“We used to sing,” he returned on cue.
“Sha-la-la-la-la-la….” they chanted in unison. For a second she thought he might break into song, but like her, he merely spoke the lyrics made famous by Van Morrison. She found a faint smile on his face that most likely mimicked the one she believed was forming on her own lips.
“I’ll never forget how you memorized the entire song,” she reflected, “just to impress me.”
“I remember it didn’t work,” he replied. “You called me a dork.”
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t work. I remember it made me smile… at least when you weren’t looking.”
“You never told me that,” Michael smirked.
“No,” she admitted. “I should have though. It was on my mind to mention it on that night… when we all said goodbye.”
He shrugged his shoulders, still smirking. “Better late than never I guess.” She didn’t continue the conversation any further, so to prevent an awkward silence, and to avoid the potential change of topic on that night of which she referred, a not-so pleasant memory, he redirected in a different way: “Anyway, I’m sure Ethan’s eyes are just as beautiful… hazel though they may be.”
“They are,” she confirmed with pride. She didn’t want to end this quick recount of happy times either, but reminded herself there was no looking back. She revisited the matter at hand. “So, pact or no pact, dangerous or not, here you are.”
“Couldn’t be helped. Sorry to surprise you like this, but I didn’t think you’d entertain a phone call from me.”
Barbara did not confirm or deny this. She only looked away again, swaying gently back and forth to rock the little boy in her arms. “I don’t have a permanent number anyway,” she said. “Just keep getting new prepaid phones with new numbers every so often… always under a different name.
“I can’t blame you… being careful and all, after… everything.” He stopped momentarily, as if choosing his next words delicately. “I’m very sorry Barbara, about everything… about Glenn. And I understand why you’re lying low.”
“Really?” she cut in quickly with no venom in her voice. She made a point to omit any anger or other emotions, but she was sure to be blunt like a mother calmly scolding a child: “Sure doesn’t look like you understand. Maybe you don’t get it; I didn’t want to be found. Not by you… not by anyone. I won’t pretend that it’s not good to see you again. I won’t lie and say I never wanted to see you again, or act like I don’t want to catch up or enjoy your company. But what I want and what needs to be are two entirely different things.”
Truly, she wanted nothing more than to continue letting down her wall, to open up to him and cease this ruse of dosing out a cold shoulder at him. He deserved better than that. So did she. Here was a man, a dear friend whom she respected, admired, and cared greatly for, standing before her after what seemed like a lifetime of loneliness. Just to have a friend, just one friend in front of her… she longed for that. And if anyone from her past were to ever jump through so many hoops to locate and visit her again, she was happiest that it was him. But walls are not easily broken, not after years of building and perpetually strengthening them. Thus, her coldness remained, almost against her will. “I can’t help you Michael,” Barbara finally spoke when she found the will to do so. “That’s not who I am anymore.”
Michael showed no reaction, nor did he give an immediate response. He resembled a statue, looking at her with little emotion; his blue eyes nonjudgmental, patient, and not without understanding. There was no pleading or desperation in his words when he did speak. Only stoic determination: “I have to stop it, Babs. We have to stop it.”
Barbara let out a sigh of frustration; not with him, but with her own attitude. She decided she should drop the tough girl act a little. “Look,” she explained more sympathetically, “I can’t get involved. I’ve done that before, and look where it’s gotten me: no family, no friends... I haven’t spoken to my parents in years. They don’t know their grandson. They have no idea what’s become of me; the same with Glenn’s family. I can’t even let them know I’m okay. I’m sure they’re devastated and worried sick about me… about Ethan. They’ve felt the losses as much as I have by my living in this damn solitude. And there’s always the pain… and the fear of the past one day coming back to claim more of my life… always having my nerves on edge… always having to be ready to run again… that fear never goes away. I’ve more than paid for getting involved before. So have you.”
Michael looked down at the cement driveway. There was no denying she was right.
“Now I have to be content with what I have left,” she went on as she leaned her head to the side, resting it against Ethan’s tiny one that lay on her shoulder. “This is my life now, Michael. It’s not much, but it’s quiet. Peaceful. Nothing complicated. All I have is the hope that I can live out my life and raise my son without any more consequences for my actions.”
Her old friend slowly walked towards her with slow, deliberate steps. He bent down in front of her and picked up the house key that she dropped. “So, that’s it then?” he finally responded plainly, after she was apparently finished. “The tragically peaceful end of Barbara Garrett, going quietly into the night, never to be heard or seen from again? Like a campfire neglected of wood after everyone’s gone to sleep. By morning she’ll be long forgotten; her ashes having dissipated and scattered into the wind. So eager to lay down and die with no desire for the slightest redemption.”
“And what about your tragic end, Michael Messenger?” she retorted. “A lone, ‘Last Man Standing?’ A one, remaining paladin on a final quest in vain, against a tidal wave that regards him as a pebble in its path? Meeting the inevitable head on, in hopes of going down in a blaze of glory with all his rage and might? Only in the afterlife will he realize too late, that he made no difference at all. His redemption will have been just a façade.” The wind in the tree branches died down, and her voice lowered in volume in synch with the quiet stillness of nature. “Whatever you’re planning Michael, put it out of your head. Just go back to what you still have left, and let the wave crash. If you’re not there when it comes, it won’t drown you. If you are there when it comes… I won’t be there to drown with you.”
