Pieces of Hope

by Carter, Carolyn

  “Who better to commit the perfect crime than someone who knows how to hide the evidence?” His voice came out in a low growl. The skin on my arms pinched where he held me. “Besides, he’s hated me since I was born. I think he believes she cheated on him—that I’m not even his son.”

  “Daniel, you’re hurting me.” I wiggled my shoulders.

  Looking wounded, he released me and flew a short distance to a small spire of rocks that sprang from the ocean. I followed. The waves crashed loudly around us as we sat near its peak. But I was thinking . . . hadn’t John Hartlein said something to that effect—Not my son. Was that it? And there was something more, something dreadful that followed . . .

  I considered all that Daniel had told me, trying to determine if he were making it up for the sake of gaining sympathy—or winning my heart. He could be charming (too much so) and sometimes he could manipulate facts, but when it came to his mother, he would never intentionally mislead me.

  “Tell me why you think he did this,” I said, unable to think of it as real. An angry sheriff with a vile temper killed his wife and successfully passed it off as a missing person?

  “I told you my mother kept a packed suitcase in the trunk of her—”

  “That doesn’t prove a thing, Daniel. Only that your mother was afraid.”

  “I checked the trunk the day they found the car, abandoned at the Portland airport. Not a soul, other than the two of us, knew about the suitcase. She showed it to me when I was thirteen, back when we were still living in California. I swore on my life I’d never tell anyone it was there.”

  When I looked down, Daniel was grinding his knuckles into the rock. I reached for his hands. They trembled as I held them. For a while, he couldn’t speak.

  “It was difficult to get to,” he said unsteadily, seeming to see it as he spoke. “You had to pull all this junk out of the trunk first. Mom did that on purpose in case he ever got the idea to do some investigating. He had no patience. Zero. So unless he had a reason to be suspicious, he wouldn’t actually dig down into the spare tire well where the suitcase was hidden.”

  “But Daniel, are you sure your mother didn’t forget to—?”

  “Hope, she was scared to death of the man. He used to beat her senseless! I told you that! She wouldn’t have forgotten to take it.” Daniel’s eyes glazed over in anger. “And she wouldn’t have left me. Ever! I’m certain of it.”

  “Couldn’t you have gone to someone, told them what was happening?”

  “Who?” he shouted, jerking his hands away. “When your father’s the sheriff—the man who’s tough on crime and who everybody seems to love—who’s going to believe he beats his wife and terrorizes his kid?”

  “But there had to be . . .” I searched for the appropriate words, hoping not to make it worse for him, “some sort of . . . evidence.”

  “Bruises and such, you mean?”

  I swallowed, nodding at him.

  “There were.” He hung his head in disgust. “Mom was brave enough to tell one of his deputies once, and he suggested she seek ‘counseling.’ I wanted to pound the guy, but he did his best to explain that it was her word against his, and since Hartlein was the sheriff and people assumed he was doing the right thing, it would be difficult to prove. I’ll never forget the guy’s name. It’s the same deputy that was following me the night I”—his face drained of color—“the night I nearly killed you. Second worst night of my life,” he added.

  I wanted to tell him he wasn’t to blame, but Daniel was distraught and the depth of his despair was overwhelming. I flashed back to the moment of the accident. That’s when I’d first felt it. Despair. But he wasn’t responsible for that night any more than I was. We were both merely pawns in destiny’s twisted sense of humor.

  “The deputy,” I asked a moment later. “Was it Washpun?”

  For once, Daniel looked surprised. “Are you reading my mind?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to get into all the freakish, so-called coincidences.

  “That’s the same cop investigating Mom’s fall.” I said this calmly, as if she were someone else’s mother. It was easier to do that here. I could sense her around me, but there was no pain associated with her memories. “Do you know the cops think someone else was in the house when she fell? They’re not sure it was an accident.”

  Daniel seemed to forget his own troubles for the moment and inched closer. “I’m sure it was an accident. No one could ever hurt your mother.”

  “You say it like you were there.” I wasn’t being serious, but Daniel stiffened and pulled away. His reaction was puzzling, but then again, he couldn’t feel Vivienne the way I could, and he had loved her once, too.

