminal, but I told my men I wanted them to keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. They told me you were here.”
“Did you come to say good-bye?” Dani asked. She’d sent him a brief e-mail earlier in the day, telling him what they’d learned about the threat, or lack thereof, to the world’s drinking water.
“I suppose I did,” Stanley said. “And to apologize. Our people at DARPA confirmed your results. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I should have. And I’m sorry about the boy.”
“His name is Edmond Stratton-Mallins,” Dani said.
“Yes,” Stanley said. “Edmond. I’m sorry that the result was so …”
“Thanatogenic?”
“We made a mistake,” Stanley said. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry for killing Edmond?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell him yourself, then?” Dani said.
Stanley turned, and Dani pointed to the escalator and to a boy coming down it, identical to the brother who waited for him at the bottom, their faces beaming with pure joy.
“I don’t understand,” Ed Stanley said.
“The person you killed was named Alfredo Guzman,” Dani said. “I wanted you to think you’d killed Edmond. Guzman had been sent to assassinate Edmond. So yeah, you got the bad guy, but don’t let it go to your head—you still made a mistake. But I think you can be forgiven for it.”
Edmond, who had taken the same flight from Heathrow that Cassandra was on after changing planes, reached the bottom, and the two brothers jumped into a hug and pressed their heads together.
“Nothing is ever going to come between us again,” Reese told Edmond. “We can add people to our lives without subtracting each other.”
“I know,” Edmond said. “I have to explain—they told me if I didn’t do what they said, they were going to kill you. I couldn’t let them hurt you. I’m really confused right now. About so many things.”
Dani smiled and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s all right, Edmond,” she said. “We’re going to help you. You and the other boys as well.”
She’d spent some time already making arrangements to bring all of the Selected back to the United States, where she would work with them and counsel them and, with God’s help, restore them to their former selves.
“It might take time, but we’re going to bring you back.”
“Thank you,” Edmond said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“How could you have heard a lot about me?” Dani asked.
Edmond looked at his brother.
“Don’t worry,” Reese said. “They’ll get it eventually.”
Passengers were using their cell phones to take pictures of Cassandra the second she stepped beyond the security area. Tommy put his right arm around Dani and pulled her close to him.
“As soon as somebody gets Cass and me in the same picture, they’re going to sell it to the tabloids, and the tabloids are going to say there are rumors that we’re getting back together,” Tommy told Dani. “It’s not that I care what the tabloids say, but if I get my picture taken with anyone, I want it to be with you.”
“‘Mystery Woman Breaks Up Tom-Sandra Reunion,’” Dani said. “I can live with that.”
When they got back to the house, Quinn was there. He told Dani and Tommy and the others what Charlie had done.
“The doctors have given me the all-clear too,” he added. “And I don’t need a second opinion.”
Otto and Arlo were curled up together in front of the fireplace. Detective Casey had gone home to his own wife and family. Ruth told Dani her sister had called to check in, and that their grandfather had arrived safely. She had a message for Tommy as well—a lawyer had called to say he represented the estate of George Gardener, who, the lawyer said, had recently added a codicil to his will, leaving the Gardener Farm and everything on it to Tommy. The will was entirely valid, signed and witnessed. Tommy looked at Dani.
“It would make a nice halfway house for all those boys,” she said. “Once they rebuild the dam and the lake fills up again. Though we might want to move the paintings to a more secure location.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Tommy said. “Anybody else call?”
“Yes,” Ruth said. “An Agent Cooney called from the FBI. Detective Casey spoke to him. They’ve closed the files on Dr. Wharton.”
“All right, then,” Tommy agreed.
Ruth had supper waiting, but Tommy told Dani they had one more stop to make.
He’d called ahead. His father was waiting in a wheelchair in the lobby at High Ridge Manor. A nurse, a pleasant woman of about fifty, was waiting with him. Arnie was drawing pictures on the GTab Tommy had given him, pictures of trees.
“How’s he doing?” Tommy asked.
“Oh, he’s been real good,” the nurse said. “He watched a movie last night on that thing you gave him.”
“Oh yeah?” Tommy said, taking a knee in front of his dad. “What movie?”
“Well, I don’t really know,” the nurse said. “Some movie where angels and demons were fighting each other in the sky. It was quite exciting.”
