Life is a fleeting fog
That drags you through pain
Memorizes your happiest moments
Records your loss and gain
Life is a zippy mist
That snatches your breath away
Cherish the memories
For one day they’ll fade away.
Sing the song of hope
For you are not alone
Day and night, life and death
God sits upon His throne.
Deeply cherish your life
And treasure it always
For one day it will pass
And wither away.
My name is Candace Realtin.
I was only seven years old when the worst disaster in all of New York City occurred–a disaster that was to change the course of American history forever.
* * *
I was a very bright and curious child. I loved crocheting and art, as well as weaving bracelets for my playmates. My father was John Realtin, who worked in the World Trade Center. My mother, Lacey Harpe Realtin, was a pediatrician. My sister, Harmony, three years younger than I, mostly enjoyed mimicking whomever she heard.
One of my most favorite pieces of jewelry to wear was a pearl bracelet with silver cross charms. Dad gave it to me for my fifth birthday and I’ve worn it ever since. Whenever I went out with my parents to church or a store, a few people asked me the significance of the crosses on my bracelet. I told them about Jesus and how His love set me free from my sins.
And the same God Who set me free would be the same God Who would rescue me from the NYC disaster that came to be known as 9/11.
* * *
It all started the morning of September 11, 2001. I woke up, got dressed, made my bed, and woke up my little sister. My mom had left early to got to work, so I dressed my sister and fed her. My school had a teachers’ meeting that day, so I went with Dad to work.
We boarded the train and rode along for a few miles. I amused myself by drawing the blurred landscape as it zoomed by. Harmony played with her pink bunny, the one Mom used to own as a child and was missing an eye. Dad, one hand rested on his briefcase, looked thoughtfully out the window. I wondered what was on his mind.
“Dad?” I said at last.
He looked at me, a smile replacing his former expression. “Yes?”
“Is something wrong? You look like you’re thinking about something really important,” I said.
Dad shook his head. “I’m okay, Candace.”
I honestly didn’t believe him, but decided to keep my thoughts to myself. I looked back down at the art I was making. . .a picture of small trees and sunflowers, occasionally a weed or two. My sister babbled to her bunny, oblivious to the slightly tense atmosphere between Dad and I.
While I was staring at my drawing and deciding what color to add to the shading of the sky, a woman around twenty-seven years old approached my seat and sat beside me. In her arms was a little girl who looked to be a year younger than my sister. She was cooing and seemed very happy. The woman, on the other hand, looked exhausted. She seemed ready to fall asleep.
“Do you want me to hold her?” I asked.
The woman started and looked over at me. Her blue eyes were questioning but kind. “If you like,” she said in a small voice, handing over the toddler.
I took the little girl into my arms and held her gently the way I did my sister when she was going to nap. I made funny faces at her and soon had her screaming with laughter. My sister looked shyly at the toddler, one finger in her mouth, the bunny clasped in the other hand.
“Her name is Autherine,” the woman said. “But I call her Authy. She was born in May 1998.”
“She’s cute,” I said. “She reminds me a lot of my baby sister, Harmony.”
The woman smiled. Then she sighed and leaned her head back against the plush headrest. “My husband is working in his office today and the neighbor who usually babysits my little girl is ill, so I’m going to take Authy to the Children’s Discovery Center. Then I’m going to work at the World Trade Center.”
As she spoke, her gaze fell on my bracelet and her smile widened even more. “I love your bracelet,” she said, pointing to it.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “It was a gift for my fifth birthday.”
The woman continued to study my bracelet. “I assume the crosses stand for Jesus’ death on the cross,” she guessed.
“That’s right,” I nodded. “He died to set us free.”
“Are you a Christian?” she asked.
I nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Are you?”
“Wholeheartedly,” she said. “I hope Authy will become one too, seeing as she’ll depend on God for the rest of her life. I pray she will follow the narrow path to life and not the wide path to destruction.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed. “I pray the same for Harmony.”
Just then, the train lurched to a stop and most of the passengers began to get off. I recognized a few who worked in the World Trade Center. The woman and my family stood up and began to get off the train. As we stepped off, I asked the woman, “What’s your name?”