  “Of course not,” he insisted, sounding a little upset. “I mean, no way would she let someone shove her down the stairs. Remember how she fought off breast cancer? Lost her hair and cracked jokes about painting her head black and putting a number eight on it?”

  “So she could be a human magic 8-ball?” I laughed. “I’d forgotten she said that.”

  “Your mom was something else. You’re a lot like her,” he said.

  “Yeah, I hear that occasionally,” I said wistfully.

  “I’m sorry I left you to deal with that all by yourself. I knew you needed me back then. I just got lost in my own head.”

  I shrugged. “We all do stupid things, Daniel. So do I.”

  “But I can try to make it right.” He brushed his fingertips across my cheek, and I wondered what he meant. “Your feel Vivienne around you, don’t you?” Without waiting for my reply, he hurried on, “I know you do because my mother’s here, too. I’ve known it since I arrived. Imagine—we could find them together! Here, we could be or do anything we want. Here, we could be happy. I know we could!”

  It was too easy to get caught up in Daniel’s dream world. He could paint beautiful pictures, real and imaginary ones. It was one of his talents. And tempting, yes—too much so. As his emotions meshed with mine, a rush of dizziness engulfed me.

  There seemed no cause for it, but Daniel’s attention shifted away from me toward a spot on the horizon. I did a quick search, but saw nothing. Just random clouds in a sea of blue. Daniel stood. With a single nod, it seemed he’d acknowledged someone. Pushing my vision, I looked further, possibly more than a mile, and saw what appeared to be three young guys wrestling. In mid-air! It was nothing like the WWF that Brody was such a fan of. Way too graceful for that . . . more like a masculine ballet. These guys were built like chiseled stone, and even from this distance, I could tell that they were tall—slightly under seven feet. Even so, that wasn’t the most significant thing about them.

  They were deathly pale, almost grayish in pallor, and shirtless. The only fabric on their bodies was a flesh-colored piece of fabric draped around their lower bodies, making them appear, at first glance, to be nude. A small gasp escaped me before I had stopped it. They had sharply angled features, squared-off jaws, full lips, and piercing eyes. I gazed at them with a mixture of reverence and fear.

  “Their wings . . .” I muttered out loud, more to myself than Daniel. “What do you suppose they’re made of?”

  “Nothing we’re familiar with,” I heard him say. “Some sort of divine substance.” Though I wasn’t paying much attention, I thought he chuckled.

  Jutting from their muscled upper backs sprang the most magnificent wings of silvery black. Feathery, yet not. When a random ray of sunlight struck them directly, they shone like flexibly soft metal. Their wingspan was massive, extending several feet above their heads, far below their bare feet and—though they weren’t fully extended—I’d have guessed at least twice that in width.

  “What are they?” I marveled, still awestruck.

  “Angels.”

  “There’s really such a thing?” I stared openly as they continued to tumble and toss each other around, my very own angel ballet.

  “You are kidding, right?” He laughed easily. “You’ve been flying around the sky with me al
l morning like some vampy super girl. In fact, you’re still wearing the proof as I speak.” I was distracted slightly when my wings fluttered in response, but not enough to make me look away. “Since you’ve arrived, I’m guessing you’ve made friends with at least a half-dozen dead people, and yet you want to know . . . for real, if there’s such a thing as angels?”

  I’d once mistaken Creesie for one of these heavenly creatures, and seeing them in person—only now did I understand why she’d laughed so hard. My poor imagination hadn’t done them justice.

  “I hadn’t imagined they’d look so beautiful and ferocious all at once,” I said. My eyes crossed. I tried to right them.

  “Look at me, Hope. That’s right, look at me!” Daniel ordered. I turned my head in his direction reluctantly. Dots of silvery light shattered his image. I blinked a few times. “Don’t worry. The effects will wear off shortly,” he laughed.

  “Wh . . . wh . . . whattaya mean?” I thought my speech sounded slurred.

  “These guys have a way of affecting women.”

