Suddenly, Justine seems as though she is going to burst from her seems. “This is about sex, isn’t it?” she exclaims.
“Justine,” Jeff says in shock.
“Well, she is a teenager and a very pretty girl and he’s…” She gets flustered and out of breath. “Well, he’s…you know…”
“Him,” I say, offended. “I wouldn’t…I couldn’t…I don’t think.”
“See,” Justine says, frantic, nearly hyperventilating. “She’s a ticking time bomb of passion. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Now, now,” Jeff says, calming his wife like he was trying to stuff a spring that had just sprung out of the seat cushion. This isn’t exactly something you can duct tape over and hope nobody notices. “I am sure Kyra is taking all the precautions necessary.”
“I’m not taking any precautions,” I exclaim. Justine nearly faints. “What I mean is…I have no intention of doing…that. I’ve seen enough screwed up kids in this world. I’m not planning to add one more until I sort through my own mess. Besides, I just met him, we’re just friends.”
“You see,” Jeff says. “Kyra is a responsible girl. You have nothing to worry about.”
Justine takes a deep breath. Moving her hair back from her face, she strains a serene smile. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. I just…”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You’ve never had a teenager before and you don’t know what to expect. I get it. Trust me; you don’t have to worry about me.”
“Thank you,” Justine says more calm. “I do trust you.” And she returns to her knitting.
“See, nothing to worry about,” Jeff says, picking his book back up.
I quickly change the subject so as to give Justine time to breathe. “I am starving,” I say. “When’s dinner?”
“I’m getting hungry, too,” says Jeff. He sniffs the air as if he can somehow smell out the readiness of dinner.
“Just a few more minutes,” says Justine. “I thought that while we are all here, we would talk about tomorrow.”
I look blankly at both of them. “What’s tomorrow?”
“Church,” Justine says.
Jeff sits closer to the edge of his chair and clears his throat. “Now, we don’t want to pressure you into anything. But it would mean a lot if you accompanied us.”
I think it over a moment, looking at both of them. “Church has never really been my thing,” I say.
“That’s fine,” Justine quickly adds. “We don’t want to rush you into anything.”
“But…”
“It’s okay, really, you won’t offend us,” interrupts Justine.
“Justine,” Jeff says, gruffly. “Let the poor girl get a word in.” They both then stare at me intently.
If it’s not their intention to pressure me, the staring really isn’t helping. There were many times in my life that I had sworn never to enter a church. My anger for my parents often extended to God. In my eyes, they had all abandoned me and I saw no reason to pay any patronage to any of them. The infected wound of pain they left me with, eventually left its scars, and with time has become apathy. I have not thought of God for years and had no intention to. It wasn’t a full admission that I did not believe in God, but a postponing of the question of whether to ask the question at all.
Now that I have met Ashur though, I can’t postpone the question anymore. There is something definitely beyond what I can see, but the question now is what. Is God someone I want to know? And is church the best place for me to find him?
Seeing Justine and Jeff and the kindness they have shown to me, I decide to explore the option further. If something could inspire good in man, maybe it is something worth looking into. “Alright,” I say. “I will give it a try.” Justine clasps her hands together, her face beaming. “But I am just trying it out,” I add. “There is no guarantee I will keep going.”
“Of course not,” says Justine as she fights to calm her excitement. “We don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate that.”
“It will be so nice, though,” says Justine, not able to contain her enthusiasm as she continues to knit. “You know Liv will be coming with us too. She does every week.”
“That’s right,” Jeff says, leaning back in his chair and returning to his book. “Maybe she’ll bring her cousin along with her.”
Justine tenses, stabbing her needle into her finger. “Ouch,” she exclaims. She puts the slightly bleeding finger in her mouth.
“Alright, dear,” Jeff says, lost in his reading again.
She pulls her finger from her mouth and shakes it. “Nothing, just a scratch,” she says nervously. “These needles can be sharp some times.” She laughs awkwardly and thrusts the finger back into her mouth.
Chapter 15
After breakfast, we make our way to the car. I adjust the dress that Justine lent me to wear, seeing that I was lacking in the more formal attire. It’s stuffy and uncomfortable, but I wear it anyway to appease her. The high heels are new for me as well. As a foster kid, I had few reasons to get dressed up. For me, a new pair of jeans, comfortable shoes, and a nice shirt is about as dressed up as I ever get. Sure, as a little girl, I wished I had an opportunity to wear the nice dresses that the other girls wore. But standing here in this dress, I am glad to have never had that chance. I don’t understand the obsession of women, causing undo pain to their bodies in order to look in a way that no man will fully appreciate. Perhaps if I had grown up with the idea of looking beautiful, I would think differently.
