Koji left off questioning Padgett and hurried over. “There is good news. Come and hear it!”
She let him lead her toward Padgett in time to hear the Caretaker remark, “I can see why Koji’s Grafting was so successful.”
“And why Shimron has taken to leaving his Ivory Tower,” Harken added.
Shimron smiled fondly at Koji. “If I did not, I would not see my apprentice half so often.”
The young angel shuffled his feet, blushing to the tips of his pointed ears. “Leaving is . . . difficult.”
His mentor waved a hand. “Linger while you can.”
“The days fly too swiftly for my taste,” Ephron said. “I was dreading my goodbye to Aril, but now, I must say goodbye to my Flight.”
“Except Abner,” said Koji.
A soft smile bloomed on Ephron’s pale face. “Yes, I will be with Abner.”
Prissie quietly added, “And Koji.”
The blind Observer held out his hand to her, and she slipped closer to take it. Drawing her down to sit at his side, Ephron said, “Yes. Where the gate goes, the tower will be.”
“None of us are keeping everyone, but at least we’ll all have company,” said Prissie. “You’ll have Shimron, Koji, Aril, Abner, Padgett . . . .”
“Not Padgett,” Koji quickly corrected, crowding close to her other side. “He has news!”
The Caretaker inclined his head. “I will remain.”
Harken explained, “Abner has decreed his apprentice ready to leave the nest.”
Prissie asked, “Will Abner take on a new apprentice?”
Shimron said, “Who can say for certain what God will do? But for now, Abner has charge of Ephron.”
“Is that okay?” she wondered aloud. “A Caretaker and an Observer?”
Ephron patted her hand. “We will fare well. Abner likes to talk, and I have ears to hear.”
Looking to Padgett, Prissie asked, “Does this mean you’re graduating . . . like Tad?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
Another thought occurred to her. “Will you have an apprentice?”
Padgett smiled faintly. “I hardly feel ready for the responsibility. My hands are full with Abner’s flock. I had no idea they were so . . . attached.”
Prissie glanced around. “I haven’t seen any yahavim yet today.”
“They know the name of their new shepherd, but their fondness for Abner remains intact.” Padgett frowned slightly. “As does my mentor’s sense of humor.”
Silver flashed, and a veritable whirlwind of fluttering wings surrounded them.
Ephron tugged at Prissie’s sleeve. “What is happening?”
She laughed softly. “The yahavim are here, and they all want Padgett’s attention. He’s completely surrounded.”
“An abundance of affection.” He tilted one elfin ear toward the sound, then shared, “Abner will be taming a new flock. He expressed pleasure that I am learning the harp since yahavim are fond of music.”
“Lullabies for little ones,” Shimron agreed, beginning to hum lightly.
“Maybe you should start playing now,” Prissie said. “Padgett looks like he could use the help.”
Ephron reached for his instrument. With every plucked note, several yahavim whisked closer to investigate, and Prissie lifted her hands to welcome them. “Are you Padgett’s flock, now?” she crooned. “He’ll be a good shepherd, but you must be good little sheep!”
With so many tiny distractions dancing around her head, it took a while for Prissie to realize that Koji was missing. Her momentary alarm was caught by Shimron, who said, “Fear not, Miss Pomeroy. My apprentice did not stray far. He and Harken were Sent out ahead of you.”
“Oh.” Picking herself up, she said, “I should catch up to him. Goodbye for now.”
“Take care, precious,” Ephron called as she hurried toward the blue door.
So much was changing. Comings and goings. And no one seemed to mind. Those who would stay were happy to do so. Those who would go were willing to be Sent. Prissie was completely lost in thought as she slipped back into Time, where boxes and books were stacked around Harken’s desk. Meandering out into the store, she jumped in surprise at finding someone standing there. “Excuse me,” was out of her mouth before she realized who she’d nearly collided with.
Ransom glanced over his shoulder at her, then at the back room. “Hey, Miss Priss. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“Yes,” she replied, flustered. “I was just . . . here.”
“Shoulda figured.” He pointed to the chair in the corner where Koji sat, wholly engrossed in a book. “Since he’s here.”