  “Fuh weel?” My tongue suddenly felt too big for my mouth.

  Daniel waved one slender finger back and forth in front of my face, the way doctors do on television when someone hits their head. “Have I ever told you you’re very observant even when you’re slightly inebriated?” He wiped something from my chin. Was I drooling? “Beautiful and ferocious, right? I love that about you.”

  It was a delayed reaction to his compliment, but I felt one side of my mouth slide up. I had, however, intended to raise both sides. I wobbled before him.

  “I’d kill to get them on canvas! Wouldn’t they be something in paint? They’re not your average angels, you know . . .” He made mock brushstrokes in the air. “Technically, they’re fighter angels, the elite of the elite, protecting mankind from evil and all that. At least that’s what they tell me. Part of the Powers, I think they said.”

  “You’f thoken to them?” I mumbled, forcing my thick tongue to move.

  “Technically, no. But yes, they’ve spoken.”

  Confused, I held up one finger. I couldn’t see which one. “Hole on . . .!”

  Averting my gaze so I didn’t accidentally look at them again—I thought this was the problem—I knelt beside the water, scarcely aware of the rocky points digging into my flesh. As best as I could manage (in my super slinky dress), I dipped my entire head in the ocean. After holding it under for a good thirty seconds, I yanked it out. Salt water burned, dripping into my eyes and mouth. I screwed up my face. The water ran down my back in tiny rivulets, and the chill that came over me sobered me up. I wasn’t entirely myself yet, but my head was less cobwebby than before. Things were coming together. I was starting to see where Daniel’s inspiration for flying had originated from. I’d given him too much credit.

  “Better?” Daniel eyed my wet head.

  “Much.” I wiped the stinging water from my eyes, but when I opened my mouth, a little dribbled in. Okay, not perfect. “Explain these ‘technicalities.’”

  “What technicalities?” He was doing that smirking thing.

  I flipped a thumb over my shoulder, indicating the angels.

  “Oh, those technicalities,” he said slyly. “It’s better if you hear and see them for yourself, you know, straight from the source.”

  “Oh, right. Like that’s going to happen.” He really was delusional. “Like angels have nothing better to do than fly over here and have a chat with Hope Valenti.”

  “It’s not as unlikely as you might think,” he chuckled. “But seeing how drunk you got off the three of them—I can only imagine how you’d react to the fourth one. He’s the leader, I think, and he definitely seems to be the most powerful.”

  My heart thumped in my stomach and my skin prickled the way that it did when I was being watched. Suddenly it made sense—that woozy feeling, same as the one I felt at the Station, Daniel’s newly-acquired talents, the conversation with Mac.

  I scrambled to find my voice. “Daniel, are you sure they’re angels?”

  “Don’t be silly, Hope. Of course, I’m sure.”

  The words came out so fast I wasn’t sure he could follow me. “Mac told me about a powerful being just after we left that last Station. Sethos, I think he called him. He says he’s evil—worse than you can possibly imagine.” I was scrambling to remember. Didn’t he also say there was more of his kind? “And there was more----there was something more—Oh! He can disguise himself as anything. Literally anything! We should go! NOW!” For the first time in my mad ramble, I looked right at him. He was smiling, not at all taking me seriously. So I persisted. “Daniel, if you wanted to fool people, wouldn’t angels be above reproach? I mean, what if they aren’t what they seem to be, what if they’re—?” My sentence dropped off sharply. I seemed to be swimming in honey. My tongue felt swollen, my limbs heavy.

  Oh no! Not again.

  I was slightly aware that my hair was suddenly dry and blowing around my face. The warmth of the sun bursting from behind a cloud was not the cause of it. Either Daniel was up to new tricks or someone (or something) else had freshened up my hair and dress.

  Daniel was squinting over my head, as though the sun was much too near. “They aren’t evil, Hope. Trust me on this one.”

  A cottony lump had formed in my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

  “They’re right behind me, aren’t they?” I said, terrified.

  “Yep.” His grin was unbearably fuzzy.

