by Quinn Loftis
Emma felt Raphael tense beside her. “Does this woman really work for the government?” He practically growled.
Emma was lost in her own thoughts. She continued to watch the woman extol the virtues of having a child slave while the old man squinted at her, seemingly considering all of the potential pros and cons of the arrangement. Finally, Mrs. Stillworth came to the end of her sale’s pitch, plastering something between a pained grimace and a hopeful grin on her face.
The pair stared at each other in silence for what seemed to Emma like an eternity.
Please say no, please say no, the young girl whispered to herself. Take me somewhere else, anywhere else, a foster family, a shelter, I don’t care. Anything would be better than this.
Finally, Mr. Jones breathed out a noise that seemed to be both a grunt and a sigh at the same time. “Fine,” he mumbled. “I’ll take her. But if she gives me any problems, I’ll kick her out so fast her head will spin.”
Frieda chuckled as if he’d made a joke. “No need to do something so drastic. You can simply call me if you feel she’s too much for you to handle or if you feel … the money isn’t worth it.” She turned and looked at Emma. “Come up here, child, and meet your grandfather, your new guardian.”
Emma wanted to tell the DHS woman that this man was no relation whatsoever to her and that she already had a guardian. The man in front of her was more property owner than relative.
“Mr. Jones, this is Emma Whitmore.”
Emma stepped up the stairs and stood next to the frumpy lady. She looked up at Mildred’s father and attempted to smile. “Hello, sir.”
“You’re a scrawny thing,” he replied. “How old are you?”
“I’m eight.”
He harrumphed.
“Well, I’m going to leave you two to get to know each other. I’ll be by later with some clothes and toiletries for her.” Frieda gave a wave with her fingers before hurrying down the stairs and practically jumping into her car. It was obvious she was trying to get away before Mr. Jones could change his mind. She peeled out of the driveway like the hounds of hell were on her tail.
Emma turned back around to face the man who was currently frowning down at her. He stepped away from the door, leaving it open for her to follow.
“I’ll show you where you can sleep and then give you some work to do so you won’t be getting into trouble. I ain’t got time to be dealing with any trouble.”
Emma followed him into the dimly lit house, but she didn’t want to shut the door. It felt as though she was sealing herself into a tomb as she finally clicked it closed.
“I don’t get into trouble, sir.” she said as she followed him deeper into the cave-like house.
“Don’t be sassing me, girl,” he snapped back.
Emma wanted to roll her eyes but refrained. She hadn’t been sassing. She’d simply been telling him that he didn’t need to worry about her being any trouble. She realized it was probably going to be in her best interest just to keep her mouth shut as much as possible while around this man.
“I ain’t got another bed, and you sure as hell aren’t taking mine. So you’ll sleep there.” He pointed at the floor in a tiny closet-like room. “I might have a blanket, but I don’t got no pillow for you. Maybe your fancy gov’ment lady friend’ll bring you back one.”
As she followed him into the kitchen, he pointed at the counter and the sink full of disgusting dishes. “If you want to eat tonight, then you got to earn it. Git to cleaning.” He barked before leaving the room.
Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Emma thought, considering his daughter had practically said the same thing. She sighed, realizing that the lack of a pillow was going to be the least of her worries. She looked up at Raphael and tried to give him a hopeful smile. “It could be worse, right?”
He patted her head and then moved toward the mess. “I’ll wash, you dry.” He told her as he started to clean out the sink so he could fill it with water. Apparently, Raphael wasn’t concerned about Mr. Jones seeing him in the man’s kitchen. If he wasn’t worried about it, she wouldn’t be either. They worked together in silence, Emma lost in her thoughts wondering how Serenity was. She sent up a silent prayer that her friend was alright and that she would get to return to them quickly.
Chapter Two
Dreaming about dancing in a chorus line means that things in your life are going to be falling into sync. Or it means you secretly wish you had longer legs.
