“I think Quentin and Kristof are supposed to go with us on a trip to Israel, Tawny,” she heard next, causing her to nearly drop her Andromeda in her lap.
“I don’t know how to explain it; I don’t know how to get around the fact that Quentin isn’t technically allowed anywhere outside of the area without permission: I had to get it from his parole officer just for him to be able to bus to our house for Friday, and asked that it be extended for the next month in the event we need to have more discussions. It took a week to hear back from the guy, but he said that was fine, since we helped get him the job he’s at,” Paloma continued.
“And as for Kristof with his cancer, well… he has been told he has less than three months left to live, unless there’s some sort of miracle, and if we can get him to Jerusalem, to the pool of Siloam, then I think….”
What? What was Paloma talking about? The pool of Siloam? She was seriously missing some dots to connect the conversation!
“I think we’re supposed to take him with us because of the history of healing in Jerusalem; it’s where Jesus walked. He spent time at the pool of Siloam. And....” Tawny saw her friend take a deep breath. “I’m almost positive the water used to help create the angel mirror came from there. From that very pool. When I was before the thrones, it just kinda… hit me.”
“Um, Paloma?”
Tawny looked down at her brown palms; looked at the lines on the backs of her hands, now beginning to wear with age and frowned.
“Yeah?”
Taking a deep breath, she forced the words out of her mouth, trying not to sound too eager as her heart began to beat quickly within her at the idea.
“Can I come?”
She dared a glance up at the holoscreen to find her friend smiling wide.
“Absolutely…. I was rather hoping you’d ask!”
Forty Two
Vancouver, Washington… June 20, 2025
Lovan Quimby double checked the lock on his bike, turned toward his father, Quentin, and for the first time since he had been a small child, caught the next bus heading up Mill Plain with him. The last time they’d been in Vancouver at all together was the day Quentin had been arrested after escaping from jail with the help of that odd-ball woman who then fled the scene when police came.
He never did know what happened to her, and really, he didn’t care. He was just glad that life was, hopefully, returning to some semblance of normalcy.
Close to thirty minutes after boarding, the pair barely having spoken to one another, they pulled the bell for one of the stops nearest the Stuart house, walked across, past the beauty parlor, coffee shop, post office, and random other assorted long-time businesses – some still open, some closed for the night, one for sale, and took the first right, heading several blocks down the road before making a staccato series of turns until they found the right street.
And then, they were there, gazing at it from afar.
Lovan could hear his father clearing his throat as he looked at the custom built home he himself had spent so many hours and days and memories in. He noted it had been repainted since he’d last been here: now, it was a pale buttery yellow with aquamarine trim, just as cozy and light. It made the large house look even larger still in the sunlight.
“Well,” his father finally said, running a hand through his short braids, now bespeckled with a tinge of grey that hadn’t even been hinted at the last time he’d been here, “I guess we bes’ be knockin’ already.” He glanced down at the time on his phone. “It’s after five thirty, so we be safe on time.”
Lovan took a deep breath and nodded, then stepped toward the house. He got halfway up the driveway before realizing his father was still motionless, standing at the end of it.
He walked back to his father and smiled. “They aren’t gonna bite. I promise,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
And some gentle prodding, Quentin gave him a half-smile, raised, then furrowed his eyebrows. Then, seeming to finally refocus his concentration, he began to walk.
Lovan walked alongside him until they reached the door, then moved to ring the bell.
“Wait,” his father urged.
But it was too late; the door was opening. Paloma and Cherish stood there, and there was a cat in the arms of an old bald man standing behind them. He looked frail, but he was smiling. As they entered the house, Lovan noted there was a lump on one side of his head and grimaced before he realized he was staring.
