Eternity

by Heather Terrell

  Rafe’s instantaneous act of generosity moved me. Was it because I’d been thrown back into the completely opposite, self-centered world of Tillinghast High School? Was it because great acts of goodness and sacrifice were soon to be expected of me? Whatever the reason, I found Rafe’s natural bigheartedness stirring.

  Not to mention he looked amazing with his sleeves rolled up, working with his hands.

  As we resumed our walk toward my car, Rafe reached out for his backpack and jacket, which I was still holding for him. He glanced at me, and asked, “You okay, Ellie? You look kind of, well, funny.”

  I was embarrassed at the plainness of my reaction. It was a simple tire change. The scene shouldn’t have moved me so much. Nor should it have elicited an attraction to him. I had a boyfriend, after all. One that I hadn’t mentioned yet, it occurred to me. For the first time, I realized how peculiar—and telling—that omission was.

  I tossed my hair back over my shoulders and laughed as if his comment was preposterous. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

  Rafe slid on his jacket and backpack, and then smiled that mischievous smile. “Great. So we’ll meet in Tillinghast tomorrow night?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rafe won the battle over our approach. Pretty easily. The next evening, we met in downtown Tillinghast at the first establishment on our list. I wanted to mention how touched I’d been by his actions the previous night helping out with the stranger’s flat tire, but Rafe was all business. He didn’t leave any room to discuss anything except our game plan.

  We stood underneath the striped green awning of the town grocery, Smitty’s. It was the oldest market in Tillinghast, one with a reputation for charity in the community. We figured we had a pretty good shot at getting a donation from Smitty’s.

  “What is that we’d like to get them to give us?” Rafe asked.

  I checked my list. “A couple cases of soda, or a case of chips. Or both.”

  “I say we go for both. Are you game?”

  “Definitely. Any tips on what to say?”

  Rafe stepped in front of me and pulled open the door. “Let me do the talking. I think I’ll do better than you.”

  Before I had the chance to get insulted, Rafe entered the store and asked the clerk to see the store manager. A tiny, wizened old man stepped out from the back room. A ratty, oatmeal-colored cardigan hung off his spare frame, and he pulled it tight around him in the cool air of the store.

  “I’m Smitty, the store owner. Can I help you?” I was surprised that there was a real Smitty. The poor man looked ready for bed and surprised that anyone would ask to see him personally. I felt bad asking him for anything.

  Rafe didn’t skip a beat. He squared his very broad shoulders and stretched out his hand in greeting. “Sir, we are students from two local high schools bordering Tillinghast. I’m sure you’ve heard on the recent news reports about the earthquakes devastating our world—”

  For the next five minutes, Rafe spun a captivating tale about the havoc the earthquakes had wreaked. Somehow, he managed to make the details horrific and compelling all at once. Even Smitty perked up and seemed mesmerized by Rafe’s earnest account.

  After getting a commitment for several cases of soda and two cases of chips from Smitty, we went door-to-door through Tillinghast’s little downtown, trying to woo restaurants and other grocery stores for donations. Rafe was incredibly persuasive. The moment we opened the front door of whatever place was next on our list, he’d mutter something scathing to me about the party or Amanda, and then he’d flash a disarming smile to the manager we’d asked to see.

  By the time we hit the last market on our list, we’d scored more food and drink donations than we could possibly use, even if everyone on our dream guest list showed up. And I’d had more fun than I’d had in a long time.

  “Should we even bother?” I laughed, as we walked toward our next destination. “I’m pretty sure that we’ve got enough Diet Coke for every high school kid in the county. And chips too.”

  Rafe smiled and elbowed me in jest. “I guess we shouldn’t get greedy, huh?”

  “You’re the one who keeps saying that a celebration isn’t fitting.” I elbowed him back.

  “You’re right.” He stopped and looked at me. “We should be helping out the earthquake victims in another way.”

  I asked the question that had been on my mind for the past three days. “Then why did you volunteer for the party-planning subcommittee? I’ve spent hours listening to you and Amanda fight over the propriety of spending so much time on party decorations and music instead of a campaign to educate the partygoers. There were loads of other subcommittees to raise money without parties. Like Amanda said.”

