“Now look what you’ve done,” Steven said, his words foggy and slurred; angry. “My kids were counting on watermelon, and you distracted me, and now it’s food for the sidewalk!”
Shiloh sighed as Steven glared at him, and then surveyed the mess as passers-by walked around the colorful wreckage of the watermelon.
“What’m I gonna tell ‘em,” Steven said again, his words running together even as he dropped the empty bag that had broken and reached into the other bag. He groped around a little before pulling out the bottle Shiloh dreaded seeing.
Before now, as far as he knew, Steven had never bought alcohol; now, he was bringing it home with him, to where his family would see the evidence? Of course, when Shiloh had quietly objected, the man had raised his eyes to meet his and made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion.
“You could tell them the truth,” Shiloh replied, beginning to walk again, hoping that Steven would get the hint and refrain from drinking right there on the sidewalk.
“And what’s that,” he heard from behind him even as his brother-in-law’s footsteps resumed again.
“You were too stubborn to ask for help, and too drunk to notice you needed it,” he said. “And I’m not saying it to judge you, but to speak the truth in love to you as a brother; a brother in Christ, and a brother by marriage. You’re family, but you’re more than that. You’re part of the family of God, and you’re messing your life up with all this gambling and drinking nonsense,” he told Steven, fully expecting the man might hit him, but thankful when he didn’t.
“It’s not like it’s hurting anyone other than me,” Steven told him when he’d caught up, walking at his side now despite that his steps still wavered.
“That’s just it,” Shiloh told him as they turned the last corner toward Steven and Shannen’s apartment building. “You’re hurting yourself, your family, and all your loved ones; you’re hurting your relationship with your Maker, and you don’t even see it.”
Steven stopped.
“How could I be hurting-?”
“You just watch; it won’t take a long time to see it, if you look,” he said, not bothering to stop this time. “This time, you drop a watermelon, but what if you had been carrying one of the children?”
“That’s not-”
“Yes, it is,” he interrupted as Steven caught up to him again. “It’s exactly the point, and it’s a very real possibility.”
“Papa, Papa, finally you’re back,” Shiloh heard Shannen Rose proclaim as they approached the building. The girl ran up to Steven, and Shiloh turned to watch.
Tears began to form in his brother-in-law’s eyes as he hugged his oldest child back. Their eyes met for a moment, and Steven nodded.
“You’re right.”
Twenty One
Perpignan, France… July 19, 1707
Galya looked around her in the shade-darkened room and sighed.
Three days.
She had finally begun to feel good enough to move about three days ago, but not enough to attempt it on her own yet.
The child within her stretched and kicked, and she winced before smiling. Sweat formed at her brow, and she carefully moved the sheet from off her upper body, then inched it carefully until it barely covered her. The chemise she had on was too warm, as it was; no need for anything else.
Adele stirred next to her in the chair on her right, and offered her some water. “It is good to see you awake again. Are you hungry,” she inquired as she lifted the glass to Galya’s lips, her own palest blonde hair a tangled mess from sleep.
Even in the dim light, Galya could tell that the child was tired, but alert enough to move about, elbowing her in the ribs.
The time for giving birth was looming closer, and Galya prayed, not for the first time, that all would go well. After everything else that had happened, how could God not honor their prayers, and their devotion, in spite of the trials that had come their way?
After several sips, she nodded, and Adele scampered off to call someone to bring food for her.
A twinge in her side made her catch her breath for a moment as she waited for the young girl to come back; a second.
Would she make it to full-term? And how would she even know for sure?
Another twinge surged through her, and she felt dizzy with the pain of it. She called out to Adele – to anyone within hearing – to come back.
Within moments, she heard footsteps rushing toward her, and Gaspar was at her side; and Adele was there, and her siblings soon after. Amabel sat carefully on the bed beside her, nearest the window, and Anatole-Henri joined her. André and Aubert stayed back, but she could see the concern and fear in their greyed blue eyes.
“I think…”
No; she must not think of that. It was still too early, wasn’t it?
“Call for the doctor,” her husband said, and the boys, wide-eyed, ran back out the other way to do his bidding.
“What if…?”
“Shhhh, now. Tout se passera bien, que mon amour, car c'est dans les mains de Dieu notre Créateur. Pas de soucis ... pas de soucis,” came Gaspar’s reply even as he ran a hand through his hair and came to sit near her and hold her hand.
“Oui, but-”
“It is frightening, but we are told not to fear, are we not?”
“Oui, but, Gaspar-”
“Then we will not fear,” he said decisively. “All will be well,” he said again. “It has to be, does it not?”
Galya didn’t want to remind him that, no, it didn’t have to be well, but that she did understand God would do as He pleased for the best. Even if it didn’t seem best at the time, He would do what He knew would be most helpful for the world; not for them alone, but for time and history and life as they knew it.
As another twinge ran through her, she accepted some water from Adele, whose eyes were filling with tears.
“Now, don’t cry; God will see us through,” she told the young, wide-eyed girl. “No need for tears; not today.”
