Masao set his notebook in his lap as he stopped reading.
“So far, this is what I have found. A woman named Galya, falling inside the mirror, and she is the great niece of Timothy. So, wherever she landed… whenever she landed… she was probably very scared. There is no way to know if she went forward, or backward; only that she fell and was “swallowed” by the angel mirror.”
Once Masao finished, the van was silent: nobody drinking anything; nobody rearranging his or her position or getting into the dried fruit. Complete stillness and silence. All Paloma could hear was the sound of blood and heartbeat within herself.
Several moments of silence danced on the air, and then, finally, unable to stay silent any longer, she excused herself.
“Nature calls,” she explained as Me’chelle let her out.
Edward, Anouk Chanel, and Masao moved to join her, and they traversed back inside Winco, all heading in the same direction. When she came back out into the main part of the store, she saw Jason and Me’chelle in line at the farthest counter.
Masao’s words kept playing in her mind as she waited for the rest of their party to come together, and then, they met once more at the exit.
Jason offered her some Red Vines as they walked out the sliding doors into the now-pouring rain, and they made their way back to the van to head over to the other parking lot to drop Jason and Me’chelle, and Masao and Anouk Chanel off at their vehicles.
Edward continued to monitor Paloma as they made their way home, making sure she drank at least one more bottle of water after leaving the restaurant parking lot.
The day had been long and intense, and, while it was barely four o’clock when they got home, he was more exhausted than he recalled being since his birthday. His thoughts drifted to a nap, and he smiled.
He helped Paloma from the van, making sure that it was locked and she had her purse, before running for the house. They made their way inside, where Confetti was rrrowling and mewling for attention.
He bent to pick her up so that he and Paloma could get inside, checked her food and water bowls, which were empty, and refilled them as his wife shut the door behind them and went to check on the chickens. Once they were finished and both had washed up, he pulled her into his arms for a nice, long hug.
“I know this has been a tough day,” he told her, his face in her hair, allowing her smell to comfort him. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. Masao had so much to share, and it was great, but I’ve heard so much it’ll take a week to absorb it all.”
He could feel her nodding before she spoke.
“I’m all for a nap. I don’t know what happened out there today, but other than being so tired, I just… I feel better. I think I should go see the doctor in the morning, but for now, sleep sounds heavenly. At least until the kids get back from spending the day with Rose,” she told him, to his relief. “I don’t know if I even have the energy to kick off my shoes.”
Slowly, they moved toward their room, Confetti following them as far as their door, until he shooed her away back into the main part of the house.
As much as he loved hanging out with the cat, there was no way she was interrupting this nap, even if it meant she hung out in the bathroom like she was now used to on Sunday mornings.
Sleep was too much needed, and too rare a commodity.
Thirty Nine
Perpignan, France… February 22, 1707
Galya moved out onto the terrace with Adele and Amabel as they waited for Gaspar to join them from the adjoining room. There was a breeze blowing from the east, bringing with it a light rain, but the tensions in the music room behind them took more of her attention.
Gaspar had dismissed the children from their tutoring with Alain-Basile, and the girls had decided to stay, in spite of his wariness. It became apparent he’d wanted to discuss something with the older man in private, and so Galya had, after several minutes, been able to talk them into conversing out-of-doors there, close by.
“N'ai-je pas vous demander de quitter les oeuvres de Moliere en dehors de la sphère du vos enseignements à ma sœur enfants,” she heard her husband saying through the glass.
“And yet, you defy me and continue reading it to them? This is not acceptable, Monsieur Sylvain,” he continued as Adele and Amabel plugged their ears and moved closer to her. “I sincerely would like to keep you on as their tutor, but I do not know if I can trust that you will do as I bid from now on.”
“What is happening,” Adele asked her, looking up from her skirt. “Why is Oncle Gaspar so… so… fâché avec tuteur?”
“Well,” Galya began, not sure what, precisely to say. “I believe that your uncle is trying very hard to make sure that you – all of you – learn the right things,” she began tentatively.
“Comme je l'ai dit avant, leur mère leur souhaite d'apprendre-,” she heard Alain-Basile begin to argue.
“I understand what you said, and if she wishes for them to learn such things, she can do so on her own penny, in her own home, but for now, she has neither and so I suggest you allow me some say in my own home.”
“But what are the right things,” Adele asked her again.
Galya thought about that for a few moments as the girls moved closer into her skirt, the men’s voices raising even more.
“Then I suggest another tutor be found. I have quite enjoyed my time here, and Therese has, too, but-”
Galya could just make out the man’s shrug before he stepped onto a chair to be more equalized to Gaspar’s height.
“Qu'est-ce qui se passe,” little Amabel finally asked, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “Doesn’t tutor like us anymore?”
At this, she bent down lower, closer to the young girls’ level, moved a hand through Amabel’s pale, pale hair. “I believe he likes you all very much,” she said with a sigh. “I believe they both want the best for you and your sister, and brothers, but they see… different things.”
