Into This River I Drown

part iii: trust

The man at the end of his life sat on the river’s edge. The River Crosser sat next to him, waiting for another passenger. “I can’t go across yet,” the man said, picking at a blade of grass.

“What happens if my son needs me and I am not here?” The River Crosser didn’t answer immediately, just sat, watching the man. Finally, the River Crosser stood up straight and stretched. He looked out at the river. “You know,” he said with a frown, “everyone will always need something.” He sighed. “But you have to trust they’ll know how to take care of themselves.”





the voice of god

My mother had received a message from Rosie, she told us, her voice

wavering. She’d been in the next county over, delivering some baked goods to a women’s shelter. She’d stayed a bit later than she planned, talking with some of the women, making plans to assist them with a fundraiser happening in the fall. She hadn’t even realized she’d left the phone in her car. She hadn’t gotten the message until dusk, as she was driving home.

Strange Men, Rosie said in the message, were asking questions about Big Eddie. My mother needed to find me, to make sure I was okay, that nothing had happened to me. The store was already closed when she’d arrived. She drove to Little House, and I wasn’t there. She was worried about me, she said, though she couldn’t really explain why. Just a feeling she had when I didn’t answer my phone when she called. She didn’t know who these Strange Men were, or why they had been asking about Big Eddie. Why now, all of a sudden?

She thought about driving to mile marker seventy-seven, but she knew she’d kick herself if she got all the way out there and I wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure there was time for that, especially if she was right. She knew Cal was gone. The Strange Men could only have made this situation worse. She decided to go to the cemetery first, be it intuition, be it knowing how I am, she didn’t know. She’d cried out in relief when she saw my truck. She parked next to it and hopped the chain.

And then?

Blue lights. Impossibilities. A light and dark man attacking me. Wings spreading and soaring into the sky. Cal. She wasn’t seeing what she was actually seeing, was she? It wasn’t possible. The world didn’t work in mysterious ways. It was only black. It was only white.





“It’s not possible,” she says now as I hand her a cup of coffee in Little House. She

shakes, worried (of all things to worry about) that she’ll scald herself if she keeps shuddering. “Things like this don’t happen. Not here. Not anywhere.”

“They do,” Cal reassures her from his place near the kitchen doorway. His wings had faded again even before we left the cemetery. “People just don’t know how to look close enough. Amazing things happen all the time. Little threads connect you all. It’s really quite beautiful.”

I groan inwardly as my mother’s eyes bulge. It’s probably not the best time for one of his esoteric meanderings, and I tell him so. His eyes are warm as he smiles at me. I don’t know how much of that is for me and how much of it’s because I let him drive the Ford back as I drove my mother home, unsure if she was going into shock. I was relieved when we pulled past Big House that Nina wasn’t waiting on the porch, nor did the lights seem to be on inside. I didn’t think I was ready for Christie and Mary to be in on this. Not yet.

“How long have you known?” my mother suddenly asks.

“About Cal?”

“Yes.”

I glance at him. He’s watching me with such awe that my heart skips a few beats.

I don’t know where we stand and I’m trying my best to keep from flushing, but I don’t know how long I can last. It’s only now that I truly realize I didn’t think he’d come back. “Since I found him,” I admit.

“And where was this?” She sounds like she’s on the verge of hysterics.

I think about lying, but that would just make things worse. “Mile marker seventy-seven.”

Her face goes white, and she grips the cup so tightly I’m afraid it will shatter. “Benji,” she whispers. “The meteor? That light?”

I nod.

“You know this isn’t….”

“Isn’t what?”

She looks unsure as she glances between the two of us. “You said he was an angel. You said he was the guardian angel of Roseland. Of us. Of you.”

I nod again, waiting.

“Things like this don’t happen, Benji. Not here. Not in the real world.” She almost looks like she doesn’t believe her own words.

“You saw the same thing I did,” I tell her quietly. “You saw his wings. You saw the Strange Men. You saw it with your own eyes.”

“I know what I saw!” she snaps at me, slamming down the mug on the counter. “I’m looking for a goddamn explanation! Why here? Why now? Who were those men? Where did they go? What does he want with us! With you!” By the time she finishes, she’s shouting.

I flinch, not knowing how to handle the anger in her eyes. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to make her calm down, to make her see what I see. Her anger is only giving fire to my own, and I can’t lose it here. Not now. Not yet. Fighting will solve nothing—there’s too much more to learn.