“Welcome,” Paloma told them once they’d come in and the screen door closed behind them. She hugged Lovan; reached a hand out to shake his father’s hand. “You remember Cherish, I think. And this here,” she said, turning toward the man who was looking Lovan directly in the eyes now as if it were a faceoff, “is Mr. Kristof Sage, and he’s been our guest for a few days now. I thought it might be nice for you both to meet him, and vice versa. And this,” she said pointing to he and his father, “is Lovan and Quentin Quimby.”
Mr. Sage slowly nodded, but said nothing. Then, turning, he moved to the closest chair dining room chair behind him and with Cherish’s help, sat gingerly, the cat still in his arms.
And what a cat!
Why, it had curly, crinkly fur in four different colors. And with inquisitive eyes, the cat glanced at the newcomers. As Cherish sat next to the man, Paloma offered Lovan and Quentin a seat and some iced tea.
When they were settled and tea had been served, Mr. Sage finally spoke.
“Her name is Confetti,” he said, simply. His voice was shaky, soft, and crackly, as if it had been out of use for many days. Lovan had to strain to hear him. “Well, actually, it’s Orchid Confetti Van Gogh, but that’s rather a long and complicated name, isn’t it? Confetti suits her just fine. And I can’t believe I hated her the first time I was here. Why, she’s an absolute doll.”
“That thing seriously be a cat?”
Lovan looked to see the confused expression on his father’s face and did his best to refrain from laughing. It was rather odd, but even he could tell from the start that Confetti was a cat.
“Of course it’s a cat, and a da-, er, rather fine one at that,” the man said again in his shaking voice, barely above a whisper. And then, he actually laughed. Not a light, polite laugh, but an unexpected roar, for such a weak-looking man. “I had about the same response when I met her several years ago, though,” he said, setting her down now that she began struggling to get free.
The cat cautiously moved toward Lovan to investigate, sniffing at him a few moments before rubbing herself briefly against his shoes. He moved to pet her, and she scampered away, so he took a sip of his tea instead.
“Edward and the boys should be back in a few minutes,” Paloma called from the kitchen. “Justice called to say they might be a few minutes late, but Me’chelle and Jason are already on the way. I think they’re picking up some cannolis and cheesecake at the store first, since I didn’t have time to prepare anything for desert.”
Lovan’s mouth watered at the thought of Paloma’s apple cinnamon cheesecake and he took another sip of his tea, wishing it were a little sweeter, but knowing she rarely added anything to it. “I don’t think I’ve seen Charlie or Clayton in three or four years now,” he said conversationally. “Are they coming, too?”
“You know,” Paloma replied. “I forgot to ask. Probably.” She pulled a bubbling lasagna out of the oven and set it on top of the glass stovetop with care.
The scent of it brought memories flooding back in on him, and he glanced at his father, who seemed transfixed. Having spoken nary a word since entering the house, Lovan thought he better try to snap the man out of it.
“Have you ever had Paloma’s lasagna?”
He looked more intently at Quentin, who finally shook his head and smiled. “Yeah; be a long time ago, but I have. One o’ my fav’rite dishes, I gotta say, t’ this day. She made it first time we done had a double date, an’ it were a picnic.”
Lovan’s mouth dropped a moment before he clamped it back shu
t again. His father? On a picnic?
He could hardly imagine it.
“How long ago was that,” Mr. Sage’s raspy whisper asked. “I’ve known her a long time, and seems to me she only ever dated three people, from what her old boss told me.”
Paloma’s cheeks flushed as she came back into the dining area. “Now, why would Ethan Peacock say a thing like that?” She paused a moment before adding. “I only dated two. Quentin here, and then… well, Edward.”
For a moment, the room shifted into awkward silence, save for Confetti’s collar hitting the food bowl as she began to crunch through a few morsels of her food. Lovan watched in fascination as she took a single morsel, removed it from the bowl, took a step back, ate it, and repeated the process. He shook his head at the silliness of it before realizing that Cherish was watching him, as was his father.
“Why does your cat do that,” he said, finally breaking the silence. A sense of air whooshing back into the room brought him relief as the tension dissipated.
