Gabriel particularly hated the influence of television. During the preparation for our mission, he had shown us the beginning of a program to emphasize his point. It involved a group of people struggling with obesity being divided into groups and presented with tempting food to see if they were strong enough to resist. The ones who gave in were berated and shunned. It was disgusting, Gabriel said, to play with people’s emotions and prey on their weaknesses. It was even more sickening that the general public considered such cruelty entertainment.
So that afternoon we didn’t turn to technology to occupy our time but instead lazed on the deck reading, playing Scrabble, or simply lost in our own thoughts. Taking time to reflect didn’t mean we weren’t allowed to do other things; it just meant that we did them quietly and tried to spend some time evaluating our successes and failures. Or rather, Ivy and Gabriel evaluated their successes and I contemplated my failures. I stared at the sky and nibbled on slices of melon. Fruit, I’d decided, was my favorite food. The clean, sweet freshness of it reminded me of home. As I watched, I noticed that the sun appeared as a ball of blazing white in the sky — it was blinding and made my eyes hurt to look at it. I remembered the light in the Kingdom — our home was awash with mellow golden light that we could touch, and it dripped through our fingers like warm honey. It was much harsher here, but somehow more real.
“Have you seen this?” Ivy came out holding a platter of fruit and cheese and tossed a newspaper down on the table in disgust.
“Mmm.” Gabriel nodded.
“What is it?” I sat up, craning my neck to get a look at the headline. I caught a glimpse of the photograph splashed across the page. People were running in all directions; men trying in vain to shelter the women; and mothers reaching out to children who had fallen in the dust. Some of them had their eyes squeezed shut in prayer; others had their mouths open in silent screams. Behind them flames licked at the sky and roiling smoke obscured the sun.
“Bombings in the Middle East,” said my brother, turning the newspaper over with a flick of his wrist. It didn’t matter — the image was burned into my brain. “More than three hundred dead. You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Our Agents over there aren’t doing their job properly?” My voice sounded shaky.
“Can’t do their job properly,” Ivy corrected.
“What could be stopping them?” I asked.
“The forces of darkness are overpowering the forces of light,” Gabriel said gravely. “It’s happening more and more.”
“What makes you think Heaven is the only place sending out representatives?” Ivy sounded a little impatient with my lack of understanding. “We’ve got company.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” I asked.
Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not for us to act without authorization.”
“But there are three hundred dead!” I protested. “That must matter!”
“Of course it matters,” said Gabriel. “But our services haven’t been called for. We have been assigned our post, and we can’t abandon it because of a tragedy in another part of the globe. We have been instructed to stay here and watch over Venus Cove. There must be a reason for that.”
“What about those people?” I asked, their horror-struck faces flashing into my mind once again.
“All we can do is pray for divine intervention.”
By mid-afternoon we realized we were running low on groceries. Although I was still feeling washed out, I offered to go into town for them. I hoped the errand would obliterate troubling images from my mind and distract me from dwelling on human calamities.
“What should I get?” I asked, picking up an envelope ready to scribble a list on the back.
“Fruit, eggs, and some bread from that new French bakery that’s just opened,” said Ivy.
“Would you like a lift?” Gabriel offered.
“No, thanks, I’ll take my bike. I need the exercise.”
I let Gabriel return to his reading and collected my bicycle from the garage, tucking a folded canvas bag into the front. Ivy had started cutting back the roses in the front garden and waved when I sailed past her.
The ten-minute ride down into town was refreshing after my zombielike sleep. The air was crisp with the scent of pine trees, which helped dispel my gloom. I refused to let my thoughts wander to Xavier Woods and blocked out any recollections of the previous night. Of course my mind had its own agenda, and I shivered as I remembered the feel of his strong arms holding me up, the fabric of his shirt against my cheek, the touch of his hand brushing my hair away from my face, just as he’d done in my dream.
I left my bike chained to the rack outside the post office and headed toward the general store. As I reached the door, I slowed to let two women come out. One was slightly stooped and elderly, the other robust and middle-aged. The younger woman helped her companion to a bench, then returned to the shop and taped a notice to its window. Sitting obediently on his haunches beside the older woman was a silver-gray dog. It was the strangest creature I’d ever seen, with an expression so thoughtful it might have been human. Even seated, it held its body upright and had a regal air. Its jowls were slightly droopy, its fur satin sleek, and its eyes as colorless as moonlight.
The older woman had a dejected air that piqued my attention. As I looked at the notice on the shop window, I was able to determine the cause of her misery. It was a poster offering the dog “Free to a Good Home.”
“It’s for the best, Alice, you’ll see,” said the younger woman in a brisk, practical tone. “You want Phantom to be happy, don’t you? He can’t come with you when you move. You know the rules.”
The older woman shook her head sadly.
“But he’ll be in a strange place, and he won’t know what’s going on. We have our own little routine at home.”
“Dogs are very adaptable. Now let’s get you home in time for dinner. I’m sure the phone will start ringing as soon as we walk through the door.”
The woman named Alice didn’t seem to share her companion’s confidence. I watched her gnarled fingers anxiously twisting the dog’s leash and stray to her hair, which was coiled in a flimsy bun at the nape of her neck. She seemed in no hurry to make a move, as if getting up would be an indication of sealing a deal she hadn’t had time to think through.
“But how will I know he’s being properly looked after?” she said.
“We’ll make sure that whoever takes him agrees to bring him along to the new place for visits.”
A note of impatience had crept into the younger woman’s voice. I noticed too that her voice had grown progressively louder as the conversation continued. Her chest heaved and beads of sweat were beginning to form at her powdered temples. She kept glancing furtively at her watch.
“What if they forget?” Alice sounded petulant.
“I’m sure they won’t,” her companion said dismissively. “Now, is there anything you need before I drive you home?”
“Just a bag of dog treats for Phantom but not the ones with chicken, he doesn’t like those.”
“Well, why don’t you wait here, and I’ll pop in and get them?”
Alice nodded, then stared ahead with a resigned expression. She bent down to scratch Phantom behind the ears. He looked up at her with a puzzled expression. There seemed to be a tacit understanding between owner and animal.