“Well, this isn’t exactly my church,” she explained. “We do things differently than they do here.”
Her classmate’s eyebrows quirked. “So you don’t do what they do? Huh. Do you think they’re doing it wrong?”
Feeling a little defensive, Prissie replied, “No, I just don’t do everything they do because they do some things I don’t want to do.”
“I thought you said I should do what everyone else does,” he challenged. “Strange advice from someone who doesn’t!”
This was getting ridiculous. With a stern look, she demanded, “Are you doing this on purpose?”
“Doing what?” he asked innocently.
Prissie flapped her hands in exasperation. “This!”
“Yep. Totally on purpose.”
Rolling her eyes, she muttered, “I’m done.”
His brown eyes were shining. “It was fun while it lasted. But seriously, though … I might have questions.”
“Why me?” Prissie folded her arms. “You could ask Neil.”
The music started, and the only answer she received was a shrug and a crooked smile. Something told her it was no use. Ransom was determined to pick her brain … or maybe just plain pick on her.
He behaved all through the first part of the service, standing and sitting at all the right times. It made sense that he didn’t know any of the songs, but he wasn’t rude about it. As far as Prissie could tell, Ransom mostly gazed with curiosity around the gymnasium while drumming his fingers against the side of his leg. Then Pastor Kern jogged to center stage and launched into a brief recap of his Christmas series.
Almost immediately, Ransom leaned over and asked, “Is he serious? ‘Naughty or Nice’?”
Prissie frowned at him. It wasn’t polite to talk during service.
“Don’t give me that look. I warned you I’d be asking questions,” he whispered back.
“Just listen. He’ll explain himself better than I could.”
Ransom tilted his head to one side, then nodded, conceding the point.
Dennis Kern was saying, “Naughty and nice, good and bad—they sound cut and dried, but there are times when everything isn’t as it seems.”
Stealing a peek at her angelic friends, Prissie nodded to herself. It was true. Appearances could be deceiving.
“Take reputations,” the pastor continued. “There are those who have good ones; they’re respectable citizens with all the appearances of righteousness. We have a prime example right here in the Christmas story—Herod! This king in his castle greets the wise men from the east, telling them he wants to worship the child of prophecy, the same as them. Herod says all the right things, but there’s murder in his heart.”
Ransom muttered, “Yeah, I read about him. He was bad news.”
Prissie shivered and whispered back, “I don’t like lies … or liars.”
“On the other hand, you have someone like Mary, the young woman chosen by God to give birth to His Son. She did nothing for which she should be ashamed. Nowadays, Christians consider the role she humbly accepted to be an honor, calling her favored by God. But was she praised for her choice at the time? Her family, her friends, her fiancé — they all believed that she’d sinned. Scandal nearly cost her upcoming marriage, and although the rumors and speculations were unjust, I’m sure they hurt. The poor girl’s reputation was shot.”
“Relate much?” Ransom whispered. “They’re giving you crap at school, but it’s a farce.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Prissie muttered.
Jostling her again, he pointedly replied, “Me, either, but some people can’t be reasonable.”
“There’s another reputation to consider in the Christmas story!” Pastor Kern exclaimed, scanning the congregation. “The good and the bad are easy to peg, but have you ever considered those with no reputation? They were right there, in the thick of things, the rabble of the hillsides—lowly men with humble livelihoods. No one expected anything from a bunch of men who watched over the herds. No fame, no status, no skills, no expectations—yet these were the ones to see the sky fill with angels, to hear the heavenly chorus, to learn the good news!”
Ransom poked her arm. “Is that where you put me?”
Prissie was a little surprised by his question, because she’d been thinking that maybe this was where she fit into the story. It was awfully easy to relate to a group of ordinary shepherds who were minding their own business, only to have their world turned upside down by a bunch of angels. She happened to glance Milo’s way, and the Messenger held her gaze and nodded once. “Yes?” she murmured uncertainly.
“Rabble,” he mused sarcastically. “Nice to know where I stand.”