But before a word can fall from my lips, Cal takes three big, quick strides over to my mother. She gasps and tries to shrink away, but he’s too fast for her. I am alarmed (please don’t send my mother into the black! my mind shrieks) and I’m about to step forward when he reaches his hands up and frames her face. She struggles to move away, but he’s holding her tight. Her movements weaken until she stares up at him, tears streaming down her face. She gasps into his touch.

“Lola Green,” he says, his voice rough but kind. “I have watched you for many, many years. A little girl who liked to cause mischief with her sisters. A young woman who cared more for her family than almost anyone I’ve seen. A woman who grew and loved with such ferocity that it was like watching a whirlwind. I watched your heart shatter, though it was done in secret because you wanted to protect your son. I watched you attempt to fix yourself, away from anyone who could see inside because you believed that it was the only way your son would survive. You don’t know if you’ve done right by Benji because he’s not the same person he was when his father was here. You don’t know what else to do. You don’t know if you are strong enough. I assure you that you are.”

She begins to weep openly, raising her hands to grip his arms. There’s a faint buzzing in my ears, like everything around me is vibrating, humming with an electrical current. I see tiny blue flashes, but they are too small to be important.

“You are strong,” Cal says, brushing his thumbs under her eyes. “Stronger than you could ever know. And you are not alone, not like you think. Benji is with you. Your sisters are with you. I am with you. And God, my Father? He is always with you.” As he says this last, I hear the first waver in his voice. His breath catches on his words like he is having trouble speaking.

Like he doesn’t believe himself.

But my mother notices none of this.

“Who are you?” she asks quietly through her tears.

“I am Calliel,” he tells her with a small smile. “I am the guardian angel to Roseland and its people. And I am with you.”

“This… isn’t…,” she tries again, fighting against what she sees in front of her.

He shakes his head. “It is, Lola Green. It is what it is. I promise you.”

And then her eyes shift, and something else rises behind her sorrow, her disbelief. “Guardian?” she asks, her voice low. My heart sinks—I know where she’s going with this.

“Mom—” I say, starting forward.

“Where were you when my husband died?” she grinds out. “Where were you when Big Eddie sat trapped upside down in his truck? Where were you when the water filled his lungs? You say you are an angel. Where were you then?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. I wish….”

“It’s not his fault,” I say, though I don’t know how much I believe that. “He can’t remember much since I called him here. Certain pieces have been taken from him.”

“Get them back!” she growls. “You get them back and you tell me why you let him die!”

He looks confused, almost scared. “I didn’t… I didn’t know how to….”

“That’s enough,” I tell her. “This isn’t going to solve anything. Mom, you have to believe me when I say I’ve asked the same questions. I’ve wanted the same answers, but it can’t be forced. It just can’t.”

She turns on me. “How could you keep this from me? How could you even think that was okay? Benji, you could have been killed tonight!”

“I didn’t say anything because of this right here,” I retort. “I didn’t say anything because I was scared you’d have this reaction. Mom, he’s….” He’s what? What is he to me? I don’t know how to finish that sentence. I don’t know if I want to. My head is starting to hurt and I’m exhausted. I’m losing the ability to process any of this.

But he’s here, I tell myself. If I’m being honest, that’s the only thing I care about. He’s here. I’m angry, yes, and I’m freaking the f*ck out, but he’s here. He came back. He came back.

“I care about him,” I finally say, knowing it sounds weak. “He’s my friend. I don’t… he’s my friend, okay? And he saved me tonight. I just….”

Mom doesn’t look convinced, though I don’t know why I think she should be. But she also looks worn, and heartbroken, much older than when I saw her earlier today. And maybe the real reason why I haven’t said anything to her yet is not because of this reaction, or because of what our future might hold. Maybe the real reason is because I don’t want old wounds to be ripped open for her, like they have been for me. I don’t want her scars to be split wide-open. Yes, he is my friend (let’s not go any further than that right now, I tell myself), but he is also a reminder of what we’ve lost. And it’s worse to know there are questions he can’t answer right now. Whether he’s being truthful about the convenient memory loss or not. Thinking of him as a liar feels wrong.

“Mom, just… just give us time,” I beg.

“Time?” she says incredulously. “Time? Time for what?”

“To figure out what’s going on here. There’s so much we don’t know, so much that I’m still trying to figure out.”

