He watched as she folded it, placed it back inside of an envelope – one not marked as air mail – and wiped away her tears before standing to hug him. “So much to process,” she told him. “And how are we going to tell the kids that Mr. Sage will be back, and that he’s…” She cleared her throat; didn’t finish her sentence. “I need to get back outside to meet with Mariana, but I’ll talk with you tonight about all this, alright? Feel free to read…”
She gestured with a hand to the pile of letters. “One is for Cherish, but the others are open, and it might be easier if you just read them than trying to explain what was going on with all three situations, if that makes any sense.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbed the edges of her outer arms, and then allowed him to pull her into his arms, where she broke down into further tears. “I just don’t know if I can handle all this. God says He doesn’t give us more than we can take, but… just read the letters. I have to go,” she said, kissing him gently before moving away from him and toward the door.
Watching her walk out the door, and not sure what else he could do, he scooped up the letters, deposited the one from Mimi on Cherish’s bed, tossed the rest on the dining table, and prepared himself an enchilada. Then, once he finished eating and made sure Confetti was fed, he began with the letters.
His stomach tightened as he began to read the first, from Pier Rose.
What did she mean, she and her family were moving to the Czech Republic on the seventh of June, and would they see them off at the airport? That had been two days ago.
He looked at the date on the envelope.
How had they not received this, and what was going on that they were moving to the Czech Republic? He quickly finished the letter, which only said they were going to stay there for six months before moving into Afghanistan – but not to worry, because Yeshua would take watch over them.
Were they going as missionaries? And if so, was it on their own, or through some sort of organization?
Edward looked in the envelope once more, and found a card was, indeed, still there: a card for a girl’s school in some place called Kladno. On the back was a note saying that it was, basically the neighbor of Prague and part of it. A second card, stapled to the first, was for yet another girls’ school; this one in Ferozkoh, with a note saying it was formerly called Chaghcharan and that Ghengis Khan had once ransacked the area.
So… she and, or, her husband were teachers, then. But what was this, after not talking with them for so many years, and then all of a sudden, wanting to have his whole family come send her off?
Edward sighed as he re-enveloped the contents of that letter and moved on to the one from Grace. And it was then, he felt his heart plummet.
He looked at the postmark: same date as the first one, and sent from Phoenix, Arizona.
Trying to take in the words on the somewhat lavendery-scented pink-striped paper, telling him of Francis’ death was like trying to manage a mill on his own, in the wind, with flames coming toward it. His old friend; someone he had seen as a brother, gone, and how?
He flipped the page over, hoping there would be some answers, but they didn’t come until the third page: massive coronary while driving on the freeway. And it had caused an accident that had killed two other people.
Edward moved a hand to his mouth, dropping the letter like it was going to scorch him. It twirled down to the floor as thoughts consumed him. Thoughts of when he and Paloma had met the couple the same day and place he’d proposed to her. How they’d been part of their wedding. How they’d helped with the boys, and even, a bit, with Cherish when the kids were younger, before they up and moved to Seattle without notice.
A knock sounding behind him startled Edward back into the present, and he stooped to grab the pages of Grace’s letter and then, quickly folding them and reaching for the envelope they came in, he stirred to answer the door.
“Hey,” Jason said, entering the house before he could say anything. “When you didn’t answer your phone, I figured something must be up, since it’s work hours. What happened?”
He watched as Confetti ran toward their guest, who obliged her by picking her up, then walking over to the living room. Edward followed, grabbing the other two letters along the way.
Maybe between the two of them, they could help Paloma figure out what was going on with Kristof Sage, and on top of that… how was he going to tell Jason about Francis? Maybe he should just give him all three letters and let him read them himself.
“It’s rather complicated,” Edward finally said in a rush, handing him the two letters he’d already read. “And there’s more when you’re done with that. I just haven’t read the one from Kristof yet; I was getting ready to. He’s going to be staying with us, starting tomorrow early morning, once again – oh, and he’s dying.”