“Kalara Loans,” the woman responded briefly, taking her child from my arms and walking off in the direction of the Trade Center.
“Come on, Candace,” my father called, gesturing to me to hurry.
Stowing my drawing and pencils in my gradient purple-and-pink pack and picking up Harmony, I ran after him.
* * *
After Harmony was dropped off at the Children’s Discovery Center and my father was settled in his office on the 80th floor of the North Tower, I sat down in a lounge chair in a lobby near his office and sketched for a while. When I got tired of drawing, I would stand up and look out the window at the cars driving by and the people parading on the sidewalks. They all seemed like mini action figures from this high up. Sometimes I would gaze at the Statue of Liberty and her faint reflection wavering in the water.
And then, at 8:46 a.m., it happened.
I was attempting to sketch the Statue of Liberty’s face when there came a sharp explosion and boom from very close by. The whole building began to vibrate and sway. Shocked, I fell backward to the floor and my pencils rolled everywhere. A lady helped me up and scrabbled to pick up my pencils, but then a large vase fell off a nearby table, shattering to pieces on the floor. Frightened, the lady stood up and ran out of the lounge without ever looking back, jerking me with her. I didn’t know what was going on, but I didn’t ask. I was too scared.
I was freaked by what I saw in the hallway. The ceiling was dropping. Right over our heads. And several people were screaming and running toward the stairs. One man was trapped under a section of the fallen ceiling. The lady pulling me with her stopped and ran over to him, deftly throwing aside the debris and checking for injuries before helping him up. I recognized him as one of Dad’s friends from our neighborhood, Daniel Jashon. I ran to him and hugged him tightly.
“Candace!” he gasped, brushing debris and plaster from his suit. “Where’s your father?!”
“I don’t know!” I said.
He took my hand and ran along the hallway with me. As we passed by a wall, I heard several people screaming on the other side of it. Daniel heard it too and ran over to the wall, pounding furiously on it with his fist. “Are you all okay?!” he shouted. I had never heard him use that tone of voice before, and it terrified me.
“We’re trapped in the elevator!” a woman shrieked. “We can’t get out!”
Daniel put his hand over his mouth, then pulled out a pocketknife and stabbed it into the wall, furiously gouging a hole in the wall. I grabbed a small but sharp wooden beam of the ceiling which had fallen and slammed it violently against the wall, causing much of the plaster to crumble. A few more rams and a small hole was revealed to see several frightened people in the elevator, their faces covered with dust and bits of wood. They stared at Daniel and I like we were mirages.
“Come on!” I yelled. “We need to get out of here!”
They all crawled though the small hole and ran after us as we pounded down the stairs. It was dark and the power kept flickering on and off as the building continued to rock and lurch. The ceiling continued to fall even as we ran, people screaming all around us. Down and around different flights of steps we went.
As we were getting closer to the end of the steps, who should show up but Mrs. Loans herself! She handed me a wet handkerchief. “Put if over your nose and mouth,” she said quietly, but there was a fierce gleam in her eye. “So you don’t breathe in the fumes and dust and all.”
As we reached the end of the second-to-last flight of steps, I saw my father on a small landing. He was frantically talking to someone on his cell phone. I couldn’t hear who was speaking on the other end, but it sounded like he was speaking to Mom. I was shocked by his face; he looked terrified. My dad was the bravest man I knew, but he was scared now. I had never seen that side of him before.
“Dad!” I cried out above the screams and rumblings.
He looked up and saw me on the landing above. His face changed from worry and fear to relief that I could never describe in words. I ran down to him and embraced him tightly, fearful that if I let go, he might disappear.
“Candace,” he murmured, tears filling his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” I told him, trying to reassure him. I could see how concerned he had been.
Daniel and Mrs. Loans were right beside him when the building started to shake even harder. “John!” Daniel said sharply. “We need to get out of here! Now!”
Dad grabbed my hand and rushed me out of the building as fast as we could go. As we ran for the exit, I suddenly realized my wrist felt strangely light. I was missing my bracelet!
“Dad, my bracelet!” I cried out in despair, pointing back toward the building.
“No time, Candace,” he said breathlessly, and sprinted with me out of the building. Daniel and Mrs. Loans were following suit.
