She tickled the baby into a rumbling purr before revealing, “His name’s Aquila.”
Ransom laughed. “That would be perfect if your name was . . . oh, hey! It is perfect!”
“Obviously,” she murmured with a fond glance at Koji.
Just then, Zeke whooped and ran outside, then raced back in with Baird hot on his heels. The redhead danced in a circle with the eight-year-old, then fell into step behind Kester, who approached Prissie’s parents. Mr. Pomeroy led the two Worshipers their way, so they could hear what Baird was saying. “. . . making the rounds all day long. Lots of open houses, but we saved yours for last.” He waved to the four teens and asked, “Mind if we unpack our noisemakers?”
Prissie sat up straighter. “You brought your instruments?”
“You know Kester. Always prepared. He’s a one-man symphony.” The redhead propped his hands on his hips and gazed toward the rafters. “This barn is due for a reprise.”
“Sure, sure,” agreed Mr. Pomeroy. “You can stay all night if you like.”
“Might just take you up on that,” Baird threatened with a smile.
“Please!” Prissie exclaimed. “Because . . . Koji likes to sing.”
“Him and me both.” With a steady gaze, the Worshiper kindly asked, “You’re taking off for distant lands tomorrow, aren’t you, Koji?”
“Indeed.”
“Then we’ll send you off with songs!”
Prissie couldn’t help it; she just couldn’t. Tears kept sneaking past her lashes, even though she’d promised herself not to sniffle her way through their goodbyes. Taking Koji’s empty plate to the sink, she struggled to regain her composure. “Did you like your pie?”
“Yes, thank you.” The Observer slipped to her side and touched her arm. “What is it, Prissie?”
“I might be angry at God,” she whispered.
“Why?” he asked, sounding unsurprised by her confession.
“For taking you away from me.”
Koji dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue. “He is the one who brought us together. Would you rather we had never met?”
She shook her head wearily. “I know it’s selfish, but . . . this is awful.”
“I do not know how to comfort you,” the angel admitted shyly. “But I made a gift. Shimron let me borrow his paints.”
“Didn’t he ban you from using them until your penmanship improved?”
Koji led her back to the table, saying, “He can find no fault in my lettering, but I have much to learn about fluid colors.” From inside the packet that held his travel papers, Koji withdrew a small painting on luminous parchment. “This is my first attempt.”
“My window,” she whispered, gazing at a faithful record of her lost treasure. Every colored pane was in its proper place. Koji had remembered it perfectly, right down to the silhouette of the tree outside. “It’s beautiful!”
Taking a deep breath, he chose his next words with care. “It is possible for things that cannot last to shape those things that do. You will forever remember what the world looked like when seen through stained glass.”
Prissie thought she understood what he was trying to say and nodded. “I will forever remember,” she echoed. And it felt like a vow. Swallowing hard, she mumbled something she’d been holding back for a long time. “Love you.”
“I know.”
“You always do.” Koji’s straightforward acceptance took away all the awkwardness, and she laughed softly. “What will I do without you?”
“What did you do before we met?”
“I don’t remember,” Prissie replied sulkily.
He smiled and looped his arms around her shoulders. “Neither do I.”
She rested her head on Koji’s shoulder and heaved a shuddering sigh, but then a heavier hand settled on her head, and she looked up in surprise. Her father was there, a tender expression on his face. “Daddy?” she whimpered.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Mr. Pomeroy said. “It’s time to go.”
Koji fit in one last hug and whispered, “You will see me tonight. I promise.”
That night, Beau held Prissie’s hand while she cried herself to sleep.
The dream overtook her without causing any ripples, as effortless as taking her next breath. Maybe it was because she was getting used to them, or maybe it was due to the skill of the one who’d drawn her in. “Hello, Prissie,” greeted the deep voice of an old friend. “You’ve had an eventful day.”
She turned to find Harken standing by her side. There was no stoop to his shoulders, and heavy ropes of black hair framed his unlined face. Even with all the changes, Prissie was so glad to see him, she pushed her way into his arms and sobbed, “He’s gone!”
