The Genesis of Seven

by Sara M Schaller

  “But don’t we need to show some haste and get moving? I mean, it sounds like the world might be ending.”

  “The world is not ending,” Gabriel said seriously. “But evil has grown too strong.”

  “Which should be cause for haste…no?”

  “Jordan, I think we need to stay put for now,” Zadkiel said.

  “Yeah, and we really must start that training of yours,” Michael added.

  “Haven’t I learned everything?”

  Zadkiel shook his head. “Oh, no. There’s far more you need to know.”

  “I wasn’t referring to that training. I meant combat training,” Michael clarified.

  I stared at him. “Excuse me? Combat training? Why do I need to learn that?”

  “Because you need to know how to fight and protect yourself. Maybe then you won’t get hurt so much,” Michael jested.

  I didn’t find this a laughing matter. “And you’re going to train me? Satan fears your physical prowess. How do you think I feel?”

  A great big belly laugh escaped Michael. The others joined in.

  “I love how you all think this is so funny, but I’m not joking around here.”

  “Jordan, there’s nothing to worry about.” Michael chuckled. “I’ll go easy on you.”

  “He needs time to heal and recuperate first,” Raphael reminded him.

  I realized the thought of sleeping in the same bed for longer than one or two nights was definitely appealing. For that reason, I kept my mouth shut and went along with whatever they had in store.

  When the sound of the doorbell interrupted our conversation, we all froze in place.

  “Who could that be?” I asked. “Martha has a key.”

  Michael drew his knife. “I don’t know, but I’ll go find out.”

  “Wait!” I said before he could leave. “This is my house. Let me get the door.”

  “Jordan, it might not be safe,” Gabriel warned.

  “Seriously? Who could possibly know we’re here?”

  I left the library and approached the front door, glancing through the window in the hallway to get a better glimpse of the person outside. All I could see was the figure of a girl. The angels followed, and when they saw the figure too, they backed off.

  I walked into the turret, grabbed the knob, and opened the door.

  The girl standing on the other side smiled at me and said, “Hi, I’m Naomi.”

  I gazed at her. She was about my age, with light brown skin, dark brown eyes, and curly black hair escaping from a bun at the back of her head. There were freckles all over her cheeks, and her smile was infectious.

  “Hi,” I greeted, smiling too. “Who are you?”

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” She drew her attention away from my injuries. “I’m your neighbor. I live over there.” She pointed to the left. “Martha told my parents you were home, so my mom baked some muffins for you.” She extended the basket she was holding toward me.

  I took it from her. “Wow, thank you. How did you manage to get through the gate?”

  “Martha gave my parents a keypad code for emergencies.”

  I smiled. “Well, I don’t have any baked goods in the house, so this must be an emergency.”

  She laughed. “To my mom, it most definitely is.”

  “Well, tell her I said thank you.”

  “I will.” She hesitated. “You’re Jordan, right? Jordan Conway?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, how did you know?”

  She shrugged. “My parents were friends with your parents.”

  “Oh, really? That’s cool.” I knew the words sounded so silly, but I didn’t know what else to say. I was nervous talking to Naomi, and I didn’t know why.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “if you need anything, just let us know. We’re not too far away.”

  “Thanks,” I said again.

  She headed down the walkway to the gate and the street beyond. I watched her retreating figure, slightly dazed.

  “Jordan, are you all right?” Gabriel asked.

  I jumped in surprise. “Yeah, why?”

  “You’ve been standing there for quite a while.”

  “Oh.” I closed the door. It really must have been a few minutes because a chill had seeped into the entryway. I noticed the other angels were lined up behind Gabriel and were all staring in curiosity. “What?” I asked.

  “Someone has a crush,” Michael jested.

  “No!” I was quick to defend myself. “She’s just a nice girl who lives next door.”

  “Textbook,” Michael murmured with a smirk.

  “Well, she must have spurred some feelings if she left you dumbfounded.” Uriel grinned.

  “I’m not dumbfounded! And there are no feelings,” I argued.

  They looked at me skeptically. My embarrassment must have conveyed some truth in their words. Honestly, I didn’t know what I was feeling. All I could say was I’d never felt like it before.

  “I’m back,” Martha called from the kitchen.

  We all left the entryway to help her carry in groceries, and I left the basket of muffins on the kitchen counter before I went out to the garage. Martha admired the baked goods as we toted in bags from the car.

  Once everything was inside, Chamuel helped put things away, inspecting each item.

  “Is there something wrong with that lettuce?” Martha asked.

  “Not at all,” Chamuel said. “I’m just thinking about all the recipes I can make.”

  She abruptly stopped what she was doing and went over to hug Chamuel. Unfamiliar with such affection, he lightly patted her back.

  “Thank the Heavens they sent you!” she exclaimed. “I may be a housekeeper, but I cannot cook to save my life.” She released Chamuel. “I thought poor Jordan here might have to suffer through my cooking.”

  Chamuel chuckled. “No need for that. I’m a chef and would be more than happy to cook for both of you.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll get by,” Martha said.

  “But I insist, Martha. I can tell you’re more than willing to help us, so let me do this one thing for you.”