She shakes her head. “Benji, you have to see how ridiculous this is, right? Do you hear yourself? Do you hear him?”

“Time,” I repeat. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I won’t hurt him,” Cal says seriously. “I can’t hurt him.”

“What do you think you did when you left?” she says as she scowls at him. “You disappeared for days like it was nothing. I don’t know why or what happened, but don’t you dare say you won’t hurt him when you already have. This is my son, so don’t you dare.”

His face falls as he takes a step back. “Didn’t mean to,” he says quietly. “I thought leaving for a bit would be easier on him. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I would never do that. I….” He shakes his head but won’t look at me.

“Mom, that’s enough for tonight. I’m exhausted, and I need to speak to Cal. Alone.”

“Benji, you can’t possibly think this is a good idea! You saw what he did to those men!”

Into the black.

“They weren’t men,” Cal mutters. “They were husks. Shells. They have no souls. Minions that do nothing more than Michael’s bidding. They are abominations, and I do not know why Father permits them.”

She stares at him, unable to speak.

“Mom, you can’t tell anyone about him.” I grab her arm to get her attention. She looks like she’s going to protest, but I cut her off. “You can’t. If this gets out to the wrong person, it’s not going to end well. We have to protect him until we figure out what’s going on.”

“Griggs,” she says suddenly, as if she’s just remembered. “Griggs has been asking questions about him. About Cal. No one is saying anything to him, but he’s asking.”

“All the more reason to keep this quiet. Mom, you know as well as I do that Griggs won’t let this go. We can’t give him any more reason to look at us. We can’t. I already think he—” I cut myself off before I finish.

“You think he what?” she asks me.

I already think he murdered Big Eddie. I think he was the one who ran him off the road. I think he’s hiding something out in the woods, and I think Dad knew about it. I think Griggs knew he knew. I think he ran him off the road and stood there in the rain and watched him drown.

I think he killed Big Eddie and I am going to kill him myself.

“I think he’d make this worse than it already is,” I say, averting my eyes. “We can’t take the chance of him finding out anything. Not until we know more.”

“Benji—” she starts again.

“Mom, just do me this favor, okay? Please don’t say a word. Not to the Trio, not to anyone. I need time to figure this out. I’m asking you for time.”

“How long do you think something like this can stay quiet?” she asks. “Everyone in town knows him. You let him walk around and show his face and get to know people like he was one of us. How long do you think it’s going to take before people start asking questions? If they haven’t already? How long, Benji?”

“As long as I can,” I tell her sharply. “I never ask you for anything. You know that. Not ever. But I’m asking you for this one thing. No. I’m not asking you. I’m begging you. Please.”

She looks dazed. “I have so many questions,” she says, but it’s more to herself than to me. “So many….” She looks back up at Cal as her eyes harden. He still looks miserable as she steps up to him and pokes him in the chest with her finger. “I don’t know who you are, or what you are,” she says as she trembles. “I don’t know why you’re here. But I do know this: if any harm comes to my son, there will be no place in Heaven or on Earth where you could hide that I wouldn’t find you. If you hurt him, I will break you. Do you understand me?”

He looks like he’s about to speak but thinks better of it, nodding instead.

My mother reaches up and cups his face much like he did to her earlier. She pulls him down and whispers harshly in his ear. I can’t make out her words, but his eyes go wide as he looks over to me. She pulls back to look him in the eye. “Do you promise me?”

There’s no hesitation. “I promise,” he says, and chills roll down my spine.

She watches him for a moment before she pulls his head down and kisses his forehead softly, and it makes my heart ache because I don’t know if he’s ever felt something like that from his Father. She sniffs as she lets him go. Cal looks bemused as she turns away from him. “I’ll send one of the Trio to the store tomorrow,” she tells me, “or I’ll go in. I don’t want you in town until I’ve had some time to think.”

“Mom, I don’t—”

“I brought you into this world,” she snaps at me. “It’s my job to make sure nothing takes you out of it. You’re right when you said you’ve never asked me for anything before. But the first time you do ask me for something it’s to keep a secret about an angel that fell from the sky. So, yes, you will do this one thing for me. Are we clear?”

I sigh. “Crystal.”

She grabs me in a rough hug, to my surprise. She smells of lilacs, a scent she’s had for as long as I can remember. “Do you care for him?” she whispers in my ear, and I can feel her tears against my neck.