Liv comes from her house, crossing the yard to join us. She seems happy as she greets us. I imagine she is just glad to get away from her father. I immediately see a slight bruise on her cheek. She has tried to conceal it, but I can tell it’s there. She notices me looking at it and looks away, shyly, not wanting to say anything. I’m certain that if I ask her about it, she will give me an excuse. Maybe tell me that it was from the other night. We both get in the car with no more words than a general greeting. I don’t know what to say and she doesn’t want to say anything.
Jeff sits stiffly in the driver’s seat, checking the mirror before backing out. He is just about out of the driveway when Justine screams, “Stop.” He slams on the break and begins looking erratically at all the mirrors.
“What in tarnation are you doing, Justine,” he exclaims. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“It’s Liv’s cousin,” Justine says.
“My cousin?” Liv is completely unaware of what she means. “I don’t…” Luckily, she looks at me before finishing her answer. Her face is one of confusion. I subtly give her a signal, flapping my hands like wings. Immediately, she recognizes what I mean. “Oh yes, my cousin.”
Justine turns to Jeff, pawing at his arm. “Do you think we should invite him to come with us?” This is hardly a request for permission as she immediately begins rolling down her window and yelling out to him to come over. Ashur walks up to the car and glances at me in the back seat. I pay no intention to him, making it quite clear that I am still mad.
“Hello, Mrs. Gregor,” he says.
“Look at you all cleaned up and hair cut,” says Justine. “Jeff and I were wondering if you would like to ride to the church with us.” This, of course, is not the complete truth as Jeff had nothing to do with the invitation and would have probably been perfectly fine not extending it.
Ashur glances again at me in the seat. I shake my head no. “Are you sure there is room?” he asks Justine.
“Of course,” she says. She turns to Liv and me. “Scoot over girls and make some room for him.” I scowl at Ashur as I reluctantly move closer to Liv.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gregor,” he says as he opens the door and climbs in.
“Please, call me Justine,” she insists.
Ashur smiles at me, but I return no expression of warmth. I am quite annoyed that he has decided to accompany us after I made it clear that I did not want him bein
g around me or the house. As far as I am concerned, the rest of the time he spends on Earth, our relationship will be strictly to the business at hand.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I mutter to him.
“I was invited,” he says. “I couldn’t say no.”
“Yes you can,” I say, still looking ahead. Not wanting Justine to know that there is anything wrong between us. “No. It’s as easy as that.”
“So why are you going to church?” he asks.
“Justine invited me,” I say.
“You could have said no.”
I glare menacingly at him. “Alright, so it’s hard to say no to Justine. The point is, you shouldn’t have been standing in the street.”
“You said I could protect you just as well from the street,” he replies smugly.
I give a frustrated sigh and decide not to talk or even look at him. Liv, sitting at my side, leans forward and begins gawking at him. “Stop staring,” I whisper loudly to her.
She continues to stare. “But he’s an angel,” she whispers back, as if he is some sort of celebrity.
“Believe me,” I say, glancing at Ashur. “The novelty wears off fast.”
Ashur furrows his brow as if to take offense, but says nothing. We continue the rest of the trip in that uneasy silence. Ashur staring out the window, Liv staring at him, and me staring ahead waiting for this torment of awkward impositions to end. As we pull up to the church, I can see quite a few people getting out of their cars. All dressed nicely as if it were some sort of fashion gala. Women stand over their children like mother hens, straightening their girl’s hair while wiping smudges from the cheeks of the boys who obviously are not pleased with it.
We get out of the car and Jeff and Justine walk ahead of us toward the entrance. Liv walks with me, trying to get all the hints she can about the conversations with the angel. At the entrance stands the pastor in a black robe with white trim and a red sash draping across the shoulders. I can’t see any of the usual symbols that designate the more popular denominations, but I assume this to be a Christian church. It’s hard to imagine a Buddhist church in a place like this. However, seeing some of Jeff and Justine’s antics, I could be entering some sort of a cult. The kind that apparently worships beans and drinks happy juice while waiting for a comet to zip them away to some promised land in another galaxy. That I would think to be too much of a stretch of the imagination.
As I walk up the steps, I again glance at the carving of the tortured souls overhead. “It’s good to see that you have chosen to view the inside of the church,” the pastor comments. “Outside impressions are often misleading.”
I nod my head in agreement. The old pastor seems to be a genial sort. His roundish beard, black with a tint of grey, combined with the circular glasses that balance off the end of his nose, give him a scholarly appearance, but his generous grin does not completely turn me off.
Liv walks up beside me, Ashur follows behind. “I see that you and Liv are becoming good friends,” he says as he shakes Liv’s hand.
She smiles brightly at him. “How are you, Pastor Clemont?”
“As good as one can be at my age,” he says. He then glances at Ashur standing behind Liv, dwarfing her with his size. “And who might this handsome young man be.”
“Ahh, it’s my…” Liv begins to stammer in her nervousness. It’s obvious that her over-reactive guilt prevents her from telling a proper lie. I imagine the fact that this being her spiritual leader, can’t make it that much easier.
