My fingers slid across his polished mahogany desk, the desk his parents worked at when creating the empire he now controlled.
“Why do you ask?” Gigi said from beside my father.
“That’s why I’ve been shown things,” I said.
I sat in my father’s high-back leather chair. I picked up the wooden cross, my left hand clasping it, my right thumb rubbing against the smooth wood—the spot where Jesus’s feet would’ve been pierced by a nail.
Dad said softly, “Yes, that makes sense.”
“Does it? Because it doesn’t make sense to me,” I said. “Maybe with the memory of your … of your arm, it might make sense. But not the children.”
“Prayers always make sense,” Gigi said. “Even when you don’t know what else to do, you can pray. You can bring your worries for those kids or your dad or anyone else, to God.”
“They’ve been dead a long time,” I said somberly. “My prayers can no longer help them.”
Dad shook his head. “Don’t limit yourself by placing limits on God, Siena. You’re thinking about time as linear, and for us it is. One thing happens, then the next thing, then the next. For God, it’s different. God exists independently of time. There are no limitations, no past, no present, only now. Your prayers for those children would help them in their darkest moments, even if those moments happened a hundred years ago. God will take the prayers you offer for them now and grant them that strength when they need it, whenever that may be.”
Gigi said, “You can also pray for all those who loved them and never received any form of closure or peace in this life. I’m sure they would appreciate your help during those torturous years.”
“Why doesn’t God grant them that strength, or better yet, protect innocent children?” I said, trying not to be angry at God for allowing precious children to suffer like that.
Dad answered, “God created the world with physical laws, laws we witness every time plants grow, or heat cooks food, or rain falls. The spiritual laws are just as real, but we can’t see them—or most of us can’t.”
“Your father makes it sound so simple to grasp,” Gigi said, sounding tired. “It isn’t. Life is full of suffering—there’s no escaping it. It is never God’s desire for us to suffer, but sometimes it’s the suffering that brings us closest to him. Though he never creates it. That’s part of the law. He creates only good because he is good—he cannot give what he does not have, just as evil can never give good because it has none. That’s how you can know what’s from heaven and what isn’t. Though at times, what is good can be unclear, at least for a while.”
I thought of Luca’s mother, who believed she was doing good though she wasn’t.
“I don’t believe my gifts are evil, even if I see the evil that has been done,” I said, my voice sounding so mature it was almost unrecognizable to my ears.
“You’re not evil and neither are your abilities,” Dad said, rubbing his hands together.
Sweat was dripping down the side of his face. He was suffering, but it was suffering he’d brought upon himself. I didn’t blame God for the pain he experienced—at least not these pains.
“Though like anything, they could be used for evil,” Gigi cautioned.
“Sometimes, people do what they believe is right, what they believe is good, but it isn’t,” I said. The fear of the truth, the fear of turning out like Luca’s mom, was evident in my voice, if only to me.
“It can be complicated,” Dad said, his voice weak. “It becomes more complicated when people use their feelings to determine good from evil.”
Gigi said, “You have the teachings of the Church to guide you.”
“And you have Luca,” Dad added. “He’s like your mother, in that way.”
“And your grandfather,” Gigi said.
I felt the truth of their words, both of Luca’s goodness and his equivalence in my life, as my mother had been to my father, and my grandfather to my grandmother. There were no sly smiles on their part or blushing cheeks on mine. They were speaking a simple fact. Luca was created for me, like those who were no longer here were created for those who sat across from me.
“I don’t want his fate to be theirs,” I said, with the same unrecognizable voice.
My father’s eyes lowered. “I, along with my grandmother, created my father’s fate … and your mother’s.” His voice was severe. “I entered into a promise sealed by blood.” He rubbed his right hand over the sleeve of his left arm. “That blood was washed away when Thomas threw the box with the stone in it into the ocean.”
“Flowing water has the ability to dissolve curses,” Gigi said in a tired voice. They’d discussed this before.
“You believe Thomas ended the curse?” I asked, hope seeping into my soul.
“Yes,” Dad said. His shirt was discolored from perspiration.
Gigi said, “Thomas’s actions—combined with decades of prayers, both the prayers offered on earth and the prayers of those who love us in heaven—have helped to remove the darkness.”
I replied, “Sam said the darkness remained.”
“Some amount of darkness does remain,” Dad said. “It always will, but with Thomas throwing the blood-soaked stone into the ocean came the cleansing of the blood.”
“The demons in Thomas almost killed Luca too,” I whispered.
“Almost,” Dad said.