I can feel his eyes on me when I answer. “Impossibly,” I tell her. “Improbably.”

She gasps and shudders against me because she knows those words. Then she’s gone, the front door to Little House opening and then closing.





When a person goes through something incredible (say, like a graveyard attack

by Strange Men only to be saved by a man with wings), it’s as if the body’s immediate reaction after the adrenaline fades should be to shut down, to sleep, to recharge. I feel my body doing just that, my knees buckling, my mouth going slack, even as I stand there in the kitchen. Cal takes a step toward me, his eyes hooded. I shake my head at him and turn and walk out of the kitchen and down the hall to my room, where I shut the door behind me. There’s guilt when I see him, and it hurts. I lie on my back on the bed and try to think of ways to fix this.

There’s a shuffle of feet down the hall. I hold my breath. Shadows cross under the door and pause. I watch to see if the doorknob turns in the dark, if the door will open and he’ll stand before me, staring at me with those dark eyes and that red hair. He’ll open his mouth and beg me, plead for me to let him in, and I will say—

The shadows shift, turning away. I think he’s about to leave and I rise from the bed to chase after him, but then I hear a low grunt and a weight pressed against the door. The shadows underneath move again. I realize he has slumped against the door and is sitting outside.

Waiting. Guarding.

My thoughts are selfish, even if I don’t want them to be. What about me? What about us? Why did you leave? What did I do?

You. Me. I. Us.

The shadows move, then settle.

No, I tell myself. I can’t be thinking of him like that. Not anymore. I’ve barely started and already he has control over me. Already he has control over my heart. I don’t know how to reconcile the nine days I did have him versus the five days I didn’t. I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t do this. I can’t.

Why not? a voice whispers back.

My feet are on the floor. I’m standing. I’m walking toward the door.

The floor flickers beneath me, and for a moment, it’s a raging river. Then it’s gone.

Wake up.

The river splashes water up to my chest.

It’s time to wake up.

I get caught in the current.

It’s time to wake up and be true, son. It’s time to open your eyes and see, maybe for the first time. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, how much longer I can hold on. But I promise not to let go until I am sure you are safe. Wake up, Benji. Wake up and be true.

I reach the door and gasp for breath, pressing my palms against the wood.

Something shifts outside the door. “Benji?” a worried voice says.

“No,” I manage to say. “Just… wait.”

“But….”

“Cal… wait.”

He sighs but I can feel him settle against the door again, his weight pushing it against my hands. I take another breath, letting my head rest upon the wood. For a moment, it’s like I can feel him there, just on the other side. There’s a heat against my skin, a bright burst. It’s so warm I almost have to pull away for fear of burning, but it subsides, only giving residual pulses. It’s his fear, I think, fighting against the lump in my throat. It’s his anger, his sorrow. It’s whatever causes him to find the black, the tide he rises against. It’s there because of me.

I turn and slump against the door, sliding until my ass reaches the floor. He’s mere inches away but there’s a wall between us, one that is more substantial than the door. I need to tear it down. I need to break through, but I don’t know how.

You know, my father whispers. Oh, Benji. You know. You built it, so you can destroy it.

“Benji,” Cal says through the door.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. You know, for….”

I bow my forehead into my hands. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Thought you’d left.”

His reply is muffled and quiet. “That’s not what I wanted you to think. I’m sor—”

“No. It’s not your fault. It should be me apologizing to you. Again.”

He’s confused. “But you didn’t do—”

“Yes, I did. I did everything. I pushed, Cal. I pushed and pushed because I thought that knowing what I needed to know mattered more than you not being able to remember. I shouldn’t have done that. There’s no excuse.”

Quiet, for a time. Then, “You had your reasons. I don’t blame you. I can’t.”

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“You justify my being an a*shole. You do it all the time.”

He chuckles and there’s a bump against the door, like he is laying his head against it. “It’s because I see the good in you. It’s bright, you know. Like the sunrise. Like the sun rising on my face. I watched the sunrise every morning while I was gone. It reminded me of you.”

“Where’d you go?” I choke out.

He sighs again. “The woods. I wandered for a bit. I watched for the threads, but I couldn’t see any. Not the whole time I was gone. I was worried about it, wondering if they were hidden from me. But I don’t think they were.”

“Nothing bad happened while you were gone. Not really.”

“Oh. That’s good. I hoped.”

“Cal?”

“Yes, Benji?”

“Why did you go?”