“But Oncle Gaspar said that….” The young girl’s tears coursed down her thin cheeks even harder, and she halted what she was going to say as Gaspar’s eyes met hers.
“Oncle Gaspar said what,” Galya asked weakly as another twinge coursed through her.
Could she be in labor, she wondered, panicking a moment before forcing herself to calm down.
It had to be too soon, wasn’t it? She had at least three more weeks to go, from what the doctor had told her; she’d been further along than they’d originally thought, but she still had to be careful not to overstress, or move too much.
The poison had done a dastardly deed to her body, and who knows what it might have done to their child, but one thing she knew: God was controlling things, even when it didn’t seem the case. Her Messiah hadn’t died for her for naught. And He didn’t die for her child to not make it, either.
The babe within her still moved; still lived. And for now, she had to be thankful for that, come what may.
She glanced from Gaspar to Adele, took a few more sips of the water the girl was giving her, and allowed Amabel to gently lay next to her when she asked. In all this, she waited for a response.
Was there something they weren’t telling her?
And if so, was it helpful or harmful?
Twenty Two
St. Louis, Missouri… July 19 2025
“Prudence? Is that really you?!”
“Of course it is me,” her friend said, beaming out from under newly-cut bangs. “Didn’t they tell you we got married, and we were coming?”
The woman – always wearing fun and exciting outfits – had decided on an all-aqua ensemble with silver hoop earrings and little silver Minkle and Stub characters on her tennis shoes. Her hair was held back with a thick ribbon in a thick braid looped back up toward her head.
Calico’s jaw dropped for a moment as she tried to wrap her mind around the new turn of events.
“Married? Wow! Congratulations! I hadn’t even realized were comin
g, let alone that you two had married already!”
Had Prudence and Amos really switched assignments with Zebedee and Elisabet McAndrews? She had finally gotten used to the couple when they announced they were leaving Le Chateau Jean-Pierre for Mississippi, but they hadn’t told them they would be switching with the couple she and her family had grown most close to in the South. Neither had the Villanuevas or Murphrees, to her surprise.
It made sense for the McAndrews couple to be closer to their daughter, though, even if they couldn’t just pop over to see her whenever they wanted. And for Amos and Prudence to realize there was a gap in their hearts and lives without them? Calico was touched…
“Well, come in,” she finally said, dusting flour off her apron and remembering her manners. “Romeo had to take Angus for a check-up, and the guys went with them, but they shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“And Amos should be here soon to say hello, too, but I could not wait. It took longer to get here than we thought it would,” Prudence said, a cheerful smile on her pretty face. “He is dropping the bags off in our room. You have Eiffel Tower suite, and we have Arc de Triomphe suite, since that is where the others were.”
Even as she spoke, Ursula Villanueva – her hair pulled up into a bun and her green-grey eyes shining – came speed walking down the hallway toward them. By the time she reached Calico and Prudence, she was out of breath. After several seconds of being bent over to catch it, her deep orange tulip skirt belling out behind her, she straightened again.
“Sorry, I,” she said before pointing a finger to hold a moment as she continued to catch her breath. “I meant to be there to greet the newcomers, but I was at the supermarket when the gate informed me they had arrived.”
“It is no problem,” Prudence told her as she eyed the woman. “I am Prudence Song Patil, and I appreciate your effort. My Amos is-”
“Coming up behind you,” Calico said, interrupting. “And why don’t you all come on in? I was just preparing dough for making bread tonight once it’s cooled off. The thunderstorms helped, but I don’t want to make it muggy in here,” she told them as Amos Patil walked up and silently shook her hand with a smile.
She watched as he took Prudence’s hand, and glanced back to Ursula, who nodded in assent. “Why not? I didn’t get any perishables, so the groceries can wait,” she heard the woman reply.
Amos waited for the women to enter the room before him, and closed the door.
Calico, well aware of the flour covering her apron and the dough that would soon dry out if she didn’t wrap it, offered them seats and moved back to the food prep area long enough to finish the task. With care, she buttered the outside of the dough, worked it one last time with the heel of her hand, and formed it into three balls before wrapping them separately with plastic wrap and setting them back in the mixing bowl on the counter.
She could hear her friends telling Ursula about their trip as she worked, and made haste to wash up, remove her apron, and check her hair in the bathroom mirror before joining them in the living area.
“And that’s what delayed our trip for so long,” she heard Amos concluding as she moved to sit in one of the wingback chairs facing the couch.
“I guess I missed it,” she said, laughing. “But no need to go back over it for my sake. I’m just glad you’re-”
“Mama, we’re home,” she suddenly heard her son cry as the door slipped open.
Father and son came around the corner, and Angus gasped in delight as he pitched himself directly into Prudence’s arms. “You didn’t forget me,” he exclaimed as Calico watched the two embrace.
Tears ran down Prudence’s face as she cradled the young boy’s bright red curls against her shoulder. “I could never forget you in a million, trillion moons,” she told him so softly that Calico had a difficult time hearing the words. “And we are here to stay.”