  I shook my head vehemently, desperately afraid to look. What if they attacked me as they had at the Station? Now that there were four of them, and Charlotte wasn’t here to save me, I didn’t stand a chance. I shook my head hard. If I hadn’t been so incapacitated, flying seemed the best way to escape. Then again, their wings were four times the size of mine. How long before they caught me? Three-point-two seconds? Point-two seconds?

  Do not be afraid, little one. We are not here to harm you, rang a chorus of voices inside my head.

  I was more than certain that I hadn’t moved, that I was still weighing the odds of running, when the lump of rock on which I was standing did move. It rotated one-half of a circle—a full one-hundred and eighty degrees. The light was so blindingly bright from this side that my eyes took several seconds to adjust. I blinked hard against it. Eventually, I saw the outline of four winged forms suspended before me. Even in my honeyed frame of mind, it seemed odd that their wings made no sound as they undulated. Nor was there the slightest breeze as they flapped, or any kind of scent coming off of them. Other than the fact that I was staring—my eyes round as golf balls—right at them, there seemed to be zero proof that they were really there at all. That’s when I concluded that Daniel and I were sharing the same hallucination.

  Booming laughter echoed in my head. Though the source of it was obvious, their majestic faces showed no movement or emotion, and their mouths remained closed. Also, the sound was different. Unlike voices at the Station—which I heard one at a time, and at a lower volume—these voices were commanding, impossible to ignore, and startling in their intensity.

  The one floating just a few feet in front of me had long, dark hair to his chest. His expression was serene, but not intimidating. Seeing him this close made me more wobbly than before, and as I gazed into his eyes, my knees buckled. With one motion of his index finger, my legs and spine straightened as if he had lifted me up by the top of my head and held me steady. For some strange reason, I began to feel very much at ease. My heart rate returned to something closer to normal, and my head started to clear.

  I could see how luminous their skin was, but though they were pale, I could detect no particular ethnicity. They could just as easily have been Moroccan or African or Greek or Asian. The one to the left of the longhaired one had short, curly, flaxen-blonde hair, and looked like the angels depicted in paintings—but older and taller and with more exotic features. Opposite him was a wild-haired boy angel. Definitely the youngest. His wavy brown hair flipped all around
his head, and as I studied him more closely, he smiled. A wave of honey smothered me until the longhaired one cast a glance his way.

  Elevated behind the leader, just above his wing tips, the fourth one seemed by far to be the fiercest. I looked him over as carefully as I had the other three, not the least bit afraid despite his deliberate stare—though my lack of fear might have had something to do with the longhaired one making it so. This last one wore his hair closely-cropped, reminding me a little of an angelic Marine, though with piercing eyes that seemed to change colors at will.

  Have you formed a conclusion yet? the chorus of commanding voices asked.

  I tried to form words, but my mouth wouldn’t move. The intensity of their voices in unison was overwhelming, and stunning to the senses. It echoed off the cliffs, travelled across the sky, plunged into my soul. Like angels in surround sound.

  Ah yes, you believe now. You understand what we are.

  They looked at me for a long moment. My head was quiet. I felt inspired, in awe, and then something wet rolled down my cheeks. I let it slide down my neck, incapable of movement.

  It is not safe for you here, young Catherine. We have told young Daniel the same and yet he remains. For you, no doubt . . .yes, for you. Ah, the arrogance of youth . . .

  There was a brief pause. Though they didn’t move to speak amongst one another, I knew that they had. My heart stopped momentarily as I waited.

  With my heart now thundering in my chest, they went on.

  Your greatest desire is a common request. But tarrying here will not bring what you seek. Do not long linger . . . either of you. Regret is the bane of human existence. We urge you to return, and swiftly. Safest of sojourns . . .

  The light intensified. I blinked once and they were gone.

  Daniel and I flew back to the top of the cliffs. At first, neither of us was able to speak or form coherent thoughts. We discarded our wings, found a sunny patch of grass to lie down in, and inhaled countless deep breaths.

  “You see what I meant by technicalities,” he said after a little while. “You don’t do much talking to them. You don’t talk back or ask questions. They tell you what they think you need to know, and that’s about it.”