“It shall not be difficult to replace you,” she heard Gaspar saying, “if you really wish to abandon these children, who already have lost their father. They will adjust, but I had hoped we could come to an agreement of sorts.”
A sudden gust of wind brought the rain in more forcefully as Galya and the girls began to shiver. She knocked on the door, and ushered them inside. “Pardon. We do not wish to interrupt. We will wait in… we will wait in the childrens’ playroom.”
Without looking at either man, whose eyes bore into her, she clasped Adele’s hand on the left, and Amabel’s on the right, and quickly made their escape to the door. She let go of Adele only long enough to open it for the trio of them to pass through, and then, turning toward the stairs, tears coursing down her cheeks, she smiled to them and escorted them into friendlier territory.
Gaspar watched the little old man retreating for the kitchens, exasperated.
Had he ever known such a reactively stubborn person?
Well, yes.
His own father had most certainly been stubborn, but never would he have quit something simply over a request not to read a play or book to someone, would he have, in Alain-Basile Sylvain’s position?
Granted, for his father, things would have been easier all the way around, not being a dwarf. Which was another thing…. Did Alain-Basile think he and Therese would be able to find something suitable for both of them, quickly again?
Gaspar had agreed to writing letters on their behalf, of course. In fact, he’d insisted.
Who wouldn’t?
They’d known one another since Gaspar was a small child, and had been blessed to know the pair. He told the man to remain living on the property; that for all their time together, he would not wish for the Sylvains to be or go without. And what?
He refuses.
No explanation, no assurance they have elsewhere to go.
Nothing.
Such stubbornness was how he likely made it to eighty-three years old, but even still… what were an eighty-three and seventy-six year old dwarf
couple going to do? Where would they live? Who would help take care of them, now that, for the first time in nearly forty years, they would be on their own?
After a few deep breaths to calm himself down, he headed for the childrens’ playroom to see how everyone was doing.
He hated to think the girls saw any of this as their own fault; sure, the children all had a part to play, but as their tutor, Alain-Basile had known what the limits were. He had known, and ignored them.
Just as he had done, on occasion, when Gaspar’s father had been alive. The man had tested the limits one too many times, and there was nothing more to do about it than allow it to take its natural course.
“Je suis désolé, je suis désolé,” he said as he entered the playroom. Six sullen faces looked up at him; four looked away, and Amabel, with tears in her eyes, just looked him in the eye and shook her head. His wife, Galya, moved toward him quietly, her hair still wet from the downpour, her dress soaked through.
The girls must have been under the eave more than she, he thought swiftly before returning his attention to the task at hand.
“Est-il vraiment passé? Sont Alain-Basile et Therese vraiment quitter,” Aubert finally asked on behalf of the little group, his face still turned away. “Are we really going to be sans tutor?”
“Oui, but this will not be for long, I am sure,” he began as he sat in one of the child-sized chairs around the play table and sighed. “I am not happy with this, either, but I will find someone.”
“But we like Alain-Basile. We are used to him,” André lamented as he moved closer and sat nearby. “We have known him since we were small.”
Sir Gaspar laughed before he could help himself.
They are still small; still young, he thought.
“Oui,” he finally replied. “This, I understand, and I wish it could be helped. But for now, you will learn still… just not with Alain-Basile Sylvain.”
Part Four:
Revelations
Forty
Boston, Massachusetts… April 10, 1942
“So, you’re finished? Just like that? No more cards,” the man asked Steven as they ran back toward the stadium through the puddles.
Had God turned the spigot on full blast? This rain rivaled what he’d lived with on the harbor. A single flash of lightening lit up the sky, and he gulped.
Alright, Lord, we don’t need any funny business with that mirror, or with the weather, please, he prayed as the pair finally reached their destination.
“Nah, I’ve cut down and its now, I realize, I’ve got to stop. If I don’t, it’s going to be all that much harder. I’ve already embarrassed myself, and my family in the process of losing so much. You, you don’t see the issue; you’re good at everything you play. Me? I do alright, but not well enough I should ever place money down.”
He glanced over at his friend, who looked about as soaked as a man could get. The sound of their shoes squishing made their entrance even more awkward as they headed toward the stands. He could feel his wet socks scrunching up between his toes, and shivered.
How it was that socks could be so uncomfortable sometimes, he didn’t know, but he certainly didn’t envy those out practicing in the field.
“Can’t believe your boss let you go,” his friend continued. “You tell Shannen and Liraz yet?”
While it was true he’d been let go, it was also true that three of their clients had offered him positions in the past six months. Steven was sure he’d be able to move into one of those positions.
How difficult could it be?
“Not yet. It was only two days ago. I figured I’d wait until after church… pray about what to say and all.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d pray quicker than that, because if she finds out you went on one last gamble before telling her? She’s gonna be awful upset with you, and I sure wouldn’t blame her. I mean, if I got tossed from a job – baseball or not – my woman would have a fit,” his friend continued.
Steven looked over at his friend: his large square jaw was set, his grey eyes focused ahead, his baseball cap askew, and his ears still dripped with rain.