I ran my fingers along the cross on the desk. It wasn’t fair that Thomas died. It wasn’t fair my mother or my grandfather died, either. Each of those deaths rested on my father’s shoulders, his and his great-grandmother’s. Though he never wished it, he entered freely into a promise, a promise of evil. There are consequences for such promises, spiritual laws that, though unseen, are as real as those holding us to this earth. It doesn’t matter if the one making the promise is a foolish young boy. Children are not given a free pass. Playing with fire in this world or the spiritual one will end in destruction, often death. Those are the laws … these were the consequences.
“Do you know what happened to them? The children, I mean. Did your mother tell you?” I asked, afraid Gigi may be able to answer me.
She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t believe anyone knows for sure. Back then, news traveled slowly. Horrible crimes can still be gotten away with, but it was easier then. No one in town even realized there were missing children from surrounding areas, until weeks after he fled.”
“Did they find them once he was gone?” I asked, my hands wrapping around the wood of the cross.
She shook her head. “People realized what happened after it was too late.” She lowered her head in sadness. “He was seen throwing something into the bay one night. The next day a little boy’s body was discovered. The tide must not have gotten as high as he’d expected. When the sun rose, a precious child was lying on the rocks.”
Dad placed his hand on Gigi’s upper back. She appeared so frail next to him. She leaned a little closer to him, grateful he was finally present enough to offer comfort.
“Later that day, he was accused,” she said. “Before they could officially arrest him, he was gone and his wife and son were dead. They searched his house and found traces of people having been in the attic. It wasn’t until much later that they put the pieces together and figured out he’d been behind a series of kidnappings, all young children of color. Right after that happened, my mom left. She never said that was why she left, but the way she linked the events when she told me … I’m not sure.
“When we returned years later, she was so sick. We weren’t thinking about what happened in that house, only how to keep her alive. After she was gone, I was in a daze and then I left. I never thought to ask anyone about those children. Once your grandfather and I settled here, I asked a few people about it, but no one knew anything more than I did. Most didn’t even know that. It was thirty years in the past, at that point, and from what I could gather, it had been kept pretty quiet, even when it first came out.”
“Why?” Dad
asked.
Gigi raised and lowered her shoulders. “I think he was sort of prominent, maybe even the mayor, at some point. I can’t remember. But it was something like that. And his wife was some big deal too, and ….”
“And the children weren’t white,” I said, their dark sunken eyes appearing before mine.
Gigi nodded with sorrow. “All of that made people want to pretend it never happened.”
“If I don’t tell people, am I doing the same thing?” I said, wondering if bring them to the light meant more than prayer.
“If you’re asked to do more, you’ll know it,” Dad said. “Until that point, prayer is the most powerful thing you can do.”
Gigi said, “Prayer is always the most powerful thing you can do.”
“Your grandmother’s right,” Dad said.
I let go of the wooden cross and stood up. I was ready to leave the office. I had survived Mass, survived confronting Beth, and now survived talking about my gift and the pain it brought me in the memories I had witnessed. The day had been long enough and it was still morning. My stomach gurgled. “I’m going to take Sam up on her offer for breakfast.”
“You’d better hurry, or Luca will eat it all,” Gigi said, with a twinkle in her voice.
How she loved him … how we all did.
I began to leave, when Dad asked, “Where did you find my cross?”
I turned. He was holding it in his hand, gazing lovingly at it.
“It was on the desk when I came in,” I answered, not telling him that Luca had spent most of the night in his office searching through books and must have found it.
He stroked it. “Hmm, I’ll have to ask the others who found it. It’s been missing for years.”
“Luca might know. I’ll ask him,” I said as I left the room. The aroma of apple puff pancake was calling me.
Twenty-Nine
“Can I come in?” Luca was at my door.
“Of course,” I said. I pulled my arms up and arched my back in a stretch. I’d come up to my room right after breakfast. The last several days, the last several weeks, hadn’t been good for my grades. I had a lot of assignments to finish before the end of the quarter. The beauty of homeschooling—extreme flexibility. The downside—extreme flexibility. It was easy to get behind.
“How’s it going?” he asked. He went to my fireplace and grabbed hold of the flat shovel.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, feeling guilty as he began scooping ashes into the metal bucket.
“I’m the one who starts most of the fires in here. Besides, it’s a good excuse for me to be here,” he said, giving me a wink.
“You don’t need an excuse.”
“I need to give myself an excuse when you’re working. I’ve been trying not to bother you, but you’ve been up here for …”—he checked his watch, another gift from Gigi—“five hours. So I decided to interrupt you by cleaning your fireplace,” he said with a satisfied expression.
I yawned and stood, flopping down on my bed. “I needed a break,” I said, my eyes tired from so much reading. “I could fall asleep right now.” I pulled the quilt my mom had made, up around my shoulders.
“Don’t do that. You’ll miss dinner, and Lisieux and Uncle Jace have been cooking all afternoon. Even your dad’s been helping.”
I snuggled into my bed. “I’m so glad you moved in with us and brought Jason. The meals were good before, but he’s taken them up to a whole new level.”