“I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“No, that’s not the—Look, that’s in the past. It’s done. You’re here. I’m here.”

“Are you?” There’s a rustling against the door, like he’s rubbing his hand against it.

“Yeah. I am.”

“I was getting scared.”

“You? Scared? I didn’t think you were scared of anything.”

He laughs. “There are a lot of things I’m scared of, Benji.”

I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “Why were you scared this time?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, I think he won’t answer. I chide myself again for pushing, but then he speaks. “I was scared… I was scared because I could feel your anger. You were mad at me, and it scared me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such anger before. Not since I’ve known you.”

He means longer than two weeks, and we both know it. “Cal—”

“Hush, Benji. Please let me speak.” The recrimination in his voice is soft. I wait.

“I was scared, and that in turn made me angry. I told myself that you were being a child, that you didn’t understand at all what it meant to be lost. I hated myself for thinking it. It was petty. I didn’t think I would ever know what pettiness felt like, and jealousy. I shouldn’t have felt that way.”

“Why did you?”

“Because of your father.”

“Big Eddie? I don’t understand.”

“Benji, do you know who my father is?”

“God?”

“For lack of a better word, yes. The one you know as God is my Father. Do you know the last time I got to see my Father?”

Never met him. I’m pretty far down on the totem pole.

“You haven’t,” I say, feeling like my chest’s being crushed. “You never met him.”

“Right. I’ve never met the one who created me. I just know he did because that is what I am supposed to know. I was created and I do what I’m told. Or at least I did.”

“So you were jealous?”

“Yes. As much I hate to say it, as much as it tears me apart, yes. I was jealous of you because you had what I never could. I was jealous of him because he had you. I’ve seen many people in my lifetime, Benji. So many people, even in a little place such as this. But I can tell you that there has never been such a man as your father.”

“I know,” I say, because I can’t say anything else lest my voice would break.

“You do, don’t you?” he says, sounding surprised. “You do know. You know what you had; you know what he was.”

“The greatest man in the world,” I say.

He laughs. “In the eyes of many, you speak truth.”

“I miss him.”

“And you will. Every day for the rest of your life, you will miss him.”

“Like you do? With your dad? Your Father?”

“Yes. But please don’t think I’m blaming you or Big Eddie. For anything. That is not my intent.”

“Don’t you get to talk to him, though? Your dad.” I swallow. “God? Or whatever?”

“I thought so. I guess. I don’t know. There are times I don’t know if I ever did. If I’ve ever really known him. Not like I thought I did.”

“But… isn’t he always there for you? You are one of his.”

His voice grows harder. “I am. Or so I think. I can’t remember the last time I heard him, though. It’s lost in the fog. There’s still so much that I can’t remember. It burns, Benji. It’s like a fire in my head and I can’t put it out. It makes me angry. I shouldn’t be angry.”

“To be angry is to be human,” I say, gooseflesh prickling up my arms.

You know that that is not possible, the dark man whispers. Why you have chosen to take this risk is beyond comprehension.

You know what is happening to you even as you stand here, the light man croons.

Cal ignores me. “So I left, because my anger was growing. My ire. And I couldn’t handle it, not when it was… not when it was directed towards you. I left, because I needed to find my thoughts. I left because I needed to find a way to not be. I left to speak with Father. For days. For all those days in the trees, I waited. I prayed. I screamed. I asked him why. I asked him why he had forsaken me. I demanded an answer. I demanded to know why this was happening to me, why I had been tested again and again and again. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Who was he to do this to me? I’ve given him everything. I’ve done everything he’s ever asked of me. I’ve done all that I can. I’ve made mistakes, yes, but every living thing does. But what was it that I’d done wrong that caused him to ignore me? I was his son and he’d abandoned me, cast me aside as if I was nothing. I was alone in a place where no one knew who I was. At least when I was On High, I was alone because I was supposed to be. I’m tired of it, Benji. I’m tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone,” I say, my voice cracking. “You’ve got me. Right?”

“While I was ranting, while I was raving about being alone, about being left behind, screaming that it wasn’t fair, that I’d given everything, you know what happened, Benji?”

“What happened?” I ask, sure he’s going to tell me God answered him. My own anger is growing, but not at the angel on the other side of my door. No, my anger is growing because of God, that bastard God who I am sure is the one who has taken everything from me and Calliel. He’s the one who took my father; he’s the one who caused Calliel to doubt himself. He’s the one who has caused me to doubt myself, to drown in a river I am no longer sure I can keep my head above. It was him, and he finally answered his son who was screaming his name.