Prissie breathed a sigh of relief. “So are you shopping?”
“Yeah, I wanted some more books,” he replied. “Mr. Mercer and me worked out a deal. I read them, but if I don’t want to keep one, I trade up.”
“You’re using this as a library?”
Ransom shrugged. “Kinda. Except I keep about half the books. He’s pretty good at recommending stuff.”
Prissie looked at the titles he’d chosen — Christian living, autobiographies, and a commentary. “You like these kinds of books?” she asked dubiously.
“Sure.”
“Aren’t they hard to read?”
Ransom paused in his perusal, giving her his full attention. “It’s kinda like having extra homework, but I’m okay with that. And it gives me something to talk about at work. Your dad says Harken put him through the same course when he was my age.” With a wry smile, he added, “Kinda feels like I’m following in his footsteps. You know?”
Prissie had always thought she’d like following in her dad’s footsteps. She wanted to work in the bakery, training up so if Auntie Lou ever retired, her own pies would be good enough to sell. But Ransom wasn’t talking about pastries. He was talking about faith. “That’s kind of . . . admirable.”
“Throw in true, noble, right, and praiseworthy, and we’d have ourselves a verse!” Ransom said with a grin. Turning to include the Observer, he exclaimed, “Koji, you’re my witness! Prissie admires me!”
The young angel was watching them with a half-smile. Setting aside his book, he replied, “I have seen, and I have heard. My testimony is sure.”
Favoring Prissie with a smug look, Ransom asked, “Can I get it in writing?”
“Indeed.” Koji called out, “Harken, may I borrow paper?”
“Help yourself,” came the Messenger’s deep voice from the far corner. He strolled out and dropped three more books onto Ransom’s pile. “These should keep you, young man.”
While Ransom moved to the cash register, Koji rummaged for a pen and soon bent over a single sheet of paper. Prissie crossed to see what he would write, then smiled. Her best friend never did things halfway. Patience and skill flowed with ink across the page. “Whoa,” Ransom breathed. “You take doodling to extremes!”
“Thank you,” the angel replied without pause.
Shimron would be proud. Koji’s penmanship had definitely improved, taking on a good portion of the young Observer’s personality. Confident, yet careful. Ever-attentive to details. He wove words into playful patterns across the page, sprinkling them with diamonds and stars. Turning her head to one side, Prissie found her name. Koji’s and Marcus’s were near it, as were Ransom’s and Beau’s. A phrase caught her eye — dear friend and fellow worker.
Ransom circled the counter and leaned close to get a better look. With a small noise of surprise, he read, “ ‘This is my friend,’ and ‘a friend loves at all times.’ Way to run with a theme!”
Soon, more names fanned out, mixed in with a geometric border — Harken, Milo, Baird, and Kester. Other strange letters may have been names, and leaves sprang into existence, forming a hedge. Prissie deciphered another phrase, “A friend in need.”
With a flourish, Koji placed two last words at the very center of his artwork — Friends Indeed.
On a Friday afternoon in early May, Prissie’s father slid int
o the chair beside hers at the kitchen table. “Can you keep a secret?”
She almost laughed, but toned it down to a smile. “Yes, Daddy.”
Jayce grinned. “Would you like to share mine?”
Prissie knew what that meant and flung her arms around him. “Obviously!”
After weeks of hinting and teasing, he’d finally taken the whole family into his confidence. They’d be celebrating Loafing Around’s twentieth anniversary by hosting a grand re-opening the next day. Everything was ready. Probably. Jayce had managed to hold back several little secrets along the way. He’d sprung them at odd intervals, but one last mystery remained: the new item he was adding to his bakery’s repertoire. As far as Prissie could tell, even Momma didn’t know what it would be.
“I know it’s short notice, but I’d like your help, Princess,” her father said. “Catch a few winks, then we’ll head into town. We’re going to pull an all-nighter!”
“Koji too?”
“Sure, sure. And bring along that spare potato ricer.” With a wink, he said, “I have a feeling it’ll come in handy.”
“I knew you knew!” Prissie exclaimed.