  He smiled. “Why do you think I raised my hand? Why do you think I stayed on this subcommittee when Amanda gave me a personal invitation to leave?”

  Did he mean his comment the way it sounded? My pale cheeks turned red, and I prayed that the darkness masked it. I hated to blush, especially in front of a guy. I didn’t know what to say, so I kept quiet. I kept walking.

  Rafe spoke instead. “Should we get a coffee instead of begging for more chips and sodas?”

  I wanted to go with him. I truly did. Rafe had taken the edge off my waiting these past few days and appeased the demons of insecurity that tormented me when I was alone. I knew I shouldn’t let him fill the void created by Michael’s and Ruth’s absences. I knew that I should sit out my solitude and anticipation until Ruth had some answers and Michael returned from the land of football. I’d had plenty of practice at being alone before I met Michael, after all.

  I reminded myself of Michael, my boyfriend, my soul mate. I recounted to myself all that Michael and I were, and all that we were meant to do. I couldn’t do anything to betray him, even if we weren’t all that connected these days. Coffee with Rafe didn’t seem right, even though it would be totally platonic. It seemed . . . deceitful.

  “I’m sorry, Rafe. I—I need to get home.”

  His expression shifted slightly, almost indescribably. “You’re right, Ellie. You have a lot on your plate. Let me walk you to your car.”

  Before I could answer, or ask what he meant by “a lot on my plate,” he took me by the arm and walked in the exact direction of my car. How did Rafe know precisely where to go? He hadn’t seen me park; we’d met at the first market on our list.

  Even though part of me liked the feel of Rafe’s hand on my arm, I started to get uneasy. Was he truly a regular guy? He seemed pretty normal from that flash, and I’d met a few kids from his high school on the subcommittee who knew him and appeared to like him, Amanda notwithstanding. Still, something about him unsettled me.

  Even though I knew I shouldn’t permit myself a flash, I wrapped my fingers around his hand, as if I’d stumbled a bit on the sidewalk. I was searching for anything out of the ordinary, any little image that suggested he was more than human. All I heard was an internal dialogue where he was beating himself up for asking me out for coffee.

  Rafe was walking fast, and the street was getting darker. Out of necessity, I’d parked in an area removed from the streetlamps and foot traffic. I started to pull back, toward the slightly busier area.

  As if he understood my thoughts, Rafe slowed down and said, “Sorry, Ellie. I’ve probably freaked you out by heading right to your spot. I saw you pull into it earlier tonight.”

  Of course there was a perfectly logical explanation. These days, I was pretty squirrelly. “I’m the one that’s sorry, Rafe. You’re just trying to be nice.”

  We continued walking, much slower this time, and in silence. Without the noise from the cars, it was awfully quiet. The final yards to my car felt long.

  Rafe delivered me to my car door and patiently waited while I opened it. I was about to thank him and close the door, when he said, “I didn’t mean to come on too strong with you, Ellie. Asking you out for coffee and all that. Sometimes, I forget how to act.”

  Forget how to act? What did he
mean by that? But I didn’t want him to feel bad—and I knew how bad he felt from the flash—so I said, “You did nothing wrong, Rafe. You asked me to grab a cup of coffee with you. That’s all.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Ellie. I was hoping we could be better friends. I wanted you to understand.”

  Of course, that was all. Aside from asking me out for coffee, which any friend could do, Rafe had never done anything to encourage me. I had no concrete reason to think he liked me, other than the flash I’d gotten from him in the gymnasium and the one I’d sought just now. And both of those could have been interpreted other ways. I should’ve been relieved, but I wasn’t.

  “That’s great, Rafe.” Even though part of me thought it was definitely not great.

  “Good. Then I’ll see you tomorrow in the early evening in town for some follow-up work on these donations?”