“Oh, that’s just how she eats. Every cat is different,” Cherish said, her big blue-green eyes twinkling as she pulled her red-blonde ponytail over a shoulder and began to finger comb the curls. “You remember how Petunia wanted someone to talk to her every time she ate?”
Lovan nodded, laughing, and the others joined in. “Well,” she said as he heard the door opening behind him. “This is her quirk. That’s all. I’ve seen other cats do similarly before. It’s really not that uncommon, I think.”
“Well, hey, there,” he heard Edward call in greeting, quickly followed by hellos from the twins as they came in and slipped their shoes off. Chosen came over and high-fived Lovan, and Duncan fist-bumped him once they were finished unloading their arms and divesting of the shoes.
Lovan self-consciously thought of his own shoes, still on, and frowned a moment before deciding that today, he would act like a guest. He had been invited, after all; how could he be anything more to them than that?
“Welcome,” Edward said, looking at Quentin, then to Lovan. “I see you’ve already met Kristof and Confetti.”
Lovan nodded as he heard another vehicle pull up. “Looks like Jason and Me’chelle and, yeah, three teens in tow. I wonder if they have Izzie with them, or if it’s someone else,” Paloma said as she checked through the window above the sink, then sought more tea glasses.
Chosen, his hair looking like he’d put a little too much hairspray on it to keep it standing up three-quarters of an inch around his head, moved to open the door and let them in.
When the Rutherfords came in, with them was Izzie Morrison, much to Lovan’s delight.
He didn’t know her well, but she had been to the same school as he part of the time. She looked so different; so grown up. If he wasn’t still dating Kanoni Simengwa, he might have been tempted to get into her good graces.
He had learned long ago, watching his father, that trying to date more than one person at a time was not only risky, it was stupid. Why couldn’t more people just be thankful for the one who loves them and who they have the potential to be happy with? Sure, relationships take work; even he knew that.
The idea of dating Izzie Morrison on the side vanished as quickly as it had arrived, and instead, he extended a hand to Charlotte, then Clayton, before reaching out to Izzie, shaking each of their hands in greeting. He quickly introduced them to his father, and then, as if realizing he might have missed something, turned to Kristof Sage.
“I’m sorry. Did you meet already?”
The man inclined his head with a slow but sure bob. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the Rutherfords, but this young lady – Izzie, is it? – I have yet to be introduced to.”
And with that, Chosen took over the introduction, a smile on his face that showed he was interested in being more than her friend lighting behind his eyes. With a flourishing curtsey, Izzie smiled up at the old man and for the first time in a long while, Lovan felt a pang of jealousy course through him.
Keeping his mind where it belonged might be more difficult than he thought it would be.
Paloma watched as Lovan interacted with the other teens, and as Quentin and Kristof silently sized each other up. Justice and Midge had finally shown up five minutes into the meal, and, thankfully, Edward had taken up the cause of beginning the discussion about Israel.
At first, he said nothing about travels; he just spoke about Israel in general to gauge everyone’s opinions. They already knew the family had a love for the people, but weren’t so sure about the Quimbys and Kristof Sage.
“I, for one, have been there eleven times,” Kristof whispered, to her surprise. “It’s an alright place. I don’t see what the big deal with it is, but I like it. Lots of history, no matter which of three faiths you believe, right? That’s got something to say for it.”
He took another bite of his lasagna and chewed it slowly, looking contemplative. After a sip of water to wash his food down with, he continued. “Part of me wishes I could go one last time, though; make it twelve, like the number of their tribes.”
“An’ me,” Quentin said, “I jus’ ain’ never thought much ‘bout it. I mean I know the Bible say a lot ‘bout it, an’ that gots me cur’ous. Might even try ta go sometime,” he continued with a smile unlike Paloma had ever seen: this one was wistful; hopeful. It showed that maybe, just maybe, a dream had been stirred up.
