Catee's Grace

by Keith Holmes

  “No Catee, I’m not all right. But I’m gonna try to hang on baby. I’m gonna try to stay with you until Mommy is here okay?”

  Catee’s brow deepened as sorrow filled her face. “Mommy’s here Daddy.”

  But Ethan couldn’t understand. Perhaps his mind wouldn’t allow him to let the truth behind Catee’s explanation slip down to break his heart. Perhaps he simply wasn’t ready to hear that he’d failed his wife completely; that his last words to her were the most vicious thing he could think to say. Whatever the case, he shook his head and let it loll back for a moment as he went on to explain. “No baby. Jahleel is bringing Mommy to meet us. They’ll be here soon.”

  Catee didn’t answer. Her mother’s spirit, traveling with them once more had taken her attention. Slowly Tara descended from the air and planted her feet upon the ground behind Ethan, kneeling down to wrap her arms around him.

  “Can you hear me Catee?” she asked. Catee nodded softly. “You can’t fix Daddy can you?” she asked with sadness in her eyes. Catee looked to the ground, then back to her mother and shook her head.

  “Can you help him?” Tara asked. A tear slipped down the little girl’s face as she nodded again. “Then you have to help him baby. You have to let him come with me.”

  Catee’s chest heaved as sadness completely overtook her for a moment. The quivering in her breath brought Ethan's attention and he reached out for her, withdrawing the moment he realized he couldn’t touch. He tried to sooth her with the softness in his voice.

  “Oh don’t do that little one. It’ll be okay… I promise, it’ll be okay.”

  Catee shook her head as she sucked back a breath. “Daddy?” she asked, her head lilting to the side as she looked into his eyes. “Do you believe in Heaven now?”

  Ethan furrowed his brow at the odd question. It took a moment for him to understand why she'd asked. “Yes Catee. I do.”

  Catee stumbled forward a half step, her eyes glazed with tears. “You go live there now. With Mommy."

  "Mommy," Ethan echoed. "You can't fix me can you baby?"

  "No," she shook her head, her voice soaked with sadness. "I only help you go."

  Ethan clinched his fist and slammed it into the ground. Another twinge caused his stomach to seize. And then a sense of peace passed over him. He turned to his daughter once more.

  “Mommy’s hugging me isn’t she baby?” he asked, his voice cracking as he reached out with his soul for the sweet touch of the woman he swore his life to. Catee nodded softly. Tears slipped down Ethan’s cheek as he outstretched his arms to his little girl and beckoned her.

  “Help me.”

  With that Catee flew into her father’s embrace. Pain seared into his corrupted flesh but he wouldn't let go or even lessen his bear hug. “Oh God, I love you my little baby girl.” he said, his tears dripping from his cheeks onto her back.

  “I love you too Daddy,” she said, her own tears following the same path to his coat.

  Ethan squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth to fight away the pain burning into him but there was no way he was letting go of his little girl. In a moment it ceased.

  Ethan's eyes shot wide as he suddenly felt two sets of arms wrapped about him. The world in which he stood was vibrant and felt busy though there wasn't another soul in sight. Each snowflake falling from the sky reflected a blessed purity and the little girl in his arms shown like the light of a thousand suns.

  At first he released his daughter’s embrace, pulling her back to look to the duel specs of ocean blue adrift on a sea of light that was her face in this realm of spirit. Then, remembering the arms about his neck, he turned to find Tara’s smiling face.

  “Over there Daddy.” Catee said, guiding his vision to a pinhole of light that out shown even Catee’s bright spirit. He didn't know what it was, where it might go, but he felt attracted to it, an urge to follow its light.

  Ethan shook his head as he placed a hand over Tara’s arm to hold it there. “No baby. I… we won’t leave you here.”

  Catee smiled to him and shook her head. "I do work here Daddy. I see you soon.”

  Ethan shook his head but as he began to protest Tara kissed his ear and stood. "Look," she instructed, pointed back toward the chantry. The broken body of a knight lumbered toward the farm.

  Ethan smiled, relieved. "Jahleel."

  “We have to go now Ethan,” she said softly. “We can’t stay here.”

  He smiled a sad smile as he hugged his little girl to him once more, joined again by Tara’s motherly arms about them both. “I’ll always be with you,” he said. “We’ll always be with you.”

  Catee nodded, her sad but smiling face shining far more wisdom than her years would belie. “I love you Mommy and Daddy,” she said, keeping her tears inside for now.

  The hug seemed to last a lifetime before it was finally released. Slowly, with prickly sadness of goodbyes in their hearts, Ethan and Tara took each other by the hand and traveled into eternity.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  The old woman’s eyes were not as gifted as Catee’s. As she watched the painful exchange from the window, she saw only that which, was presented here on this earth. All that her kind eyes were privy to was the searing embrace of a vampire to his daughter and the eventual end of his life. She watched from her kitchen window as a little girl, unable to let go of her father, was dragged to the ground by the weight of his neck as he died; how she clung to him even after.

  Broken hearted, the old woman dashed into the snow and fell to her side. Ethan's body had reduced to cinders. She threw her coat around the crying girl. Though the arms of Catee's sweater had been burned away completely, the child's skin was untouched. A labored crunch of boots on snow fell behind them.

  When the knight saw what had happened his face drew tight and he joined them upon his knees in mourning for his friend.

  "Einen moment bitte?" he said to the farmer's wife. She nodded and moved back toward the house.

  "I am so sorry Catee," he said softly, hurting physically and deep within his heart.

  She sucked for a breath and looked up to him. "It okay," she said through her tears.

  "I'll take you someplace safe," he promised.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "No more knights now. Now I go wif her."