But that’s not the answer I receive.

I hear Cal take a deep breath. “You happened. It was you, Benji.”

“I don’t think… I don’t understand.”

“Your thread. I saw your thread for the first time in five days, and it lit up the sky so brightly I thought the sun was rising. I thought it was the sunrise, but it was you. It’s always been you.”

“And you came for me,” I say, realization dawning. “You came for me because you got your answer. God answered you.”

“Yes,” he says. I can hear the quiet smile in his voice. “When I was at my darkest, when I was sure I’d be torn apart, your thread exploded for all the world to see. But then I realized it was only for me to see. I was the only one who could see it, and it meant he was listening to me. It’s not always going to be with words. I won’t always hear his voice in my head, and I don’t know if I ever really have. But he spoke to me, just the same. He showed me the way, and it led to you. I don’t think I’ve ever moved as fast as I did then.”

I chuckle, wiping my eyes. “You were very fast.”

“Wasn’t I?” he says, sounding pleased.

“They didn’t stand a chance.”

“Michael’s husks,” I hear him growl through the door. “They are nothing compared to me. I don’t know why he thought they could do anything. They are abominations. I don’t know why they are allowed to exist. Soulless creatures who do not serve anyone but him.”

“Will they come again? The Strange Men?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs. “Maybe, after a time. Not right away. He’ll have seen what I am capable of. And I’m sure he’s got much more to worry about than just me.”

“Are you… getting sick?” I ask, the blood roaring in my ears. “They said you were weaker. They said you shouldn’t stay here.”

“Lies,” he says firmly. “Just words. I am fine. I am strong.”

“You sent them away. You sent them into the black.”

“I know,” he says, sounding pained. “They… they were threatening you and I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t see you hurt.”

“You are not the judge,” I remind him, allowing my words to harden. “You are not the jury. You are not the executioner.” And I cannot judge you. I can’t. Not when….

“I know.” Barely a mumble.

“You do not decide fate.”

“I know.”

“What did my mother whisper to you?”

I don’t think he’s going to answer. But then: “She told me I have to protect you. That you’ve been alone for so long you may not remember how to live. She wants me to show you how.”

“And you promised her that?” I ask, heart sore.

“Yes. Always.”

“Cal….”

I hear him shift on the other side of the door, rising up until I’m sure he’s standing above me. I wait.

Finally: “Benji?”

“Yeah?”

He’s hesitant, almost shy, his words like a staccato beat. “Can you open the door now? I’m sorry if you’re still mad at me. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. Okay? Please?”

I close my eyes. So many things are still unsaid between us, but I no longer have the heart to bring them out. For all that I have suffered, it’s nothing compared to his grief. I had my father. For sixteen years, I knew joy. I knew complete happiness. I saw the sunrise every day because I saw the man who created me every day. I knew the weight of his arms on my shoulder, the rumble of his voice, the sound of his laughter. I knew love because I was loved. I was my father’s son.

No. I am my father’s son. My father would not have allowed another to wallow in anguish, to drown himself in a river. My father would not have allowed despair if he could have helped it. My father was the greatest man who ever lived, even with all his faults. He would know what to do. He would know what was in my heart.

“You gonna leave again?” I ask him gruffly, opening my eyes.

“Only if you make me,” he whispers. “Please don’t make me.”

My heart breaks and I jump to my feet, flinging the door open. He’s standing so massively tall, the shadows from the dark dancing across his face. He’s breathing heavily, and the glitter in his eyes knocks the breath from my chest. The red stubble across his face looks wonderfully rough. He looks almost feral, like he’s poised to attack, but still he waits.

But I can no longer deny him, or deny myself. He spreads his arms as I leap at him. He catches me deftly, crushing me into his chest. The scent of him invades me, threatening to tear me apart. His lips find mine as he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as my tongue meets his, tangling as he takes a lurching first step. I want to push into him further, until he can feel my thunderous heart breaking against my chest, until he can see that my sorrow is not so different than his. We are the same, I think as he grips the back of my neck with one gigantic hand, holding me steady so he can kiss my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose.

“You are not alone,” I whisper hoarsely against his face, moving my lips across to kiss his closed eyes. “You are with me.”