Ransom turned from the ovens, a large tray of rolls in his mitted hand. He smiled in the face of her accusation. “Never denied it, Miss Priss! Don’t you go getting grumpy with me for being a trusty minion.”
Jayce patted her shoulder. “He’s been a big help with everything from peeling potatoes to eating the evidence.”
“Ah!” Koji exclaimed, reaching into a bushel basket and pulling out a sweet potato. “Now I understand!”
Prissie slowly shook her head. “I should have guessed. Daddy, this is perfect!”
Beaming, Mr. Pomeroy tied on an apron. “I thought so, but I was hoping you’d agree.” Clapping his hands, he rubbed them together. “I had fun guarding my little secret, but it’ll be even more fun sharing it!”
Koji agreed, “Sharing a secret is indeed sweet.”
“People are lined up down the block!” Neil announced excitedly.
Pearl smiled broadly. “I’ll just start the second coffee pot.”
“I haven’t been this nervous since my wedding day,” Mr. Pomeroy grumbled.
His wife laughed and kissed his cheek. “That went well enough, and so will this.”
“Folks are antsy to see how you fancied up the place,” said Grandpa Pete, who poked suspiciously at the foam on his mug of coffee.
Tad blandly pointed out, “Some of them may even be hungry.”
Mr. Pomeroy had colluded with Derrick Matthews to give Loafing Around the air of a small town bakery in France. Wooden bread racks and oversized baskets stood out against walls painted in hues of pumpkin and nutmeg. A cappuccino machine, complimentary internet access, additional tables, and comfy chairs made it easier for folks to accept the hand-painted invitation on the wall behind the front counter — Take Your Sweet Time.
Prissie really liked the bakery’s fresh, new look, but something had still been missing. Finally, she realized what it was. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Yeast and spice. Coffee and vanilla. Butter and herbs. For months, the bakery had smelled like sawdust and plaster, paint and plastic. Yes, this was much better. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . change wasn’t such a bad thing.
“Behind you!” Ransom sang out, hustling by with at least a dozen bags of fresh potato rolls in his hands. They were a perennial favorite in West Edinton. And now, doubly so. For his twentieth anniversary, Jayce had developed a recipe for sweet potato rolls. They’d be sold side-by-side with their classic potato rolls.
Prissie finished filling a basket with heart-shaped cookies and followed him out the swinging door and into the front of the store, which was jam-packed with Pomeroys.
Grandma Nell chased after Zeke, wiping his fingerprints off all the surfaces he smudged, while Tad and Beau manned the helium tank. One corner of the ceiling was slowly filling with the golden balloons they’d give out to kids.
Everyone in the family had already known that Jayce’s anniversary theme was sweet. They’d had T-shirts made up special, all in shades of chocolate, caramel, and butterscotch, printed with sweet sayings. Most had their new motto. But there were other things too. Jayce’s shirt declared, Life Is Sweet, and Naomi’s read, Sweets for the Sweet. Prissie had chosen to have Home Sweet Home printed on her deep orange shirt. Jude’s simply said, Sweetness.
As the minutes ticked down to opening time, Jayce had everyone gather around for a quick prayer, then unlocked the front door and hung Neil’s handmade sign on its usual peg — Get Your Buns In Here.
Loafing Around was back in business.
Prissie spent most of the day on cookie duty, making sure their greeters were stocked. Auntie and Uncle Lou oversaw Zeke and Jude out front, where they handed out heart-shaped cookies. The old man’s eyes twinkled as he cheerfully plied friend and neighbor alike with sweets and sweet talk. “Home is where the heart is, so make yourself at home!”
Half the town seemed to have turned out to welcome Jayce back into business, and the new bread racks were emptying at record speed. Prissie was enjoying the friendly hubbub . . . right up until Beau came careening out of the kitchen, eyes wide. He grabbed her hand and hauled her along to the back door, talking fast. “I can’t tell what’s going on. Maybe you can see. It happened so fast. Oh, man . . . that smell!”
She couldn’t understand why her younger brother’s hand was clamped so firmly over his nose and mouth, but one glance was enough to send her flying across the narrow road that ran behind the bakery. Jedrick slumped against a wall, his hand pressed over a wound in his thigh. She dropped to her knees next to him and quickly added pressure to try to stop his bleeding. “I’m getting tired of all this besetting!” she grumbled, trying to hide how frightened she was. “What happened?”