“You saw that, Papa?” Tommy said.
Dani knelt down beside him.
“Dad,” Tommy said. “I want you to meet somebody. This is Dani. Remember me telling you about her?”
“Dani,” Tommy’s father said, looking right at her.
“Pleased to finally meet you,” Dani said.
“We’re getting married, Papa,” Tommy said.
“Really?” Arnie said. “Who to?”
“To each other,” Tommy said. “Now I’m going to take you home for Christmas dinner.”
“Well, isn’t that just corn on the cob?” Arnie said.
Arnie smiled all the way back to Tommy’s house, commenting only, as they drove through the center of East Salem, that the church bells were beautiful.
“They don’t work, Dad,” Tommy said. “They haven’t for years.”
“Yes, they do,” Arnie said. “Roll the window down.”
Tommy stopped the car for a moment and got out. Dani joined him.
Arnie was right. The bells that hadn’t chimed for years were ringing out from the church steeple in town.
After they’d gotten home and helped Arnie into the house, Tommy headed back out to put the car in the garage, and Dani followed him. In the car, she turned to him.
“Tommy,” she said, her face close to his, their eyes locked on each other.
“Dani,” he said.
“Before we go back inside, I want to tell you something.”
“Shoot.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I don’t know if normal is the word I’m looking for,” she said. “Things will probably never be ‘normal’ again. But at some point, very soon, I am looking forward to being alone with you. Somewhere quiet. Just us. No …”
“Distractions?”
“Yeah,” Dani said. “No distractions.”
“I want that too.”
They kissed.
He backed the car around to move it into the garage. He pressed the opener and, as the garage door lifted, saw two figures waiting for him in the garage. Charlie and Ben stepped aside to give him room to park.
Charlie was admiring Tommy’s Harley-Davidson Sportster, one of two remaining motorcycles.
Ben was grinning from ear to ear. “We just wanted to say good-bye,” he said when they’d gotten out of the car.
“For now,” Charlie added.
“We want you to be alone together without distractions too,” Ben said.
“Thanks,” Tommy said. “Can I ask you a favor?”
“What would you like?”
“Can we see you one more time?” he said. “The way you really look?”
Charlie and Ben stepped out into the courtyard and then, standing side by side, they spread their arms, and in
an instant the night was filled with a brilliant light. The two angels, now towering over Dani and Tommy in their heavenly forms, rose into the air, smiled, and in a vortex of transcendent glory, vanished.
“Wow,” Dani said. “Just wow.”
Back in the house Reese, with his brother next to him, found Tommy in the kitchen.
“I was wondering if perhaps you’d want to play another game of foosball?” Reese said. “I was telling Edmond how lucky I was to beat you the last time. I was hoping maybe you could show us how the game is played.”
“I’d be happy to,” Tommy said.
Before exiting the room, Reese glanced over his shoulder at Dani, gave her a thumbs-up, and winked. When Dani laughed, Tommy asked her what was so funny.
“Nothing,” she said. “Everything. I’m just …”
“You’re just what?”
“Wow,” she said. “Just wow.”
READING GROUP GUIDE
1. Do you think there’s an ongoing invisible war being waged between angels and demons?
2. The Bible mentions only two instances of multiple births, that of Jacob and Esau (Genesis 25) and Zarah and Perez (Genesis 38), but makes no mention of identical twins. What might explain this?
3. Do you think, as supported by anecdotal evidence, that identical twins have a way to communicate telepathically over long distances?
4. Sensory deprivation tanks have been used in health spas for relaxation purposes for the last 30-40 years. How do you think you would feel inside one, and why?
5. Detective Casey cites an incident of an angel running into a burning building to save two small children. Have you heard any similar stories?
6. Can you cite any incidents where angels have directly intervened in your life?
7. Which Hollywood actress can you think of who’s the most like Cassandra Morton?
8. The East Salem Trilogy uses, for literary purposes, the idea of prophecies. What prophecies do you believe in? What’s the difference between a false prophecy and a true prophecy?
9. Final Tide posits a fictitious coalition of Christians from within the governments of warring states who band together to fight the common enemy—Satan. Do you think such a coalition would be possible in the real world?