I decide to break in before she divulges something that would be best left unsaid. “It’s her cousin, Ashur,” I interject.
Ashur leans in and shakes the pastor’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says.
The pastor looks at him suspiciously. “You as well,” he says, slightly distracted. There is a short pause in the hand shake as the pastor studies him more intently than is customary.
“He’s just visiting for a short while,” I say, trying to move the introduction along.
The pastor arouses from his concentration. “Of course. Yes. We are doubly blessed to have you here. I hope you will feel at home.”
“Thank you,” I say as I herd Ashur and Liv through the entrance. The pastor continues to stare at Ashur. It seems he knows something is out of the ordinary.
The pastor was right in saying the interior was beautiful. Stain glass windows line both sides, leading up to the pulpit. Light descends through them, dousing the whole church in a glorious array of colors and shades. Each one is intricately made to depict something of importance I’m sure, though none are very familiar to me. The most significant depiction is the reoccurring etchings of a rose and a cross. Hanging between each window, is a lamp with a burning flame inside, just like the ones lining the town. Ethan was right about the pastor wanting lanterns.
At the far end of the church is a large stain glass window, larger than all the others. It depicts a man, or more accurately a creature. It has the face of an ox, the wings of an eagle and the haunches of a lion. Other than that, it looks the same as a man kneeling, a winged staff or something with intertwining snakes around it above his outstretched hand. Words are inscribed over it, but they are in some language I cannot understand. There is one other aspect about the depiction that completely unnerves me. In its chest is the tetractys. Seeing the same symbol here as in my locket, I wonder if perhaps there was a reason why I was brought to this town. But why?
Ashur sees it too and says, “I imagine that’s no coincidence.” I do not respond, still glaring at it uneasily.
Down toward the front of the line of pews, Justine is waving to us to sit down. We follow the other people toward the front. Liv makes sure that she is seated next to Ashur and I am more than willing to let her. Sitting down, she continues to stare up at him, awe struck. Ashur pretends not to notice. Looking around, it seems that nearly the entire town is here. There is some clatter coming from the group as they anticipate the pastor.
While we are waiting for the sermon to start, I decide to ask Liv about the creature in the window depiction. “What is that thing in the window?” I ask.
She smiles, not taking her eyes off Ashur. “It’s an angel,” she says.
Ashur turns and leans across Liv, brushing his shoulder against hers. By the look on the poor girls face, I think she might faint. “A seraphim to be precise,” he whispers to me.
“What’s a seraphim?”
“It’s the highest class of angels,” he says. “There are always seven of them, guarding the way to the throne room of God in the seventh heaven.”
“Seventh heaven? How many heavens do you have?”
“Just the seven.”
“Do they really look like that?” I ask.
He glances at the window. “It’s how they are described,” he says. “I’ve never seen one of them though, so I can’t tell for sure.”
“That’s right,” I say. “You’re the low man on the totem pole.”
He sits back up, folding his arms haughtily on his chest, obviously affronted by the remark. Liv leans into him and whispers, “I think you are the most splendid angel.” Ashur looks at her and sighs, hardly comforted by the remark.
After every one is settled, the pastor walks to the front, climbing the stairs up to the pulpit. Once there, he rests his arms on the pulpit and offers a prayer, then starts into his sermon. For the most part, it seems like something you’d normally hear on those religious stations.
He refers to the mercies of God in creating the cosmos and everything therein with absolute perfection. Next, he goes on to our fallen and degenerate state. The whole time quoting what I think is scripture, though I can’t tell given that I have never actually read a bible or any other religious book. Well, that’s not entirely true. I did read some religious tract in a motel room once when I got bored as a little girl.
The congregation listens attentively with the exception of a few of the older men, who nod off to sleep. However, their wives do pay en
ough extra attention for the both of them, bobbing their heads in solemn agreement to every word that is spoken.
I glance over at Justine who is also sitting attentively, her hands placed gently on her lap. I have often wondered what attraction people have for religious ceremony. Most of those I have lived with have had no real interest in it. I did have one foster mother once who was devout Orthodox. She had pictures of Jesus and Mary all over the house and constantly crossed herself as she passed them. I even think she kissed them at times. She was an alright sort of lady, but the few occasions that we discussed religious matters were when she was pointing out how likely I was to go to hell. Needless to say, I was not drawn to her views.
“In the beginning God created a great expanse,” the pastor says. “And in doing so, limited his presence that a world may exist where the sons and daughters of men might live. And he formed this world like unto heaven, speaking those words of formation. As it says, ‘The entire lower world was created in the likeness of the higher world. All that exists in the higher world appears like an image in this lower world; yet all this is but One’. This was a world of perfection.”
Angel Realms 01 The Dawn of Angels Page 16