The emotions that crossed Jason’s rounded face skittered so quickly it was difficult to tell quite what he was thinking as he set the cat down in order to begin reading.
“These are addressed to Paloma. Are you sure you want me to-?”
“She told me to read them, and I’m not sure I can get the words out right,” Edward told him as they settled more fully onto the opposite ends of the couch. And then, taking a deep breath as Jason began to read the first two letters, Edward pulled the stiff signature paper out of Kristof’s and began to read, taking into account what Paloma had told him on the phone earlier.
Several minutes later, before either of them were finished reading, he heard the sliding glass door opening and Paloma calling greeting.
“In here, and Jason’s shown up,” he called back as he heard her moving toward where they sat. “I was just finishing up reading this letter from Kristof,” he told her when she rounded the corner. He could see the worry and sadness on her face, and was sure it mimicked his own. This was a lot to take in all at once, on the heels of their most recent mirror experience.
And how was it that they hadn’t received the letters until now, anyway? That they’d been sitting in the office all this time, behind the house instead of in the house, where he and Paloma would have knowledge of their contents?
Would the letters have prevented them from experiencing their time in Heaven? Was that it? Or was there something else?
Kristof, surely, wouldn’t be staying with them at all, dying or not, if they’d gotten his letter early enough, and they would have missed Francis’s service, either way, but….
And then it all made sense.
Had he not also saw a bald-headed man in his vision at the water? The water Paloma believed was Siloam, and he was starting to believe, as well? He tried to let the image come back to him, and saw the familiar face.
Was it possible that Kristof and Quentin, both, were meant to go with them to Israel? And if so, when?
How long did Kristof have to live, and what possible reason could there be for…?
“So he’s told you about Kristof Sage,” he heard Paloma asking her brother as she moved to sit in the recliner, pulling a throw pillow onto her lap.
“Well,” Jason said, his voice unsteady with emotion. “He said that Mr. Sage was coming to stay soon, and that he was dying. That’s the extent of what I know. I just finished…” He paused. “I just finished Grace’s letter, and was getting ready to read Pier Rose’s.”
“I don’t know how long he has, or what kind of cancer it is, but… he said I remind him of his wife. I didn’t know he’d ever been married. Edward and I saw a grave he’d visited once, and wondered how he was related to the boy, and I’ve been thinking… if that’s the case, then maybe it really is his son?”
Tears streamed from Paloma’s eyes, and Edward began to feel his own watering at the thought.
She hadn’t told him that much yet. And it surprised him that a man of such high standing would be so petty as to hate someone that simply reminded them of another person. What had the woman done – or what had happened to her – that Kristof had refused anything more than semi-pol
ite interaction with Paloma all these years? And if the little boy in the graveyard was his son, then…
“Wow,” Jason said finally. “That’s… wow.”
“Yeah,” Edward replied. “Tell me about it.”
And with that, Confetti jumped up, draped herself over his lap, letter and all, and he sighed.
It just had to be one of those days, didn’t it?
Thirty Nine
Portland, Oregon… June 10, 2025
Thankful her husband had arrived with her to pick Kristof up this time, and wishing the kids had been able to, as well, Paloma moved to check the flight time once more.
Twelve minutes down; another fifty minutes, then, until his arrival. She sighed as she made her way back to her seat, where Edward pulled her into his arms for another hug.
“We can do this. Let’s just give him a few days to get settled into the area before pushing him into anything, alright. I think…” She took a deep breath.
How was he going to respond to this? Would he get angry, or would he understand?
“I think he’s supposed to stay with us, even though it might not be all that comfortable for us. I… I had a dream that he went with us on a trip to Jerusalem last night, of all things, and I just can’t…”
How could she put it?
