The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  Ransom glanced over his shoulder at her. “Tired, Miss Priss?”

  She shook her head. “It’s hot today. Feels like summer.”

  He looked between her and Koji, then faced forward again. “Don’t waste nice days talkin’ about the weather.” Punching Marcus’s shoulder, he said, “This way. We’ve got time for one round.”

  “Of what?” Prissie asked, following the pair across the street

  “Tag.” Ransom talked fast. “I’m it. Main rule: keep off the grass. Sidewalks, pavers, stepping stones, curbs, and the gazebo stairs, benches, and rails are all fair game. Go.”

  She barely had time to react when he reached over to tap Marcus, then took off for the gazebo. The Protector smirked at her and Koji. “This would be a good time to scatter.”

  “Indeed.” The young Observer turned and hurried toward Ransom, who was already leaping from bench to bench inside the gazebo.

  Marcus jogged after them, but Prissie stood her ground. There was no way she was going to be lured into a game of chase. “We need to get to the store!” They ignored her. Or maybe they couldn’t hear her. Ransom was laughing at whatever Marcus had said, and Koji’s focus was on them. Frowning, she called, “Fine. I’ll watch from here.”

  The guys shouted advice to Koji, who wasn’t as familiar with the terrain. Despite Marcus’s warnings, the young Observer ran up against a dead end. Ransom tagged him, then tore her way. Hauling up just short of Prissie, he said, “Come on, Miss Priss. This might not be your thing, but that’s why Koji’ll never forget it. Play along.”

  “But . . . !”

  “He’s twice as glum as you are, even if he does hide it pretty well,” Ransom said, concern and compassion mingling. “Chase after him while you can.”

  She had to run then. Otherwise, Ransom would see her tears.

  Prissie decided that it was tricky to maintain one’s dignity while racing along walkways, but not impossible. Having boys for friends wasn’t much different than having too many brothers. Except that Ransom, Marcus, and Koji paid no attention to her bossing. They stood up to her. And they’d stood by her. At least she had her beloved auntie back, which meant she’d still have her fill of shopping sprees, chick flicks, and baby cuddling.

  Slowing to a stop in front of the gazebo, Prissie propped her hands on her hips and frowned up at Marcus. How in the world had he managed to climb onto its roof? “That’s hardly fair,” she accused.

  The Protector shrugged. “This is how we always play.”

  “Don’t be so reckless! Heights are dangerous.”

  “Relax, kiddo. There’s no chance of me Falling.”

  Prissie knew Marcus could fly to the top of the clock tower without any trouble, but wasn’t he setting a bad example? “Well, for pity’s sake, don’t let Zeke see you.”

  “Deal.”

  Ransom was a runner, and Marcus was a climber. Prissie held little hope of cornering the two pros, but Koji was within reach. She snatched at him, her fingers almost catching his sleeve; he ran faster, gasping on the verge of laughter. Prissie redoubled her efforts, charging up the gazebo steps, only to find Koji waiting for her at the top — ​eyes sparkling, arms open. It was more of a collision than a hug, and she was about to apologize for almost bowling him over. But Koji was laughing, and she was the reason. The best things always did happen in this spot.

  “Game over!” called Ransom, who was looking entirely too smug when he jogged over. “What are you guys thinking, goofing off when there’s milk to get?”

  “Wasn’t this your idea?” Prissie countered.

  Ransom replied, “You’re welcome.”

  The corner store’s air conditioning felt very good after their impromptu chase. “Anyone else thirsty?” asked Marcus, pulling out his wallet. “My treat.”

  Prissie wanted to point out that they were about to have milk and cookies back at the bakery, but something in Marcus’s expression made it hard to refuse. “Thanks.” She and Koji cut across to the dairy section while Ransom trailed after Marcus. Rounding a corner, Prissie found herself face to face with last summer’s friends.

  Margery, Elise, April, and Jennifer looked as surprised as she was. Margery dredged up a smile. “Umm . . . hey.”

  April tried harder. “You two enjoying the weekend?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Prissie replied, using her polite-to-customers tone.