Staring blankly, he had nothing to say. Barbara kept her stern eyes on his face, though he had looked down at the pavement again. She held out her hand, palm up, in a gesture that demanded her key back. “You can’t stop what’s coming Michael,” she spoke again, ever more quietly. “And you can’t redeem your past. Nothing you do will bring back what you’ve lost.” She tried to stop her lecture there, to spare his feelings, but the rest came out in spite of it. One final piece of unwanted advice; one final statement of tough love to drive her point home, no matter how much it hurt: “You can’t bring her back.”
Michael reacted ever so slightly. His head turned towards her again, now bitter eyes searing into hers for a brief second, then the gentle expression of tired defeat returned as he looked away again. “I know,” was all he said, as quietly as the air. Then he handed her the key.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for her unwillingness to help him or for her last comment. Perhaps it was for both.
Barbara turned from him and solemnly walked toward her front door, fighting back any tears that might creep up without any forewarning. She was careful not to let her stride cause a bumpy ride for Ethan, who remained asleep against her chest and shoulder. She glanced back to see Michael remaining in the driveway, watching her unlock her front door; his hands buried into the front pockets of his jeans. Though he had the look of despondency, he still held a tall and steadily unmovable posture. Despite his weariness from life and struggle, there was a resonance of strength in every fiber of his being that seemed like it would always radiate from him, as it always had, even if it might lay dormant for a while.
When Barbara turned the knob and pushed the door open, he slowly spun in the opposite dir
ection to leave. I’ll never see him again, an inner voice spoke to her. This is the last time he and I will ever be face to face. She had cursed her gift of foresight many times in the past, but now more than ever. Without it, there would have always been the hope that she would see him again. With it, she didn’t even have that.
Michael was just about to take his first step back toward his truck, parked along the edge of the cul-de-sac, when she called to him: “I thought I’d make a pot of coffee.”
He stopped himself and turned back to her.
“Won’t you have a cup before you go?”
He formed a sad and gentle smile with his lips. “Coffee sounds great.”
Barbara returned a smile that matched his. Then she disappeared through the doorway, leaving it open for her longtime friend. Michael, followed her inside.
It hadn’t taken Barbara long to carry her sleeping child upstairs to his bed, affording them the privacy to speak without interruption. She waited in front of the coffee maker on her kitchen counter, watching the dark roasted beverage stream into the pot, her back turned to him as he stood silently behind her.
“I’m not surprised to see you,” she remarked softly, not turning towards him, “I didn’t foresee you coming here, but I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past couple days. This morning, it was impossible to get you off my mind. Now I know why.”
“I was nervous the whole trip here,” Michael said after several seconds of silence between them. “Wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He waited another few seconds before speaking again. “I respect your decision to distance yourself, Babs. I really do. I just…”
To his surprise, with her head lowered, her eyelids shut, she turned around to him and quickly wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pulling herself close to him as if the longing for his embrace had been building up inside her during the past ten years they had been apart. “Shut up,” she whispered in his ear. “You goddamned son of a bitch.”
Michael returned the embrace, holding her by the small of her back and lowering his head to her shoulder. “I’ve missed you too,” he whispered back.
Even when the coffee pot had received the last drop from the brewer, with a red light on the display switching to green to indicate it was now ready for serving, they remained standing in the middle of the kitchen, neither one wanting to release the other from the comfort they found in each other’s arms. It wasn’t until they both heard a strange metallic banging, like something rattling a cage, from somewhere else in the house, that Barbara gently pulled away from him, suddenly smiling somewhat girlishly at him. “I think someone knows you’re here,” she exclaimed.
She placed a hand on his chest, prompting him to wait there as she left the kitchen momentarily. A minute later she returned, with a small, slinky, brown furred creature skipping hurriedly in front of her. It accelerated towards Michael at the sight of him. His eyes widened with surprise, but a warmth of nostalgia filled his heart when he recognized the thing.
“Oh my God!” he nearly cried out as he squatted to the tiled floor, stretching his arms out to catch the animal. “Loki?”
The ferret sprung into his arms, chittering with excitement. As Michael raised the creature close to his face, Loki licked his nose with his tiny tongue, then jumped onto his right shoulder, slithering behind his neck to his left, then back and forth several times. When he had finally settled himself and chose to remain at one shoulder, Michael stroked his long, soft back. “I don’t believe it!” he stated with joy engulfing his senses. “How is this even possible?”
Barbara watched with amusement at the playful interaction between her old friend and his former pet, a creature whose average life span usually ranges from six to eight years. But Loki was as lively as he were in his prime. “When I cured him of his adrenal cancer all those years ago,” she explained, still smiling, “it seems to have also given him an unnaturally long life.”
