Chapter Three: Unexpected Passing

 

The days passed uneventfully in a calm, unremarkable rhythm. Springtime and Showerstorm took turns caring for, tenderly feeding, and unwaveringly watching with determined devotion over the birds. Occasionally when Scazzarda visited, she would take over the job of caregiver, tending to the babies like they were part of her own family. Meta Knight would sometimes come with her, but he never directly assisted with the bird care. He would either stand nearby and watch, or merely linger at and stare out the window for long periods of time, fiddling with the folds of his cape, as if fighting on a battlefield of haunting memories and dark premonitions. He seemed unnerved; an aura of shadow seemed to follow wherever he went. Cloudy observed him sometimes, wondering what was marching across the parade ground of his mind. But when she tried to speak to him about it, he tactfully averted the subject, insisting it was nothing. Cloudy wasn’t buying it, however. She knew him well enough to know when he was hurting or struggling through a difficult season or problem. “Nothing” to her was therefore unsatisfactory when it came to Meta Knight.

It seemed these days Liloy often dropped in for a friendly visit. She would chatter incessantly about the weather, Tilry, her baby, and so forth. Cloudy suspected the only reason she came to visit was to see the development of the birds and because she was lonesome. She didn’t really mind Liloy’s frequent visits, but they were beginning to wear her down. Day after day of trivial weather talk didn’t suit her agenda too well.

And the birds were starting to worry the puppy as well. Cloudy expected them to show a drastic improvement once they were being cared for, but to her consternation, they didn’t seem to be growing much, despite the excellent care and nurturing they were receiving. They didn’t eator drink much, their few feathers were sparse, and they were barely breathing. When this was  pointed out to Liloy, Cloudy didn’t miss the perturbed demeanor on the young woman’s face as Liloy replaced the fruit cubes in the dish. Something was amiss, very wrong. That much Cloudy knew.

Some nights, the birds’ bad health bothered Cloudy so much she could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned all throughout the long hours of the night, wondering if they would survive. Would all their efforts to save them and let them have a chance to live a happy life pay off? Cloudy hoped so, but she couldn’t get the problem off her mind, no matter how much she tried to reassure herself.

One evening, Cloudy invited Meta Knight and Liloy to her house for dinner. After supper was over, father, daughter, and puppy moved to the parlor and seated themselves in a semicircle round the fireplace, though it was not at all cold outside. Liloy was in Springtime’s rocking chair that Showerstorm had made her for their first anniversary. Meta Knight and Cloudy were seated on the floor, looking up at Liloy.

Liloy settled into the soft back of the rocking chair and laughed gaily, her face alight with elation. “Now who wants to hear the latest news on my beloved?” she questioned, her eyes sparkling.

“I presume you mean Tilry?” Cloudy asked absentmindedly, her eyes on the intricate diamond-patterned ceiling.

“Yes, indeed. Father and I been going to see him every few days,” she told Cloudy. “He’s steadily improving and the doctors say he’s going to win against the cancer. Personally, I believe he will.”

Cloudy didn’t say anything. She just glanced at Liloy and then continued her vigil at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s nice,” she mumbled in a hollow tone, attempting to sound like she meant it but failing.

Liloy raised an eyebrow. “Cloudy, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” Cloudy said evenly. She sighed worriedly and scratched her ear, her heart heavy, wondering how she should begin to explain her thoughts.

Liloy didn’t notice. “Father,” she spoke, addressing herself to Meta Knight, “do you think it would be possible for Tilry to come to Cloudy’s party?”

“If he recovers, then yes, he can come,” Meta Knight said, his tone measured.

Liloy smiled widely, her eyes dreamy as she played with a loose splinter on the chair’s wood. Cloudy didn’t fail to note that Meta Knight had said the word “if.” Then as that truth dawned on her, she began to get bothered. Did Meta Knight sense, or even know, something was going to go wrong with Tilry? And if so, why did he not come right out and say it?

“Oh, I’m so glad things are getting better,” Liloy said in a relieved intonation. “For a while I was afraid we would never see the light at the other side of the tunnel. But thanks be to God, brighter days are ahead.”

Meta Knight sharply drew in his breath and his grip tightened on his cape. Cloudy stared at him in mingled alarm and confusion. What was going on?

“I can’t wait to show my baby to Tilry,” Liloy went on. “I wonder if it’ll look just like him.”

There was a thump as Meta Knight stood up and crossed the room. Then the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut was heard. Liloy’s face registered surprise, then resentment, and last of all puzzlement. “Was it something I said?” she asked Cloudy.