Dark red wings lifted around them as Harken patted her back and made soothing noises. “Peace, child. Your friend hasn’t gone.” When she shuddered to a stop, the Messenger gently turned her around. “Not quite.”
It took several moments for Prissie to get her bearings. They were in the orchard, on the farthest slope, overlooking the grassy field that lay between their property and the state park. Although it was night, she hardly noticed the stars, for the sky was alive with color. Thousands upon thousands of angels wheeled around a tall, white tower that gleamed like the moon. “Shimron’s tower?”
“Any minute now, they’ll move on, taking an entire legion of angels with them. I thought you might like to watch.”
“Won’t your enemies notice when that many angels suddenly show up somewhere new?”
“Angels have been flooding the skies since sunset, preparing the way,” Harken explained. With a low chuckle, he added, “For many of the young ones, this is their first taste of Time.”
Prissie peered into the confusion of movement overhead. Sure enough, young boys and teens mingled with full-fledged warriors. “Kind of like a field trip?” she asked curiously.
“An excellent comparison!”
With Harken’s hands resting lightly on her shoulders and his wings hemming her in, Prissie felt small, but not insignificant. A part of something bigger. More than an innocent bystander. Thanks to Koji, she was a part of this passage. “Is he inside with Shimron?”
“Yes.”
“And . . . the gate?” she whispered.
“Still hidden. Where the one goes, the other will be.” Suddenly, the air around the tower wavered, and Harken said, “It’s begun.”
Prissie hadn’t really considered how the tower would move. She gasped when the sky broke into a very familiar pattern of diamonds that began to twist and turn, as if suspended by invisible strings. Sometimes, the pieces hid a part of the tower from view, only to reveal it again as they swiveled. Overlapping colors drenched the stars, and here and there, the panes offered glimpses of other places — clouds, seas, forests, mountains. But there were familiar things as well — a red bridge, penny candy, purple coneflowers, and a gingerbread house. Prissie even saw the twinkling lights of a Ferris wheel.
“The Flights are departing,” Harken commented as clusters of angels vanished between gaps in the fractured sky.
Even with a steady stream of warriors chasing their way into a distant sky, there was no shortage of angels remaining overhead. Shouts rang out, and short bursts of song filtered through their ranks. Maybe they were saying their goodbyes. “Is this how it always happens?”
“I’ve heard it’s never the same. As you may have noticed, Abner enjoys giving things a personal touch.” In quieter tones, the Messenger admitted, “I’ll miss him.”
Abner and Ephron. Aril and Eden. Prissie stretched out her hand as the final pieces of Shimron’s tower winked out of existence, taking Koji with them. “Where did they go?”
“Someplace else.”
“Will it be beautiful there?” she asked wistfully.
Harken quoted, “The wilderness will rejoice and blossom.”
While Prissie watched, the legions scattered across the sky, more beautiful than fireworks. “Thank you for bringing me here, but
. . . I still don’t like goodbyes.”
“Prissie?” She looked up, and Harken’s eyebrows lifted. “Didn’t Koji tell you? There’s no need for goodbye.”
“He did say something about that.”
Harken’s voice took on a teasing quality. “You heard him, but you didn’t listen?”
“But . . . he left.”
“Koji’s time as a Graft has ended,” Harken conceded, bringing up his wings. They were the deep, dark hue of rose petals and just as soft. Then with a showman’s flourish, the Messenger twirled them outward, letting them drop away. The starry night was gone, and she was bathed in heaven’s light. He’d brought her to their usual gathering spot in the forest glade behind the blue door.
And Koji was there.
“I don’t understand,” she mumbled, staring at the young Observer.
He took a half-step forward. “I kept my promise.”
“I saw you leave.”
“Indeed.”
“But you came back?”
“For one last evensong,” Koji replied in uncertain tones. “I thought . . . Do you not wish to sing?”
Prissie couldn’t help but feel he was missing the point. “You mean I’ll have to say goodbye again?”