  “You still here?” Elise asked, looking down her nose at Koji.

  “Indeed.”

  “But not for long.” She sweetly said, “Poor Prissie, you must be crushed, losing your only friend.”

  Prissie did a double-take because Koji actually rolled his eyes. “You are mistaken,” he said seriously.

  Just then, Jennifer’s sneer slipped right off her face, and she began elbowing Margery. All three girls’ gazes snapped to the same point beyond Prissie’s shoulder, right as Ransom said, “What’s taking so long, you two?” To the others, he offered a casual, “Hey.”

  Marcus tapped her shoulder, then pushed a cold bottle of cream soda into her hand. “Here’s yours.”

  She shot him a look and was blindsided by a smile that probably counted as a deadly weapon. One he was using to protect her. Prissie managed a soft, “Thanks.”

  “Lose your way, Miss Priss?” Ransom asked.

  Prissie bristled, but he just pushed his own drink into her other hand. “Hold this. I’ll get the milk.”

  “Allow me to assist you,” Koji offered, leaving Prissie and Marcus to face the four girls.

  Elise stared hard at the pair, then bluntly asked, “You’re with him?”

  “I’m with them,” Prissie carefully corrected.

  Arching her brows at Marcus, Elise drawled, “You do realize that the project groups were temporary assignments, right?”

  Marcus gruffly replied, “Not ours.”

  As he hooked her elbow and led her away, Prissie wished she didn’t care what Margery and the others thought of her. Their rejection hurt. The sting was almost enough to make her forget how little their opinion actually mattered. But so much had happened since last summer. She knew more. She knew better.

  Ransom and Koji caught up, each carrying a gallon of milk. Her friends might defy explanation, but they were reliable. And her big, noisy family was waiting. The Pomeroys were firm believers in milk-and-cookie time. Just like they believed in other good things, like babies, hymn sings, an apple a day, and providence.

  Marcus was looking at her curiously. “You need anything else?”

  With a small shake of her head, Prissie honestly replied, “I have everything I need.”

  The days dwindled to nothing, and Prissie couldn’t help feeling a little panicky. Koji wasn’t leaving her all by herself, but he was still leaving. Minutes and seconds were starting to matter, but it was hard to do special things when everyday things needed doing.

  “I wonder if this is how the yahavim feel,” Koji remarked.

  Prissie looked at him from under the brim of her straw hat. “What does planting cucumbers have to do with Omri and company?”

  “Your family will reap a harvest from the seeds I have planted.” He patted the warm soil. “It is a pleasant thought.”

  “I’ll be thinking of you when I’m packing pickle jars in July.”

  He sought her gaze. “That is also a pleasant thought.”

  Prissie smiled wanly. “Help me with these onions next.”

  Koji stood, brushing at the soiled knees of jeans that were finally gaining that lived-in look. Months of slopping pigs, toting firewood, and goofing off with her brothers had left their mark. They were even looking a little short. “Show me what to do,” he prompted.

  She gave herself a mental shake. This wasn’t the time to be leaping ahead or looking back. Hadn’t Koji asked her to stay with him in the here and now? Shaking a handful of small, black seeds into his palm, she took a pinch. “Scatter them like this, in a shallow furrow. Don’t worry if they’re too close. Whenever we want green onions
, we thin out the row.”

  “I understand.”

  They’d faced each other over a row of onions once before, back when he was just a stranger in shining raiment. Koji had helped her with the weeding on that day. Wistfulness started to creep up on her again, but Prissie did her best to fend it off. “Is there anything else you want to do before you go?”

  “Indeed.”

  Looking up in surprise, she asked, “What?”

  Koji pushed his hair more firmly behind one ear. “I would like to eat pie.”

  “What kind?”

  The young angel announced, “Your pie was my first taste of life in this home. I would like my last to have the same sweetness.”

  Prissie hated to disappoint him. “We don’t have the right apples at this time of year. It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “If I bring the apples to you, will you bake me a pie?” he coaxed.

  “How about we make it together?”

  Koji’s usual angelic smile was just a little crooked today. “May it be so.”