Cloudy didn’t answer. “Um, I’ll go out and see him,” she offered. “Maybe I can find out what’s the matter.” She scooted toward the door and flung it open, then stepped out into the cool night air. She could vaguely see the shadows of the trees way across the pasture. The faint yellow glow of the streetlamp bathed the slick road, wet from the recent spring rains. And standing at the bottom of the steps, near the blossoming rosebushes, was Meta Knight himself.

“Why did you leave?” was Cloudy’s first question as she tramped down the steps, being careful not to slip.

Meta Knight didn’t turn around as he answered. “I can’t keep doing this, Cloudy.”

“Doing what?” Cloudy pressed, knitting her brow.

There was a long pause. Cloudy waited patiently, silently letting her friend know she wasn’t leaving him alone with his troubles.

“I cannot keep pretending to believe Tilry will be all right,” Meta Knight said at last. “I know he will not, but still I continue to behave as if he will.” He covered his face with his hands. “I swear, Cloudy, something. . .something will go wrong. Something heinous will happen to my son-in-law.”

“What makes you say such a thing?” Cloudy gently demanded.

Meta Knight shook his head. “I have a sixth sense. I get these feelings when something bad is going to occur.”

Cloudy smiled disarmingly. “What you feel cannot always be your main reasoning point for making decisions, Sir Meta Knight. That could lead to rash choices and possibly danger on your part.”

Meta Knight was adamant in his knowledge. “No, Cloudy. I know myself. And I know that every time I get these feelings, something awful happens. Say what you want, but I know. I know.”

Cloudy didn’t reply to that. If there was nothing she could say or do to change her friend’s mind, then she wouldn’t even try. But as she turned to go back inside, she heard herself say, “Not everything goes according to our plans, Meta Knight. But with God, nothing happens that is not allowed.” Then she disappeared inside, leaving her friend alone in the brooding darkness once more.

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy woke to the sun shining through her balcony doors and immediately felt more cheerful than she had the previous night. She had had one nightmare after another. In her nightmares, she was sitting on a revolving platform made of solid steel. No matter which direction she turned, she kept seeing Tilry lying motionless in a casket and the baby birds sprawled on the ground, dead.

Cloudy jumped out of bed and walked onto her balcony. She squinted against the glaring sunlight, feeling it slowly heat her fur. As she gazed at the bright green grass down below, she remembered last night’s nightmare and her talk with Meta Knight two days ago. A shiver traveled down her spine. Was it possible she was having some kind of ESP, something that was telling her Tilry—and the birds—would die? It seemed impossible, but then again, she realized she probably did have some type of psychic power. She remembered Jacob Osen, her kindly old friend, and his wise, knowing words after she had had a mysterious vision of her plane crashing:

“I think you might have a gift—a very small gift—for glimpsing the future.”

Cloudy hadn’t paid much attention then, but now she was beginning to wonder. Had Jacob been right? Was she psychic? Or was she merely conjuring up silly stories in her mind because of what she thought and talked about?

Jacob’s quiet voice again echoed in her mind:

“Perhaps the Good Lord has bestowed this gift on you.”

Cloudy wasn’t so sure she liked her gift. If she would have to foresee terrible happenings to her friends and family, she didn’t want such a gift, rare and special though it might be. She would almost rather be a normal individual without any worries than be a special psychic Star Warrior with burdens she was forced to drag around day in and day out.

I don’t think Jacob would agree with my thoughts, Cloudy sighed. But I can’t help it. I don’t want to have to know what’s going to happen in the future lest I worry about it all the time. Why couldn’t I have been born a normal husky with a carefree, unburdened lifestyle, not a psychic kid who’s constantly having to wage war on all her enemies because she’s their primary target?

To her surprise, Springtime’s gentle tone crept into her head:

“God gave you this beautiful gift, sweetie. Use it for Him. And don’t fret about tomorrow, for God holds it in His hands.”

It was the simple, honest truth. And Cloudy decided to heed it.

 

* * * * *

 

The seventh of March arrived. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal day in Cloudy’s household. The children were eating breakfast, the parents were bustling about, cooking and cleaning. . .It all seemed perfectly natural.

But was it. . .?

 

* * * * *

 

 

“Here comes Liloy, Mommy,” Yodi announced, peering out the parlor window, the pink curtain half-drawn aside.

“Oh, gracious! Again?” Springtime came to Yodi’s side to look. “This is the third day in a row! What’s she so restless for?”

“Maybe she’s bored. It is vacation, after all,” Yodi said. Emmanuel Elementary, Cloudy’s school, had given the children a week off of spring break.

