The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  Zeke trundled by in galoshes, testing the depths of each puddle he came to with a two-footed hop.

  Chuckling, Grandpa Pete said, “And I think I’ll enlist that young man’s help. If he’s going to get muddy, may as well be for a good cause.”

  “Good idea,” Prissie agreed.

  As the old man stepped off the porch and hailed her younger brother, she gazed off toward the orchard. Grandpa was probably avoiding it for the same reason she avoided checking on progress with repairs in her bedroom. Nothing would be the same. Changes on this level took a special kind of courage.

  Koji slipped to her side. “Are you cold? I will bring your coat,” he offered.

  “No thanks. It’s too nice to bundle up.” She put on a smile. “How about a walk into the orchard?”

  “I will gladly accompany you.”

  As soon as they were past the barn and beyond the garden surrounding the folly, Prissie saw signs of the epic battle the Caretakers had raged on their land. Broken limbs. Exposed roots. Muddy gashes. And in the midst of the wreckage, a shining figure strolled. Koji jogged forward waving excitedly. “Abner! You are here!”

  Without pause, his teammate murmured, “Where else would I be?”

  Prissie watched in awe as Abner walked around a decimated fruit tree, lifting broken branches and setting them back in place. Once he mended the worst of the damage, he passed to the next. To her, it looked like he was putting a puzzle together. When he finished, would the orchard be whole again?

  With a little gush of gratitude, she asked, “Can you fix them all?”

  “Not all,” Abner replied. “But when your grandfather finally faces his losses, he’ll be able to say, ‘It could have been worse,’ and mean it.”

  “That’s very nice of you.”

  “Not at all. I was Sent.” The angel turned his piercing gaze on her. “Do you realize what that means?”

  “It means you’ll fix the trees.”

  He hummed, looking unimpressed.

  Prissie tried again, more tentatively. “It means that they’ll bloom and bear fruit. And . . . that my grandfather will be happy.”

  Abner said, “All true, but inconsequential. I was Sent.”

  That much she knew. She’d heard it often enough. Nodding, she filled in, “And where you’re Sent, you go.”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, the Caretaker leaned forward and slowly repeated, “I was Sent.”

  Koji quietly interjected, “She does not underst – ”

  When Abner lifted his hand, the young angel simply closed his mouth. Humming again, the silver-haired angel said, “Miss Prissie Pomeroy, you are surrounded by angels. You have faith in that which you have seen. You believe in us. Trust us. Like us. You even love some of us. But I’m beginning to think we’re getting in the way.”

  “No, you’re not!” she protested anxiously. “I want you here!”

  Without batting an eye, Abner declared, “We don’t need you. And you don’t need us.”

  “But you’re wrong!” Prissie was nearly frantic. “I do need you! I don’t know what I’d do without all of you!”

  Quickly stepping forward, Abner grasped her shoulders, “Shh,” he soothed. “You’re not listening.”

  Calm seeped into her soul, and she took hold of Abner’s full sleeve. “I’m going to hate it when you have to go.”

  “Do not fear partings,” he replied in gentler tones. “They make reunions all the sweeter.”

  “Promise?” she begged.

  Abner shook his head. “I am only Sent. The promise is neither mine to make, nor to keep. Think, Prissie. What does it mean that I am Sent?”

  And this time, she grasped what should have been obvious. If an angel was Sent, then Someone had done the Sending. Prissie whispered, “God Sent you.”

  With an approving nod, the Caretaker replied, “Yes. Never forget that we are God’s servants, the same as you. If we do a thing, it’s at His prompting. If you’re glad of our company, thank Him for it.”

  She nodded.

  Abner released her and abruptly asked, “Are you familiar with the term miracle?”

  “Y-yes?”

  He turned back to the trees, resuming his work. “What does it mean?”

  “Something that shouldn’t be possible.” Turning it around, Prissie added, “Something impossible.”

  “A person who’s sick is suddenly well. A branch that is broken is suddenly whole. A bud that was bent bursts into bloom. A barren branch learns to bear fruit.” Abner beckoned for her to hold out her hand and dropped a ripe apple onto her palm. “A part of the future finds its way to an earlier moment.”

