They rode along in silence, but for occasional quips and comments about the week behind them and the road ahead, as far as Troutdale. And then, finally, Justice decided enough was enough; it was time to talk.
He pulled off the highway at Exit 17, heading for the Love’s Travel Stop. It’s familiarly bright yellow, black, and red sign was hard to miss. “Can I just be honest with you,” he asked Edward as they searched for a parking spot.
“Sure,” his friend said, raising an eyebrow as Justice shifted to look at him a moment. An old Dodge minivan moved, and they were able to secure the spot, now vacant.
“That talk I had with Arthur, and getting stuck in a lockdown – even though it was just for a few minutes, and I guess for the inmates, it lasted three days – and checking out some information at the law library, well… something happened to me that day I can’t explain. It’s like a switch went off in my head, before I even spoke with you guys about it.”
“Okay…”
Edward’s response was weary; drawn out.
“Well, then I get all this good news about the mirror from you guys; the diary, the compartments, the letters, Timothy… and I had to really rethink things for a while. I had to… I needed to let the paradigms in my head about this whole thing just… shift,” Justice began. “I just…”
A semi exiting the parking lot nosed a little too close for his comfort, and he paused, holding his breath a moment as he waited for it to pass.
“As I was saying,” he continued. “How do I even say what I’m trying to say?” He felt his body begin to tense as he tried to come up with words to express himself more succinctly.
The last thing either of them needed right now were ten thousand words that said what two or three hundred, tops, could, right?
“So, I’ve been thinking. Arthur not only knows about the mirror; he’s seen it work, and he knows who has it… but he doesn’t know who created it, or why. None of us understand the why, or how it works. If I were a believer in magic…” he said, pausing, “but I’m not, so I don’t get it. I’m a believer in miracles; I believe everything happens for a reason, and that you were definitely meant to be here. I believe Rosemary was meant to become who she is now; live that life. I’m not so sure about Rose… she’s learned a lot, but had a harder time of it, I understand, from what Jason told me the other day.”
“She’s back, and working on things,” Edward admitted, nodding. “After a few setbacks, she seems to really be… growing and becoming someone truly wonderful to know again. We always cared about her, she just… I think she was so young, it didn’t compute; she didn’t understand that we were here for her, no matter what, and that’s why she left. She says she needed…”
Edward paused, taking off his seatbelt; Justice did the same, then reached into his shorts pocket for a napkin so he could blow his nose.
“She says it was all too much; her family all dead, and the people who were still around, unfamiliar. Peter the only one left, and then dead. His daughter being a pain, in more ways than one; even abusive."
Justice nodded, blew his nose, and waited for Edward to say more as he crumpled and pressed the napkin into the garbage bag underneath his seat.
“Anyway, what Jason may not have told you is she’s a recovering drug addict; she’s having a baby, and she’s staying, at least for the time being, with S. Gillam and Angelique, praying that her abusive, drug-dealing ex-boyfriend won’t find her there if he shows up in this area.”
“Um…”
What to say to that? He knew she was back, but Jason had said nothing of drugs and exes and babies…
“Yeah, I figured he hadn’t mentioned most of that.”
“Not quite.”
“New paradigm shift?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening to the girl.
Not quite a girl anymore; a young woman, he reminded himself. And not just a young woman, but a pregnant one. Rose. Alone in life, but for friends who think of her as family, and does she get it yet?
“Anyway, sorry, but you were saying,” Edward said, interrupting his thoughts.
Justice suggested they grab some snacks before resuming the conversation, and, after also taking a quick restroom break, they met back at the car five candy bars, two root beers, and two sandwiches richer, but sixteen dollars poorer.
The wind made much speech impossible to hear between them until after the doors were shut once more.
“As I was saying,” he began again once they settled back in, buckled up, and were on the road, “is that while a lot of things make sense, a lot of others still don’t. Even after all these years.”
They passed underneath the sign leading to the Gorge and he turned toward the winding road that would lead them to their first destination: Bridal Veil.
The winds began picking up, and the roads were slicker as Justice maneuvered the first curve. “I’m excited for the breakthroughs, don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled,” he continued as Edward unwrapped a Milky Way and offered it to him.
Gladly accepting, he took a bite, chewed it, and resumed. “I’m just wondering how much longer we’re going to stick with this track of figuring out the mirror’s origins. If Timothy created it, then Timothy created it. That’s wonderful; it’s beyond imagination, but it seems to be the case. I can accept that. We’ll know more when Masao is finished with the other writings, but-”
“But you want out, is that it,” Edward asked, interrupting him.
Justice could feel his friend’s eyes boring into the side of his face, and he nearly cringed. In his peripheral vision, he could tell that Edward was clutching the Butterfinger in his hand for dear life.
“Not at all,” he said, glancing quickly over as the wind shifted. The car swerved a moment before he was able to regain control, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“I just wonder how else I can help? I mean, if Masao is interpreting Hebrew, and Malik is interpreting French you yourself could interpret… if you’re finding pockets and compartments and letters and photographs sent through time and diaries and…. I mean, that’s a lot to take in; it’s a lot to keep in memory. And now, knowing that Mark might be brought up on charges from when he walked into that basement where Andrea Juarez and Rosemary Jenkins were…”
He let his voice trail off, lost in thought again.