Desperately hoping her father hadn’t overheard, Prissie held up a finger to hush Ransom, just in time for the pastor to declare, “Those with no reputation are in good company, since Paul tells us that Jesus made Himself of no reputation. That very night, when He was born, Jesus became nothing … but also everything we need!”
Bible pages riffled as the congregation turned to Philippians, and Ransom sat a little taller. From that moment on, his smart-mouthed comments ceased. He was locked in with startling intensity to what Pastor Kern had to say. Prissie should have been relieved that he was finally leaving her alone, but maybe she was spoiled by the usual constancy of Koji’s company. Yes, that could explain why she was once more feeling lonely in the middle of a crowd.
12
THE
SHOPPING
FRENZY
Good morning, Milo.”
The deep voice flowed soft and slow, a warm rumble of sound that could startle the unprepared, but the Messenger’s ready smile widened in greeting. “Same to you, Aril.”
“You are early.”
“My wings were restless. And I didn’t think you’d mind if I turned up before sunrise.”
Aril waved a large hand to the stone step on which he sat. “Your company is always welcome. Come aside and tell me your news.”
“Little has changed,” Milo admitted. “Most of my days are filled with ordinary things.”
“I do not mind,” Aril assured, but his orange eyes studied the Messenger thoughtfully. “Though I am curious about your confession.”
The Messenger’s brows lifted. “What did I say?”
With a note of amusement, Aril replied, “Restless wings are rarely a sign of peace.”
“I suppose not,” Milo conceded, running his fingers through his hair. Then, he blinked and murmured, “What If …?”
“Yes?”
“Instead of speaking of ordinary things, what if I told you an extraordinary story … about a girl whose eyes have been opened to heavenly things?”
Interest piqued, Aril answered, “Tell me.”
Prissie was disappointed with progress. Despite her best intentions, she wasn’t getting very far with finding presents for the people she counted dearest. According to Momma, Christmas presents were an expression of love, not an obligation. She always told them that small things, even intangible things, could be more thoughtful than any of the stuff money could buy.
The more Prissie wandered through the stores in West Edinton, the more she was forced to agree with her mother. Shelf after shelf was stocked with merchandise, but nothing struck her as appropriate for any of her angel friends. “How do you shop for an angel?” she groused.
Koji shook his head. “I do not know. I have never tried.”
With a frustrated huff, she begged, “Do you see anything here that might work?” Dark eyes darted from shelf to bin, and Prissie could practically see him dismissing it all. “No good?” she asked with a dreary sigh.
He shook his head, but remarked, “One never knows what God can use. Even if I do not understand the purpose of a thing, that does not mean it has none.”
“I give up,” she grumbled, heading for the door. “Let’s go.” She pulled her hat around her ears before stepping outside. The wind had whipped up so much, it was hard to tell
which way it was coming from. Snow whirled at them from every direction, and she pulled her scarf up over her nose. “We’d better hurry. It’s gotten worse.”
“Indeed,” Koji agreed, squinting against the icy gusts.
Prissie struck out, aiming for the bakery, but a sudden noise froze her in her tracks. The deep groan rose to a high, angry screech that made her want to cover her ears. Looking over her shoulder, she tried to place the sound but came up empty. “What was that?”
“You heard?” Koji asked, eyes wide.
“Obviously,” she scoffed, peering through her lashes toward the sound’s origin. “Maybe someone’s roof was pulled loose by the storm?”
The noise ripped along the vacant street again, harsh and off-key, and this time, Prissie saw something moving against the dizzying whiteness. Koji grabbed hold of her arm so quickly, she nearly dropped her bag. “No!” he shouted. “No, that is not what it was!”
“What is that?” she asked, her voice shaking. Though the figure was indistinct, she could tell that the dark shape moving toward them was taller than most of the buildings on Main Street.
“We need to go!” Koji said sharply.
Prissie nodded nervously. “Yes, I think we should go. The bakery, or Harken’s?”
