“Gee, thanks,” Ben said, wrinkling his nose. “I love you too, Katie.”
“I should turn in,” Kate said, sliding her empty water glass across the table. “The flight took it out of me. And I told the funeral director I’d drop off Dad’s uniform in the morning if you hadn’t.”
“I did,” Ben said, feeling the pleasant buzz that his beer had offered slip away. “Got the death certificate too.”
Kate faltered and crossed her hands on the table. “Can I see it?”
Ben nodded and reached for his messenger bag from where it was draped over the back of one of the chairs.
“I can’t believe you still carry that,” Kate said, sighing. “At least I know what to get you for Christmas.”
“Don’t you dare,” Ben said, rifling through the contents of the bag. “It’s my good luck charm.”
“I feel like I should call you Dr. Jones and ask for walking directions to the Temple of Doom.”
“Just follow the trail of bat shit,” Ben said as he pushed the copies of the death certificate across the table.
“I said the Temple of Doom, not Point Pleasant,” Kate said. She peered down at the papers and trailed her manicured fingertips over the line featuring Andrew’s official cause of death. “Died on impact. Does that mean he didn’t feel anything?”
“I don’t know,” Ben said, and he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I hope so.”
He stood abruptly, grabbed Kate’s empty glass, and walked to the sink. There was an arm around his shoulder then, and he glanced over to see his sister at his side. Kate had tears in her eyes. Ben pulled her into a hug and squeezed his eyelids shut when Kate returned the embrace. They parted after a few seconds, and Kate wiped at her wet cheeks.
“See you in the morning.”
“Sleep well, Katie.”
Kate walked out of the kitchen, and Ben listened for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. He had put her suitcase in her old room on the third floor in the converted attic before the pizza arrived.
Ben took a deep breath and cleared the table, mainly to keep himself moving, and he grabbed another beer from the fridge when the kitchen was tidy. He resumed his seat and took in the silence that fell over the house after the slight bumps and creaks from upstairs faded and indicated that his sister had settled into bed.
The digital clock on the stove told Ben it was nearly eleven o’clock. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. His fingers raced across the touchscreen, typing a message to Nicholas with only two words: “Boy Scout.”
Ben grabbed his laptop and opened its lid to find the Word document still open on his screen. The phone chimed, and he knew before he checked that the text was from Nicholas.
“Good evening to you too.”
“So civilized,” Ben typed and sent.
Another message arrived seconds later. “I love you.”
Ben could not hide a grin as he read, then re-read, the words. “I love you. See any ghosts tonight?”
“Vampires, mostly. Sparkly ones. Not impressed with the youth of today.”
“Stake that pop cultural phenomenon in the heart immediately, please.”
Nicholas sent a smiley face in reply, and Ben mulled over its surreal presence underneath Nicholas’ name.
“Still on duty?”
“Unfortunately.”
Ben sighed with a disappointment that he had not anticipated and sent a frowny face. He put the phone down and took a sip of his beer. The white glow of the Word document drew his attention, and he read over his outline.
The start of the story was missing something, some kind of impetus to move the action along. Ben perched his chin against the palm of his hand and rested his elbow on the edge of the table.
The story could not be told from the perspective of the angel. It was too foreign. Readers would need a likable, compelling, and—most importantly—relatable protagonist. Ben smiled as he thought of Bill Tucker poised on the hood of his old blue truck with a Remington shotgun.
Ben spent the next hour adjusting his outline and writing up a general proposal for his new book. He selected the text and copied it into an email to Elliot.
His phone beeped, and Ben checked the message. “Still awake?”
“Very.”
Ben waited for a response and was surprised when the phone rang.
“Ben,” Nicholas said from the other end of the line.
“You sound tired, Sheriff.”
Nicholas hummed. “Did Kate arrive okay?”
“She’s upstairs sleeping.”
“Ah.”
“You home?”
“Sure am.”
“In bed?”
“Mmm,” Nicholas mumbled, and Ben could practically see the other man curled up under his covers and on the cusp of sleep.
“Good night, Nic.”
“Good night, Ben.”
When Ben returned to his laptop, he found a reply from Elliot. “Angels, eh? I like it. Maybe we can overthrow the vampire craze. Get to work.”
Ben let out a small laugh as Elliot’s sentiments echoed the text Ben had sent to Nicholas just an hour prior. He finished the beer, grabbed his laptop, and headed to his father’s office where he sat in the armchair and typed for the next three hours to form his opening scene.
Ben woke to the obnoxious beep of a text alert. He had dragged himself upstairs when his fingers rebelled against the keyboard, and he slept deeply but dreamed of the light.
He squinted at the sun that poured in through the window over the bed and covered his face with a pillow. His phone beeped again, and he grumbled as he grabbed it from its place on the bedside table.
“You should be in bed with me,” said the message from Nicholas.
“With you or under you?” Ben replied.
“About to shower. Will have to make it a cold one. Thanks.”
“Good morning to you too, Sunshine.”
Ben smiled when there was no response. He stood and stretched before he stuck his head out the bedroom door. The house was quiet.