Serenity felt as though all the air had been sucked from her body. Emma was gone. Just like that, they up and took her. Who does that? This amazing little girl with her tragic story had become a member of their family, and suddenly, she’d been ripped away from them.
“What do you mean they took her?” Serenity croaked, her throat dry and scratchy. “Where?”
“We don’t know,” responded Darla. “For some reason, DHS didn’t really think we had a right to that information. We only know she’s been taken to live with Mildred’s father.”
“What are we going to do?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to the DHS office to see what steps we need to take to become her foster family with the intent to adopt.”
“Is she going to be safe? How do we know she is safe?” Serenity asked frantically.
Dair reached out his hand and brushed the hair away from her face. “Raphael is with her. He will protect her as much as he can.”
“Can we visit her?” Serenity considered the fact that maybe she was asking too many questions, but she couldn’t help it. They’d had time to come to terms with Emma being taken by the state; she was just finding out. It was going to take her more than a few minutes to process.
After several more reassurances from Darla that she would handle the Emma situation, and then some small talk, Serenity was getting tired and beginning to hurt.
As if he could read her mind, Dair spoke her thoughts. “Perhaps we should let Serenity rest. I imagine the pain medicine might be wearing off by now.”
Darla looked as if Dair had just asked her to scrape gum off the bottom of all the desks at the library rather than to simply step out of the room so that Serenity could rest.
“I think I’d better stay.” Darla breathed out, shaking her head.
“Aunt Darla, I’ll be fine. You don’t have to stand vigil over me. You need your rest too. Those kids aren’t going to read to themselves during story time tomorrow.”
The older woman stared down at her niece, her eyes narrowed, as if she could see inside the girl, perhaps find some malady that the doctors had missed. After a few moments, she sighed. “I guess you’re right. And I think you’re in capable hands.” She winked at Dair and then grabbed Wayne’s hand, leading him out the door.
“Hang in there, kiddo,” he called, following Darla out the door. Serenity heard him ask someone out in the hall as their voices trailed away, “Where’s the closest bathroom?”
“Well, I probably should hang around and watch how the Sandman here nurses you back to health.” Glory purred. “But … it might be so sappy that I end up puking. Lord knows there’s enough of that around here already.
“But seriously, girl,” Glory said, taking Serenity’s hand. “I know that you’re always all like let’s save the world and stuff, but you really scared us. You can’t fight everyone’s battles, Serenity.”
“I’d do it again, in a second,” Serenity said wincing, shifting herself on her pillows.
“I know, that’s what worries me.”
“Don’t. Aunt Darla worries enough for both of us,” Serenity assured her.
“Just promise me you’ll be more careful in the future, you know how I feel about crying. It makes my mascara run, and I cannot have that,” her friend said, joking only slightly.
“Don’t worry, Glory,” Dair’s deep voice cut in. “I’ll keep an eye on her from now on. I should’ve been there this time.”
“Uh, excuse me, you two, I’m a grown up. I don’t need babysitting.” Sere
nity groaned. “But I do need some more pain pills. If you both want to help so bad, then one of you get me a nurse.”
“I’ll see Glory out, and then I’ll find one. Rest, love. I’ll be right back.”
Serenity grinned in spite of herself. She felt that Dair’s smooth voice was probably a stronger drug than anything the hospital could provide. If he’d just keep talking to her, then they could keep the Morphine.
Serenity stared up at the white, tiled ceiling and wondered what little Emma was doing in that moment. Was she scared? Was she safe? It made Serenity sick to think that Emma went from one evil and straight into the clutches of another.
“God, please protect her.” Serenity prayed as her hands clutched the sheets. She fought the tears that wanted to fall. Serenity knew Dair would worry if he saw how upset she was, and he had worried enough for her.
Fifteen minutes later, a nurse walked in, followed closely by Dair.