“That is . . . unnecessary.” The boy glanced at Harken, dark eyes pleading for help.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I got this!” Baird exclaimed, rushing over. Searching Prissie’s stricken face, he groaned. “On second thought . . . Kester!”
The tall Worshiper stepped to the redhead’s side. “Good evening, Prissie,” he greeted politely. “We seem to have unsettled you. Rest assured, that was not our intention.”
She nodded mutely as more members of Jedrick’s Flight gathered around. Shimron was helping Padgett disentangle yahavim from his hair. Milo ushered Ephron over. Marcus pulled Harken aside and was talking in low tones. Taweel looked on with arms folded over his broad chest, Omri a bright splotch on his shoulder. Abner stood beside an open archway through which she could see stars.
Baird asked, “Didn’t anyone brace her for this shindig? Maybe we should do that R.S.V.P. deal.”
“For something we do every day?” Marcus scoffed.
Padgett pointed out, “This is the last time Jedrick’s Flight will have this particular shape.”
Everyone exchanged glances, and their captain said, “For tonight, your names are still under my hand. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
“Would you like me to escort you home, Miss Priscilla?” Milo quietly asked.
“And miss out?” Baird protested. “Then we wouldn’t have the whole . . . !”
Abner’s voice cut across the rambling conversation. “The girl is on the verge of tears.”
Prissie hunched her shoulders self-consciously, and Tamaes stalked over, scattering his teammates. “Enough. I will explain while you finish preparations.” Rich orange wings blocked everyone else from view as Prissie’s guardian angel knelt before her. Taking her hands into his much larger ones, he said, “I apologize. They do not understand.”
“I thought Koji was leaving,” she whispered.
“He is,” Tamaes said plainly. “Tonight is the last time we will be together. Our Flight will be greeting new members with the dawn. And Koji’s responsibilities will keep him from your side.”
“I don’t think I can face another goodbye,” Prissie confessed.
“I know.”
“And it doesn’t help to say there’s no goodbyes. Because he’s leaving. And that’s goodbye!”
Tamaes’s smile tugged at the scar on his face. “Angels take eternity for granted. Even Grafts have difficulty grasping the sorrow that comes with separation. They can see past it; you must walk through it.”
Prissie had a hard time imagining a place without sad times, but it sounded nice. “If that’s the way it is for angels, why do you understand?”
“I learned the truth of goodbye from Adin.”
“Because you were captured?” she guessed.
Tamaes smiled a little, but shook his head. “Because he Fell.”
That was much easier for Prissie to understand, and she felt calmer, perhaps because she was swathed in the Guardian’s wings. “I should apologize to everyone. You must want to sing, and I’m holding things up.”
“Actually . . .” Tamaes began, giving her hands a squeeze. “A warning is in order.”
Prissie doubted anything bad could happen in this haven of angels. “What kind of warning?”
“Koji treasures his friendship with you.” She nodded, and Tamaes continued, “And that gives him special insight. I trust you will understand why he wanted to share his leave-taking with one other.”
“Someone else?”
Nodding, her Guardian said, “Harken and Koji are bringing him now.”
“But who . . . ?” Prissie’s eyes slowly widened. “You can’t mean . . . !”
From beyond the curtain of Tamaes’s wings, Baird cheered, “He’s here! Oh, wow . . . you are totally freaking out! Kester, give him the ‘fear not’ speech.”
Prissie parted the folds of Tamaes’s wings. Half the Flight was crowded around Ransom, who was trying to look everywhere at once. He wore a shining white tunic and pants . . . and a baffled expression. Prissie whispered, “Why does it always have to be him? He’s in on the secret too?”
“Ransom is dreaming, and dreams fade.”
“He won’t remember?”
Tamaes shook his head. “This memory will be stored up for him as a treasure in heaven.”
She whirled, grabbing her Guardian’s arm. “But not me!” she begged. “I won’t forget, will I?”
Fondness warmed his gaze. “Fear not, little one. You will remember.”
With a sigh of relief, she checked on Ransom and realized something important. When he was scared, he was quiet. Prissie slipped out of hiding, calling, “Ransom! It’s okay!”