As the pair glanced uncertainly up and down the street, poised to make a run for it, Prissie caught sight of a familiar figure shuffling along on the other side of the street. The scene took on a nightmarish quality as Ransom headed straight for the hulking shadow that loomed larger by the moment.
A tree branch creaked and cracked, plunging to the snow-covered lawn in front of the town hall, narrowly missing the gazebo. Ransom turned to look at the sudden noise, and Prissie’s heart leapt to her throat. She might not like the guy, but she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Things had changed.
Koji pulled on her arm again, but she shook it free and raised mittened hands to her mouth. “Ransom!” Her voice came out shrill and faint against the wind, so she took a deep breath and bellowed his name again.
This time, he spun to face them, and she waved desperately for him to come over. “This way! Quick!”
To her relief, Ransom changed direction and ambled their way. “What’s up, Miss Priss?”
“It’s not safe! Come with us!”
He glanced around with a bemused expression. “It’s just snow.”
Prissie latched onto his arm and cast a fearful look at the shadow. Panic thrilled through her soul. “Which way, Koji?” she begged.
The young Observer quickly grabbed Ransom’s other arm and gravely said, “Please, come this way. It is a matter of some urgency.”
“If you say so,” Ransom relented. “Geez!”
They ran all the way to Harken’s, bursting through the door in a tinkle of chimes. While Koji firmly closed the door behind them, Prissie puffed, trying to catch her breath. Still clamped onto Ransom’s arm, she carefully enunciated, “Good evening, Mr. Mercer. Sorry to barge in so late, but it’s getting bad outside. Can we wait in here?”
Harken’s smile was reassuringly familiar. “Of course, Prissie! Won’t you introduce your friend?”
At a sudden loss for words, she looked blankly into her companion’s face and quickly let go of his arm. He quirked an eyebrow before speaking up for himself. “Ransom Pavlos, sir. Mr. Pomeroy has mentioned you some. I work at his bakery.”
“Jayce’s apprentice!” Harken exclaimed, smiling broadly. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance! Make yourselves comfortable,” he urged. “Prissie, you should call your father to let him know you and Koji are here. We don’t want him to worry.”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” She hurried through to the back room and placed the call, then returned to announce, “Dad says if it’s okay with you, we should stay put. He and Uncle Lou have the chess board out, and they’re making do over at the bakery. The boys will come dig us out tomorrow.”
“You’re most welcome,” Harken assured. “Are you expecting a ride, Ransom?”
“Nope. I walked.”
“I see,” the old shopkeeper murmured. “Would you like to place a call to your parents?”
“Sure, yeah. I’ll let my dad know where I am,” he agreed.
Just then, Milo strolled through the back room’s door and said, “We’ve got a blizzard on our hands!”
“Hey, Mr. Mailman,” Ransom greeted.
“The name’s Milo,” he reminded with a chuckle.
Ransom grinned. “I remember. Which way to the phone?”
“Through here,” he said with a courteous sweep of one arm. “It’s on the corner of Harken’s desk.”
“Gotcha.”
While her classmate put through his call, the Messengers compared notes. Harken said, “I’ve conferred with Jedrick. Half a legion is mobilizing, but they cannot fight a storm.”
Milo heaved a deep sigh. “Abner says he hasn’t been Sent. There’s nothing he can do.”
Prissie wandered over to where Koji stood looking out the window. She could barely see the streetlight on the corner, let alone the bakery. A pickup truck edged past at a crawl, snow up to its hubcaps, but it was soon lost from view. “How bad is it?” she whispered.
“I do not know,” he replied honestly. “However, we are safe here.”
“What about Dad and the others?”
A series of loud pops startled her, and she looked up and down the street. “There,” Koji offered, pointing at sparks arcing into the air from a transformer. Just like that, the power went out. The lights and furnace stalled simultaneously, plunging the bookstore into eerie silence.
“Hang on,” Milo ordered. “I know where to find some light. Everyone sit tight.”
A clatter and thud of falling books came from the back room, and Harken called, “Ransom?”
“Sorry, sir. I bumped into something-or-other.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nah, I’m fine,” the teen assured.