  “Tomorrow evening.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  That night, I couldn’t sleep again. Thoughts of Rafe and Michael and the prophecy spun a web in my mind. Not the eerie futuristic dreams to which I’d grown accustomed or the disquieting nightmares about the man with the black hair. Instead, I had a vivid dream in which Rafe, Michael, and I flew the skies together in a mad race to halt the ticking of the end-days clock. By the time morning arrived, I was so confused.

  I mean, how could I simultaneously dream about Rafe, love Michael, and worry about the end of the world?

  That morning, I drove myself to school instead of riding in with Michael. I needed a car for my meeting in town with Rafe just before Michael’s Friday night football game. In lieu of our car ride, Michael and I planned on meeting at my locker before class. Normally, I was excited to have my few minutes alone with Michael in the morning, but today I felt something very different as I approached locker number twenty-four. Dread.

  As if I’d betrayed Michael by enjoying my time with Rafe. Like he once betrayed me.

  We couldn’t afford this distraction. So I pretended nothing was out of the ordinary, something I’d gotten awfully good at doing. I painted on my smile as I walked down the hallway toward my locker, where Michael was waiting, and kept my lighthearted banter going for a while once we met. Only when he leaned in to kiss me good-bye did I start to tense up. Would he be able to read my conflicting thoughts about Rafe through our kiss?

  At the same moment his lips lightly touched mine, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to see Ruth. I was never so thankful to have an intimate moment interrupted.

  “Sorry, guys, but I needed to catch you both,” she said, blushing at having to disturb us.

  “Don’t worry, Ruth,” I rushed to reassure her. “What’s up?”

  “I think I found something. Can you meet after school today?”

  “Of course,” I said, immediately relieved at the thought that the waiting might be over. I’d have to cancel my meeting with Rafe, but I felt a certain relief about that too. Maybe if he was out of sight, he’d be out of mind. I really, really needed him to be out of mind.

  “I can’t,” Michael said.

  Ruth and I stared at each other—and then at Michael—in surprise. What could possibly take precedence over this?

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s Friday. I have a game. Remember?” He actually sounded irritated that we’d forgotten about his football game.

  “Right. Football,” I said.

  “You are coming to the game, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. But couldn’t you meet us beforehand?” I was incredulous. How could he think about football at a time like this? Maybe it was the little sideline fan club that he couldn’t do without.

  “Ellie, you know that Coach Samuel has the team eat an early dinner together then has a strategy meeting before the game. Can’t we meet after the game?” He was intractable. “The team is counting on me, Ellie.”

  “It’s not exactly like we’ve got limitless time, Michael. And a lot more people than those on your football team are counting on us. Remember?” My tone was every bit as irritated as his.

  I could tell that he was about to retort—sharply and uncharacteristically—when Ruth interjected, “Why don’t we meet at the Daily Grind after the football game? I don’t think a few extra hours will make that much difference.”

  “Are you sure, Ruth?” I asked.

  “I think so.”

  “Can you make it there after the game, Michael?” Even though I tried to ask him pleasantly, the annoyance hadn’t altogether disappeared from my voice. It was clear Michael heard it too.

  “Yes, Ellie. I’ll be there,” Michael said before storming off.

  Ruth and I rolled our eyes in disbelief at Michael’s behavior. Even though I knew that Michael and I were supposed to act normally, his slavish insistence on playing football and his concern for the team was beyond normal. He’d never been so gung ho about it before.

  What was happening to my Michael? One of the things that drew me to him initially was his inner confidence. He did what he wanted—what seemed meaningful and true to him—without worrying about the social consequences. Like spend Saturday night at the Odeon movie theater watching an indie film all by himself. Something no self-respecting upperclassman would do, especially not a football player. Now he seemed strangely motivated by the impact of his actions on our classmates and his team. Almost to the exclusion of our real goal. He wasn’t simply playacting a normal teen anymore.

