The Garden Gate

by Christa J. Kinde

  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. Two 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.”

  2

  THE SPARE ROOM

  Shimron rarely left his tower, but on this night, no one could hold him back. “Have the children gone?”

  “Soon,” Abner promised.

  “Do not speak to me of soon,” the old one said, pacing the stone floors. “I have endured much soon and many laters. Lead me into now.”

  The Caretaker bowed his head and opened the way. “With pleasure.”

  Padgett turned as his mentor escorted Shimron into the fresh wreckage of Prissie’s bedroom, but the Observer spared no glance for his surroundings. He only had eyes for his former apprentice, who huddled in their captain’s embrace. Kneeling beside Jedrick, Shimron buried his face in his hands and wept.

  Ephron blindly stretched out his hand. “Shimron?”

  As the First One lifted his voice in a song older than Time itself, tears slipped out from under the edges of Ephron’s fresh bandages, and Jedrick extended the shelter of his wings to include one more.

  “How long do you need?” asked Jayce Pomeroy, draping his arm over the van’s front seat as he peered back at his two passengers.

  “How long will you be?” Prissie countered, toying with the end of one braid.

  “Hard to say.” Her father stared at a point kitty-corner across the street. Prissie refused to follow his gaze. It hurt too much to look at the blackened stone and boarded-over windows of Loafing Around. “After I pick up Ransom, there’s a long list of errands to work through. It’ll probably take a while.”

  “Just come and get us when you’re done,” Prissie said with a sigh. Normally, she’d be annoyed that her father was going to be spending all day with her classmate, but this time, she was grateful for the window of opportunity it opened. “I don’t think Harken would mind even if we stayed all day.”

  “Sure, sure,” Jayce agreed, giving her and Koji a wan smile. “I’ll see you later, then.”

  Prissie opened the door and hopped out, and Koji quickly followed. They waved as Jayce pulled away, then shuffled carefully along the ice-skimmed sidewalk toward The Curiosity Shop. The last step was hard to take; Prissie had cold feet, and not just because of the cold snap.

  “They are waiting,” Koji quietly prompted.

  “I know,” she muttered, still not moving.

  Without another word, her best friend took her hand and led her across the threshold.

  A soft twinkle of chimes announced their arrival, and Harken glanced up from his reading, a warm smile on his face. “I’m glad you could make it! Please, go on through.”

  “You are not coming?” inquired Koji.

  “Perhaps later. I have a store to mind,” Harken replied. His expression softened when Prissie hung back. “Are you all right, child?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but no words came. Swallowing hard against the knot in her throat, she shook her head. How could she be all right? The bakery was in shambles, her bedroom was totally ruined, and a large section of their orchard had been uprooted. People kept saying her family should be grateful, but who in their right mind would be glad for disasters? Folks at church tried to tell her that it could have been worse, but she didn’t really care about what could have happened. What had happened was horrible!

  Sure, she was glad that nobody in her family had been hurt, but what about Milo? And Ephron was back, but for the last few days, she’d known something wasn’t quite right. Every time she tried to ask Koji what was going on, he’d gently replied that it was not his place to say. Today was supposed to be about getting answers, but she was no longer sure she wanted them. Harken’s eyes were too sad, and Koji’s hand held hers so tightly. It was going to be more bad news.

  Harken stepped around his counter and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Fear not, Prissie,” he urged, his voice rich with compassion.

  “Are you going to tell me that everything will work out?” she asked bitterly.

  “Would you believe me if I did?”

  That forced her to think. Platitudes from well-meaning friends were one thing, but the words of one of God’s own Messengers were quite another. Prissie lowered her gaze and whispered, “Yes. If you said it, I’d believe you.”

  The shopkeeper’s voice rang with gentle authority as he said, “ ‘I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the LORD, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’ ”

  Grasping at hope, Prissie allowed Koji to usher her into the back room. The ornate blue door was right where it belonged, but she stalled a little before opening it. Shedding gloves, scarf, hat, and coat, she draped them over the chair at Harken’s desk. Koji followed suit, though he also rid himself of boots and socks.

  She reached for the softly-glowing knob, but paused to ask, “Who’s here?”

  Koji’s head tipped to one side. “Padgett, Milo, Ephron . . . and Jedrick has arrived.”

  “Oh,” she replied. Fewer than she’d anticipated, but in a way, that made this easier. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

  Heaven’s light and sweet harmonies spilled into the back room, and a soft sigh escaped Prissie’s lips. As much as she’d been dreading this meeting, some part of her longed to return to the soft glow that filtered through this unearthly glade’s trees. Her friends were singing, and there was an unfamiliar voice mingled with the rest. Stepping into their timeless ha
ven, Prissie quickly picked out the newcomer.