“I guess it is,” Springtime sighed. “With her baby not born yet and her husband still in the hospital, I suppose she’s got no one to talk to.” She let the curtain drop into place again. “Well, invite her in.”

“Whoa, hold up! Meta Knight and Scazzarda are with her!” Yodi exclaimed, yanking back the curtain again. “And they all look as gloomy as a thunderstorm! Wonder what’s up?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Springtime grimly replied, her face tightening. She strode to the front door and had it open even before Scazzarda’s finger touched the doorbell. She invited the threesome in and shut the door.

“What’s going on?” Showerstorm asked, walking sedately down the stairs, but an undercurrent of concern laced his voice.

“Didn’t you get my text, Springtime?” Scazzarda flatly responded.

A look of amazement and surprise flashed across Springtime’s face. “Why, no!” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Tilry’s dying,” was the brief response.

Springtime’s mouth flew open and she stumbled against the coffee table, upsetting Sniper’s cider and splashing the contents of the cup to the floor. Showerstorm rescued the cup before it crashed to the floor and helped his wife stand upright.

After the shock of the moment had subsided a little, Springtime questioned in a quivering voice, “When did such a thing happen? I thought he was—getting better. Didn’t the doctors say so themselves?”

“Yes, but he had a relapse. They don’t know what went wrong, but he’s dying. The doctors say he’s fading rapidly. They’re giving him only a few hours to live.”

At those words, Liloy burst into sobs, shielding her face from view with her hands. Meta Knight grasped her hand in a comforting motion, his shoulders slumped with grief.

“Good morning, everyone!” Cloudy called as she bounded downstairs and into the parlor, stopping short at the grave scene in front of her. She stared in turn at each solemn face and queried, “What in blazes is going on here?”

Springtime cleared her throat and spoke to her youngest child very gently. “This may come as a great shock to you, honey, but Tilry—he’s dying.”

Cloudy’s eyes widened and she took a step back. Her thoughts of ESP and psychic powers flashed back into her mind, as well as Meta Knight’s conversation the night before. “What?! What do you mean, he’s dying?! He-He can’t be dying! He was doing just fine before! What went wrong?”

“From what I gathered, he had a relapse,” Springtime said softly. “I’m so sorry this had to happen.”

“Well, don’t be,” Cloudy spoke bitterly. “Because no amount of pity or sympathy will ever change Tilry’s situation.” She turned away.

Scazzarda put an arm around Liloy’s shoulder. “I brought her here because I wanted her to stay with you,” she construed, “but she insists on coming with us to the hospital. I’m not sure she should, though. . .”

“Why shouldn’t she?” broke in Showerstorm. “Isn’t Tilry her spouse?”

“Yes, but. . .” Scazzarda faltered.

“Then she should go,” Springtime said firmly. “Her place is with her husband.”

“I will stay here,” Meta Knight said quietly.

Cloudy gaped at him. “You can’t!” she blurted. “What about Tilry? Don’t you want to be with him?”

“Cloudburst, I’ll thank you to be quiet this instant!” Springtime sternly reprimanded her daughter. “Watch your tongue!”

“Watch my tongue?!” Cloudy shrieked. “I didn’t say anything wrong! It’s better for him to go and be with Tilry, is all I said!”

“He doesn’t have to!” Springtime reminded her.

“Yes, he does!” Cloudy cried. “He needs to! It’s necessary! It’s vital!”

“Why?!” Springtime thundered.

“Tilry’s his son-in-law! They’re very close!” Cloudy exclaimed. “Besides, this could be his last chance to see Tilry before he’s put in the ground!” The moment the foreboding words left her mouth, she was sorry. She felt miserable when she saw the knight’s head drop and his cape came up to cover his face.

“Magnus, don’t feel like you’re obligated to go,” Scazzarda quickly told her son. “You can remain if you wish. Liloy and I will go instead.”

Meta Knight shook his head. “I want to go,” he managed. “I want to see him.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I have to.”

Scazzarda cast a despairing look at Springtime, but the husky shook her head ever so slightly. “Let him go,” she mouthed.

Scazzarda sighed and gave in. “All right. Come along then, Magnus and Liloy.”

“Wait!” Cloudy cried. All eyes turned to her as she asked Springtime, “Can I go, Mommy?”

Springtime and Showerstorm exchanged insightful looks, and he nodded. She nodded too and turned back to Cloudy. “Yes, you may. But listen to your elders and be polite.”

“I will. Thank you, Mommy.” Cloudy kissed her mother and slipped out the door with her three companions.

 

* * * * *

 

The four friends escaladed into Scazzarda’s car, which was parked on the side of the road, and she drove them to Oromo Thuli Hospital. She found an empty parking space, halted there, and ordered everyone out of the car. “Let’s go,” she told them.

