Broken Wings (An Angel Eyes Novel)

43

Brielle

Miss Macy arrived a half hour ago. She spent two minutes talking to Dad and twenty minutes cleaning the kitchen. When I couldn’t watch her scrub another dish, I left her there and retreated to the orchard.

To the red orchard.

The battle continues to rage overhead, but the Sabres have kept Maka and the Palatine from taking Stratus. Their song has all but torn the veil, and the orchard is brighter than ever. Helene is never far, tells me the Army of Light has arrived. She says they’ll surround the Palatine, engage them on multiple fronts.

The Fallen will take me if they can—I know that—but I’m as safe in the orchard as I am inside.

I sink to the ground amidst the rotting fruit and weeds. The Sabres’ song surrounds me. It’s as loud as ever, but not everyone can hear it, it seems. Miss Macy can’t, but Dad and I can. I think it’s the only reason I was able to find sleep last night. As it turns out, my cell was under the couch. I press and hold the number five, my hand trembling to keep the phone in place.

But it doesn’t matter. Jake’s phone goes straight to voice mail.

I leave a message telling him to call me. I try not to cry while I’m talking, but there’s no stopping the tears once they start. And they haven’t really stopped since yesterday. I tell Jake I’m not mad. That I don’t care about the ring. That it’s not important. A life together isn’t even the most important thing, I tell him. It’s his soul. Whole, untarnished, uncorrupted. That’s the important thing.

I hang up, but I don’t release the phone. Jake might call. Or Canaan even. He followed Damien into the distance and never returned. I don’t know how long he’ll follow the demon, but I pray he’ll follow him to the ends of the earth. That he’ll bring Jake back safe.

And if he can’t do that, I pray that I’ll have a chance to see Jake again.

If not on this side of heaven, then on the other.

Like my mom and Ali.

With my phone still in my hand, I pull the envelope of pictures from my back pocket. The pictures Dad had developed the other day. I find strange comfort in them, the envelope already worn because I’ve opened and closed it so often.

They’re pictures of Mom. Of Mom and Olivia, actually. It seems their encounter at the hospital wasn’t their last. As a girl, Olivia visited Mom at the hospital. I imagine she came when her mother was working. There are a few pictures of the three of them. There are even some of Mom and Dad. Of Miss Macy. Of Pastor Noah and Becky. I need to talk to them. They can tell me about Stratus all those years ago. About the miracles and the healings.

I slide the top picture to the back and find my favorite of the bunch. Mom’s reading to me—Dr. Seuss, by the looks of it—and we’re on her hospital bed. I’m wearing the flowered necklace. Olivia’s necklace. I can only guess she gave it to Mom, and Mom gave it to me. How it ended up in her grave is anyone’s guess, but I’m sure Dad had something to do with it.

He had to bury something, after all.

I’m still not sure what Mom was doing in a Portland hospital, but it’s something else I’ll ask Dad later. For now, I’m done asking questions. The answers don’t satisfy, and they won’t help me fight.

And if I’m ever going to get Jake back, I need to fight.

I tuck the pictures away, closing the envelope again. And then I stand as the tendrils of sound and light surround me. I breathe them in and let the music take me. I let myself dance.

I may not have the confidence to sing my redemption song, but I can wield it anyway. My arms and legs can fight even when I don’t have the courage to move my mouth. The orchard doesn’t provide the easiest dance floor, but my heart doesn’t care. The Sabres sing somewhere beyond the veil. Their voices sing of an almighty, all-knowing God, and I let my body join them. I let myself believe that He knows best, even though it hurts. Even though everything I love has been taken.

I’m broken, but here in the red orchard, surrounded by the sweet smell of worship, I raise my hands above my head, and I believe.