“That’s a relief,” Edward said, to her surprise as a flight to Tokyo was being announced nearby, “because aside from Quentin, I saw him there, too, in that vision… or whatever it was that I had. I just didn’t realize it was him because of the…”
He moved to release her a moment and she watched as he pointed to his hair; he desperately needed a cut, but hadn’t allowed himself to seek out a new hairdresser since Troy had moved away three months prior. “The baldness,” he said. “I just assumed it was someone I’d boarded a bus with or something; vague but not exactly someone I knew.”
“Let alone someone else we’ve had difficulties with, you mean?” She looked him in the eye, trying to gauge what was going on behind them. Behind the words. Closer to his heart.
A fly buzzed nearby, causing her to grimace as she moved to hold her husband’s hand.
“Exactly. I mean, Quentin was off to the side in the dream – or vision, or whatever it was – but Kristof? He was there, with an arm around my shoulder, laughing. I couldn’t hear sound, I could just see, and the colors were so vivid, and I figured,” he sighed. “I don’t know what I figured.”
“Last call for flight 402 to Tokyo; the gates will close in three minutes,” the automated voice said once more over the intercom. “Enjoy your flight, and thank you for choosing Portland International Airport. Please come again.”
As Paloma tried to imagine Edward and Kristof being chummy in Jerusalem at the edge of the pool of Siloam, three more languages scrolled by, presumably with the same basic message, and then, finally, it stopped. Perhaps it would be better if they just let things play out instead of forcing it. And perhaps this meant that, while Kristof was staying with them, they’d need to invite Quentin and Lovan over, even though Lovan had just settled back in Portland.
She was glad to know at least that much, since he hadn’t called them directly, but had called Chosen, who had relayed the message around the family with alacrity the day before.
“You want to take a walk while we wait,” Edward suddenly asked, glancing around them. Paloma looked about, nodding. Too many people in one place for someone not to hear their whole conversation and connect the dots. A walk was a good idea.
They meandered toward a row of shops, keeping their conversation casual as they checked out merchandise in a couple of them, and grabbed a slice of pizza as they headed back toward the gate with five minutes to spare. Paloma double checked for grease before tossing her paper towel in the recycle bin to the left of the chairs and then checked her hair in the small fold-up hand mirror she kept in her purse.
And with that, Kristof’s flight from Paris via Boston via Chicago was announced as landing.
Within minutes, she watched in awe as a tall, portly young man with a mass of long, curly, brilliant orange and black hair – matching the Oregon State University tee-shirt firmly identifying his allegiance to any who might wonder – wheeled a gaunt-looking Kristof Sage most of the way up the ramp. A thin, short-haired Chinese woman wearing a security uniform trailed close behind with a rolling suitcase.
Could Kristof even walk? Was he really that weak from his illness?
The man’s eyes were shut, as though in sleep, and she wasn’t sure whether to say anything initially, for worry of waking him up. But then again, maybe he was just resting his eyes. It was hard to know.
A lump formed in Paloma’s throat as the man she once considered her nemesis drew closer. A knot formed in her belly, too, and she hoped she wouldn’t get sick.
How long had he been ill, and what was it about her family that had called to him so, that he would want to share some of the precious days he had left with them?
Paloma moved, Edward at her side, to greet him at the edge of the ropes and the young man, whose nametag read Barnaby, allowed Edward to take the handles from him as Paloma reached for the suitcase.
“Thank you,” she politely told the woman, who, upon closer inspection was a little older than she’d first thought. Her name tag read Mei-Xing T’ang. “I appreciate your help; yours, too,” she said, turning to the large, brightly dressed and coifed man nearby. “It really means a lot.”
“We couldn’t well have him get hurt coming off the plane after getting here in one piece,” Miss T’ang said, nodding. “He came close to falling once already when he tried to walk around and we hit some turbulence. Since I’m off-duty for the next few days, I was hoping I could come check in on him before I leave? Or at least call someone to find out how he is?”