They lapsed into silence while they waited for Milo to reappear, and Prissie’s eyes strained for some trace of light. The blackness was so complete, it reminded her of being lost in the tunnels that had led her to the Deep. Shivering, she mumbled, “It’s too dark.”
“Indeed,” Koji quietly agreed.
Prissie was disappointed when he didn’t reach for her hand. More than anything else, she didn’t want to feel alone, so she reached for him, her fingers finding the rough cloth of his coat sleeve. “Can you see?” she whispered.
“The storm has blotted out the stars, but even so, I can distinguish more than you are able.”
Tugging on his sleeve, she edged closer to her friend. The scene on the street haunted her memories, and she couldn’t seem to stop trembling. “I think I’m scared,” she admitted.
“We are safe,” Koji repeated. After a short pause, he announced, “Milo is returning, and he is not alone.”
In the next moment, light shimmered from the direction of Harken’s office, and Prissie gasped. She could clearly see Ransom’s profile now; he leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, head down, and he didn’t react at all when a flood of tiny angels streamed past him, bringing their brightness into the room. He was blind, but she could see.
Only when the beam of a flashlight cut through the dark did Ransom react, turning toward the sound of Milo’s cheerful hail. “I found what we need! Hey, Ransom, did you get through to your family before we were cut off?”
“Yeah,” he replied, accepting a spare flashlight and clicking it on. “I told Dad I was hanging out with you guys until the storm calms down. He didn’t care.”
“I see,” Harken replied gently, taking a box of candles off Milo’s hands. “I’m sure you put his mind at ease.”
Ransom shrugged and looked at Prissie. Holding up the flashlight, he asked, “You want this?”
“N-no,” she stammered, trying very hard to act naturally. Abner’s entire flock seemed to have escaped into the bookstore, and their antics were more than enough to
make her forget her fears. Many of the manna-makers danced acrobatically through the air, while still more explored the odds and ends Harken had on display. The little dears were so distracting!
Oblivious to the small angels whirling just over his head, Ransom quirked a brow at her. “What are you smiling about?”
“I’m just glad there’s light,” she fudged.
“Afraid of the dark?” he guessed, cautiously working his way across the room.
“Not usually.”
“‘Cause you can have this if you are,” he insisted.
She meant to glare, but a pair of yahavim got between her and him. With a warm smile, she replied, “No, thank you. I don’t need it.”
“Huh.” He moved to the front window. “Well, I’m glad you yanked me off the street when you did.” Using his hand to shield his eyes as he peered through the glass, he casually added, “Though I still don’t understand why you did.”
Koji said, “Prissie was concerned for your safety.”
“Uh-huh,” Ransom replied dubiously, squinting down Main Street. The whole building rattled as a gust of wind ripped past. “Do you think they’re okay over there?”
“I’m sure they’re safe, but they can’t be very comfortable,” Milo said as he emerged again from the back. He dropped a pile of blankets on the counter and gazed thoughtfully at the teen. “How about this? We’ll add some pillows to this pile, and you and I can tote them over to the bakery. We’ll camp out with them tonight.”
“I’m okay with that,” Ransom agreed.
“I’ll bring down the pillows,” Harken offered. “Ransom, would you mind lending me a hand?”
“Happy to, sir.”
As soon as they were out of earshot, Prissie hurried over to Milo. “Isn’t it too dangerous to go out there?” she asked worriedly.
“I’ll do what I must, Miss Priscilla,” he answered seriously.
Koji helpfully supplied, “He has been Sent.”
“Oh.” With an unhappy little sigh, she whispered, “Be careful.”
“We will,” Milo promised.
Once Milo and Ransom were bundled out the door with their bulging packs, Harken locked up and waved Prissie and Koji toward the back room. “Let’s wait in the glade,” he suggested. “Prissie, see how many of the yahavim you can get to follow you. Koji, keep a sharp eye out for dawdlers. Abner won’t thank us if we misplace any of his little ones.”
The Broken Window Page 12