“I’ve got some more pain meds for you, dear,” said the middle-aged woman wearing a name badge that read Melissa. “This should make you feel much better.” Melissa smiled at her sweetly as she pushed the medicine into Serenity’s IV.
She struggled to stay awake, but Serenity’s eyes soon began to flutter closed. She wasn’t strong enough to fight the drugs flooding her system. Part of her was glad, but another part of her felt bad that she lay in a hospital bed sleeping while Emma was somewhere out there, all alone, facing God knows what.
“Sleep, Serenity.” Dair’s voice soothed her as she let unconsciousness drag her under. “Your worries will still be waiting for you when you awake, and you cannot do anything about them now. You can at least let your body heal while you worry about what you cannot change.”
She wanted to tell him that it was the prerogative of a woman to worry about what she couldn’t fix, but her lips wouldn’t obey her mind, so she just settled for mentally sticking her tongue out. Because she was mature like that. Apparently, not even a near-death experience could take the suppressed toddler out of her.
Dair watched as the woman he loved succumbed to the drowsing effect of the pain medications. He knew she didn’t want to sleep, but her body needed the rest to heal. Rather than sit and watch her, which he could have happily done all night, he decided to be productive. He would locate Emma and Raphael so when Serenity awoke, he could at least give her an update on the young girl’s safety. Dair knew that Serenity was worried about Emma’s well-being, and Dair was a little concerned himself.
He closed his eyes and focused on his friend Raphael’s location. It wasn’t hard. Supernatural beings, especially those as powerful as angels, left a paranormal trail wherever they went. One just needed to know how to find it.
When Dair opened his eyes, he was standing outside of a dilapidated house that was so ramshackle, it looked as though a slight breeze might send the whole thing toppling over at any moment. Dair was amazed by the lack of pride some people had in their possessions. They weren’t appreciative of what they had and gave precious little thought to those who had so much less. He walked up to the door, opening and closing it, knowing that the owner would not notice him because he did not wish it.
The inside of the dwelling mirrored its outward neglect. A threadbare couch greeted Dair upon entry, its two pillows, their stuffing escaping out of various rips in the fabric, casting a silent accusation, daring him to make a comment about their ragged appearance. A chair, in equally poor condition, sat to the sofa’s left, joining its partner in a silent scoff against those who’d dare enter their private domain. In front of the couch rested the bottom portion of a wicker coffee table, which, at one point, must have contained a glass top. Where it was now, Dair couldn’t guess, nor could he hazard a guess as to what purpose the ruined piece of furniture now served. The carpet, not to be outdone by the furniture that reposed so haughtily upon it all day, was riddled with cigarette burns, urine stains, and the residue of years of spilled alcoholic beverages that no one had bothered to clean up. This cornucopia of colors was set against what once must have been a beige floor covering but was now a deep muddy brown, owing to the copious amount of dirt and grime it had greedily sucked in from the shoes of those that trod on it over the years.
This place should be condemned as a health hazard. Dair thanked God that he wasn’t a human; simply breathing the air inside the house would probably cause illness to mortal lungs. Dair’s heart broke as he examined the conditions in which Emma would be living, at least until Darla and Wayne could get her back.
“Welcome to the humble abode of Reginald Jones.” Raphael’s voice rumbled from across the room. His arms were held out wide as if there was something grand to behold.
“This is worse than Mildred’s hovel,” Dair growled.
“You should see the girl’s sleeping quarters.”
Emma’s head stuck out from around the corner. The worry on her face was replaced with a huge grin. “Dair!” She ran to him and threw her small arms around his neck. He hugged her back, just as happy to see her, unharmed and healthy.
Emma pulled back quickly and looked around the room, her eyes wide as she seemed to realize she’d forgotten herself.
She looked up at him and whispered, “Mr. Jones does not like me to make any noise.”
“Where is he?” Dair asked as he looked to Raphael for the answer.
The angel nodded to a short hall containing two doors. One was open, and the other was closed. “He’s shut himself up in his bedroom in order to watch a human game show on the television,” Raphael answered.