“Oh,” Paloma said, startled, as other passengers and their greeters continued to hug and greet one another around them. “I suppose it would be-”
“I’m awake,” she heard Kristof whisper. “Please let her stop in,” he said slowly. “She has been so kind.”
Paloma looked from Kristof to Miss T’ang to Barnaby and then back to Edward.
“In that case,” her husband said softly, pulling his wallet out. “Here’s a card with our cells on it. Call when you’re ready to come see him and we’ll be sure to make you feel welcome. We’re in Vancouver; hope that isn’t a problem?”
He handed Miss T’ang the card. “Thank you. Not a problem. I am Mei-Xing. I was happy to meet Mr. Sage. His mother was a hero of mine when I was a few years younger,” she said. “I was happy to assist. Even if he was a bit crotchety to begin with, when we were doing what we could to make him comfortable.”
“Not to be rude, but could I visit, as well,” Barnaby finally said, color rushing to his cheeks. “He was my seatmate and it sure would mean a lot to know he wasn’t hurt too badly when he took his… well, when he almost took a spill,” the man continued. “I’m who kinda caught him; me and another guy who got really ticked off over it and chewed Mr. Sage out.”
“And Mr. Sage, he never argued back, just nodded his head as though he understands this,” Mei-Xing said, cutting back in as the little group headed toward the luggage bay to retrieve the rest of Kristof’s things.
“Please, I told you before,” Kristof whispered. “Call me by my given name, if you would. I much prefer it to….”
He let his words trail off, but Paloma knew what he would have said, had he continued: to associate with his mother’s name was still, apparently, a cross he bore, and not well. But with that comment, in spite of his flesh’s weakness, she knew that Kristof’s feisty nature was still intact. As they reached the luggage carousel, she took a deep breath, said a silent prayer, and did her best to open herself to what would come.
Edward handed Barnaby a card and then, once the man was assured that Paloma and Edward had things under control, he found his own luggage and wandered off with a wave. Mei-Xing soon followed, stopping only long enough to give Kr
istof a gentle hug, startling him.
“I come see you in three days, alright,” she told him, to which he merely nodded. “Take good care of him,” she admonished Paloma, turning to her next. “He might be cranky on the outside, but he’s a big softie at heart. I see this over time together. Hurt and broken, and needing understanding, that’s all.”
Paloma nodded as the woman grasped her purple bags and wheeled them away. Then, she switched places with Edward, who insisted on pulling the luggage, so, grabbing the handles of Kristof Sage’s chair, she followed her husband’s lead until they made it outside and to the van.
How long will he stay, she wondered as she helped him into a seat. And how long before the possibility of emotional explosions in a house meant for peace?
She looked down at the man and did her best to smile.
He had no idea the other stressors in their lives, and there was no way she would burden him with any of it. She could see that he was different, and knew things would be difficult, but she determined, in that moment, to do her all, no matter what it took.
For if Edward’s vision was correct, then this man needed to travel with them to Jerusalem. When, she had no idea, but the fact remained that he was part of their lives, intertwined with them for some reason that, for now, God alone knew.
And she was okay with that.
Part Four:
Unfolding Alliances
Forty
The Valley of Thrones… The Timeless Now
Kalev, Ari’el, Neriah, Lemuel, and Arieh stood silently watching Earth through the glowing tears shed by their recent visitors. Each held the pools of glimmering light tenderly within the transparent fabric jars created by the Father for such a purpose. Each watched their assigned visitor.
Kalev, his shimmering blue and purple braid angled outward from his body as he bent low, watched as Masao left his home to go to the store. Ari’el and Arieh, assigned to Edward and Paloma, watched as the pair took the dying Kristof Sage by the hand and carefully escorted him into a chair in their home. Lemuel, his freckled hands shaking, watched with excitement as Justice found the news he had been searching for, and Neriah observed Jason arriving to work, a few minutes late, sighing with relief over the accident he had narrowly escaped with the help of Providence.
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