  Prissie gasped, “How did you do that?”

  “The how doesn’t matter so much as the fact that it’s been done. Or will be done.” Abner stooped to pick up a shattered branch. “That is what I can do. And it is what must be done.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” she confessed.

  Abner explained, “God does as He pleases, and it pleased Him to choose this place . . . and you. He opened your eyes to things not usually seen.”

  At the Caretaker’s twirl of one finger, Prissie checked behind her and found Koji changed. He stood barefoot in the slush, his raiment gleaming as it fluttered in the warm breeze. Tucking his hair behind one pointed ear, the Observer stepped to her side.

  “A girl. A boy,” Abner continued, half to himself. “A door. A gate. A war. A way. A while and a little while.”

  Koji called his teammate back from his musings. “I have never seen a place so torn.”

  “The Deep below. The Tower above.” Abner mended more branches, then stepped back to consider his handiwork. “In the midst of a ravaged wilderness, an orchard blooms. Though they tear the world asunder, they cannot find what God has hidden.”

  Prissie frowned and glanced around. “Is something here?”

  “I’m here. You’re here,” Abner replied.

  “You keep dropping hints!”

  “Ah, so you noticed. Not many do.” The Caretaker snapped a bare twig from a branch, then offered it to her. It burst into bloom in her hand. “God hides things for mankind to discover.”

  Prissie glanced at Koji, and his lips curved into a small smile that let her know he was in on this particular secret. That made sense if it was tied to his mentor’s tower. She wasn’t sure she was following everything, but she did make one connection. “Hide and seek? Like one of Momma’s birthday treasure hunts.”

  “An interesting comparison.” With a thin smile, Abner inquired, “Are you as fond of riddles as you are of such games?”

  “I suppose,” she agreed.

  Abner clasped his hands behind his back and gazed into the sky. “It may interest you to know that this is not the first time I was grafted into the human community in this area.”

  “You lived here before? In West Edinton?” Prissie asked.

  “A little over two hundred years ago.”

  “But that was when . . .” She clapped her hands and exclaimed, “Does that mean you were one of the town’s founders?”

  “I was. At that time, I took the name Sunderland.”

  “A. J. Sunderland?” Prissie pointed off to the northeast. “As in Sunderland State Park?”

  The Caretaker lightly touched the bridge of his nose. “Abner Jedediah Sunderland, to be precise. And I can be blamed for the oldest riddle in your hometown’s history.”

  Prissie knew exactly what he was talking about, but Koji was new to the area. He asked, “There is a riddle?”

  “Sure. It’s the closest thing we have to a local legend, probably because no one can answer it. It’s not the most exciting unsolved mystery, but it’s all we’ve got.”

  Koji looked to Abner, eyes bright with interest. “The name! You are the one who gave this town its name!”

  “Well spotted, Observer,” Abner praised. Then he posed the question no earthly historian could answer. “There’s no Edinton. There’s no East E
dinton. So why is West Edinton called West Edinton? Or perhaps more important, what is West Edinton west of?”

  When the bus dropped Prissie and her brothers at the end of the driveway on a drizzly day in late March, there was a car with out-of-state plates in the driveway. “You don’t suppose they’re here already?” Neil asked.

  “It was gonna be soon,” said Beau. “They were visiting his family first.”

  Neil counted on his fingers. “But if they drove all night . . . ?”

  Tad chuckled. “I think it’s safe to say Aunt Ida’s home.”

  From under the edge of her hood, Prissie spotted what he already had. Loren Morrell had stepped out onto the porch of their grandparents’ house to wave at them. Shoving her backpack into Tad’s arms, Prissie flew up the driveway. Three years. It’d been three years since the last time Dad’s baby sister was home for a visit. Too long.

  Kicking out of her muddy shoes, Prissie breathlessly said, “Hi, Uncle Lo!”