Just as we reached the sixth block, far away enough to be safe from the swaying building, it collapsed. The Trade Center crashed down into a heap of rubble, and thick black smoke and flames partially enveloped it. People were jumping out of the windows and horrible shrieks could be heard from everywhere. Sirens were screaming and ambulance lights were flashing wildly.
“It’s gone,” I moaned. “The Trade Center. . .”
Dad grabbed my hand and together we knelt in the street. “Thank You,” he whispered, his voice trembling. Tears ran down his face. “Thank you for rescuing us, Lord.”
“Thank You,” I echoed. But I felt numb. My brain was screaming. My mind still couldn’t comprehend what we had just been rescued from. It would take me years to fully understand that I had been spared from dying a horrible death.
* * *
Later that day, I learned the South Tower had collapsed and that American Airlines Flight 77 had crashed into the Pentagon. Another plane, Flight 93, had crashed in a field outside of Pittsburgh.
Harmony and Authy were safe. They had been evacuated from the daycare when the first plane crashed and all the kids were safe. But nearly 3,000 people died that day. I felt the losses deeply. I learned that one of my friends’ fathers, who was a firefighter, had gone inside to rescue people when the North Tower crashed. He never came out again. My friend was devastated.
My father met up with my mother and baby sister near a small store a few miles from the Trade Center. Many victims of the collapse who had survived were with us, including Daniel and Mrs. Loans. My mom was worried sick about Harmony and I; she consistently asked us are you okay, was anyone hurt, did you breathe in anything harmful. My dad was too overwhelmed to answer; and I was too tired and anxious. Harmony looked confused by all the action.
“What in the world happened?” my mother demanded. “How did the Towers fall?”
“Planes crashed into it,” I said in a small voice. “But we don’t know why.”
* * *
Two days later, a firefighter showed up at our door. I walked to the front door and answered the quiet chimes of the doorbell. “Yes?” I said, drawing my brows down.
“I was helping clean the rubble at the Trade Center,” he said, his voice filled with wonder, “and I found this.” He reached in his pocket and held out a pearl bracelet with silver cross charms. I stared in shock. It was my bracelet I had lost!
“It’s not even scratched.” His voice was trembling. “How can that be?”
I stared at the bracelet for the longest time, and then the smallest smile crept across my face. I knew the answer.
“Because hope can be never be marred,” I said with a slight excitement in my tone.
He looked at me a moment. I looked back at him. He was dirty, and his uniform was layered with soot. I wondered how many he was forced to rescue from beneath the debris only to find many were not living. Tears filled his eyes.
I slipped on my bracelet, then held out my hand to him. “Won’t you come in,” I asked, “and hear the Gospel?”
Wordlessly, he stepped inside.
* * *
Many days later, on September 20, President George W. Bush identified Osama bin Laden and the al-Qaeda organization as responsible for the attack on the World Trade Centers. Though I was glad they had found the crooks, I knew that many lives had been changed in the blink of an eye. Life would never be the same for anyone.
At first, I hated those killers. I dreamed of sneaking into a spy plane and tracking them down one day, stabbing them to death and getting revenge for what they had done to America. But the Lord spoke to my heart, telling me such thoughts were not of His nature and nor should be of mine. I repented and prayed fro the killers instead.
And you know what?
In time, I found I was able to forgive them.
A few weeks later, I did a school paper telling about the World Trade Center and how I was able to forgive the killers. Many of my classmates were shocked, but I told them that only Jesus could give someone a heart of love. Many of them also learned to forgive the hijackers and went on to become great godly men and women.
* * *
Twenty years later, I was in an interview. The woman reporter was asking me about the World Trade attack and what I had thought about it.
“Yes,” I said. “I was seven years old when it happened. I was in the North Tower.”
“But you escaped,” she said.
“Yes,” I said. “My whole family did.”
The woman asked a few more questions. Then she concluded with her final question: “And what do you think about all those who died in the attacks?”