Morris was a big man; bigger than most people Steven had ever met, but thankfully, he was a gentle soul. For the most part.
As security for one of the largest banks in Boston, Steven figured he’d never have to worry over a job loss. He was good at what he did, intimidating to those who needed taught a lesson, and kind to those who didn’t.
“Your woman is your mother,” he replied, trying not to laugh. “Of course she’d have a fit.”
Morris blushed, and Steven moved back a few inches as the man turned toward him, his fists clenched.
“For your information, I got me a girl… not just Ma, but a girl who I plan to marry, God willing, thank you very much,” Morris said quietly. “She don’t know yet I’m gonna ask her, but I will, and soon. But… don’t tell none of the guys yet, alright? It’s kind of….”
He allowed his voice to trail off.
“Personal,” Steven suggested.
Morris nodded, relaxed his hands, and smiled. “Yeah. It’s kinda personal. So keep your mouth shut, will ya?”
Shalom looked down at his daughter in wonder. He took in her dark hair and pale eyes, her frail little form, her big glasses, and smiled.
How did she come up with this stuff?
Rachel was only four, and she was already a lot smarter than he could have imagined at this age.
“Well,” he told her. “I think bunny rabbits are beautiful, but you’re right… Imma and Papa brought you the candy. A rabbit wouldn’t be able to lift and carry it to you.”
The little girl giggled in delight as she hugged the nest she had made with her mother.
Though Easter had been five days prior, she still looked at it, smiling, every time someone asked her how her holiday had gone.
She had spent over an hour painting the nest, adding polka dots to resemble eggs, and a bird that, for a four year old, was pretty good. And when she had walked out the next morning, finding it filled with sweets and toys, she had been ecstatic, jumping up and down for almost ten minutes before she delicately took it into her hands and looked through her newfound treasures.
“I know, Silly Papa,” she told him. “Bunny not can do all that… not ever’body’s house!”
“Well, Honey,” Shalom said, pulling her toward him to sit on his knee. “Do you remember what we talked about at church?”
She glanced up at him, the eyes behind her glasses magnified for a moment. “With Pastor?”
Shalom nodded.
“Do you remember what he said Easter was really about?”
“Jesus, Silly!”
Shalom smiled.
He didn’t even care that she had gone back to calling him Silly. Silly had been her word for more than a month now, and usually, he got tired of it fast. But today?
He was good with, “Jesus, Silly!”
Forty One
Meridian, Mississippi… April 10, 2025
Romeo cringed as he passed the concierge desk, heading back into the hotel.
His first outing outside the complex since they’d arrived – his first chance to scout the area out and pick up a few more things since they’d checked into their room – and who was on duty?
Otto.
Mario had warned them that the older man had been offended to find himself, as Mario said he’d put it, “replaced.”
“Good afternoon, Sir. I see you’re… still here,” the man said by way of greeting, setting some newspapers aside as he spoke. “I hadn’t realized you and your family were… long term occupants until I noticed mail coming in your name a few days later. Someone should have told me who you were ahead of time, so I would have been more prepared.”
Romeo resituated the bags he was carrying as Otto stood there, watching him with a wary, expectant eye. For a moment, there was silence, before the man blurted out what he really had to say: “You people got somethin’ against me, or j
ust quiet?”
Romeo sighed.
Here it came.
“Well, we do happen to be a quiet family, in general, but it’s a bit more… complicated than that. We weren’t sure who we were meeting; just knew what to say. Didn’t know if we’d be here this long or not. Things have been…”
How had he put it when he’d practiced?
“Things have been… rather intense for us, and so we’ve just been enjoying family time while we can. You understand, don’t you?”
“Well, I ain’t really got no family I can speak of, on my own, but I used to, an’ I can respet that,” Otto conceded, moving closer to Romeo. “But why all the secrecy, Man,” he asked in nearly a whisper. “Not like I’s gonna do anything to ya’ll, am I?”
“Otto, I’m sure you’re a good and kind man,” he said, thankful he’d spoken with Mario to learn more about him, “but there are some things that just need boundaries.”
Otto nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Want any help with those, or have any more to carry in?”
“Sure, thanks, both, actually,” Romeo confessed. He’d dreaded the thought of taking five trips back up the elevator, but had feared the older man would be a bit of a Scrooge if he asked to get a handcart.
“Well, the rain is lettin’ up, if there’s more, we may as well load them on the truck if you think we’ll need it,” the man said, scratching his head a moment underneath his cap, then tightening it back onto his head. “How close are you parked? I can meet you over there and help you get loaded up and as far as the elevator.”
He paused a few moments, then looked Romeo in the eye. “I’m only first through fourth floor; don’t even know what’s on five.”
“Calico? Angus? I’m back,” Romeo announced as he carefully wheeled the cart down the ramp as it threatened to topple his packages onto the floor.
Silence met him, and his heartbeat progressed.
She hadn’t called to say they’d be doing laundry, or at the pool, or even in the exercise room. Where could they be?
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 56