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Authors: Bruce Blake

On Unfaithful Wings (39 page)

BOOK: On Unfaithful Wings
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I replaced the Tinker Toys on the shelf and continued my aimless wandering, awaiting the opportunity to rush to my son’s side. Fuzzy teddy bears, stuffed ducks in colors never intended by nature, moose with odd expressions sewn onto their faces stared at me, accusing me of being a bad father.

I wished it could have been different.

I tore myself away from the stuffed animals and rounded the end of the shelves, head hung, and narrowly avoided walking into my guardian angel.

“Poe,” I gasped, my foul mood dissipating. “You’re all right.”

“Yes.” She took one of my hands in both hers.

“The cop’s okay?”

She nodded.

“What about Mike?”

“Michael is powerful. Flames are nothing to him.”

Not sure she’d answered my question, but she didn’t look upset. Given the awe with which I’d seen her look at the archangel, I took it to mean he’d come through it fine.

“And Azrael?”

She let go of my hand and took a few steps toward the back of the store. My gaze followed her, trailed past her. I saw the outline of the arcangel kneeling beside my boy through the diminishing glow. Pushing by Poe, I stopped a few paces short of Raphael, unable to get any closer--a force still accompanied that bright light, keeping me away. The archangel must have sensed my proximity because he looked up, his eyes green emeralds in a sea of silver.

“Your son will recover,” the Raphael Tabernacle Choir sang.

The archangel stood, his glow dimming as the light drew back into him like a vacuum sucking up smoke. The force holding me faded and I fell to my knees beside Trevor. Beneath closed lids, his eyes darted like someone in the midst of a dream. I brushed hair from his forehead, felt his cool skin, caressed his cheek with the back of my hand and relished the peach fuzz not yet thick enough to call a beard. No matter what Rae said, this was my boy and nothing would change it.

Poe touched my shoulder sending sparks along my arm and up my neck.

“He needs to rest.”

I nodded and stared at Trevor’s beautiful, peaceful face. “Is Raphael gone?”

“Yes.”

“Then I know he’ll be okay.”

Her grip tightened slightly on my shoulder, comforting.

“Icarus.”

I looked away from Trevor into Poe’s golden eyes. Her expression was serious.

“He is your son.”

The muscles in my jaw bulged as I gritted my teeth, biting back the sobs of sadness and relief and joy threatening to tear out my throat. As if in answer, Trevor’s eye lids fluttered and opened. He glanced around the room, eyes unfocused until they met mine. Our gazes locked and I did my best to smile through fresh tears.

“Ric,” he said. I’d hated when he stopped calling me ‘dad’. Now, the simple joy of hearing him speak overpowered everything else.

“Sshh. Don’t talk. You need to rest.”

He knows me.

He licked his lips, swallowed with effort. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?”

His eyes closed for ten seconds, long enough I thought he might have drifted back to sleep, but then they opened again.

“Two guys came to our house. They said they knew you.”

“They did. Once.”

“I don’t remember anything else except you carrying me. I thought I was little again.”

I smiled. “Oh no. You’re definitely not little.”

He looked at me for a minute, neither of us speaking.

“Am I dead?”

I shook my head and more tears rolled down my cheeks. No stopping them now. “No,” I managed through my constricted throat. “You’re not dead.”

Confusion in his eyes. “But you are.”

“Not anymore.” I put a hand on his cheek and leaned forward until our foreheads touched, the way we used to do when he was little, before the smell of booze on my breath made it so he didn’t want my face close to his, even before Rae wouldn’t let him near me. “It’s a long story.”

He laughed a little and I pulled away to look him in the eyes. The thin smile on his lips gave the impression he might be too fatigued to hold that small expression for long.

“I’ve got time.”

I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t describe my first visit to Hell--I didn’t want him to get any ideas about experimenting with drugs. Hearing myself, I realized how crazy the whole thing sounded and expected him to call bullshit with each revelation, accuse me of being a liar or back on drugs, but he didn’t. I introduced him to Poe, told him how Raphael healed him. Sometimes he smiled, sometimes he looked concerned. As the story drew toward its conclusion, Poe went to the counter and used the phone to call a cab, indicating my time with Trevor was ending. When the taxi arrived, I helped him into the backseat and gave the driver more than he’d need to get Trevor to Rae’s house.

“I can’t go with you.”

“I know. Mom would be mad.”

“There’s that, too.” I laughed. “It’s more that the cops will be hanging around. They think I’m one of the bad guys.” I’d left out the unpleasantries with Ashton, too.

He nodded.

“You can’t tell anyone about this. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” he said giving me one of those crooked smiles teenagers get when they think they know more than their parents. Once upon a time, that expression would have exasperated me. Not today. “Anybody I told would think I was bat shit, anyway.”

“Don’t try.” I ruffled his hair and hugged him good-bye. He allowed the embrace to linger far longer than he usually would have tolerated.

“Will I see you again, Ri...Dad?”

Hearing him use the word again warmed me from the inside and I thought for a second Poe must have put her hand on me to bring about the feeling. She hadn’t. I looked at her before answering, but she showed ne reaction.

“Yeah. You’ll see me.”

I closed the cab’s door and waved through the window at him. As the car pulled into traffic I wondered if we really would see each other again, and whether he’d still recognize me if we did.

A minute passed as I stood on the sidewalk staring after the taxi. Poe put her hand on my shoulder, but she didn’t have to say anything, I knew it was time to go.

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

A week went by before Gabe visited again, one of the longest weeks of my life. Poe came and went, keeping me company some of the time, off in Hawaii or somewhere with another client the rest. I spent those days sitting in my motel, whiling away the hours watching shitty TV shows and listening to the hookers in the next room providing their services. Poe had suggested I leave town, lie low while the cops were looking for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to be too far from Trevor, even though I couldn’t visit him. I’d waited years to have him back in my life, there was no way I’d jeopardize that by leaving.