  She smiled sheepishly. “All right. If you insist.”

  I could already tell these two were going to be fast friends.

  36

  Jordan

  New York State, Present Day

  I sat on the floor of the gym breathing heavily and gulping down water. I’d just finished my training session with Michael, who hadn’t even broken a sweat. We’d been working together for a few weeks now, and though I was better than when I first started out, I still had lots of progress to make.

  “That’s enough for today,” Michael said, putting away hand weights. “We’ll start again tomorrow with leg strengthening exercises.”

  I groaned. I dreaded leg day the most. The thought of it made my body feel ten times worse than it already did.

  “All right,” I replied, slowly getting to my feet.

  I left the gym and made my way upstairs. It was a slow journey, the muscles in my legs already protesting every time I lifted them, so I headed straight for the shower, knowing the warm water would do wonders for my aching body. After I was done, I dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and went back down to the kitchen, where I knew Chamuel would have dinner ready.

  But the usual aroma of his five-star cooking did not meet my nose. Instead, the angel sat at the counter peering over a cookbook, while Martha sat at his side cutting coupons.

  “Is dinner not ready yet?”

  Chamuel looked up at me. “Oh…not yet. I was just about to start it.”

  I glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. It was past six already, which was odd. Chamuel usually had dinner ready for six every night. In fact, he was acting weird in general, tapping his fingers against the counter in a nervous tic and pretending to read the cookbook.

  Martha stared at him intently. I was going to watch some TV in the living room when she said, “Oh, I almost forgot, you had some mail
arrive.”

  I approached the counter and filed through the stack of envelopes. My name was on all of them, but it was all junk.

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  She nodded. “We got some of the neighbors’ mail too. You might want to take it over to them.” She handed me two envelopes.

  The mail was for Naomi’s family. At the thought of her, I smiled. It would be nice to see her again. She was so friendly, and we hadn’t had the chance to connect since her visit. Besides, I never thanked her mom personally for the muffins.

  With my mind set on delivering the mail, I walked back to the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Chamuel asked.

  “To get some shoes and a coat,” I replied.

  The angel glanced at my clothes. “You might want to change too.”

  “I’m only going to drop off the mail.”

  He stared at me.

  I sighed. Whenever the angels grew quiet and merely stared, I knew there was no arguing and that I had to listen. “Fine,” I huffed.

  When I was in my room again, I traded my sweats for a pair of jeans and left on the t-shirt. I slid my feet into my Converse and grabbed a coat from my closet, then strode back through the kitchen, grabbing the mail off the counter and waving goodbye to Chamuel and Martha.

  Outside, I was immediately hit by cold air. Snow crunched under my feet as I walked down the driveway toward Naomi’s house. The lights were all on inside, and I admired the meticulously hung Christmas lights out front.

  Naomi stepped out as I approached her front door. “Dad, the lights are on!” she yelled, checking the exterior. Then, she noticed me. “Hey, Jordan!”

  I waved and stepped forward. “Hi, Naomi!” Suddenly, my feet slipped on a batch of ice, and I careened to the ground, landing hard on my butt. Great. I cursed under my breath. The fall had my muscles aching all over again, but my embarrassment at making a complete fool of myself in front of Naomi was worse.

  She approached to help as I scrambled to my feet. “Are you all right?” she asked, grabbing onto my arm.

  “Yeah,” I replied, steadying myself and trying to hide the red creeping into my cheeks.

  She glanced at my feet. “Why aren’t you wearing boots?”

  I followed her gaze. “To be honest, I’m not sure. Stupid decision.”

  Naomi laughed. “Why don’t you come in?”

  I didn’t answer since she was already tugging me to her door.

  “You only just healed from your other injuries,” she said as we entered the house.

  Her words made me remember I was still sporting evidence of my injuries the first time we met. Now, I no longer had to wear the sling or a bandage on my hand, and the bruising on my neck and face had almost vanished.

  She closed the door behind us. “Can I take your coat?”

  I got a better look at her face under the warm light. There were those freckles again, and that curly black hair pulled back in a bun. A few tendrils hung loose about her face, and I thought she looked really pretty.

  “Jordan?” Her dark brown eyes squinted in a quizzical expression.

  I realized how dumb I must have looked, so caught up in her beauty I was rudely staring. Pull yourself together. “Sure,” I said, slipping my coat off. My one sleeve got caught on my hand, which still gripped the mail. “Oh…these are for you.” I handed the envelopes to her. “That’s why I came. We got some of your mail.”

  She nodded and smiled, taking both envelopes and my coat. Naomi hung the garment on a hook near the door while I took my shoes off, then she strode down the hallway. I followed her into the living room.

  “There you are. Are the lights on?” Naomi’s dad asked from the kitchen, too focused on fixing a light-up reindeer to look up. He was tall, with blue eyes, blond hair, and pale skin.

  “Yes, Dad. I said they were.”

  “Oh, must not have heard you.” He looked up and noticed me. “Why didn’t you say we had company?”