  Ephron’s fine, flaxen hair hung unevenly around his elfin ears, and tufts stood up here and there atop his head. It reminded Prissie of the time Zeke had given Jude a haircut with Grandma Nell’s pinking shears. The slim angel looked much better than he had a few days ago, but he was still too thin, too pale, too dim. His whole demeanor spoke of suffering, and it filled her with shame.

  “Miss Priscilla!” Milo called, interrupting the song. He was clad in raiment, and his wings swirled around him in shimmering swathes of blue as he hurried to welcome her in.

  “How are you feeling?” she murmured, trying to tell if he was still in pain.

  “Mending quickly, thanks to Padgett’s tender mercies.”

  She frowned. “You missed church, and you haven’t been the one delivering our mail.”

  “Jedrick’s orders,” Milo replied, an odd tension creeping into his expression. “I haven’t been myself lately. A few more days, and I’ll be back on the job.”

  “So you are still hurting.”

  “I suppose I am. But first things first. Things were a little muddled the other night. Ephron’s been wanting to greet you properly.”

  “S-sure,” she said, though she was far from it. Guilt assailed her. Shame burned in her soul. It was hard to face someone she was certain she’d wronged. Still, she allowed Milo to lead her closer.

  Ephron was clean now, with bandages and fresh clothes replacing his tatters. Although she knew better than to rely on appearances, the rescued Observer seemed no older than her big brothers. As she knelt in the grass near his side, she noticed how Ephron’s fingers were quick to catch onto the fullness of Padgett’s sleeve. The Caretaker was humming softly under his breath while he sifted through Ephron’s ragged locks. To Prissie’s astonishment, she realized that he was fixing them. “Are you giving him a haircut?”

  A smile lurked in the depths of Padgett’s eyes. “I believe I’ve added more than I’m taking away.”

  “It feels strange,” Ephron offered, gently reminding them that he was there.

  “I suppose it would,” Padgett replied easily. A few moments later, he sat back on his heels to scrutinize neatly bobbed hair that barely reached the Observer’s pointed chin. “What do you think, Jedrick?”

  Ephron’s face lifted towards their Flight captain, who riffled his fingers through the silvery-blond strands. “It makes you look younger.”

  “How ironic. I feel much older.”

  Milo cleared his throat and said, “Miss Priscilla, this is our teammate Ephron.”

  “Hello,” she managed weakly.

  Ephron turned toward her voice, and his lips curved into a gracious smile. “Hello, precious. Please, do not be afraid.”

  His manner of speech had a musical quality, and she remembered Koji saying that Ephron was a poet, but his light voice seemed a bit hoarse, like when you spent a whole evening cheering at a football game. She winced, because he’d probably been crying . . . or worse. “I’m not afraid,” she lied. After an awkward pause, she added, “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ephron tipped his head to one side, then held out one slender hand. When she hesitated, he murmured, “Please?”

  For all his icy appearance, the angel’s fingers were reassuringly warm as he folded both of his hands around hers. Prissie was glad that he was safe, and she was grateful that he was solid . . . and smiling at her. Even though he couldn’t see her face, she found herself tentatively smiling back.

  He hummed softly and nodded to himself. “Is this acceptable, Prissie?”

  Some of the tightness in her chest loosened. “Yes, thank you.”

  Ephron’s head turned this way and that, and the downturn of his lips communicated his perplexity. “Prissie is here. Where is Tamaes?” The answering silence was ominous, and he quietly added, “Tamaes is the one who came for me.”

  “That’s right,” Milo confirmed. “He passed you along to me, and I carried you the rest of the way.”

  “I wanted to see . . . to thank him,” Ephron explained, beginning to rub Prissie’s hand with his thumbs.

  “Shouldn’t he be here with me?” Prissie disliked the sudden tension in the air. This must be it. This must be the question she shouldn’t have asked. Her voice shook. “Where is he?”

  Ephron’s head swiveled, and he prompted, “Milo?”

  “I don’t know,” the Messenger admitted in a low voice.

  “Jedrick?” the blind Observer begged.

  “He was taken,” their captain revealed. “We could not find him.”

  Prissie gasped in tandem with Ephron’s soft whimper. A small part of her wanted to blame this new angel for her Guardian’s disappearance, but it was impossible to dredge up any anger. Not when she could feel his hands trembling around hers.