I thought about that a moment. Then an image came to my mind: I was standing at two twin pools near the Twin Towers. The name of the victims in the attack were engraved on the bricks around the pools. As I looked at my reflection, I saw not myself, nor a burning tower with screaming people leaping out the windows to safety, but rather a pearl bracelet with silver charms, not burned, nor scratched, nor marred. Jesus had been with us all, even in the attack. He had allowed me and many others to forgive the hijackers, even at their most unlovable.
I came back to the present. “They are all heroes,” I said with a fierce passion. “They did what was right and tried to help others, even when they knew they would die. There is no greater glory for a hero than seeing them reach out in action to help others over themselves. Jesus did the same and those heroes followed His loving example. Jesus is my Hero, and everyone who died saving many is a hero.”
As I finished, I twisted my pearl bracelet around my wrist, the tarnished charms catching the brilliantly beaming lights.
Tiff glanced over at the Autherine girl, who was scowling as she gestured to her in-crowd, waving her hands wildly, looking very upset. “That girl doesn’t look very happy to be here,” she observed.
Lemu looked at Autherine, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Maybe she needs a friend.”
“She already has five,” Tiff pointed out.
But Lemu shook his head. “A real friend,” he said. “Not a collectible.”
Tiff thought that a very odd word to use, collectible. “What do you mean?”
“A collectible is one who merely acts like a ‘friend’ but doesn’t possess the true characteristics of one,” he said. “She needs someone who will stay beside her. Who will comfort without question. Who will give without thinking about their own needs. Who will have empathy even if they don’t fully comprehend the situation.”
Tiff noticed for the first time that he was staring at her as he spoke those words. “Why are you looking at me?”
“Because you’re one of the friends who completes the definition I just spoke,” he said.
Tiff read his mind. “Are you referring to. . .him?”
Lemu nodded.
“Well, hello,” Autherine said coolly, breezing over to the boyfriend and girlfriend. “What do we have here? A pair of lame lovers, I see.” She wrinkled her nose at Tiff’s plain green-and-pink zigzag outfit. “You know, Mr. Whatever-Your-Name-Is, you could have found a girlfriend who was real taste in style.”
“I love her for her selfless character,” Lemu said coldly. “Not for her appearance.”
Autherine was taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered her poise. “And you are?” she asked Tiff.
“Tiffany,” she said softly, “but my friends call me Tiff.”
“Tiff?” Autherine snorted. “What a stupid name. My grandmother is named Tiffany, and I hate her beyond measure. Such a Jesus freak. No, sir! Not for me.”
“Explain,” Lemu requested.
Autherine smirked. “I’m an atheist.”
Tiff blinked.
“You’re a what now?” Lemu asked, looking surprised.
“An atheist,” repeated Autherine. “I don’t believe God is real.”
“Then where did this universe come from?” Lemu challenged.
Autherine turned a wary eye on him. “That’s still unknown to us.”
“Why are you here?” Lemu went deeper.
“We are here by natural processes,” Autherine said smugly. “But some of us are mistakes.”
“Like who?” Tuff chimed, overhearing the conversation.
Autherine glared at him, a peeved look on her face, but she continued, “The elderly and unborn are, of course.”
“What?!” Tuff exclaimed. “Girl, that’s crazy talk! Who says unborn and elderly are useless?!”
“We atheists believe such things,” Autherine said. “An unborn ‘baby’ isn’t really a baby; it’s a mass of tissue. And elderly are too much of a burden, so we have to dump them off our backs. It’s the circle of life, you know. Survival of the fittest.”
“Girl, a baby inside the womb is no different from one outside the womb,” Tuff objected. “Everyone is made in God’s image–even the elderly and unborn. Your parents are jacking you up. You need some serious mental help.”
“Tuff, shh!” Bella whispered, approaching her friend. “Be kind to her!”
“I can’t help it,” Tuff returned. “She’s such an idiot!”
“Is there a problem?” Meta Knight asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the group.
Autherine scowled at him. “And who are you, you freaky, nightmarish-looking fruit?”
The knight didn’t react. He had learned long ago that reacting badly to insults and bad situations got him into more trouble than he cared to mention. “Meta Knight.”
“Meta Knight?” she repeated. “What a ridiculous name.” She snorted and turned her back on him, stalking away. But then she turned back, pointing a finger at them all. “You Bible-believing freaks will never change me!” she shouted. “No one can tell me what to do with my life!”