“Miss Priss?” He eased away from the angels, who graciously retreated.
“Obviously.”
“Nice dress.” With a blink, he looked down at himself, plucking at his strange clothes. “Guess I got the memo.”
“Are you okay?”
“They say this is a dream, and I’ll forget everything in the morning.” Ransom edged closer to her. “Never had a dream that came with a disclaimer before. Should I be worried?”
“No, you shouldn’t,” she replied briskly. “Everyone here is Faithful.”
“Sure. If you say so,” he replied in a low voice.
To her astonishment, Ransom pulled her into an awkward hug. He was shaking, and Prissie asked, “Are you scared?”
“Not sure. Maybe.” Without letting go, he demanded, “Are you an angel too?”
“No.”
“Okay, good. I was starting to feel outnumbered. Us humans gotta stick together.”
“How many fear nots do you need to hear?” she scolded. “These are my friends. Most of them are your friends too.”
“Uh-huh,” Ransom replied skeptically. “Do you see that guy with the orange curlicues on his shoulders? He’s so giving me the stink eye.”
Prissie giggled. “That’s Tamaes, my guardian angel.”
“Makes a guy think twice about huggin’ a girl,” he mumbled.
“Koji didn’t bring you here to scare you.” She gave Ransom a small push, and he slowly let go.
“Indeed, no,” the young Observer interjected. He stood a little ways away, radiant in his raiment.
Ransom slowly shook his head. “This is the weirdest dream I ever had. But also the realest.”
“It is real,” Prissie promised. “And really wonderful.”
He grappled with that for a moment, darting glances at the others. “You hang out with angels?”
She rolled her eyes. “So do you.”
“But you knew about Mr. Mercer, Mr. Mailman, Mr. Ranger, and . . . everyone.”
Koji came to her defense. “Many secrets have been safe in her keeping. She is a faithful friend
.”
“Unbelievable,” Ransom sighed. “Not only do you have the perfect parents and a crazy-nice family, but your best friend is an angel?”
Prissie couldn’t help it. She giggled.
“Okay . . . I’ll admit that was ungrateful.” Ransom’s gaze slid to one side, where another angel was waiting his turn. “Hey, Marcus. When did you get here?”
The young Protector stepped forward, giving his best friend the chance to notice little things — armor, sword, wings. Marcus gruffly announced, “I’ve been here all along.”
Mouth open, Ransom dragged his gaze from the Protector’s two-tone hair to his boots and back again.
Marcus smirked. “You should see your face.”
“You should see your eyes!” he countered.
Marcus fluttered his lashes. Ransom grinned and punched his shoulder. Marcus cuffed him back, and the two of them descended into a round of babbling and back-slapping that ended with Ransom bawling on Marcus’s shoulder.
“Everything all right?” Milo asked.
Baird said, “Either Marcus broke the poor guy or they’re bonding.”
“Lay off,” Marcus grumbled. “The lunk’s just happy.”
Prissie flapped her hands at their well-intentioned audience and bossily said, “Don’t you have songs to sing?”
“Indeed,” Koji quickly agreed. “Will you join us?”
She’d evaded many similar invitations over the past months, but how could she refuse her friend one final gift? Her song wouldn’t be much, but she’d offer it anyhow. “Together,” she agreed, reaching out.
“Together,” Koji echoed, nestling his hand within hers.
The rest drew around, forming a loose circle, and Baird began. One by one, the thirteen members of Jedrick’s Flight added their voices to the song. Each face was familiar; each friend was precious. She snuck a peek at Ransom, whose face was slack with awe. And no wonder. They stood in the midst of angels with shining faces and outstretched wings. Their beauty and majesty hinted at heaven’s greater glories.
Marcus elbowed Ransom, who started singing with more enthusiasm than skill. But then, nothing embarrassed him. Milo gestured to Prissie from across the ring, one hand over his heart in a plea for her to join in. With a shaky breath, she followed their lead. The voices of heaven and earth blended and rose in a sweet offering. A foretaste of forever.
The Garden Gate Page 24
