by Kailin Gow
Her harsh emerald eyes softened slightly as she turned to me. “Our parents died a few years ago.”
“They didn’t die,” Moore interjected, his tone harsh and pained for the first time. “They were murdered.”
Shayne barely batted an eye. “We were left to fend for ourselves, which might seem like a big old luau to some…” She glanced furtively at Braxton. “But it’s been more difficult than anyone can imagine.”
I shook my head thoughtfully, my heart aching for both of them. The devastation of losing one’s parents; it was indeed unimaginable.
“Believe me,” Shayne went on, “I’d much rather live in a modest home with Mom and Dad there every night than walk into that mammoth chunk of cold bricks and mortar.”
I detected a shimmer in her eyes that hadn’t been there moments earlier. The subject obviously affected her greatly and I couldn’t resist the urge to reach across the table and take her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s positively dreadful, and it’s sad to know people can be so insensitive as to believe you're living it up when you're both living with such pain and loss.”
She didn’t pull away, but actually brushed a finger along the side of my hand. Her eyes were once again on her lunch, the control of keeping the tears in check evident in the tightening of her jaw.
“You know, every once in a while I have a band of girlfriends come over… you know, for tea, manicures and late night movies. Maybe you could come over some time.”
“I’d love that,” I said, pleased by the turn of events. I released her hand and returned to my sandwich.
“Under any other circumstance, I’d be hollering about the injustice,” Moore said. ” MooI mean to be in that house with a dozen or so frantic, frenetic, shrill girls who make a big deal over the perfect pink nail polish or the slightest frizz in their hair is not really my idea of a good time.” His lips curled into that delicious smile. “But if you’re going to be there…” Bobbing his head slowly and deliberately, he winked. “Then, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.”
Shayne gave him a solid elbow in the ribs. “Oh, will you stop it.”
Despite the banter, it was obvious they loved each other.
“Don’t worry, if you come over I won’t let him bother you.”
My desire to befriend this beautiful girl butted heads with the novel notion of socializing with someone of her standing. I’d never been much of a girly girl, biting my nails instead of getting a manicure and pulling my hair back into a quick ponytail rather than spending hours putting it into perfect place.
“I think that would be awesome,” I heard myself say with a false note of formality. Why the sudden need to put on airs, I wondered. The answer was quick in coming… I’d never been invited to spend time with a girl like her and a part of me wanted to impress her… to be like her.
Chapter 5
The evening sun poured into the dining room, turning the wall of unpacked boxes into a veritable eyesore.
“It’s likely to take us weeks to get through all those boxes,” Mom lamented as she poked her plastic fork into her take-out salad.
“I’ll try to find the kitchen boxes tonight, hon.” Dad tried to cut into his chicken breast, but the thin plastic knife failed to succeed, leaving him to use his fingers.
A mix up in box labels had left us with an unusable kitchen; no utensils, no dishes, no pots and no pans.
“I’ll give you a hand, Mom. I didn’t get any homework, so I’m all yours.”
“How’d your first day go?” she asked.
“Not bad.” I munched happily on my cheeseburger, secretly thrilled with the notion of eating take out for a few nights. “I met Braxton.”
“Really,” Dad said, a mischievous twinkle burning in his eyes. “Is he as handsome as I’ve heard?”
“He is, but then again, the entire school body is drop dead gorgeous. I didn’t see a single student with a weight problem, with acne, with frizzy hair, with a big nose or with knobby knees. They were all annoyingly perfect.”
“Hmmm,” Mom sighed. “Sounds awfully nice to me. I thought you were coming here to deal with the ugliness of the world, not beauty.”
“Well.” I set down my burger and wiped my hands with my paper napkin. “The morning did start out kind of rough. I spotted a devilish shadow, but it turned out to be this amazingly, I mean unbelievably gorgeous guy, Asher.”
“Not such a bad start,” Mom said with a flirting grin.
“Yeah, if only all dark shadows could end up like that. Unfortunately, the next one I saw was indeed a demon of the ugly kind. He was surprisingly small and compact, but he could sure pack a punch. I think I might have initially underestimated him, thinking he’d be easy to overcome, but it turned out to be quite a battle.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Buttons,” Dad warned. “I don’t want to see you hurt in all this.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I didn’t even break a nail.”
“I’d hoped you’d at least have one day to get accustomed to the new school before having to battle demons.”
“Me, too, but Lothario warned me; there’s a lot of work to do here and it can take quite a while. I hope you guys don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Mom said. “Of course not, honey. I have to admit I was a little reluctant to come to San Francisco, but I truly loved my first day at work. The staff is great, the museum is impeccable and the commute wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated.”
“And I want you to let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, whether it’s the transition to this new school, your new friends or your teachers.” Dad grabbed my hand and held it, his eyes solemn and earnest. “We’re there for you.”
Smiling, I patted our clasped hands reassuringly. “I know, Dad, and I really appreciate it. It’s cool that you guys take this all so well. I doubt many parents could be as understanding and cooperative as you’ve been, what with the constant moving, new schools and all.”