“I know,” he says, his voice cracking. He buries his face into my neck then, latching his teeth onto the skin, and swirls his tongue over. He walks further, carrying me against him, until he pushes me back. I land on the bed and he looms above me, so big he blocks out everything else. Only he exists; he’s everything. It feels critical, this moment, like we’ve reached a precipice and we either have to jump or fall back the way we came. I don’t want to fall anymore. Not now. Not again.

I reach up and put my arms around his neck, and that’s all the permission he needs. He falls against me, so heavy I almost can’t breathe. He reaches one hand down and lifts up my shirt, tucking the cotton up under my chin. He rubs his beard against my flesh, leaving trails that burn. He bites gently at my stomach, soothing the sting from his teeth with his tongue.

It’s only later, with his mouth on me in ways I never expected, that I can truly feel his need. I am necessary to him. I understand that now, and the realization threatens to crush me more than he ever could. But it’s a weight I will carry gladly. Even as I tell him he is not alone, that I am with him, I can see it’s the same in reverse. There’s a bright light rising from deep within me, like the morning sun breaking over the mountains. It warms me from the inside out, even as he slips a wet finger into me. I call out his name, my muscles trembling, pleasure exploding.

When he enters me again, it’s with a careful motion, pressing one hand down against my chest as he watches my face, hooking my leg above his shoulder with his other hand. He leans down, kissing me as he pushes in until his hips are pressed against me. I rock my head back, and he trails his tongue down my neck.

“Faster,” I whisper. “More.”

He growls against my neck but then he begins to snap his hips against me, slapping his balls against my ass. He takes me in hand, my cock like iron against his calloused hand. It only takes a few strokes before I’m spilling over, spunk on his hand and my chest. He grunts above me and I’m filled with great heat as his shoulders tremble. The muscles of his chest constrict, the cords in his neck stand out. He’s still shaking when he drops down onto my chest.

I cradle his head against me, rubbing my fingers through his hair, feeling him still move within me. He’s pulling me back together, piece by piece. The shapes may not fit the way they used to, but there is a pattern there. A design. Slowly but surely I am being put back together. I’m not whole yet, not completely, but I am getting there.

He sighs contentedly, his breath warm on my skin. He turns his head and places a gentle kiss to the place where my heart beats. The action is one of such singular beauty that I’m annihilated. If this is what he can give me, then I will take it all.

And I will give it back just the same.





adrift

That night, I’m chest-deep in the river again. The rain falls overhead, causing the

water around me to splash up in tiny droplets. Occasionally feathers impede my progress, forcing me back. Sometimes the river mud sucks up around my ankles, pulling me down. River water pours into my mouth, choking me, but I break the surface.

There is the metallic screech of the upside down truck as it scrapes against an unseen rock on the riverbed. The sound makes me grind my teeth. I take another step as I look over my shoulder. A dark figure stands on the side of the road, watching. I can’t make out who it is, can’t see a vehicle stopped on the road. The angle is wrong, the rain too heavy.

A large wave hits the side of my head and I’m submerged again. For a moment, I stay there. The sounds are muffled underwater, the raindrops a soothing, drumming sound above me. I have enough air. I’m not choking. I’m not drowning. I’m alive.

I open my eyes.

Silt and grit sting. I squint and make out the faint outline of the truck ahead. I bring my arms up in front of me and kick off the river bottom, taking a slow, lunging leap toward the truck.

The front left side is smashed from its impact with the boulder near the river’s edge. There’s a metallic groan up the driver’s side of the vehicle, starting at the fender, going across the door and to the rear of the truck. It could be from the boulder as well, though—

it’s from whoever ran him off the road

—I can’t be sure. The red of the truck is like a bright beacon that calls to me. I take another lunging step. Do I need air? I can’t remember the last time I took a breath. I can’t remember how long I’ve been hiding in the river. It doesn’t matter. I feel okay. I don’t feel like I’m dying. I’m not drowning. I’m fine.

I’m fine until I see the driver’s window is broken. I’m fine until a flash of white floats out of it. I’m fine until I realize it’s an arm. I’m fine until I see it’s an arm and it—

is my dad oh god that is my father

—floats up and down gently, the fingers extending in the current like it’s waving me over, beckoning me to the truck. The skin is white, so white, much whiter than my father ever was. It’s—

dead he’s dead it’s all dead

—enough to make me open my mouth. I inhale to scream, but river water pours in and I begin to choke. I kick for the surface, but it’s too late. I’m stuck under the surface, stuck in the mud and silt and current, and I can’t move. I can’t breathe, and I am drowning in this river and I—

A strong arm wraps around my chest and pulls me away.