Cloudy followed them up the slender steps and into the red-brick building. She gazed at the aquarium that sat in the corner of the waiting room, listlessly counting the fish and other various sea creatures. She was so absorbed in this activity that Scazzarda had to call her name four times before she finally heard.

All four stepped into the elevator and rode to the fourth floor, Cloudy enjoying the ascent as usual. Her throes of hardship and her despondent thoughts of Tilry rushed back to her as they stepped out of the car and slowly toured down the cool, white hallway before they found Tilry’s room—Room 416. Scazzarda reached out her hand and tapped on the wooden door. To her astoundment, it was opened by a nurse dressed in white.

“Yes?” the nurse quizzed, staring at them with staid blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Scazzarda Stellarum. These are my son and his daughter, Liloy, who is the wife of this room’s occupant. And this is our tagalong, Cloudy. We’ve come to see Tilry. It’s a substantial matter.”

The nurse glanced at each of them in turn, her face expressionless. There was a long silence. Finally the nurse sighed and said, “Come on in. He’s waiting for you.”

He’s waiting for you? Cloudy repeated to herself. Oh, that sounds really nice. Not scary at all. Badly frightened but still determined to see Tilry, she marched confidently into the room, her head held high. Her friends followed.

Scazzarda closed the door and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. Meta Knight pulled up a chair next to Tilry’s bedside and sat down in it while Liloy walked to the other side of the bed. There was no sound minus the sporadic beeping of the heart monitor and the quiet loquaciousness of surgeons out in the hallway.

Cloudy leaped lightly onto the mattress and gingerly sat down. When her eyes landed on Tilry’s face, a scare went through her. Never had she seen him so pale or felt him so cold. Never had she heard his breathing so raspy and unsteady. It was dreadful to listen to. She found herself shrinking as far back from him as she possibly could, her ears lying flat on her head. Tilry didn’t stir. His eyes were closed.

“Cloudy!” Liloy hissed, gently tapping the child’s back. Cloudy jumped and emanated a startled yelp. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Liloy whispered more calmly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cloudy whispered, feeling more at ease. They both glanced sanguinely at Tilry, hoping somehow he would speak to them or even move. But he did none of those things. He remained lying there, his eyes shut. His breathing was still irregular. His color was still poor.

“What are we going to do if he just—dies without ever waking up?” Cloudy asked. She gasped as she spoke those words. It was not inconceivable; it could happen. But Cloudy didn’t want such a thing to result. Tilry had to speak to those he loved one last time before he passed to the next life he was to enter. But what if he never woke? What if they never heard his voice again? What if he went without ever knowing they were there by his bedside, waiting, willing him to wake? One terrifying possibility after another swirled through Cloudy’s head like desert eddies, each darker than the last.

Meta Knight buried his face in his hands, feeling just as terrified as Cloudy and Liloy. His thoughts were fuzzy; his body felt numb. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was just a bad dream from which he would soon wake up. But deep down, he knew it was all a lie. Tilry was dying and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Through his grief, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. It was his dear mother, come to comfort him. Scazzarda looked knowingly at Tilry and then pointedly at her son. She knew what was bothering every person in the room, for the same was aggravating her as well.

There was a soft movement from the bed. A stifled gasp emitted from Cloudy and Liloy softly exclaimed, “Tilry! He’s waking up!”

Meta Knight raised his head from his hands and gazed at his son-in-law. Tilry stirred, opened his eyes, and slowly the room came into focus. He stared at his wife, Meta Knight, Scazzarda, and Cloudy, and deep bewilderment glowed upon his features. “What are you. . .all doing here?” he asked, speaking with great difficulty due to his aberrant breathing.

“We came to say goodbye,” Liloy said softly, tears springing to her eyes. Still she pressed on. “We wanted to see you off on your journey to the other side.”

“What are. . .you talking. . .about?” Tilry asked, shaking his head, confused.

“You’re dying!” Meta Knight burst out. Liloy stared at him, shocked, and he hastily looked down at the floor.

“I’m. . .dying?” Tilry repeated. He struggled for another intake of breath. “What do. . .you mean?”

“He means you’re going to die,” Cloudy explained, moving closer to the sick man. “You had a relapse and now you’re not going to make it. The doctors said so.” She heaved a poignant sigh of dolefulness. “We wanted to say farewell, seeing as we now know you’ll never make it through another day. You have only hours left on this earth.”

