“You blasted dolt! What if you killed yourself? What if I never get to laugh at one of your stupid jokes again? Why would you do this? Did you think about how this would affect everyone who loves you? Did you even care?” Meg’s anger had her huffing.
“I miss you already, you dork,” she groaned and laid her forehead against his. He felt feverish and his breathing was shallow. With her eyes closed, half hugging him like that, she thought of the first time she saw Cole. She remembered him leaping down the front steps of his blue Kansas house. She smiled at the memory of the look on his face when he first saw Maze clamor out of his dad’s SUV.
Then she remembered him watching her smile at her brothers, breathing deeply after one of their many sparing matches.
Wait.
Meg frowned at the memory.
No, not at the memory, but at the image in her mind.
There was something different about it.
She breathed deeply and opened herself to the thoughts.
Then it made sense—the difference was the vantage point.
That one—the sparring match. It wasn’t Meg’s memory. It was Cole’s.
Forcing herself to relax, she opened herself to his thoughts. They were hazy and inconsistent, but now that she knew what to look for, she could tune into them more readily. Without thinking about the possible consequences, Meg cupped her hands on either side of Cole’s head while maintaining forehead to forehead connection.
With intense concentration, she spread her warm white blanket wide, and imagined it strengthened with iridescent threads of friendship and devotion. She swung the blanket, like a fisherman would toss a net out into the darkened waters. The blanket billowed across Cole’s weak glimmer of consciousness evidenced only in his disconnected dreams. When she sensed she caught something, she bundled the corners of the blanket and dragged the lump into her arms. This was different from anything she felt before. Whatever she caught wasn’t sadness or anger like what she found in Creed and Farrow.
Carefully, she unwrapped the bundle.
Held in her arms was a small black box. Not sure what she would find, but unable to stop herself, she mentally reached for the latch and lifted the lid.
The first thing Meg saw was a picture of a woman with Cole’s green eyes. She smiled as she held a little boy. Jenna. This must be Cole’s mother, Jenna.
Beneath the picture of his mother was a small, simple wedding band. Meg held it over the box, worried if dropped it would be lost in the black waters of Cole’s mind. There was an inscription inside the ring. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to read the tiny script: “Can I kiss you forever?” His mother’s wedding band. The last thing in the box was a folded piece of paper. Meg opened it carefully and saw it was a letter written in a child’s hand, with green crayon. It read:
Dear God,
My mommy is sick. I tried taking care of her, but nothing is helping. Please make her better. If you do, I promise I’ll take care of her forever. I’ll be a good boy, and not just for Christmas presents.
Love, Cole Andrews
Meg returned all three items to the simple box and closed the lid. Using it as her springboard of redefined strength; she poured peace and understanding into her blanket and tossed it out again across the blackened water of Cole’s soul.
Using the box and its precious contents amplified her link to Cole hidden deep inside his own mind. With a sense of power beyond herself, her blanket widened further and further until it was only by faith that she knew where the edges were.
She felt the blackness shift as though cringing from the love she poured over it.
She pulled the corners together, gathering them in hands that now glowed with the same white iridescent light as her blanket. Prayers for strength turned the impossibly heavy bundle into a giant balloon. With a firm tug, the bundle floated away from Cole’s heart. Holding it above her head, she leaped into the air, pushing the now buoyant bundle into the blue sky. She watched it float away, the blackness contained inside squirming sickly, and knew God would dispose of the darkness that had locked itself onto her friend’s soul.
When she woke her vision was blurry and her head was pounding. Maze was draped over her lap, licking her face. Margo’s worried eyes watched closely.
“Oh, Meg. You have to stop scaring me like that,” she said cupping her daughter’s face with her cool hand.
“What happened?” Meg asked, her voice groggy.
“Maze tackled you away from Cole and started barking wildly.” Alik’s voice came from her left. She turned to see his tired, sky blue eyes.
“Is Cole awake?” She asked.
“Whatever you did Meg, it worked,” Evan said from her right. “He’s still really sick, but at least he’s regained consciousness.”
“Oh, thank God,” Meg whispered, completely worn out from her efforts.