A soft whirr of wings brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up, expecting to see Lavi. But Omri stood on her shoulder; his small hands patted affectionately at her cheeks, brushing away the traces of her own tears. “If you’re here, Taweel must be close.”
“On the roof,” Koji confirmed. Glancing up, he announced, “Jedrick is here.”
Heavy footfalls sounded overhead, and Prissie looked up in time to see Jedrick toss aside some loose boards and shingles in order to widen one of the gaps. The Flight captain dropped into the room, bringing a wash of green light as his wings draped loosely behind him. Crouching beside Ephron, he said, “Here you are.”
Lifting his face, the Observer answered, “I am here.”
Jedrick’s hand dropped to Ephron’s shoulder. “Your name is still under my hand.”
“I know it.”
“I wish I could have protected you from all you suffered,” the cherubim confessed. “Forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Captain. I am grateful to be under your wing once more.”
“Amen and amen.”
The matter was dealt with so simply. A straightforward apology. Immediate forgiveness. Prissie wasn’t sure she could have done the same if, for instance, Margery were to say the whole Elise thing was a big mistake. Could people go back? Ephron certainly couldn’t. He was blind. Unless the Caretakers were able to fix that for him. Weren’t they capable of miracles?
“May I take your place?”
Prissie blinked up at Jedrick, then loosened her hold on Ephron. “Please do. Your wings will work better than mine.”
The tall warrior blinked back. “Prissie Pomeroy, humans do not have wings.”
Ephron actually smiled. “Have you no imagination, Captain? Many have wished for wings, but few for such noble reasons.”
Jedrick lifted away the Observer as if he weighed no more than a feather, practically cocooning him in the folds of his wings. Prissie stood and brushed off her skirt as Padgett joined them. Koji wrung out his cloth and draped it on the edge of their basin, then stood beside her. His fingers brushed the back of her hand, and she caught at it, grateful to still have someone to hold onto.
“Sis?” Beau sat against the wall on the other side of the room, his eyes wide and his hair wild. Milo reclined against him in much the same way she’d been holding Ephron, and it looked as if her brother was holding on for dear life. “You’re not talking to yourself,” he said, the lift of his brows making the statement a question.
“No. Two more angels just came in,” she reported.
Just then, a shaky hand lifted, covering Beau’s. “There’s nothing to fear,” the Messenger murmured. “Or did I cover that part already? I’m a little foggy on the details.”
“Milo!” Beau’s arms tightened, and tears splashed down his cheeks. When he found his voice, he said, “If Zeke ever finds out you can fly, he’ll never give you a moment’s rest.”
Their mailman’s low chuckle was reassuringly familiar. “Some things are best kept secret.”
“Yeah. I can do that much.” Beau’s face creased with concern. “Wish I could do more.”
Milo’s gaze drifted from Prissie to Koji, then back to Beau. “Given the circumstances, I think it’s safe to assume there will be more.”
About the Author
CHRISTA KINDE Head in the clouds. Feet on the ground. Heart in the story. Christa Kinde is a cheerful homebody whose imagination takes her to new places with every passing day. Making her home between misty mornings and brimming bookshelves in Southern California, she keeps her lively family close and her trusty laptop closer. Christa has been writing for more than a decade, producing numerous workbooks and study guides for Max Lucado, John MacArthur, and Women of Faith.
The story continues at ChristaKinde.com, with bonus material and more.
Also by Christa Kinde
The Threshold Series
The Blue Door (Book One)
The Hidden Deep (Book Two)
The Broken Window (Book Three)
ZONDERKIDZ
The Broken Window
Copyright © 2013 by Christa Kinde
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