I awake as the bed shifts, pulling me from the dream. It’s still dark, far too soon for us to head to the roof to watch the sunrise. He is moving quietly, as if to avoid waking me. He pulls on his jeans over his naked form, his skin illuminated by dim blue flashes that begin to swirl around him. A chill strikes me that has nothing to do with the sudden loss of warmth next to me.

“Where are you going?” I ask, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.

He stiffens for a moment, then turns to me, the top button of his jeans still undone, the auburn fur on his stomach disappearing into the denim. He reaches down and grabs me by the back of the neck, pulling me up to kiss me deeply. I wrap my arms around him, trying to pull him back down into the bed, to cover us both deep under the comforter where we can hide until sunrise.

But he won’t come, he won’t follow me down. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against mine. “A thread calls,” he says roughly. “I must find it.”

“You’re going to come back?” I ask, hating the way I sound, unsure and weak.

Calliel smiles at me so brightly I have to kiss him again. “Yes,” he says. “I will come back. And then we can watch the sun come up, and I will have some green marshmallows while you tell me I should eat other things because the marshmallows aren’t good for me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” The blue lights began to flash brighter, and I can see the faint outline of wings. “They come easier now,” he tells me. “I think I might be able to call them without seeing threads first.”

I’m relieved, because I can tell myself it means he isn’t getting weaker, like the Strange Men said. Wings mean strength. Wings mean health. Wings mean vitality. He is an angel. He is not weakening.

He slides his shirt over his head and gives me one last look before he is out the bedroom and down the hall, then the door closes on Little House with a thud.

I consider following him, but I don’t. I try to sleep again, but I can’t. I’m still awake when he returns deep in the night. The hunger he comes at me with then is something wicked and bright. I don’t ask him where he went, if he has saved anyone or merely been a presence for someone who needed him. It doesn’t matter. He has returned and he wants me. That desire is evident on his face. It’s enough.





Cal’s return spreads quickly through Roseland. The first day is relatively quiet,

given that I’m not at the store. We walk up to Big House early that morning, shortly after coming down off the roof. Cal wraps an arm around my shoulder as we walk, and I relish the feel of him against me. He is chattering away, telling me about a squirrel he saw in the forest during his self-imposed exile. It seemed to follow him over the course of the five days. He is clearly excited about the animal, and I can’t help but grin at him as he imitates the sound it made, a high-pitched squeak that he performs by sucking in his cheeks and sticking out his lips. It’s not a sound a big guy like him should be able to make.

We are barely on the porch of Big House when the door flies open and Nina barrels out, knocking me out of the way in her rush to tackle Cal. He laughs as he picks her up, spinning her in a circle, her legs kicking out as they whirl. Under his laughter, I can hear her saying, “Blue, Blue, Blue,” over and over again. He finally sets her down, brushing the tears from her face.

“I am happy to see you, little one,” he says with a smile.

She smiles sweetly for a moment… then punches him in the arm. Nina is a lot stronger than she looks, and I wince at the meaty thud. Cal grunts, though I think more from surprise than pain. He stares down at her, eyes wide. “What was that for?”

“Leaving,” she says with a scowl. “You going to do that again?”

A low blush rises up the sides of his neck and into his cheeks, reddening the skin and making his facial hair appear even brighter. “No.”

She watches him for a moment, trying to figure out if he is telling her the truth. She finally sniffs once and looks him up and down. “Good,” she says. “People missed you here, Benji especially. I was sad. We were all sad. If you do that again, I am going to be very angry with you. This is your home now, you know. You can’t just leave your home.”

It’s my turn to flush. I’ve never really thought about that. About where this is going, what he and I could mean to each other in the future. Would he stay? Could he stay? The Strange Men whisper in my head, saying it isn’t possible, that he is getting weaker. I shove them away when he glances at me with a low smile before looking back at my little aunt. “I promise I won’t do it again,” he says with complete seriousness.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asks with curiosity.

He hesitates for a moment. “I think so, though not in the way I thought.”

“Is that okay, then?”

“It is,” he says simply. He looks at me again and my face feels like it’s on fire.

She grabs him by the arm and pulls him toward the house. He reaches out and snags my hand, pulling me with him.