He showered and dressed in jeans, but he deliberated on a shirt selection before he settled on a white button-down. He whistled ‘Blue Sky’ to himself as he flipped his collar up and knotted his favorite black tie.
Ben found Kate poking at Mr. Coffee in the kitchen. “Morning,” he greeted. “Here, let me. You have to jab it into submission sometimes.”
Kate stood back and scowled at the machine. “It’s an antique.”
“It was Dad’s.” Ben sighed as if that explained everything.
“It’s so pompous, though,” Kate said. “I mean, Mr. Coffee. Honestly. You’d expect it to be wearing a top hat and monocle.”
Ben startled and could not help a faint laugh at his sister’s observation. “It’s times like this I know we are related.”
“It’s certainly not because we share such sunny morning dispositions,” Kate said. “I’m surprised you’re even awake. I heard you bumping around at three A.M.”
“I was working on something,” Ben said. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock. All I want to do lately is sleep.”
“Yeah, well, you deserve it. You’re having a freaking baby, Katie.”
“I know, right?” Kate gave a soft laugh. “It’s unreal.”
“Lovely, though,” Ben said and kissed her cheek. The rumble of percolating water indicated that the coffee had started to brew. “Shouldn’t you be avoiding caffeine?”
“It’s for you, jackass,” Kate said, poking his shoulder. “I cut out caffeine at the start of the year, actually. Resolutions and all.”
“Jesus, why?”
Kate laughed again, and Ben found the sound almost musical.
“French toast?” she asked.
“Only if I can help.”
“All right, you do the eggs.”
Ben saluted and headed to the fridge. He cracked four eggs and whipped them while whistling to himself as he worked.
&nb
sp; “God, you’re so chipper,” she said. “I hate chipper people in the mornings.”
“Except me, I hope,” Ben said, shooting her a scandalized expression.
Kate swatted him playfully with a spatula she had just pulled out of a drawer. “Do you think there’s cinnamon?”
“I have no idea. I’m going to guess no, though.”
“That’s fine,” Kate said. She proceeded to make an enormous stack of French toast. By the time she finished, Ben’s stomach was practically howling.
Kate sat down at the table with their plates and an easy smile. Ben slipped into his seat across from her.
“So,” Kate started, her tone casual. “Did you talk to your sheriff last night?”
“You don’t waste any time, do you?” he asked, taking a bite of his breakfast.
“Why beat around the bush? Is he your boyfriend?” she asked, putting on an intentionally girlish intonation to emphasize the word.
“We haven’t labeled it.”
“Do you want him to be?”
“I want him to be a lot of things,” Ben replied and sipped his coffee.
A slow smirk crept across Kate’s face. “You should have him over.”
“I’ll see if I can arrange something,” Ben replied.
“I’m leaving after the funeral,” Kate said. “There’s not much time. Invite him over for dinner tonight.”
“You of all people know my culinary skills leave something to be desired.”
“Quiet. I’m cooking, you jackass,” she replied as she huffed out a sigh of affectionate exasperation. “I’m especially domestic these days. It’s like I’m nesting. I’ll make something amazing. It’ll be a good distraction anyway. We should try to make the best out of the situation. There can be no talking about Dad. We’ll have enough of that today and tomorrow as it is.”
Ben considered the idea and finally nodded in assent. “Yeah, why not?”
“Good,” Kate said. “Ask him now.”
“What’s the rush?”
“Because I want to watch you fumble for words.” Kate leaned forward, placed her chin on her hands, and smiled to Ben with an air of insistence.
“Sorry, tickets to that show are all sold out.” Ben stood and slid his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll be in the backyard.”
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Kate said. “It was my idea. You’ve gotta give me something here, Benji.”
Ben bent down and kissed her forehead. “There. Now be quiet.”
He grabbed his coffee and strolled out the backdoor. It was colder than the previous morning, but the crisp air was refreshing. The digital clock on his phone showed that it was almost eight o’clock. He dialed and hoped Nicholas had not left for the station yet.
“My shower was very cold, thanks,” Nicholas said when he answered.
“Hello to you too, Sheriff,” Ben laughed. “How are you?”
“Eh, I could be better. You?”
“Same.”
Nicholas’ voice chuckled in Ben’s ear. “I’m just heading out,” he said. “Can I call you later?”
“I was just calling to invite you to dinner tonight. Kate is cooking, apparently.”
“Oh,” Nicholas said with surprise. “That’d be nice.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, cool. What should I bring? Wine?”
“Just yourself.”
“What time?”
“Seven?”
“Cool,” Nicholas said again. “I’ll look forward to it.”
“See you later, then.”
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“I really did miss you here this morning.”
“Me too, Nic.”
Ben hung up and saw that Kate was observing him from the kitchen window. She looked away as if embarrassed to have been caught spying, and Ben shook his head as he made his way inside.
“What was that?”
“There was a bee,” Kate said.
“Uh huh,” Ben grunted, and he narrowed his eyes when his sister smirked. “In November?”
“So what did he say?” Kate asked, ignoring his question. “Is he coming?”
“He is,” Ben confirmed. “I said seven o’clock, is that okay?”