  Aunt Ida’s husband was tall and thin, with a long face and nose, and kind, brown eyes. He wasn’t really handsome, but not exactly homely either — ​a comfortable in-between. When he wasn’t speaking, he was quiet, and when he spoke, everyone else got quiet. That was just the kind of person Uncle Lo was. Opening the door with a gallant bow, he said, “She’s in the kitchen.”

  With a bright smile for the man that understood her desperate need, Prissie handed off her coat and rushed inside. Ida was sitting at the table with Grandpa and Grandma, but she quickly stood, opening her arms wide. “Prissie!”

  She collided with her aunt and clung tightly. Ida was big sister and girlhood friend, all wrapped up into one.

  Catching her breath, Prissie noticed that two things had changed. In the first place, she was taller than her childhood confidante. In the second, her slim auntie wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding a telltale bulge. With a gasp, Prissie exclaimed, “You’re going to have a baby!”

  Ida laughed. “I was just telling Dad that it’s time to graft a new branch onto the family tree.”

  Prissie’s tones turned brisk. “How could you keep it a secret?”

  “I kept it a surprise,” her aunt cheerfully countered. “There’s a difference!”

  By now, the boys had crowded into the room. Neil called out, “Congratulations,” then proceeded to help Tad elbow their grinning uncle.

  Prissie begged, “Please say you’re staying long enough for me to meet my cousin.”

  “Yes, yes,” Ida replied, patting Prissie’s back and laughing. “I need a rest, and I need to put down roots again. These last few months, I’ve never been so homesick in my life. The urge to return here was just too strong to ignore.”

  “You’re staying?”

  “A good, long stay,” Ida assured. “Which means we can be all cozy again. And you can help me get used to the idea of being a mommy!”

  “And this young man . . . ?” prompted Uncle Loren.

  All eyes turned to the Observer standing quietly just inside the door. His expression was hard to read — ​a strange mix of wistfulness and peace. Prissie held out her hand to him as she announced, “This is Koji. He’s my . . . my best friend.”

  As he slipped to her side, Ida’s eyes sparkled. “I see! Well, so long as I’m still your bestest . . . ?”

  “Obviously!” Prissie exclaimed.

  With another bubble of laughter, the woman reached for Koji and pulled him right into their hug. “Hello, Koji. Let’s be cozy right off!”

  “I am pleased to meet you,” he replied seriously. “Prissie always speaks of you with fondness.”

  Ida gave him a delighted smile. “You’re too cute for words!”

  Koji blinked.

  Prissie giggled and whispered, “He is!”

  The boy blinked several more times, and Neil snickered. “Better watch out, Koji. When Ida and Prissie get together, it doesn’t matter how many men are in the house. We’re outnumbered!”

  That night, Prissie made up a makeshift bed on the couch in the family room. Although her uncle and aunt apologized profusely for displacing her, she was glad to be back in her own house. It felt like a step in the right direction. One that eased some of her distress. But was it okay to feel happier when Tamaes was still suffering? Even though she and Beau and Koji prayed for him every day, nothing changed. Was she missing something?

  As she dozed off, Prissie dreamed of angels ringing the house — ​strong arms and stern faces, swords and spears, bows and bravery. They didn’t seem to notice her, even though she was close enough to see the stitching on their collars. Guardians, which meant that this was a Hedge. And from somewhere close by, she could hear Uncle Lo’s voice. Was he talking to himself? No. She knew better. As easily as song came to angels, that’s how it was for Loren and prayer.

  Had prayers brought these angels near? Were there more now that Loren, Ida, and their unborn child had joined them? Did that mean God had reinforced the Hedge? She didn’t really understand everything, but she was grateful for the sense of safety. It felt like a gift. Just like Aunt Ida’s return. And her baby. There were still good things. There were nice surprises. And there were angels all around.

  Prissie’s dream slipped away as a strange, new sound stirred her from sleep. Her initial dismay at losing hold of the dream was replaced by anticipation. From the direction of the kitchen, the tentative plucking of harp strings led into a sweet song. Her eyes slowly opened. Beau said he’d heard Ephron singing sometimes at night.

