work you just did?” he asked, reminding her of Norman and Eliza.
“Well, like you said, death isn’t the end.” It’s what The Maker told them, and she believed it was true, even if she didn’t quite know how. “Even if it’s the end of right now.”
“But you were right.” He looked down at her. “They don’t know that.”
“Look at them, though.” She nodded at the children, lost in play. “They’re so happy. Those pure little lights.”
“Come on.” He tugged her to him as he started to move through the glass.
“What, you mean, go in there?” She pulled back, aghast. Watching them unnoticed was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the middle of all that craziness.
“I said I wanted to show you something,” he reminded her.
“This isn’t it?”
“Just part of it.” He laughed. “Don’t be scared. Come on.”
He stepped through the glass, taking her with him. The sound of the children playing had been muffled through the glass, but now it shot through her like a bright spear. Their laughter and screams echoed off the skylights high above and she covered her ears with her hands.
“And I thought practice was loud!” Muriel yelled over the racket, laughing. Something caught her eye and she pointed, leaning in to Char so he could hear her. “There’s that angel again. The one we saw yesterday. The guardian.”
“He watches over the children,” Char told her.
As they watched, one child, a small boy, probably not quite old enough for kindergarten yet, nearly took a header off the teeter-totter. Zephiel reached out one wing and caught him, softening his fall if not quite preventing it. The boy had a good size knot on his head, which the nurse fixed up with a Band-Aid and his mother healed almost instantly with a kiss.
Muriel, fascinated by the scene, drew closer to watch. Zeph didn’t say anything as he knelt beside the boy, watching his mother fuss over him. His father was there, too, and Muriel wondered at that. The mother she might expect—although none of the other children had a parent present—but the father? Shouldn’t he be at work?
“Thanks for catching me.” The little boy looked directly at his guardian angel and smiled with tiny, bright white milk-teeth. “Want to go play on the swings? You can push me.”
“Who are you talking to, Henry?” his mother asked, leaning over to give him another kiss on his bump.
“My invisible friend.” Henry grinned at Zeph, who grinned right back. Guardian angels were the lowest on the totem pole, the closest angels to the human realm. They interacted with humans on a regular basis, especially children, some of whom could see and talk to them, just as if they were people. Grown-ups seemed to shrug it off when children talked to invisible beings.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Henry’s mother asked, playing along.
“Zeph.”
“Well, hi, Zeph.” Henry’s mother waved, and Zeph waved back, although Muriel knew the woman didn’t really see him.
“He said hi.” Henry scrambled to his feet, brushing a shock of blonde hair out of his eyes. Both his parents had dark hair and Muriel wondered where their little towhead had come from. “Can I go back to playing?”
“Sure, sweetheart.” Henry’s mother laughed when he threw his arms around her waist, giving her a long hug before running off again to play.
“He’s such a sweet boy, Mrs. Thomas.” The nurse—Clara, according to her name tag—smiled at Henry’s mother. “One of my favorites, although I’m not supposed to say that. They’re doing so well.”
“I know, this treatment has been wonderful, hasn’t it, Jack?” Henry’s mother smiled at her handsome husband, holding out her hand. He took it, joining them, and the conversation. “Half of these kids couldn’t get out
“Well, like you said, death isn’t the end.” It’s what The Maker told them, and she believed it was true, even if she didn’t quite know how. “Even if it’s the end of right now.”
“But you were right.” He looked down at her. “They don’t know that.”
“Look at them, though.” She nodded at the children, lost in play. “They’re so happy. Those pure little lights.”
“Come on.” He tugged her to him as he started to move through the glass.
“What, you mean, go in there?” She pulled back, aghast. Watching them unnoticed was one thing, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in the middle of all that craziness.
“I said I wanted to show you something,” he reminded her.
“This isn’t it?”
“Just part of it.” He laughed. “Don’t be scared. Come on.”
He stepped through the glass, taking her with him. The sound of the children playing had been muffled through the glass, but now it shot through her like a bright spear. Their laughter and screams echoed off the skylights high above and she covered her ears with her hands.
“And I thought practice was loud!” Muriel yelled over the racket, laughing. Something caught her eye and she pointed, leaning in to Char so he could hear her. “There’s that angel again. The one we saw yesterday. The guardian.”
“He watches over the children,” Char told her.
As they watched, one child, a small boy, probably not quite old enough for kindergarten yet, nearly took a header off the teeter-totter. Zephiel reached out one wing and caught him, softening his fall if not quite preventing it. The boy had a good size knot on his head, which the nurse fixed up with a Band-Aid and his mother healed almost instantly with a kiss.
Muriel, fascinated by the scene, drew closer to watch. Zeph didn’t say anything as he knelt beside the boy, watching his mother fuss over him. His father was there, too, and Muriel wondered at that. The mother she might expect—although none of the other children had a parent present—but the father? Shouldn’t he be at work?
“Thanks for catching me.” The little boy looked directly at his guardian angel and smiled with tiny, bright white milk-teeth. “Want to go play on the swings? You can push me.”
“Who are you talking to, Henry?” his mother asked, leaning over to give him another kiss on his bump.
“My invisible friend.” Henry grinned at Zeph, who grinned right back. Guardian angels were the lowest on the totem pole, the closest angels to the human realm. They interacted with humans on a regular basis, especially children, some of whom could see and talk to them, just as if they were people. Grown-ups seemed to shrug it off when children talked to invisible beings.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Henry’s mother asked, playing along.
“Zeph.”
“Well, hi, Zeph.” Henry’s mother waved, and Zeph waved back, although Muriel knew the woman didn’t really see him.
“He said hi.” Henry scrambled to his feet, brushing a shock of blonde hair out of his eyes. Both his parents had dark hair and Muriel wondered where their little towhead had come from. “Can I go back to playing?”
“Sure, sweetheart.” Henry’s mother laughed when he threw his arms around her waist, giving her a long hug before running off again to play.
“He’s such a sweet boy, Mrs. Thomas.” The nurse—Clara, according to her name tag—smiled at Henry’s mother. “One of my favorites, although I’m not supposed to say that. They’re doing so well.”
“I know, this treatment has been wonderful, hasn’t it, Jack?” Henry’s mother smiled at her handsome husband, holding out her hand. He took it, joining them, and the conversation. “Half of these kids couldn’t get out
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