Michael held the ferret with one hand just under his forelegs, causing the rest of his long, hotdog like body to hang down, and inspected him as he continued to pet him. “Even though I was a healer,” he commented, “your skills with the Alpha Magic far surpassed mine. In all types. I could cast some decent healing spells, but I never could figure out animals.”
“Even so,” she admitted, “he always shared a strong bond with you. He’s always been your ferret, even though he’s been with me all this time. I’ve never seen him this happy.”
“You were one of the most powerful Keepers in our faction, Babs. I knew he’d be better taken care of with you than with me.” He pulled Loki close to his face again and gave him several loud-smacking kisses on the side of his head. The creature turned to lick his cheek as he did so. “You little stinker!” he addressed him spiritedly. “I hope you’ve been a good boy for Miss Barbara!”
Once the awe from the revelation that his formerly furry companion was still alive and well had subsided, Michael and Barbara soon found themselves sitting at opposite ends of the quaint kitchen table. At first their conversation was light, as it usually is between lifelong friends having years of catching up to do. Loki rested on his former master’s shoulder during the entire length of it.
But soon the conversation drifted to the more serious matter at hand. It started when Michael had mentioned he noticed Ethan’s pinky finger was missing from his left hand.
“Them?” he asked.
Barbara looked away as she nodded. The fear that always lingered inside her resurfacing. “They took them both,” she said despairingly, “Glenn and Ethan, warning me never to intervene again. When they were convinced I would give in to their demand, they only spared Ethan. Not without leaving their mark.” Her eyes began to water.
“I’m so sorry, Babs.” He took her hand from across the tiny table, and squeezed firmly.
“Not your fault,” she replied, suppressing the urge to fall to pieces in front of him. “Ethan was just shy of eighteen months, so he remembers none of it.”
Michael waited for her strength to return. When he felt her hand squeeze his back, he remarked, “Strange that they took both your husband and your son.”
“I guess they wanted to make their point clear,” she said with hesitation, almost as if, Michael noticed, she was hiding something.
He ignored the strange expression on her face, understanding grief can have a wide variety of effects on a person. “In my case,” he continued with similar despair, “they only took…” The lump in his throat prevented him from finishing.
She had known of his loss, but never knew of the particulars. Now that her hand made physical contact with his, and given their long past, a mental connection was quickly reestablishing between them. “Michael,” she said softly after a moment’s silence while reading him, “I know… I know what you’re planning to do.” She took a few more deep breaths before continuing. “It goes against the Code.”
“‘A Keeper of White holds a love for all nature and humanity,’” he recited to her. “‘A Keeper of White will use his knowledge to protect the innocent that is born of both nature and humanity, at all costs.’ You and I have already broken the Code, Babs. We’ve ignored the plea of the innocent. We’ve ignored our duty and obligation.”
“But what you intend, it’s not out of love. Your motives are not pure of heart. There would be consequences.”
“There are always consequences,” he argued gently, “even when we followed the Code. We’ve been facing the consequences for well over ten years now. If I’m going to deal with them anyway, I’d rather do it by making myself useful, instead of wallowing in fear.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “I see two children,” she revealed. “Children you’re responsible for.”
“Alex and Emily,” Michael confirmed.
“Are you willing to risk losing what you have left?” she questioned. “I’m not. I can’t. Besides, how can you even hope to accomplish what you plan? Your heart and mind are not in a condition that can easily tap into the Alpha
Magic. Even ten years ago, when you didn’t carry the pain you have now, your skills were just slightly above basic. Can you focus enough to even come close to that level again? A level that was only considered adequate?”
“I can do enough,” he tried to convince her, as he let go of her hand. She did not try to hold on.
“Really,” she said doubtfully.
Michael turned his gaze briefly toward the hallway leading to the front door. “Do you know the Pattersons? They’re just a few houses down.”
Barbara raised an eyebrow. “I keep to myself here,” she finally answered, “but yes. I know of them.”
“They hired a young lady to watch their little girl during the day. While I was waiting for you, I heard screams for help. The girl, Terri, had fallen into their pool while Penny the babysitter was on the phone. She wasn’t breathing. Penny didn’t know CPR, and by the time I got there, it wouldn’t have helped anyway. Fortunately, I was able to… revive her before it was too late.”
She eyed him disapprovingly. “Low level,” she critiqued, “and risky.”
“Penny,” Michael remarked, “the babysitter, won’t remember any of it.”
“Memory wipe?”
He nodded. “Not as low level.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, still skeptical.
“You can always check on her yourself if you don’t believe me,” he said plainly. “All she thinks is that Terri slipped in the pool, but she was there to pull her out immediately. Penny won’t remember I was there; won’t even remember my name.” He hesitated for a moment, then added slowly, “I did leave the standard retrieval password in her subconscious though.”
“What for?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Something about her. While I had her under, she seemed to be able to partially sense my thoughts or feelings. Not sure if it’s anything worth noting, but I got the idea that she might be useful in the future. For you if not for me.”
The Paladin's Redemption (The Keepers of White Book 3) Page 14