“So she just showed up knocking at the door,” Romeo asked his wife after everyone had left and Angus had calmed down enough to take a nap. “I don’t recall anyone telling me it was going to be Amos and Prudence coming to replace the-”
Calico’s laugh interrupted him. “I know; nobody said anything to me, either. I guess I assumed it would be someone we didn’t know; for all they said, it would have been complete strangers, but I guess we should just be thankful. I’ve missed them, and its apparent that our son had, too.”
Romeo nodded. “He was just asking about them yesterday; them, and Miss Clementina, of course,” he said, joining into the laughter for a moment. “I’ll have to call Mr. Gerard in the morning to thank him. I know this will make things easier for Angus in the long run,” he concluded.
“What did the doctor tell you?”
“Things have gotten worse; if there isn’t a solution found soon, he wants to put our little guy in the hospital for a few days to monitor things,” he said as he reached for his wife’s hand and drew her closer to himself on the couch.
“Hospitalize him? But… how could things be worse? We’ve done everything possible to help him and still, they want to…?”
Romeo watched as tears rolled down his wife’s cheeks, and he kissed them away. “I know, Honey. I can’t imagine it, either, but if it will help him in the long run, then how can we argue?”
“Well, what about Kaleo? And now, Prudence and Amos? Angus has gotten so attached to the three of them, they’re like family to him. What will happen if he needs to be…?”
Calico pulled back a little from him and looked him in the eye.
The intensity of her fear was palpable.
“I just don’t know, but I know this: God is still good, even if we don’t understand, and we’ll get through this.”
“But what if…?”
“I don’t know, Calico. I just don’t know.”
Part Three:
Oh, Pour la Vérité!
(Oh, for Truth!)
Twenty Three
Boston, Massachusetts… July 19, 1942
“How can I ever face my family again after what I did, though, Peter? I’m surprised that you, even, talk to me now.”
Steven’s question threw Peter for a loop as they made their way from Fenway Park toward the riverside, where they were meeting some of the others for a picnic.
How Steven had managed to get in so close with the Red Sox, he didn’t know, but Peter was both thankful and despondent over it. Some of the players were great guys, and some of them really needed work, but they were all made in God’s image, and that’s what he had to remember.
With Ted Williams gone into the Marines, and some of the other players dispersed over the last year or two, things had changed. Peter had hoped for the better.
And he liked Ted, he did.
He just didn’t like that Steven had seemed to listen more to him than to his own family.
And what was more, the whole world was at war and here his brother was; the brother he looked up to all of his life, until recently, telling him that he had a drinking problem.
Finally admitting it, even on top of the gambling.
No wonder things had been going downhill for him at work: if he wasn’t keeping up to Mr. Faires’ standards, of course there would be difficulties there.
But to gamble away some of the family heirlooms?
That was more than Peter could take.
“You’re my brother; I love you, and I’m worried about you, but the thing is, we’re family. No matter what, we always will be, just like Rose will always be family, too, wherever she is,” Peter told Steven as they made their way across the street, headed in the direction of the Charles River, and the group that awaited them.
Steven’s head shot up and he stopped walking, surprising Peter. He turned around to see his brother’s jaw slackened, and an eyebrow raised.
“Are you still stuck on Rose coming back,” his brother nearly shouted. “Are you still convinced she’s coming? Waiting for Rose is what killed Warren. Staying in that house, fishing in those waters, waiting for her to
come back. If he had just accepted we’d never see her again, he’d have moved to Boston with the rest of us and still be alive,” Steven said again, even as strangers and familiar faces glanced their way, walking around them on the sidewalk.
“Europe is a mess, Japan is a mess, Australia and the Philippines are a mess, and hey – newsflash, Peter – we’re a mess, too,” Steven said, his voice even louder now. “So what makes you think Rose is still alive and coming back to us. She vanished. Just like Miss Roisin vanished. Neither is coming back. We won’t ever see them in this lifetime, so give up, already.”
Honks from a couple of passing vehicles startled Peter as he began to reply, but he made sure his voice was firm: “Can’t God turn a mess around,” Peter wanted to know. “If He can turn things around in the Civil War, and in all the wars before that, can’t He turn it around now,” he asked.
“Can’t He save a remnant again? I think so… a remnant of the Jewish people, as well as of our family,” he informed Steven quietly, feeling his face turn brilliant red with excitement even as another car passed them.
A large man in a blue bowler hat shouted at them to be quiet from the other side of the street, and Peter’s cheeks burned even hotter.
“Don’t you think that God is for us,” he continued in a more normal tone. “Because if not, you’re not the Steven I used to know, and I can see why some of the family doesn’t want you around. You need to get your act together, Steven. Life is passing you by, and you’re tossing it down like a bad hand of cards.”
With that, Peter resumed walking, well aware of Steven’s eyes on his receding back.
He loved his brother, he did. But he was just as tired as Shiloh of the excuses, and the mess. He was tired of the family being hurt by Steven’s behavior.
It reminded him of Father.
It reminded him of what he could have been, had he given into temptation, himself.
The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven Page 100