  “Company?” Naomi’s mom wondered, arriving in the kitchen from upstairs. She had curly black hair and brown skin, and when she saw me, she stopped in her tracks. “You must be Jordan,” she whispered.

  “Yes. Nice to meet you, Mrs.…” I didn’t know their last name and couldn’t recall what was listed on the mail.

  “Barnes. But you can call me Deborah.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe how much you look like your mother.”

  “The resemblance is quite striking,” Naomi’s dad added. He strode toward me, hand outstretched. “Peter,” he said, grasping mine. “And the pleasure’s all mine.”

  Before I could respond, a timer chimed.

  “Oh! That must be the chicken!” Deborah approached the oven and opened the door. A waft of herb-roasted chicken filled the air as she pulled it out and set it on the counter. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Jordan? There’s plenty of food.”

  I glanced at Naomi for approval. She smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Of course he’ll stay. It’s the least we can do since he slipped on the ice outside our house.”

  Heat began to creep into my cheeks again, and she laughed. I started laughing too when I realized she was only teasing.

  “Peter, I told you to put salt on it!” Deborah exclaimed.

  “I was going to…then I found this and got distracted.” He glanced at the reindeer.

  “Would you put that away? We’re about to eat.”

  Peter looked sheepish. “All right.” He picked up the reindeer and headed for the garage.

  Deborah transferred chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes to serving dishes, her concern obvious when she asked, “Are you all right, dear? That fall must have hurt.”

  I glanced at Naomi, who was helping to set the table. She bit her lower lip to contain her amusement.

  “I’m fine, really. I should have worn better shoes.” I didn’t think my trip to drop off mail would extend to a dinner invitation. If I’d known, I would have dressed differently. “Can I help with anything?” I offered.

  “Oh, no. You just sit down,” Deborah insisted.

  I approached the table.

  “You can sit here, next to me.” Naomi indicated a chair. “What would you like to drink? We have all kinds of soda.”

  “A Coke would be great.”

  Just then, Peter came back in carrying all sorts of soda cans. “I wasn’t sure what everyone wanted, so I brought a little of everything.” He set them out on the counter as Deborah placed the food on the table.

  Naomi went about making our drinks and then joined us all at the table. We piled food onto our plates and dug in.

  “So, what brought you here tonight, Jordan?” Peter asked.

  I swallowed a mouthful of chicken. “I got some of your mail at my house, so I wanted to return it to you.”

  Peter scrunched his face in confusion. “That’s odd. The mailman knows our address. Doug hasn’t misplaced our mail in years.”

  Deborah was quiet and looked down at her plate. Naomi stared at her mother.

  “Mom, you didn’t…”

  She refused to meet her daughter’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

  Naomi shook her head and returned to her food.

  Peter glanced at the two of them. “Am I missing something?”

  “No, Peter,” Deborah said, but he still looked puzzled. “I’ll tell you later,” she whispered.

  I peeked a glance at Naomi and realized she was blushing. Since she was obviously uncomfortable, I asked instead, “Are you in school?”

  She smiled. “Yeah, I go to Cornell.”

  “Really? I plan on going there too. I deferred my admission because I needed a year or two off, but I know it’s a great school. I’ve heard the campus is beautiful.”

  “You haven’t been there?” Peter interjected.

  I shook my head. “No.”

  He dropped his fork. “You haven’t been to Cornell! Naomi, you must take him to v
isit the campus.”

  “That’s a splendid idea!” Deborah exclaimed.

  “Stop! Both of you!” Naomi pleaded.

  I took a sip of my drink and cleared my throat. “She doesn’t have to.”

  “Oh, yes, she does. Your mother was a top student there. Plenty of faculty remember her and her family. Well, your family, I mean,” Peter said.

  “They were donors,” Deborah explained.

  “Big donors. The Sinclairs were very generous. Numerous times, they even donated anonymously because they felt the school had already given them enough recognition.”

  I sat there contemplating their words. As a future student, I wanted to see the campus in person because I was never able to do a school visit. Now, knowing my family history was rooted at the university and my mom had attended, I wanted to go even more.

  “Wow, okay. Maybe it would be fun to visit,” I said, then I looked at Naomi. “If you don’t mind taking me.”

  Her eyes searched mine, trying to figure something out. When she finally found whatever she was looking for, she said, “Sure, we can do that. It would be fun. Let’s go on Monday. Finals just ended, and the campus is nicer sometimes when people aren’t there.”

  “And I can join you for lunch,” Peter said. “I’ll be at my office next week to grade papers—ow!” He stared at Deborah. Clearly, she had kicked him under the table.

  “Don’t you remember, you decided to grade from home that day?” she said pointedly.

  “I did? Oh, I did!”

  “You work there?” I asked to ease the tension.

  “Yes. I’m an engineering professor. Your father was a great colleague of mine even though we taught different subjects.”

  “He taught there too?”

  Peter nodded. “Yes, he was a history professor. It was convenient for him since the school is close to the house.”

  Wow, that was a tidbit I never knew. “You seem to have known my parents very well.”

  Peter and Deborah nodded, a faraway look entering their eyes.

  “They were such dear friends,” Peter said.

  “How did you meet?” I asked.