  The day before the last day, it rained. Koji sat on Prissie’s windowseat, one foot slowly swinging as he peered out at the gray-green world beyond the glass. “God is watering the gardens,” he murmured, sounding pleased. “What has been planted will surely flourish.”

  “Gardens?” Prissie asked, emphasizing the plural.

  Koji’s voice held the soft lilt that meant he was teasing. “Did you not know? There is more than one garden in this orchard.”

  Prissie paused in her packing, hugging an almost-new pair of polished loafers to her chest. “Will you ever wear these again?”

  Turning his head, Koji’s gaze flickered to his favorite shoes. “I cannot say for certain.”

  Momma hadn’t argued when Prissie insisted on doing Koji’s packing for him. Even though the angel didn’t need any of these trappings, he had to go through the motions of returning to his island home. He’d accumulated very little; everything would fit in a duffle bag. Worn jeans. A few T-shirts. The apron she’d given him. A knit cap. Stacks of notebooks. The family photo Grandpa Carl had taken at Christmas. It wasn’t much, but maybe that’s why every item felt precious.

  “You might outgrow them,” she said. “Just look at Beau. He had a growth spurt and passed me up.”

  “That is so!” Koji exclaimed, hopping down from the seat. “Can we take my measure?”

  “Yes, of course.” Grabbing a pen, she led the way to the laundry room, where the Pomeroy family’s heights were recorded. The dryer thrummed away, quickly making the cramped room stuffy when they closed the door to check Koji’s mark on the wall. “Stand up straight,” Prissie urged.

  Koji obliged. “Am I taller?”

  “Hold on,” Prissie laughed. With great care, she drew the pen across the wall. “There. Proof.”

  He turned and gasped. Touching the gap between the two lines, he said, “I grew, yet I did not notice.”

  “Nobody does, since it happens a little at a time. But then all of a sudden, you realize things don’t fit like they used to.”

  Koji nodded. “Yes, that is a good way to describe change. May I borrow your pen?”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked, handing it over.

  Hesitating, he asked, “Will your parents mind if I add to this record?”

  “I’m sure they’d consider your graffiti a gift.”

  Without further ado, Koji set to embellishing the space between where they’d met and where they’d have to say goodbye. Prissie sat on the washing machine and thought back. Their time together deserved to be celebrated, and not just because it was a miracle. Amazing things had happened, but so had awful things. She was curious to know what he saw when looking back. “What are you writing?”

  “Things that would be hard to say.”

  Prissie quietly asked, “Is that your goodbye?”

  Koji met her gaze. “There will be no goodbye, Prissie. Only . . . wait a while.”

  She might have pointed out that she didn’t like waiting any more than she liked goodbyes, but Koji’s chin quavered. Hopping down, she pulled him into a tight hug and stared wordlessly at the delicate inscriptions that fanned out around Koji’s name. What might he find difficult to express? If his artistry was anything to go on, he wanted to tell her something beautiful.

  Their hug lasted just a minute, but then the dryer buzzed. With a soft sigh, he stepped out of her embrace. “Padgett is here.”

  “At the door?”

  “No. In your room.” Koji opened the laundry room door so they could hurry back. “He brought something nice.”

  Prissie expected to greet the Caretaker, but he wasn’t there anymore. But he’d left a gift. A small basket of apples was waiting on the windowseat — ​several varieties, all perfectly ripe. “I suppose it’s silly to ask where he found them,” she murmured. “Or how he knew my recipe.”

  “These could have come from an earlier time or a later season. I am unsure which,” Koji said. “All Padgett will say is that he found an autumn day that was particularly lovely.”

  Taking a deep breath that smelled like crisp air and sunshine, Prissie smiled. “Ready to peel and pare?”

  Koji cradled their off-season harvest. “Indeed.”

  When they reached the bottom of the back stairs, they found Beau and Milo at the kitchen table, Bibles and notebooks open. Prissie peered curiously over her brother’s shoulder “What are you guys doing?”

  “I asked Milo to show me how he gets ready to teach Sunday school.”

  “Why?”

  “To understand it better, I guess,” Beau replied.