  I debated discussing this change with Ruth. Certainly, she had to have noticed the alterations in his personality over recent days. On balance, I decided against it. Ruth had enough on her plate without worrying about problems between me and Michael. The ones who were supposed to be saving the world.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I cancelled my meeting with Rafe and confirmed plans with Ruth to go to Michael’s game after our fight. It seemed the right thing to do, even though I definitely didn’t feel like witnessing the adoration from the fans or Michael’s own blind devotion to the game. For the first time since we started dating, I hadn’t seen him in the hallways between classes, and I knew he must be avoiding me. We needed to be in sync in the coming days, so I needed to forgive him. After all, I had done some things deserving forgiveness too, although he didn’t know about them. Like dreaming about Rafe.

  After killing some time in the library after school, Ruth and I headed over to nearby Bethel High School stadium in our separate cars. The stands were packed, as Tillinghast was playing its fierce rival team from the rural Bethel Township. We had to jockey for seats in the bleachers among the hundreds of students, parents, teachers, and local supporters.

  Even though I’d seen Michael run out onto the field before, for some reason, the way he looked struck me. His physicality reminded me of all our long nights together. Long nights that seemed a long time away. He literally took my breath away. I held it, waiting to see what he would do.

  The first few plays disappointed, but not because of Michael. Again and again, Michael was in position as wide receiver. Still, none of the other players managed to pass him the ball. I watched as the clock ticked down to the end of the first quarter, and I could feel the frustration in the fans around me.

  Then, with seconds left in the first quarter, the center tossed the ball to the quarterback. The quarterback held the ball tightly in his grip and readied his throw. He scanned the field, looking for one of his guys to be open. Most of his players were caught up with Bethel’s team near the end zone. All except Michael.

  I saw the quarterback nod in Michael’s direction, and then release the ball. As Michael prepared himself to catch the pass, a massive pileup of guys landed right in front of him. The football sailed through the air toward Michael, but it seemed impossible that Michael could jump high enough to catch it.

  Until he did.

  I watched as Michael lifted off from the ground with grace and speed. I’d only ever seen him get such height during our late-night meetings.

  The crowd cheered
wildly as Michael caught the ball in midair and scored a touchdown. As he ran back to the sidelines, I watched the back of his coach’s head as he reached out to give Michael a high five. Michael’s face shone with pleasure at the roar of the fans. I saw that Michael wasn’t thinking at all about the end days or Nephilim or even me. He was reveling in his own glory. Reflected glory, that was, from the coach, his teammates, and the fans.

  But there was more, and I was furious.

  “Wow, Ellie, Michael is amazing tonight.” Ruth interrupted my thoughts. I heard awe in her voice.

  “Yeah, he’s amazing, all right.”

  The anger in my voice was irrepressible, and Ruth turned to me in surprise. I didn’t dare explain why I was so mad at him. I knew what everyone else didn’t.

  Michael had used his powers on the field.

  Chapter Sixteen

  How dare Michael? After all his lecturing about our not using our powers—not even to figure out this end-days puzzle—to protect ourselves and our parents from the other fallen angels, Michael had used his powers for a high school football game. It was unbelievable.

  The more I thought about it, the madder I got. Anger always made me quiet, which Ruth understood all too well. When I was silent on the walk from the stadium to the parking lot, she knew better than to ask why. Even though I’m sure she was insatiably curious for the details.

  We hopped into our separate cars, fortunately for Ruth. The ride alone to the Daily Grind gave me time to think. I was still furious at the risk Michael had taken, yet I knew we needed to be aligned. Maybe he had a good reason for clinging to his football successes, I told myself, and I simply didn’t understand it. Even though, for the life of me, I couldn’t conjure up an acceptable explanation for his using his powers on the field. By the time Ruth and I met up at the coffee shop, I had cooled off enough to be civil and wait patiently for Michael.

  Ruth and I watched as the coffee house clock hit nine, nine thirty, and then ten, all the while making pathetic attempts at small talk. Michael never showed. I called him repeatedly on his cell. He never picked up. All my hard-won equanimity started to slip away. It was one thing for Michael to punish me with the cold shoulder, but it was an entirely different thing for him to ignore his enormous responsibility to humankind because he was mad at me. After all we’d been through in Boston, how could he disregard the stakes?