  Prissie poked at her serving of homemade macaroni and cheese without much enthusiasm. Grandma Nell had been rotating through their favorite meals, probably in an effort to cheer them up. Everyone was trying to be normal, which only made things worse. Tad’s jokes fell flat. Neil asked for seconds but couldn’t finish. Beau was pretending not to stare at Koji. Zeke was being good.

  Only Jude carried on as usual. Was he too young to understand what had happened? Or was he smart to only look ahead? The incubator Grandpa Pete had given him for Christmas had him all excited for spring days and spring chicks.

  When Taweel ducked through the kitchen door with Ephron in his arms, no one noticed Prissie freeze and slowly lower her fork. The big Guardian hesitated awkwardly upon finding himself exposed to her scrutiny, then dipped his head in silent greeting before returning to the task he’d clearly been Sent to accomplish.

  Koji’s foot bumped hers under the table, and she turned just enough to catch his eager expression. “What’s going on?” she whispered.

  “Ephron does not like to be alone.”

  After months of solitary confinement, it wasn’t any wonder he craved company. “Doesn’t he need to stay in the light?”

  “Yes, that would be best. And Jedrick wanted him to stay where it was safest, but . . .” Koji hesitated, then simply repeated, “Ephron does not like to be alone.”

  Prissie was catching on. “Did you volunteer to keep him company?”

  “Indeed.” Koji searched her face. “Are you displeased?”

  She sighed. “It’s not as if I’d turn him away. Like Momma says, the more the merrier.”

  Not that there was any real merriment in the vicinity of Ephron’s new haven. Prissie tried even harder to act normally while the recuperating Observer spent the rest of the dinner hour with his head cocked to one side, eavesdropping on the Pomeroys’ stilted conversation. Apparently, the second-safest place in the known universe was the top of her family’s refrigerator.

  Prissie knew she should be grateful to still have a room of her own, but she honestly disliked sleeping in her grandparents’ spare bedroom. Even though they were part of her family, she felt isolated from her home. And from Koji. It was probably selfish to hate it so much, but Pete’s and Nell’s habits were just different enough from her parents’ to make it hard for her to relax. They were such little things, like the furnace sounding different, and Grandpa Pete shuffling into the kitchen to put on the coffee pot at four every morning. But since the noises were new, they woke her, and once she was awake, her reeling thoughts wouldn’t let her get back to sleep. Worries, fears, doubts, regrets — ​they crowded close.

  Today had been even worse than usual, knowing Tamaes must be in pain. As she sobbed into her pillow, she gradually became aware of a soft glow. She raised her head, blinking tears.

  “I am here,” murmured a deep voice.

  “Taweel?” she whispered, staring into the concerned face of her Guardian’s mentor.

  He nodded awkwardly, but his violet eyes met hers steadily. “You are not alone,” he offered gently. “You have never been alone.”

  “But this place is so lonely.” The bed was too big, and the s
tars outside the window looked bleak without colored panes of glass to shine through. She missed things she could never have back, and it was an awful feeling.

  Taweel nodded. “Perhaps that is why I was Sent.”

  “Is Tamaes still missing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think he’s safe?” she dared to ask.

  “That is unlikely.”

  A tear slid unbidden down her cheek, and the big Guardian slowly reached out and placed his hand atop her head. “I will remain by your side until he can return to his place. Fear not.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about!” Prissie protested. “I want him back safe!”

  “As do I,” he assured, his voice catching. “I do not wish to lose another given into my care.”

  She sat up in bed, pulling her blankets into a messy nest. This was the first time she’d heard so many words at one time from the gruff angel, and it made her curious. “Another?”

  Taweel unfastened his sword and propped it next to the bed before taking a seat on the floor with a gentle whoosh of luminous, purple wings. Even though it was the middle of the night, their glow made it possible for Prissie to see. He touched the lobe of his left ear and explained, “I have been pierced because my charge was lost. She died without faith in God.”

  “Oh, that’s so sad!” she murmured.

  “It is any Guardian’s greatest sorrow,” he acknowledged. “One Tamaes will never know.”

  “Because I’m a Christian?”

  “Your faith is beautiful,” Taweel replied earnestly.

  Blushing slightly, Prissie asked, “Will you tell me about your girl . . . lady?”

  He nodded. “My charge was a girl, born thousands of years ago in Egypt.”

  “Was she pretty?”

  Taweel considered her question and eventually answered, “Her hair was dark, her eyes were light, and she was fond of cats.”