“Maybe after we move out, Lisieux will keep up the cooking,” he said.
I frowned, though I doubted he saw me. He continued to clean the fireplace. I didn’t want him to move out. Our house, our family, was better with all of them in it. “How long until your house is done?”
“Probably four months, depending on the weather.”
Then I’ll hope for lots of bad weather, I thought, pushing myself up into a sitting position, the quilt wrapped loosely around my shoulders.
“We all like having you here,” I said, hoping they could stay, or at least he could. This was his home—I was sure of that.
“We like being here,” Luca said, closing the ash bucket and putting the shovel back in its holder. As he stood, he touched one of the pictures on the mantle. It was a family picture, all of us, even Avi, having a picnic in our backyard. Gigi had taken it for us.
“It isn’t fair,” Luca said, sliding his fingers along the frame.
“What?”
“You aren’t supposed to get the girl of your dreams and have three beautiful daughters with her, only to have her taken away from you. That’s not how life is supposed to go.”
The air suddenly felt chilly. I pulled the quilt up around me. “This life isn’t perfect. God’s plan for us … we aren’t going to experience that in this life. The next one will be better,” I said, thinking not only of my parents, but of Luca and me, of our life together. We had already experienced more sorrow than most. I wondered if our future would be any different.
Luca came and sat beside me. “The next one will be better,” he said with the sort of acceptance that told me he felt something ominous about our future too.
It was strange to have these thoughts, to know these truths when we’d never even kissed. Yet, somehow I knew Luca was mine and I was his. He’d love me all the days of his life and I’d love him. But how long that would be? That was where the sinking feeling came in.
I took his hand in mine. “At least you found the girl.”
He squeezed my hand, his face sad. He felt everything I did. He knew everything I did, maybe more.
“It will be a great life,” he said.
“Just too short,” I said, staring into his golden eyes.
He forced a smile. “We’ll make it amazing.”
“I don’t think other people have to face these truths when they’re so young,” I said.
He smiled, this time more easily. “Other people aren’t like us.”
“No,” I said with resignation. “We’re gifted.”
He kissed me on the forehead. I leaned into him.
“We are gifted,” he whispered, his body close to mine.
After a moment that I hoped would never end, he released me. “And you need to graduate from high school, so get back to work.” He pulled me up and seated me at the desk.
I groaned. “I’m so tired.”
“Dinner will be ready soon. I’ll come get you when it is,” he said, kissing me again on the top of my head.
“Okay, fine,” I said, staring down at the various open textbooks strewn across my desk.
“Oh, hey,” I called to him.
He stopped in the doorway.
“Where did you find my dad’s cross?”
“What cross?” he said, puzzled.
“The one on his desk. He’d been missing it for years.”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t me.”
“Weren’t you in his office all night?”
“Yeah, but I never saw a cross on his desk. There’s one on the wall by the door, but that’s the only one I’ve ever noticed.”
“Hmm,” I said. “It must’ve been one of my sisters.”
He watched me and I him, both of us knowing it was not my sisters.
“It would be odd to go through life only believing what’s right in front of you,” Luca said, touching the doorframe as an example of the physical world.
“Yes,” I said, “that would be odd.”
Luca smiled. “I’ll come get you when the food is ready.”
“Thank you,” I called.
I leaned back in my chair, my gaze stopping at the distant picture frame on the mantle. The quilt my mother had made draped from my shoulders.
“Was it you?” I asked into the air.
There was no answer. To hear one would have been too bizarre, even for me. But not for some, I realized. Some people who were so tuned in to the world beyond this one would have asked that question and heard the answer. Not the false answer of demons, bu
t the true answer of angels.
Did I envy such a person?
No, I decided. Those would be extraordinary gifts for an extraordinary person. Far more extraordinary than me or even Luca.
I thought again of the girl in the woods: her green eyes speckled with amber watching me as intently as I watched her. She was extraordinary. I thought of my mother, of how she must have longed to stay on this earth with her children and the man she loved. How short her time had been.
Would I be given more time? Would Luca? I wondered if our child would grow up in a world without us, a world changed beyond either of our imaginations—a world in need of the gifted.
End of Book Two
Also by Jacqueline Brown
The Light, Book One of The Light Series
Through the Ashes, Book Two of The Light Series
From the Shadows, Book Three of The Light Series
Into the Embers, Book Four of The Light Series
Out of the Darkness, Book Five of The Light Series
“Before the Silence,” a Light Series Short Story
Awakening, Book One
If you enjoyed Gifted, please consider leaving a review.
You can learn more about the author at www.Jacqueline-Brown.com, where you can get your free e-copy of “Before the Silence” and join the mailing list.
Gifted (Awakening Book 2) Page 22