The children stood dumbfounded as she left, amazed at what they had just witnessed.
To be continued. . .
“How was your hunting trip?” Kimora inquired of her husband later that same day at dinner. “Get any good catches?”
“I shot a rabbit and two squirrels,” Victor said proudly. “That should tide us over for a few days. After all, every bit of money used to construct this church is crucial. The less we spend on groceries, the better.”
Carny poked at her green beans with her fork, sighing. She couldn’t forget her conversation with Meta Knight. It bothered her, knowing he didn’t have any peace, knowing he struggled, knowing he pretended to be strong but in reality was broken.
Kimora frowned at Carny. “Are you okay, sweetie? You’ve hardly eaten.”
“I’m fine,” Carny said, guilt shooting through her. Great, she thought with alarm, now even I’m lying!
Victor set down his coffee mug. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
Carny balanced her fork on the edge of her plate, watching it slowly sway rhythmically up and down. “I talked to Meta Knight today,” she said dully, “and it didn’t turn out at all like I thought it would.”
“Explain,” Kimora said, sitting beside her daughter.
Carny stared at the edge of the table for a few seconds, then looked up at her parents. “We went to Cowrie Stream and I used an analogy of a cowrie shell and the water to tell of how a person’s experiences can shape his thoughts and actions. I don’t know how it happened, but he got really uptight and slammed his hand into a tree, denting the bark, and he cried. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I just sat with him.”
Kimora and Victor pondered that for a moment. “Wow,” Kimora said at last. “Whatever was going on with him must have been pretty upsetting to make him behave like that. I’m proud of you for staying with him, Carny. That was a very brave thing to do.”
“I didn’t think it was brave,” Carny responded. “Just the right thing to do.”
“It was,” Kimora agreed. “You did right and you did well.”
Carny heaved an impatient sigh and picked up her fork, twirling it expertly between her fingers. “What are we going to do?” she blurted at last, slamming the fork down on the table, causing both of her parents to jump. “We have to help Meta Knight! He doesn’t have to carry his past alone, but yet he insists on it! Why is he so stubborn? He knows he can’t do this alone, but he continues to act as if he can!”
Victor put his hand on her arm to calm her down. “Whoa,” he said soothingly. “Slow down, Carny. You’re right; no one can hide such burdens for their whole life, much less lug them around. That’s why God gave us friends and family—so we could share the good, the bad, and the ugly with each other.” He lightly patted her hand, a swift, soft motion. “What’s the point of friends if you feel you can never confide in them about anything?”
“I. . .I guess you’re right,” Carny admitted, a catch in her voice. “But. . .I suppose it drives me crazy. I want to help, but I know there’s really nothing I can do, and yet I want to do something, you know? I feel like I can’t just stand around and wait for a breakthrough.”
“We all feel that way from time to time,” Victor said. “But if we try to rush God’s plan and do things in our own way and time, it won’t turn for the better, you know? That’s why it’s vital we lean on the Lord and His wisdom instead of our own finite, limited understanding.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you understand?”
Carny mulled over her father’s words for a moment, then nodded, a smile creeping across her face. She looked full into Victor’s eyes. “I understand,” she said.
* * * * *
“Hut, hut, hike! Go long, Yodi!” Zach hollered. He held a small red football in his hands, preparing to throw it. Yodi was in the defense, ready to catch the ball.
It was a bright Tuesday afternoon. and Cloudy and her siblings had just gotten home from school and had been playing in the front yard when Zach showed up with his football and asked if anyone wanted to participate in the game. Cloudy’s brothers and Star had jumped to action, ready to earn some goals. Cloudy, who didn’t care much for football, had politely asked to sit by and watch the game. She had more important things on her mind.
Yodi faked left and twisted around Sniper and Star, then leaped up and grabbed the foam ball in his teeth. He ran with it to the imaginary goalpost, drew back his head, and released the ball, throwing it up and over the goalpost. He sprinted over to the ball and caught it midair as it came down. Howling, he declared: “Yodi scores!”
“Nice throw!” Zach said, high-pawing Yodi.