“It’s a minor inconvenience compared to what you have to endure, dear,” Mom said, her eyes filled with tears of pride. “If there’s anything at all, let us know.”
Dad nodded his agreement as he returned to that task of tearing his dinner apart. “I’m also happy to hear you’ve hit it off with Kingsley’s nephew. It’s a bit of a relief to know you’ve befriended such an amazing young man.”
“He certainly was helpful in getting me around school.” Hopefully Braxton would remain the good friend he’d shown himself capable of. I needed a good friend.
Of course there was also Asher; the odd vision I’d had of him, the dream he’d had of me, and his mysterious warning.
Smiling as I picked up my burger, I stared out the back window and thought of Moore. The desire to kiss him, to touch him enveloped me, just as surely as if he’d stood there before me. The hold he had on me was strong, almost overpowering. I’d thought of little else the remainder of the day, his face coming to smirk at me as I fumbled through math, his flirting wink distracting me from my geography lesson.
“You okay, honey?” Mom asked as she reached out to put the back of her hand to my flushed cheek.
“Yeah,” I said as a wistful smile worked its way to my lips. “Yeah.”
Chapter 6
Only a week at school and we already had a day off. I was ecstatic. I wanted to explore San Francisco, visit the Golden Gate Park and take a trolley. It was a magnificently perfect day with a warm autumn sun, the occasional cotton ball cloud and just the slightest whisper of a breeze.
After a brisk walk along the bay, I headed to the museum where my mother worked. She’d raved so enthusiastically about the exhibit, I had to at least go take a peek.
“Lux,” she exclaimed as I entered her office. “Dear, your timing couldn’t be worst. I absolutely have to go meet with Josh Torn, my new assistant director. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes then I’ll give you a personal tour.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll stroll around and meet u
p with you later.”
While archaeology fascinated both my parents, I had to admit that interest had not been passed onto me. I viewed the exhibit with idle and minimal curiosity, but was far from enthused. After an hour of roaming the museum and still not a hint of my mother, I headed out to the garden.
By comparison, the garden was far more interesting. Fragrant flowers, a pleasantly meandering walkway and…
I froze, my step suddenly halted as I focused in. In the distance, sitting on a low retaining wall facing the enormous statue of an angel, was Asher.
His hand flew across the page of a sketch pad while his eyes repeatedly went from statue to paper. Lost in concentration, he remained unaware of me, even as I slowly and silently came up behind him.
“I didn’t know you were an artist,” I whispered.
Despite the gentle approach, he still jumped at the sound of my voice, his hands quick to flip the page of his sketch pad, hiding his drawing. “Hey, what are you doing here?” he said with a surprised smile.
“My mother works here. Thought I’d see what she’s up to.” I held back, reluctant to show him just how happy I was to see him. He intrigued me and I longed to talk to him again about his strange dream.
After a long and uncomfortable pause, I pointed to his sketch pad. “Can I see your drawing?”
“I’m really not that good.”
“I’m not a critic,” I teased.
“Give me a few more minutes to finish it.”
I sat nearby, watching him with awe and envy. How wonderful it must be to have such a peaceful pastime. “Are you taking any art classes?”
“Naw, my parents thought it was a waste of time. They’d rather see me devoted to physics and science.”
“Like them, I assume.”
“You assume correctly. My dad’s a physicist working on something or other in Germany and Mom’s right there with him, making sure his every move is jotted down for the great book that is supposed to come out of this.”
“If your parents are in Germany, why are you going to school here?”
He seemed annoyed with the question, his brow furrowing as his pencil took it out on the sheet of paper. “They’re in Germany for a month, then it’s on to Lisbon, then somewhere in Holland, or is it Finland? Anyway, they travel around a lot and I apparently need a stable home life.”
“I didn’t mean to touch on such a sensitive subject.”
Shaking his head, he glanced at me. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to bite you for it.”
Again, a long and uncomfortable silence settled in for a moment. Only when I saw his jaw relax did I venture again. “You like St. James?”
“It’s all right. I mean they’re a little rigid, what with their uniforms, uptight teachers and snooty kids, but I manage to hold my own.” He pulled up the collar of his leather jacket and sneered.
“A bit of a non-conformist, I see,” I said with an amused giggle.
Mischief glistened in his aquamarine eyes as he glanced at me. “I take it you understand where I’m coming from.”
“Pretty much. I never enjoyed following the parade. I’ve always been off on my own, doing my thing… my way.”
“My kind of girl.”
I smiled, wondering if it was an idle compliment or a true glimpse of what he thought of me. Before an embarrassing blush divulged my thoughts, I changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me last week.”
“The dream about you?”
“Yeah. Was it really me?”
Pressing his lips together, he shrugged. “Not really sure. It was a girl, that I know, and there was an incredible ray of light coming from her. There really isn’t more to tell.” He hesitated a moment and turned a pensive gaze to me. “Of the dream itself, I remember little, but the feeling I had when I awoke… an urgent need to find her, to find that light. It’s still with me and I can’t shake it. That’s why it was so weird when you came up to me.”