“That’s perfect. I can judge him in silent disapproval.”
“Katherine,” Ben said, his tone full of reproof.
Kate gave an innocent shrug and hovered by the counter while Ben poured himself a second cup of coffee. She made a slight scoffing sound, and Ben frowned.
“Benji, you should really cut back.”
“Slice me open, and I’d bleed black coffee,” Ben said.
“You should watch that, you know. And I thought you said you were going to start running? What happened to that?”
“You know when I run, Kate? When something’s chasing me.”
“That happen often, then?”
“More than you’d believe,” Ben replied, and his thoughts skittered to the thing that had transformed from a little girl into a spiraling cloud of fucking doom.
He pushed the memory aside and gave his sister a lopsided smile as they lapsed into a comfortable silence.
“You should come visit,” Kate said suddenly. “When the baby’s born. Or before. I would like that. And you promised me a garden. I have a terrace, you know.”
“Should I call Margaret? She can schedule it for us.”
“Yeah, I know,” Kate said, grimacing. “I suck lately.”
“We both suck.”
“Anyway,” Kate started, “I’ve gotta head out soon. I’m going to sort out all the paperwork. Finalize everything while I’m here.”
“You want me to come?”
“It’s all boring legal stuff, Benji. Might take a few hours.”
“I’ll come along. You don’t have to go alone.”
“You sure?”
“Of course,” Ben replied. “I’ll try not to be too overwhelmed.”
They spent the morning in and out of Town Hall and Grantham’s Funeral Home to finalize the paperwork and the details for the funeral. Kate insisted she could handle the particulars on her own, but Ben caught a wistful glint in her otherwise shuttered eyes more than once.
When they were finished at Town Hall, having filed the papers to initiate the transfer of the Wisehart house deed into Ben’s name, Ben drove Kate back to Cardinal and watched as she wandered out to the sidewalk and peered up and down the street with a whimsical expression on her face.
Despite the circumstances, Kate’s presence was soothing, and Point Pleasant seemed less heavy with her there. Her demeanor was sunny as she spoke of the baby and Ben’s plans to move home. Ben thought of Raziel and the light. Marietta had talked about Ben’s soul. He could only imagine that if souls really did exist, then his sister’s would have shone like Raziel’s grace.
“It’s nicer than I remembered,” Kate said. “I miss houses. I love New York, but it doesn’t have this. There’s a story behind it all. A history. You can smell it in the air.”
“I think that’s the river,” Ben replied.
“Shut up, I’m serious,” Kate said, and she poked his shoulder. “I’m cruising on a wave of nostalgia, here. Let me enjoy it.”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed. “It was a nice place to grow up.”
“And move back to, hmm?”
“It is kinda inspiring,” Ben said, noting for the first time since he arrived back in Point Pleasant that the Carmichael house no longer had shutters over its windows.
“Are you writing a new book already?” Kate asked. “The other one only just came out.”
“It’s best to keep busy.”
“What’s it about?”
“That would be telling,” Ben replied.
“Oh, please,” Kate said and rolled her eyes. “I know all your secrets. Tell me.”
“Angels,” Ben said, conceding her point. “It’s about angels.”
Kate tilted her head and appeared almost birdlike in her curiosity.
“Really? That’s different. Do you believe in angels all of a sudden?”
Ben offered a small nod. You have no idea.
“That’s nice, I guess,” Kate replied. “It’s good to believe in things. Do you think they’re watching over us now?” She cast a solemn glance up at the sky, and Ben followed her gaze.
“Yeah, I think so,” Ben said after a moment.
“So what are the angels like in your story?”
Ben considered the question. “A lot like us.”
“Do you think they would be, though?”
“I think they’d have some similar motivations.”
“Like what?”
“Like family,” Ben said. “I think family means a lot to them. And they have a home just like we do. Can you imagine if an angel was locked out of Heaven? How horrible that would be for him?”
“Why do you assume angels would be male?” Kate asked, groaning in annoyance.
“I don’t, not all of them, but the one I’m going to write about is. I think. I’m not sure, actually. That’s a really good point.”
“Hmm,” Kate said, and she seemed to be considering the idea. “So it’s a story about family?”
“Looks like. Anyway, you need lunch.” Ben asked. “What do you say I make you a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Just like Mom’s?” Kate asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“You bet your ass.”
Ben and Kate sat together on the Eames. He held a cold beer in his right hand. Kate had chased him out of the kitchen earlier; she said he made her nervous with his ‘looming around,’ but she had still joined him in the living room when she finished with the prep work.
“This is nice, Katie.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“It’s weird he left me the house,” Ben said, staring at the photographs on the mantle. “You’re the one with the baby on the way.”
“He didn’t know that,” Kate replied, her tone wan. “And besides, I own my apartment, and I’m happy in New York. He wanted you to have a home, Ben. It was never me he worried about.”
“You landed on your feet.”
“So did you. It just took a while.”
“I guess,” Ben said, though he was not entirely sure he believed that himself. He was still trying to find his feet, but he felt closer than ever before. Maybe he would even manage to find a pair of shoes that fit, as well.
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