“How have you been holding up?” Dair asked Emma.
She shrugged. “He told me to clean the kitchen. It was worse than my aunt’s,” she admitted, her nose wrinkled up in disgust.
“And what about your bedroom? Will you be sharing it with little guests again?” Dair asked, remembering the cat and mouse that lived in Emma’s room back at Mildred’s.
“She hasn’t got a room.” Raphael barked, his teeth snapping together and his eyes narrowing.
“She has to sleep out here?” Dair asked, motioning to the disgusting couch.
Emma shook her head. “No, there’s a closet that I will sleep in.”
“A closet?” He growled, his voice every bit as angry as the angel’s.
“It’s better than sleeping out here with no door between me and Mr. Jones,” Emma pointed out.
That was little Emma, always looking for the silver lining. So many people could learn from the girl that stood before him. And if they could keep her on the path for which she was destined, she would one day have the opportunity to show others her wisdom.
There was a knock at the door and the three of them waited to see if Reginald would emerge from his room. When he did not, Raphael walked to the door and opened it. It was Frieda Stillworth, holding two plastic shopping bags containing various necessities.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“I am an acquaintance of Mr. Jones,” Raphael told her smoothly. His words held a bit of angelic mental compulsion, ensuring she would not question him further.
She moved past him into the house without invitation and smiled at Emma. Dair could tell at a glance the smile was forced. In fact, Dair got an uneasy feeling about the woman, as if nothing about her was genuine.
“Emma, I’ve gotten you clothes, personal essentials, a blanket, and a pillow, as well as things you will need for school. I suspected there was a chance Mr. Jones did not have any of these things suitable for a young lady,” she explained.
Emma, being the polite little girl that she was, smiled up at the woman. “Thank you,” she said simply.
“I will be back in a couple of weeks to check on you.”
Without further instruction, the woman turned and left, only giving Raphael one more glance before mumbling something inaudible and walking out of the door, closing it sharply behind her.
“That was the DHS worker?” Dair asked. “The one who picked you up from the hospital?”
E
mma nodded.
Dair looked at Raphael, his face pulled down into a tight frown. “Something is not right about her.”
“I felt the same thing,” the angel said.
“A demon?”
Raphael shrugged. “I haven’t sensed one in her, but it might not have full possession of her yet. Regardless,” he continued, “she is not to be trusted.”
Emma grabbed one of the sacks and began rifling through it, pulling out a backpack, paper, pencils, scissors, and some crayons. The second bag contained clothes, bathroom essentials, and the blanket and pillow. She carried the items to the hall and paused in front of the open door. She flipped on the light, and Dair guessed that this must be her ‘sleeping closet.’ He walked over, his curiosity getting the better of him. When he glanced inside, Emma was already folding the clothes neatly and putting her things in the backpack. She folded the blanket and set it on top of the pillow. The space was about seven feet deep and four feet wide.
“It could be smaller,” Emma said looking up at him, seeming to read his thoughts.
“Only you could see the good in this situation, little Emma,” Dair said gently.
Her eyes were sad though she smiled. “Can’t change it, at least not yet. Might as well make the very best of it, no matter how slight that might be. My mama used to say that life is what we make of it, not what our circumstances make of us.”
“Your mother was a wise woman,” Dair told her.
“She was,” Emma agreed.
They spent the rest of the afternoon helping Emma clean the filthy kitchen. Dair returned to check on Serenity a couple of times and, just as he was getting ready to go back to the hospital for the remainder of the evening, he felt the pull of an assignment. He could have easily become resentful, knowing he would probably be required to leave Serenity for a short period of time, which was the last thing he wanted at that moment. But it was best not to give such thoughts a foothold. Instead he reminded himself that his purpose, before he had ever met Serenity, was to obey the Creator. That had not changed. A wonderful person had been added to his life, but his responsibilities remained the same.