Newspaper reports attributed the explosion at the church to a gas leak; strange enough, but more peculiar was the body found in the smoldering wreckage. It belonged to Father Dominic, the elderly priest found killed by a shotgun blast weeks before, his body cremated. That little tidbit threw the cops for a loop. If Father Dominic’s body was the one burned in the church, then who did they cremate? Or vice-versa? I didn’t know the answer, either.

During that week, my mind often wandered to the events in the church. Most importantly, that Trevor was alive and now knew I was, too. The conversation between Mikey and Azrael before they’d begun their Chuck Norris versus Bruce Lee impression also occupied my time.


You’ve done nothing but ruin his life,”
Azrael said. The words gnawed at me, termites rampant in my mind. Did he say it for my benefit, to turn me against Michael? Or was there more to it? I asked Poe, but she defended Mike the way a teenage girl might stick up for that Bieber kid. I’d have to look elsewhere for answers.

One morning, I’d had enough of staring at the wall of my room. I donned sunglasses, pulled a wooly toque tight on my head, and made my way to the park. Under the drooping limbs of the willow tree, I sat on the end of the bench where Sister Mary-Therese had sat, my derriere adding to the hundreds before that had worn the varnish through to bare wood. The solitary swan beat its wings, using its size to discourage the ducks from the bread I tossed into the water. I’d come to say yet another good-bye to Sister Mary-Therese, to tell her how much I missed her, but found myself mesmerized by the emerald algae floating atop the pond. Each movement of duck or swan sent it undulating, rippling on top of waves encouraged by a gentle autumn breeze. The water lapped at the muddy shore: the spot where Sister Mary-Therese lost her life.

I miss you.

A group of swallows flitted past, perching in the willow tree. I didn’t need to look up from the squabbling mallards to know Gabe had taken a spot on the bench beside me. I felt her energy, her presence. And you don’t often see swallows around this close to winter.

“Hi Gabe.”

She leaned back on the bench, face tilted to the afternoon sky.

“I love the sun.”

“I know.”

I tore a chunk of bread crust and tossed it to an eager drake. Another fellow that could have been its twin--no bigotry intended, but all ducks look alike--dove for it at the same time. Quacking and bickering ensued. I attempted to break up the disagreement by throwing more bread, but it only exacerbated the situation.

Gabe lowered her head and looked at me, so I turned away from the quarreling water fowl. Her entire face, down to her gingerbread eyes, smiled at me.

“You didn’t just drop by to say hello, did you?”

“Would you be happy if I did?”

“Yep.”

I threw the rest of my bread into the pond. The ducks on the shore flapped and quacked, racing for the food, leaving us alone to talk. Swallows chirped at their duck-cousins, urging them on like bettors at a horse race.

“Flattering. But I’m the messenger, you know.”

“I know.”

She pulled a scroll out of her back pocket and handed it to me. I unrolled it immediately, having learned not to delay the inevitable. Unconsciously, I held my breath as I read the swooping letters, releasing it when I didn’t recognize the name. It would be like that every time from now on.

“Dominic is gone.” She stood, and I shot her a look to let her know I didn’t appreciate her reading my thoughts, but she merely smiled. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

A few swallows fluttered out of the tree and headed for the horizon as she took a step away, then stopped. She spoke over her shoulder without facing me.

“This is the one, Icarus.”

I stared at the detailed feathers of the swallow tattoo on the back of neck, the way they shimmered like the real thing, but didn’t say anything. A nervous lump formed in my throat. After a few seconds, she turned to look at me.

“After you bring this soul to her salvation, you may start your life again.”

I sat up straight. It took a moment to gain control of my emotions enough to respond.

“Will my mother survive this time?”

Her lips twitched into a sad smile like a parent gives a child trying to understand quantum physics.

“The past cannot be changed. You will not relive the same life--that has already been done.” She stepped toward me and put her hand on my forearm. Static electricity jumped up my arm. “This life will end and a new one will begin. One where you can make new choices.”

Her gingerbread eyes held me rapt as my mind raced, playing her words over and over again until I grasped their meaning.

“A new life? I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t be Trevor’s father?”

“No, Icarus. You would be reborn tomorrow, your soul in a new life to live as you choose.”

Tears filled my eyes. After years, my son had finally called me ‘dad’ again. I had the opportunity to be part of his life in some tiny way. Could I give that up to live a better life?

“No.”

Gabe tilted her head. “No?”

“I don’t want to start again.”

She kneeled in front of me. “This is the reward for all harvesters, Icarus, not just you. If you don’t take it, you stay here harvesting souls.”

“Forever?”

She shrugged.

“I want to stay.”

“So it shall be.”

She stood and the rest of the swallows in the willow tree took flight, the sound of their wings like a drum roll in the autumn air. My heart jumped in my chest as I considered what I’d just given up.

But at least there’s Trevor.

“Will you stay with me a while?”

She stopped and lifted her face toward the sun. I don’t know if she was simply enjoying its rays or asking permission for an unscheduled coffee break.

“Sure,” she said finally and sat beside me again. “For a little while.”

We sat on the bench for a half hour, she enjoying the sun and me enjoying her proximity and the feelings of peace it brought. I wanted to ask her so much. Had I made the right decision? What would happen next? And I wanted to interrogate her about Mikey and Azrael, but the calming effect of her presence leeched the intent from me. Ducks waddled around our feet looking for more bread, swallows raced through the sky playfully chasing one another while they waited for Gabe. Neither of us spoke.

BOOK: On Unfaithful Wings
12.09Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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