  She pulled her blankets up to her chin and might have drifted right back to sleep, except for the plaintive note to Ephron’s song. The words were strange, but the solo seemed lonely. Was he hoping someone would join him, make a duet? Slipping out from under her heavy comforter, Prissie tiptoed into the kitchen, planning to let the Observer know that he wasn’t alone.

  Ephron’s raiment cast a soft glow, but the brightest point of light came from a lone yahavim. Lavi perched upon the harp, brilliant in his happiness. The Observer reached the end of a phrase, and the harp stilled. “Something on your mind, precious?”

  She stole closer, “How could you tell I was here?”

  He tipped his head to one side. “Your spirit joined the song even if your voice did not.”

  “I have been thinking . . .”

  Nodding, Ephron set aside his instrument and held out his hands in silent invitation.

  Crossing the room, Prissie pulled the step stool over to the refrigerator and climbed up. She was finally ready to say these words out loud, but that didn’t mean she wanted to say them loudly. Up on tiptoe, pale and pleading, she broached a lingering dread. “Would you have been rescued sooner if I had prayed earlier?”

  Without hesitation, Ephron replied, “I do not know, and it does not matter.”

  “How can you say that?”

  He shook his head. “We cannot go back and undo what has been done.”

  Prissie protested, “Abner made time go back once. He opened a door, and it was earlier.”

  “Is that so?” Ephron asked curiously. “Will you tell me about it?”

  Somehow, they wandered off topic. The Observer kept asking questions, one right after the next, drawing out the story of how she’d followed Lavi into the warren of tunnels beneath the state park, all the way to the Deep.

  “Thank you for aiding him. I was surprised when he brought me the tiny flashlight.” Ephron’s expression was almost nostalgic. “I think I know how Noah felt when the dove returned with a sprig of olive leaves in its beak. Your gift gave me hope. Thank you, Prissie.”

  “Don’t thank me,” she said fiercely.

  “You are crying?”

  “I’m not!” she grumbled, but the first tear fell, making her a liar.

  He frowned slightly and reached out. She held very still as his fingertips brushed her cheek, finding the damp trail. She hung her head when he tutted softly. “There is no shame in tears, for sorrow must have its outlet. Why are you troubled?”

 
; “Because you were hurt.”

  He gently reasoned, “You did me no harm.”

  “But I didn’t do you any good! If only I had prayed sooner!”

  Ephron caressed her cheek. “You are not to blame for my suffering.”

  “Aren’t you angry?” she ventured. Deep down, she knew she was, and for more reasons than she liked to admit. Angry at Elise for being hateful. Angry at Margery for tossing her aside. Angry at Jennifer for her jealousy. Angry at April for not standing up for her. Prissie felt her indignation was justified, but some of her anger was harder to live with.

  Truth be told, she was ashamed of how she felt. She was angry at Ransom for being so open about his faith. She was angry at Koji because he was leaving. And she was angry with God for not protecting the bakery . . . or her bedroom . . . or her guardian angel.

  “Who deserves my anger?” Ephron inquired.

  “Me? God? The ones who hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “Bitterness steals the songs from one’s soul.” Hesitating for a moment, as if listening to someone else, he quietly asked, “Are you angry with me?”

  “If anything, I’m angry with myself.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Prissie wondered if she’d hit upon the actual truth.

  Ephron quietly said, “Shame is as necessary as tears. Born from the knowledge of good and evil, it can guide you to the place where forgiveness waits.” He paused for thought. “There is a striking similarity between humans and angels. The Fallen always search for blame.”

  Prissie leaned her cheek into Ephron’s hand. “What a relief,” she murmured. “I was afraid that if you found out, you’d hold it against me.”

  “You have nothing to fear from me.”

  “Only Adin.” She lowered her eyes, cheeks aflame. “He was kind to me.”

  “Kind?”

  “No, I suppose it wasn’t kindness. He said nice things . . . flattering things.”

  Ephron nodded wisely. “The easiest lies to believe are the ones we wish were true. Do not be deceived as he was.”

  Prissie was startled by the sudden turn. “What do you mean?”