He set his pencil down and turned the pad to me.
“Oh,” I said with a loud guffaw.
“Is my drawing that bad?” he teased.
“Of course not.” I took the pad from him and examined the sketch. The angel was perfect, the flow of its heavenly gown, the arch of its extending wings. And the serenity of its expression, but that serene expression was transposed onto my face.
As so often portrayed, the angel was nimble, frail, and ethereal with a fragile, childlike beauty, far from any angel I’d ever encounter. Sam had been huge in stature, his facial expression never veering very far from the fierce warrior scowl he wore so well. He’d been anything but frail. And Lothario… he was the essence of masculine beauty, the epitome of strength, power and agility.
No doubt my new guardian would be just as impressive, perhaps even more so.
“Isn’t it funny the conception people have of angels? The little cherub face, the gossamer gowns, the dainty wings.” I eyed the naïve sketch with amusement.
“Don’t forget the halo.”
I chuckled. “Oh, yes, and the halo.”
“Such a contrast to the strength, power and agility required to be a true angel.”
I shot him a quick glance as he said aloud the very words that’d just crossed my mind.
“After all, their duty is to keep us mortals safe, right?” He grinned as he took his pad and shoved it and his pencil into a canvas backpack. He turned his glance to the statue he’d just sketched. “How is a dainty thing like that supposed to accomplish such a huge task?”
I tried to read him, tried to see what he knew. Did he see what I see? Had he had encounters with angels as I had?
He had dreamt of me, though he had never even met me before. Could his subconscious travel through time and space, and meet with mine?
A chill crawled up my back and spread across my shoulder blades as I thought of the numerous dreams I’d had of a young man, the man I loved beyond reason, the man who always aroused such pain and heartache as I awoke to find myself alone. Agitated and disturbed, I stood and paced a few steps.
Asher looked at me, his eyes softened with concern. When he reached out to take my hand, the chill at my back diminished, replaced by the warmth of his touch. “You know, since I’ve met you, that urgent need to find the light isn’t so urgent anymore.”
I swallowed the gasp that bolted up my throat.
He stood, rising to an impressive height, well over a head higher than my own tall frame. His smile spread slowly across his lips while his eyes held me with the promise of a true friendship I could rely on.
“I’m happy you're here,” he said softly. “Something’s changed since your arrival at St. James. I can’t identify what it is exactly, but something’s different… better.”
“A thousand apologies,” Mom said as she rounded the corner. “Let me take you out to lunch to…” She stopped when she saw Asher. “Oh…”
“Mom.” I turned to face her surprised expression. “This is Asher, a guy I met in school.”
“Nice to meet you, Asher. I was just about to invite my daughter to a fabulous lunch to make up for making her wait so long. Would you like to join us?”
He shot me a shy glance before turning back to my mother with a nod. “I’d love to.”
Lunch was indeed fabulous at the very posh and no doubt very expensive restaurant Mom chose nearby. Though the décor and atmosphere were divine, Mom’s limited free time had us opting for a stroll in the park rather than lingering over coffee. Well-nourished, we headed in the direction of the museum via Golden Gate Park.
“Few people know this, but this park is actually larger than Central Park in New York,” Asher said. “Golf courses, botanical gardens, lakes… it’s really a fabulous place. The conservatory of flowers is at the other end of the park, but well worth a visit.”
“You certainly know a lot about the city.” Mom was impressed.
“I’m curious and love digging up information revolving just about everything around me.
”
After a quick run through of the history of the Japanese Tea Garden and the old windmill, Mom glanced at her watch. “Well, kids, it certainly has been a pleasure, but work beckons.” She extended her hand to Asher. “You're a delightful tour guide. I hope to see you again.”
“Have a nice afternoon, Mrs. Collins.”
“See you at dinner, dear.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and was off.
Watching her walk away, a wistful smile came to Asher. “You have a great mother. Do you guys always get along so well?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” Taking up the footpath around Stow Lake, I felt a tinge of guilt for the great parents I had. “Thanks for being so great with her. It’s not every guy who’ll tolerate hanging out with a parent, much less talk so much with them.”
“It was really a pleasure. I have all this knowledge inside my head… might as well share it.”
“Funny,” I said as I glanced at him. “Brax said you were the school bad boy.”
“Did he now?” He straightened his shoulders and tilted his chin up with pride. “I guess I deserve that title in a way. I do enjoy pushing the teachers’ buttons, I’m relentless in a debate and I’ve been known to have rather loud discussions about the school system in general with the director.”
“You also have an aversion to blue uniforms,” I reminded him.
He harrumphed. “Might as well scratch out our names and simply call us by a number. They want us to be automatons, clones of one another. Conform, follow, listen… don’t dare have a thought of your own, or heaven forbid, an opinion.”
I playfully leaned into him, pushing his huge bulk off the graveled path. “Aren’t you exaggerating a bit? I mean, St. James isn’t that bad.”
“Guess not, but there certainly is room for improvement. Too bad Braxton doesn’t have any influence on his uncle. If anything, he has to adhere to the rules and regulation more than anyone… set an example, you know.”