  Jahleel looked to Ethan's cinders and thought of Tara, floating lifelessly in that wicked pool. He looked up to Heaven, his faith shaken. How could it be? How could this tiny, perfect little girl be all alone now? How could this have been allowed to happen?

  He shook his head, disappointed in himself for questioning it. But in living the storm, he simply couldn't see the sun. He couldn't blame her. All he and his kind had brought to her was pain.

  "I will protect you. No knights, just me." he said.

  "No," she insisted, "her."

  Jahleel looked to the house, to the old woman standing at the door. Without a word he struggled to his feet. He went to the door and spoke for a few moments to the farmwife, then stumbled back to Catee's side and knelt again.

  "All right," Jahleel said. "She'll help. She'll take you far away from here. Far away from this madness. To someplace safe."

  "With squirrels?" she asked, looking up to him. A sad grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

  "With squirrels," he nodded. "But Catee, you mustn't speak of who you are, of what you can do, of where you come from... to anyone. Not knights like me. Not priests. No one. Do you promise?"

  Catee lifted a finger to her lips and nodded.

  "I am glad I came to know you Catee Moyer. I am blessed for it," he said softly.

  "I love you Kahjeel," she said, standing and stepping into his arms. He was hugging her tight when he felt her lips to his ear.

  "I fix you?" she asked.

  He shook his head. "I don't deserve it."

  "Where you go Kahjeel?" She asked.

  Jahleel pondered that for a moment. His stomach growled, ready to start his own miraculous healing process. He ignored th
e sound and thought of Ethan's question back in Paris. Deeply he wished that the dragon had shot him in the throat. The young knight wiped away a tear and looked to the little girl who'd returned to her knees by the ashen pile where her father had once been. All he could think of was how he'd failed her... them.

  "Away," he said, ashamed. "God..." the blessing caught in his throat. "Good bye Catee," he finished, then limped off into the woods.

  EPILOGUE

  Father Dominique strode up the springtime mountain path with excitement and his usual amount of skepticism, taking in the fresh air and appreciating the natural beauty. In honesty, his rear end hurt from hours of riding through mountain passes and down roads that horses would have difficulty traversing but this was his duty to his Order, the Occulus Dei.

  While other Priests spent their time running churches and orphanages, Father Dominique was blessed (and sometimes cursed, or so he felt) with the duty of investigating ‘miracles’ reported by the faithful. More often than not, he found that things seen as miracles were far from it, but occasionally he’d find something that only served to strengthen his faith that there is a God in Heaven and that sometimes He moves His hand.

  Today he was investigating a girl, supposedly one who had the gift of healing. He shook his head when Father Helforde gave him the order to investigate; he’d never, after all, managed to actually find anyone with the gift to heal, but duty called him and dutifully he answered.

  Aala was standing at the end of the path that led to her door as he made his way up to the home.

  “Good afternoon Father,” she said in her native German, welcoming the priest with a warm smile. "What brings you here?"

  "I am told," he began, his German strong, "that there is a girl here of unique blessing."

  Aala shook her head. "No father. There's nothing like that here," she insisted. But the woman wasn't good at lying, let alone to a priest. Doubt crossed Dominique's features.

  "Are you sure? There was a report of a blind beggar. The girl retuned his sight," he explained.

  Aala's brow drew in as she considered another lie. She didn't like it, but shook her head. "Beggars tell many stories Father. The Church has never come before," she said.

  "Well," Dominique smiled. He had an affable way with people, his trustworthy grin had always put them at ease, "this was a particularly convincing beggar. In fact, he said that the girl lived here, with you."

  Aala couldn't look at him anymore. She clutched a kitchen towel in her hands nervously. Dominique knew that he had her reconsidering.

  "Aala, is there such a girl here? You know that I mean her no harm," he said. The old woman hesitated, considering. Finally she relented.

  "She is an orphan girl Father. Two years ago my sister in Weidan Am See asked for her to come here. She said that the child had been through a great deal, and that she needed to be hidden."

  "Weidam Am See?" Dominique questioned. "Do you know anything about her parents?" Aala shook her head.

  "My sister wouldn't say, but I think it is something bad. It hurt her heart to think of it." Dominique's brow drew down and immediately his thoughts went to the alleged Argent Child the Templars lost in Paris. But that was two years ago and the idea that a little American girl would turn up in a remote Austrian village seemed quite a stretch.

  "Does she speak English?" he asked.

  "No father. She can't speak," Aala explained, "she is mute I think. I have never heard her utter a sound."

  "Oh," he replied, "well, cart-before-the-horse I suppose. Can I meet her?"

  "She is very shy Father," Aala explained, "but I will take you to her."

  As they stepped down the path to Aala's door, something caught Dominique's eyes. The stump of a felled tree had been drawn on. In red, a cross pattee' shown across the whole of it.

  "What's that?" Dominique asked, canting his head. The old woman looked to it.

  "Oh, she did that. She draws symbols of all kinds. She leaves them everywhere. Aren't they beautiful? Such remarkable skill for one so young," Aala said proudly.

  "It's remarkable," the Priest said as he turned the possibilities in his mind. After a moment puzzling, he decided that he must meet this girl post-haste. He turned and nodded toward the door. "What do you call her?" he questioned.

  "Her name is Katia," Aala explained.

  "She told you this?" he asked. Aala shook her head.

  "She doesn't speak Father. It is a name that we chose for her," she explained.

  Dominique nodded. "After you," he said. Aala opened the door to find a girl sitting at a windowsill, looking out at the mountains, watching the squirrels play. She turned to the sound and the contentment in her face washed away. She stared at Dominique as he stepped to her and softly spoke.

  "Hello Katia," he said, smiling, "I'm Father Dominique. I'd like to ask you some questions if I may."

  She hung her head.

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