“Prissie, you shouldn’t be here,” groaned the Flight captain. Just then Marcus darted out of the nearest alley, sword out and wings up. He skidded to a stop, boots scraping against the pavement. Jedrick snapped, “Did you find him?”
The young Protector looked nauseous as he held out a single sneaker. “Just this.”
Warm light welled up under Prissie’s palms as her own blood drained from her face. She knew that shoe. She was the one who’d taught Koji to tie the laces.
Marcus’s voice cracked. “He’s gone.”
19
THE ANGEL’S FRIEND
Koji kicked and bit, writhing in the grasp of a lumpish foe. Frantic with fear, he thrust with elbows and knees, but a gnarled hand clamped around his throat, stopping his breath. Too late, he tried a burst of brightness. Too quickly, the shadows closed around him. Barely clinging to consciousness, he whimpered in dismay over his covenant with Prissie. Against his will. Against his wishes. These enemies trod his earnest pledge under pounding feet.
“Gone limp, has he?” creaked one voice.
His captor gloated, “Wrung out.”
Another voice whispered, “Lost his way, lost his heart, lost his lady.”
“Through here,” snapped the first voice.
Koji caught fleeting impressions of large trees, old cinder blocks, and peeling paint before he was cast to the mouldered floor of a cramped shed. The door shut with an ominous snick, and the young Observer automatically cataloged the details of his prison. Light bled through the cracks between boards, and spiders skittered into the corners. A small, square window stood over a jumbled potting bench, its cracked pane thick with grime. Rusted garden tools and rows of terracotta pots lined the wall he faced. Behind him, a new voice spoke, silky soft. “Prissie’s pet!”
He turned, needing to see the face of the demon who’d tempted his best friend. Long, auburn hair, light brown eyes, and broad shoulders — his resemblance to Tamaes was striking. No scar pulled at Adin’s features, but they were touched by decay. And barren wings dragged in the dust.
“I’ve watched you follow her around like a puppy, gazing at her with adoration,” Adin said, a siniste
r smile sliding into place. “Holding hands, sharing embraces, trading secrets.”
A blade glinted in his hand as he circled to crouch in front of Koji. The boy hugged himself, searching his heart for the courage to face pain.
“Was she warm? Was she generous?”
Koji recoiled from the wrongness of Adin’s implications.
The Fallen casually inspected his dagger. “Breaking you would probably break her heart. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Before dread could settle in the pit of his stomach, a voice reached Koji, rich with mercy, filled with comfort. ‘Peace, child of light. They cannot touch you.’
Awe shuddered through the young angel, but Adin took it for fear and congratulated himself with a smile. “She weeps for your upcoming departure. Which begs the question — why would you leave your beloved? What could possibly lure you from her side?”
“I am Sent,” Koji whispered.
“Simplicity itself!” Adin’s smile widened. “And it simplifies things immensely. All I need is for you to tell me where you’ll be Sent from.”
Koji shook his head.
Adin’s jaw clenched. “Tell me, boy. If Prissie heard you cry out, would she come running?”
God spoke once more, and Koji’s heart broke in a brand new way. He obediently relayed, “She will be there. Name the place.”
Shock flickered across Adin’s face, but then he burst into triumphant laughter. As the other Fallen joined in, Koji closed his eyes and hung his head in silent shame. Had he not said he would never lead Prissie into danger? Another broken promise.
Beau stayed back, watching from the bakery’s back step. Prissie was pretty amazing, seeing what she could see. Much cooler than being able to smell the bad guys. But then something happened that yanked him into motion. He’d never seen someone go white before. Prissie was frightened, and all he could think was to get to her. Except something was in the way.
The space between him and Prissie rippled, then tore, burning away in a blaze of gold. He squinted as the light coalesced into a young man in combat gear with a sword in his hand. Yellow light fluttered like a cloak from his shoulders, which was all very dramatic. And then . . . he said, “Yo.”
The Garden Gate Page 20