“Has something happened to Rosemary? What’s her name now, Calico something?”
“Yeah, and no. Nothing’s happened that I know of, but someone found her and they’re in the process of moving her; her whole family is being uprooted because her family of origin – ok, well, anyway, Felix and Jasmine – they really did find them; they moved to the town where they live. They haven’t approached, but followed them… a lot. Even occupy the house across the street, which means that when they move… which should be in the next week or two… they won’t be able to take anything with them; they’ll be starting from scratch.”
“Seriously,” Edward asked him. “Hasn’t she been through more than enough? I mean, I didn’t think Felix and Jasmine were actually… serious in their letter to Paloma.”
“Well, I hoped they weren’t but in my line of business, you can never be too careful. So… yeah.”
How could he explain to Edward that this was more than a matter of life and death now? That if things got out of hand, more would be at stake? That Calico had a husband and young son now, and that she’d gone through tremendously painful surgeries to prevent being recognized, and still, she had been found; not once, not twice, but three times now.
How could he explain that, while for most people who went through HUVA, Calico was one of the half-dozen that it didn’t seem to be working for anymore? That she, and now her little family, were going to have to hotel it all over again simply because her brother and sister-in-law wanted to know more than they should about her new life?
That they even knew she was alive could cause problems… for all of them, the Stuarts and Rutherfo
rds, included.
The Hollywood Underground Victims Assistance program only worked for specific, unique sets of circumstances; they all knew that going in. And Calico – then, Rosemary – had been more than a perfect candidate; she’d been the ultimate candidate, since everyone pretty much assumed she was dead.
Everyone but Arthur Reynolds, that is.
And everyone but the handful of people, he and Midge included, who did their best not to give up hope until the day she stepped through the mirror… on this end of time… and became alive again.
Sometimes Justice wondered if, indeed, she had died; in real time, she hadn’t existed in the interim; neither had Rose, and neither had Edward.
So, had their steps through time been deaths bringing them back to life, or was he just overcomplicating things in his mind? Because each had moved forward in time… had anyone gone backward?
Was there anyone missing who had, instead of stepping into the future, stepped into the past and lost everything completely? It was a thought that simply hadn’t occurred to him; not that he hadn’t pondered it, but until this moment – until the moment they were sitting in the car, pulling into Bridal Veil – that someone moving backward would be alive before they were even born in this world, and how did that work?
It was enough to give him a headache just thinking about it.
Did that mean they lived and died more than once? It would seem to support his theory that Edward, Rose, and Rosemary had actually been dead; at least dormant during the time their step created passageways into other years. And was there a reason that each of the three had less years between their initial point and end point, or was that just because? Something that he shouldn’t even worry himself about?
“What does “yeah” mean, Justice,” Edward asked popping the final bite of his candy bar in his mouth.
The words caused Justice to jump as he pulled into the parking lot across from the falls.
“It means that we’re all in more danger than we realize, in spite of all the wonderful insights and revelations that are taking place. It means, my friend, that something, or someone, is fighting against the fullness of this story to unfold. Is it the devil? Greed? Bad attitudes? Merely people being people? I don’t know… but… we’re going to have to either double up or double back, because where we’re at now, though it seems to be progress, seems to have us at a place of stagnancy that just won’t let up.”
He removed his seatbelt and reached for a sandwich – turkey and cheddar on rye – and a bottle of root beer – just a Dad’s, nothing fancy, but it would work – and Edward, in silence, followed suit. Once their meal was over, he suggested they head over to the falls for some fresh air, the parking lot only a third full, due to the weather.
Several minutes passed as they once more moved to neutral topics: nature; weather; how their pets were doing; how their respective kids were; news from their respective churches; prayer requests that were unrelated to all that was happening in their own little bubble in the world. Justice brought up a few quotes from the newest book he’d read on interior architecture, and Edward enlightened him on the habits of their new flock of chicks.
Finally, his mind rested, Justice tightened his jacket around himself and slowly made his way back to the car.
Maybe if they timed things right, they could visit Horsetail and Multnomah before checking out the latter’s gift shop a bit, then on to Char Burger.
If nothing else, there’s the gift shop there, too, he thought. Much as a pineapple burger sounds good still. We’ll have to gauge the time so I can get him back to his car. A ticket sure wouldn’t be a good end to the day.
“So what you were saying earlier, about backing up or bucking up,” Edward said, paraphrasing him as their car moved back onto the road.
“Yeah?”
“I’m ready to buck up, as much as outside forces seem to want us to go under.”
“Alright, then. And now that we’re on the same page, we’re good, then.”
Sixteen
Vancouver, Washington… February 9, 2025
Paloma set out the last of the snacks she’d prepared for the church brunch as she waited for their final guests to arrive.