  Prissie asked, “Are you going to teach like Milo?”

  “Dunno ’bout that. I’m the one who needs to learn this stuff.” Catching sight of Koji’s apples, he asked, “What’s the deal?”

  “Koji asked for pie, so we’re going to bake one.”

  Beau was as much a Pomeroy as she was. Fixing her with a hard stare, he said, “Those varieties won’t peak until September. But I can smell how ripe they are.”

  Milo poked his study partner’s shoulder. “Shall we get back to this lesson on miracles?”

  To Prissie’s amazement, Beau groaned and let his head drop onto his arms, hiding his face from them. She looked to the Messenger. “What just happened?”

  “A few minutes ago, your brother was saying that miracles are rarer than rubies. I tried to tell him they’re as common as apples if your eyes are open.” Milo waved at the basket and cheerfully said, “Thank you for the object lesson.”

  Prissie frowned. “So were the apples really for me and Koji, or were they meant for Beau?”

  “Does it have to be one or the other?” Milo asked.

  “Obviously not.” She tugged at the end of her braid, then admitted, “I think I’m impressed.”

  The Messenger nodded approvingly. “That’s another way of saying God gets the glory, which is exactly the way it should be.”

  Raising his head, Beau whispered a sheepish, “Amen.”

  Prissie whispered, “And amen.”

  They reached the final day, and Prissie was having a hard time smiling at all their friends and neighbors. Although the Pomeroys weren’t making a big deal about it, Tad’s graduation open house was doubling as Koji’s goodbye party. Daddy had made too much cake. Momma had organized the decorations. Grandma Nell had done most of the cooking. And Neil had hidden Tad’s diploma, which blabbed his full name in fine calligraphy.

  As soon as her mother ran out of things for her to help with, Prissie chose a bale of straw off in one corner and curled up with her kitten. Koji soon joined her, carrying two glasses of punch. “Tad is showing great patience.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Settling close by her side, the young angel replied, “All of your guests ask him the very same questions. He is weary of them, yet he smiles.”

  “Tad knows they mean well,” she said with a sigh. “When it’s my turn, I’ll have Beau make F.A.Q. pos
ters. I’ll get tired of saying, ‘No, I don’t have any future plans.’ ”

  Koji leaned into her. “That is not true. You have both a hope and a future.”

  “Are you a part of them?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then I have something to look forward to.”

  That afternoon, Milo arrived with two passengers. While Ransom stuck with the mailman to greet the graduate, Marcus sauntered over to Koji and Prissie. Her flagging spirits perked up as soon as she realized that Lavi and Omri were riding on his shoulders. “Yo.”

  Prissie held out her hands to the yahavim, who flitted onto them. “Hello, darlings,” she said. “You’re in the same boat, aren’t you?”

  “One will stay; one will go,” Koji confirmed.

  Marcus dropped to a seat on Prissie’s other side and casually pointed up. “Dunno how many of them you can see, but it’s packed today.”

  She scanned the rafters. Tamaes stood on a crossbeam, leaning casually against the barn’s wall, and Taweel sat with Ephron next to a nest of barn swallows. Jedrick’s perch was higher up in the trusses.

  “Want to join them?” offered Marcus.

  “No! One flight with you was more than enough!”

  “That wasn’t flying,” Marcus argued. “That was like . . . baby steps.”

  Koji asked, “Do young Protectors have to learn to fly?”

  “Well, yeah. Of course.”

  “Is it difficult?” the Observer pressed.

  “Can be.”

  “Did you experience difficulty?” Koji pried.

  “Plenty,” Marcus admitted.

  Prissie remarked, “That’s strange. Couldn’t God just make you able to fly right from the beginning?”

  The Protector’s expression grew thoughtful. “Guess so, but learning stuff is good. Turns you into . . . you. Or something.”

  “There you are, Miss Priss!” called Ransom, who was balancing a monster-sized piece of cake on a tiny paper plate. “Why are you hiding out over here? Oho! Is this the infamous fuzz ball?” Dropping to one knee, he brushed a finger over the sleeping kitten’s back. “Did Koji finally name him?”