“Well, I’ve wanted to go for years,” Justice said before taking a swig of his iced tea. “Take the family and just check the sites out; the history is so rich, and being where Jesus lived when He was on the earth? That’s definitely a factor. If I can just get to the Wailing Wall and post a prayer there, and nothing else, it’d be worth the trip. That, and check out the Dead Sea. That’d be pretty cool, too,” he continued. “Midge?”
Paloma watched her friend – who had just taken another bite of her salad – nod in confirmation. Jason and Me’chelle were nodding, as well, though they hadn’t specifically been asked.
“And what about you, kids,” Paloma asked, trying to be nonchalant about it. “What are your thoughts on the topic?”
Lovan and Chosen tore their eyes away from Izzie, and Duncan murmured something she couldn’t quite understand.
“What was that?”
“I said it might be fun, but it also might be boring,” her son repeated, to her dismay. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love history,” he continued, raising a bottle of Bull Dog Root Beer toward his mouth. He took a sip before speaking further. “But if I go back to school and they ask, what did you do over the summer, and I say I volunteered at the library and then went to Israel? I’d be the laughingstock of the class, wouldn’t I?”
“I sure don’t think so,” Chosen said, refuting his twin’s claims. “I think it would be awesome and people would find it fascinating. We’d be among the first in our class to go somewhere not because our parents have the money but because it’s a learning experience.”
Paloma smiled at her first-born as she noted Charlotte, Izzie, and Clayton nodding in agreement with him. Lovan looked at them, then back to Edward, who had posed the initial query, and shrugged.
“Don’t think it really matters what I think,” he finally said with a mild frown on his full lips. He ran a hand through his braids nervously before he continued. “’Specially if I prolly won’t ever get to go. I don’t have that kinda money, and when will I? I might be fifty years old before I can even think about anything like that, and by then, who knows what the world will look like?”
Taking another bite of his lasagna, he savored it as the room fell silent. For a while, nothing could be heard but silverware on plates and the setting down of their various drinks.
“What if we paid your way, and you came with us,” Edward asked finally. “And what if we could get your parole officer and counselor to sign off on it, Quentin? And Kristof, why can’t you go one last time, with the rest of us, and be a sort of guide to us? We’d even pay your way if necessary, and make sure you had
a better wheelchair while we were there.”
Paloma took a deep breath, the blood rushing to her ears as her heartbeat began to accelerate.
For several more moments, there was silence, and then Lovan nodded. “I’d like that.”
Paloma watched as Quentin’s eyes flew to his son quizzically and then, with a shrug, said “that’d take quite a miracle, now won’ it? But iffen they bof say yeah, then I’d go.”
“And if they both go,” Kristof said finally, “then there’s no way I’m sitting around here doing nothing while the rest of you are off having fun, learning things, and exercising where I have once gone myself. I’ll go, but you’re paying,” he said, pointing to Edward, his raspy voice shaking with effort. He coughed a few times with the effort of it, and took up his water to drink. “Since I don’t expect I’ll be around much longer,” he said, “on second thought, I’ll pay for all of you. Every single one, if you can go and I can still function enough to move. After all, Doc Fragonard said to live happy, so why not?”
And with this pronouncement, Cherish, who had watched in silence, clapped her hands. “But what about Masao and Anouk Chanel,” she finally asked. “Mama, didn’t you say they were supposed to be part of-”
“Heck, I’ll pay for them, too, whoever they are,” Kristof said, smiling weakly. “It isn’t like I don’t have the money. I just don’t have the time.”
Paloma let out a sigh of relief, took a sip of her tea, and smiled.
So that’s one reason that Kristof was going, if nothing else. God was already providing a timeframe and the means for everyone to go. Now they just had to figure out the how of it, and settle on a date that worked.
Just not today.
Forty Three
Justice sat listening to the discussion about Israel, aware of the profound nature of the conversation, and yet distracted by the news he wished he could share.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 85