The dining table – now spread with the bounty of their friends and family, the relish, cheese, and deli meat trays she provided, and four different kinds of bread – looked weighed down with its load. The counter was spread with two varieties of punch, five brands of root beer, three cases of Sprite, a case of Pepsi, three different flavors of juice, and some bottled water, accompanied by stacks of clear plastic drinking glasses, plates, and silverware.
It was enough to enliven her imagination: if they had an earthquake at the moment, her kitchen and eating center would be demolished.
Her frown at the thought soon turned to a smile as she turned her thoughts to the day ahead.
For once, they’d invited an outside speaker. It had taken weeks to garner an agreement, but now that there was one, she was excited to hear the woman speak. She, her husband, and three kids had yet to arrive.
Paloma had met the woman, Sherri, at a women’s retreat they’d both attended with Open Bible the summer before, and been impressed with her demeanor, as well as her story. They’d kept in touch via email ever since, and Sherri and Jack, her husband, had become part of the prayer chain for their little congregation.
Their children Lilybeth, Patrick, and Justin, were all under nine years old, and Paloma had yet to meet them, or Jack. She knew that Lilybeth had been born with Down’s syndrome, and Patrick – like Jason and Me’chelle’s son, Clayton – was just a little behind in his class, though she had never asked why.
Children were children, no matter what, were they not? Each beautiful and miraculous in their own way…
That was her thinking, anyway.
“Need any more help in here,” Me’chelle asked, startling Paloma from her reverie.
If the woman’s height, at almost 5’11”, weren’t enough, her blonde braids, streaked with red and a pale blue, made her deep burnished skin and dark eyes shine, and the pineapple yellow dress she wore, complete with gold sling backs, made her stand out in the crowd. Her smile radiated warmth, and Paloma returned it.
“You know,” I think I’m good. Doesn’t look like there’ s anyone standing door duty, though,” she said.
“I’m on it. Just thought that Tawny would…”
“I know. But I haven’t seen them at all yet, either.”
“Well, I got it. No worries,” Me’chelle told her again, even as the doorbell rang. “Speaking of which…” She laughed as she made her way to the door, and was greeted with awkward hugs by Tom, Tawny, and their daughters, each of whom had their hands full; their son, Ronin, was nowhere in sight.
Tawny, Kate, and Lindsay moved toward her, each with a Crockpot in hand. “Well, I know you said there’d probably be enough,” Tawny said in lieu of greeting as she approached, “but I made meatballs, sauerkraut and wieners, and macaroni anyway; Tom’s just got a salad he made.” She glanced around a few moments, her daughters becoming impatient, Lindsay already rolling her eyes, her bead-adorned braids clicking as she walked.
“Where do you want me to plug in at?”
“Wherever you can find room. Might have to plug the smaller one in over here by the sink,” Paloma told her, “and the others in the dining room, but someone will need to put up a card table for that.”
She sighed, just thinking about all the smells that were penetrating the fabric in her house, and likely driving their cat crazy as she sat – or more likely slept, then whined, then slept – in the back bathroom.
The bell rang again, and she turned to watch as their guests of honor arrived, followed by Rose, Angelique, S. Gillam, Eugenie, and Mark. Angelique, Eugenie, Mark, and Rose were bearing even more food for the meal.
“Welcome,” she called to them, wondering how they were going to break the news about Mark to the group still.
“But not today,” she whis
pered to herself. “Not when we have guests; not if I can help it,” she said again as they approached.
Mark handed her a large box, and she peered inside: of course, it was chocolate. What else would he bring?
In it, there were Moonstruck and E. Guittard, Lindt & Sprungli, Ghirardelli, Thornton’s, Godiva, Guylian, Richart, and Perugina. There were also Amano and Amedei, Theo, Divine, Brodie’s, and Equal Exchange. And that’s just what she could tell with a cursory glance through it all.
She’d never even heard of some of them, but it was apparent Mark wanted to go all out.
Is it because of his news, or is he truly being generous? This has to have set him back more than five hundred dollars, she thought to herself as she found a space to set it, her guest of honor approaching.
“Thank you so much, Mark,” she told him as the others found places to set their fare, and Sherri, Lilybeth’s hand in hers, came over to say hello. They waded through the milling, growing group and around the overstuffed table as Paloma made her way toward them.
“So lovely of you to allow us all to come speak with ya’ll,” the woman drawled in her thick Mississippi accent. Her daughter – who looked about four and a half or five – smiled shyly.
They wore matching pineapple-colored dresses covered in periwinkle flowers. Sherri’s hair was cropped and curly brown, Lilybeth’s long and pulled into a curly, messy blonde little bun. The little girl was missing her left front tooth, and her eyes, big and brown like her mother’s, sparkled. Her beautiful round face; the sweet beam of her gentle smile; her rounded little hands, caused Paloma to grin back at her.
Catching a quick glimpse of Jack and the boys – all a dirty sort of blonde - she observed that the three of them, also, wore similar outfits: each in a tan suit jacket and black or navy slacks, depending.
So, they were a matchy-matchy family.
She could live with that, not that she saw it too often with kids under five or those who were twins and higher multiples.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 42