Tilry managed a weak smile. Yet in that weakness, Cloudy saw, he possessed an unusual strength. The darkness was closing in, but she knew he was not afraid to die. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say goodbye. . .to me. I’m only. . .going home. I’m not. . .dying. I won’t be dead. . .when I arrive. . .at my Father’s house.” His head lolled to the side and he glanced up at Liloy. “My little wife,” he murmured, feebly stretching out his hand and taking hers. “Take care. . .of our baby. Promise. . .you will.”

Liloy covered her mouth, tears spilling down her face. But even through her heartache, she rustled up a smile. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Father,” Tilry said softly. He turned to look at the soldier. “Be. . .brave no matter what. . .like your friend. . .Cloudy. Guard her. . .carefully. . .and take care of. . .Liloy. Have faith. . .and everything. . .will be just. . .fine.” His fragile hand clenched the soldier’s hale one.

Meta Knight couldn’t say a word. Tears stole out of his eyes, running down his face, though no one could see. Tilry seemed to understand the knight’s plight and weakly squeezed the latter’s hand. Tilry then turned to Scazzarda, who watched the scene with glistening eyes, shameless tears streaming down her face. “Scazzarda. . .watch over my wife. . .and child. Don’t let. . .anyone. . .harm them. I love you.”

“I’ll protect them, don’t you worry there,” Scazzarda bravely responded, wiping her eyes, trying to smile.

Cloudy watched each of these morose scenes, a wistful smile loitering on her lips. The smile was suddenly replaced by stunned surprise when Tilry at last turned to her. “Child. . .be aware of those. . .who seek. . .your life. Be kind to those. . .who. . .wrong you. You are strong. . .and brave. You can do. . .the impossible. . .if you put your. . .mind to it. No matter what. . .follow Him. Follow. . .” He couldn’t continue, his breathing getting hoarser and more unsteady by the second. His skin was anemic, he was shivering, and he looked so frail supine. Cloudy was getting panicky just watching him. Then abruptly, Tilry’s breathing stopped and his body went limp.

There was a profound stillness, more reticent than Cloudy had ever heard in her life. Meta Knight released his son-in-law’s hand, entombed his face in his cape, and began sobbing faintly. Liloy covered her eyes with one hand and bent her head in solemn respect. Scazzarda turned away from Tilry, struggling to regain control of her emotions. Just then, the nurse entered the room. She took one look at the patient lying motionless on the bed and gently asked Scazzarda, “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Scazzarda didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded.

The nurse breathed a sigh of remorse. “I’m so, so sorry,” was all she could say. “You’ll want to bury him, won’t you?”

Scazzarda didn’t reply, so Liloy answered. “Yes, we will.”

“I’ll cover the cost for the funeral, as well as the bills,” the nurse answered.

“You don’t have to do that,” Liloy argued.

“Yes, I do,” the nurse said. She sat on the upholstered chair by the door and spread out her hands on her lap. “It’s the least I can do for Tilry’s kindness.”

“What do you mean?” Liloy asked, staring at the woman, This was the first she had heard of Tilry’s kindness to a random nurse.

The nurse shrugged. “I lost my husband a few weeks ago. Tilry must have heard about it from some of my coworkers, because he often arranged for meals to be sent to my home. He also sent me a Bible. He was so sweet to me. Sometimes when I was off-duty, he and I talked together about God’s love and kindness and how those who mourned were blessed. He told me he wanted me to know someone still cared for me.” She stood up. “I want to return the favor. He made me feel less alone, so I want to do the same for his family.”

Unexpectedly, the sun was gone. There was a sudden flash of lightning, following by a crack of thunder. Great torrents of rain lashed mercilessly against the window. The wind furiously whipped small banners and flags about and stripped small leaves off the oak trees.

The nurse slowly stood to her feet and walked to the window. “Why, I can’t understand it,” she murmured to herself. “It was so bright and cheerful a few minutes ago. Now it’s so dreary and bleak. I can’t understand it.”

Scazzarda fought back tears as she swiftly whirled and walked over to the bedside. She laid her hand on her son’s shoulder as he cowered small, wrapped in his navy cape, his shoulders trembling. Liloy gazed dismally upon the dead body of her husband as the nurse continued to look out at the wild thunderstorm ravaging Spring Breeze.

Scazzarda raised her head and focused her tear-filled eyes on Cloudy’s inert figure, but Cloudy didn’t even glance back at her. Her gaze was fixed on the window; she stared listlessly at the black skies as they opened up and poured down huge, satiny sheets of rain. But Scazzarda noted the faraway look in Cloudy’s eyes. It wasn’t a despairing, or lugubrious, or even an antagonized look.

It was a look that spelled simply two words—no hope.

And that was by far one of the scariest emotions ever to retain.

Hopelessness.