“Thanks, Zach,” Yodi said with a wide grin.
Springtime and Scazzarda stood on the porch, smiling at the children. “Funny little kids,” Scazzarda commented. “Very playful.” She sighed wistfully. “I only wish everyone was like little children―innocent and free instead of acting tough and doing things that enslave them to sin. That kind of behavior just doesn’t help anything.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” said Springtime, flicking an ear to ward off a horsefly.
Scazzarda smiled and brushed her hand through her silky hair. Then her eyes widened slightly and she quickly looked around, as if missing something or someone. Springtime noticed. “What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Where’s Magnus?” The woman stood up, an agitated expression on her worried face. “He came with on my way over here and now he’s gone.”
Springtime smiled a little at her friend’s look. “Scazzarda, you know Meta Knight vanishes without a word a lot, you know. You’ve never been concerned about it before. Why suddenly now?”
“After yesterday, I’m scared to let him out of my sight,” confessed Scazzarda.
Springtime’s face was a picture of blankness. “Um, what are you talking about?”
Scazzarda let out her breath in a sigh. “You know how I allowed Magnus to stay behind with Carny?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, from what he told me, Carny talked with him, and the conversation didn’t go so smoothly.” Scazzarda smoothed back her hair with the palm of her her hand, then began to relate the events of yesterday about which Meta Knight had told her. Springtime listened, her ears back against her head in disbelief, her face set.
“Now I understand why you’re so reluctant to let him out of your sigh,” she said when Scazzarda had finished, putting a paw on her friend’s arm. “But understand, Scazzarda, Meta Knight has to learn resolve his own problems before anyone else can help him carry the burdens of his past. And no one else truly can help him except God.” She set her bow straight, then continued, “I’m glad Carny stayed with him when he broke because that’s what a true friend should do. She knew he needed comfort, and she gave it to him.” She glanced thoughtfully at Cloudy, who sat near the fence, barking encouragement to Zach as he prepared to throw a spiral. “You know, Carny reminds me of Cloudy in many ways.”
Scazzarda gave a small nod. “I thought the same thing.”
Just then, a familiar car drove up in front of the house and parked at the side of the road. The driver’s side door opened and out climbed Kimora! On the passenger’s side of the car sat Carny.
“Kimora! Hi!” Springtime called warmly, waving to the woman. “Hello to you too, Carny!”
“Hi, Miss Springtime,” said Carny. “Where’s Meta Knight?” she asked Scazzarda.
Scazzarda shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Carny frowned and folded her arms, looking downcast.
Kimora placed an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. “She told us at dinner last night about hat happened yesterday between her and Meta Knight, and she’s concerned for him.”
“As am I,” Scazzarda murmured.
Cloudy’s ears perked up sharply and she swiveled her head in the direction of Whispy Woods. Everyone noticed her abrupt actions and followed her gaze. They waited and watched, tensely, carefully, uncertain as to what would emerge from the shadows of those dark trees.
A moment later, Meta Knight appeared, wrapped in his cape. “Hello to you all,” he said calmly.
Cloudy stared at him as if he were a ghost. “Where did you come from?” she asked in confusion. “How did you wander all the way over to the woods? We would have seen you.”
He didn’t reply for a moment. “I have my ways,” he said finally. Then he turned to Carny. “Greetings, Carny. We meet again.”
“Hi,” Carny said. She scuffed her foot nervously in the dirt. “Um, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize to you about yesterday. It was foolish of me to bring up triggering memories for you. . .”
“Carny,” Meta Knight said gently but firmly, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me. I lost control of myself and scared you. I really should learn to hold myself together more.”
Carny stared unblinkingly at him. “That’s not an adequate solution to your problems, though,” she said softly. “You need God.”
“Must I keep repeating the obvious?” Meta Knight said heatedly. “I do not believe in God!”
“Oh, yes, you do,” spoke up Cloudy.
All eyes turned to her. “Whatever do you mean, honey?” asked Springtime.
Cloudy set her lips in a tight line and looked pointedly at the soldier, who looked steadily back at her, a flash of orange illuminating his eyes. She continued to scowl at him, trying to get a telepathic message across. The others waited, watching, wondering.
“Uh,” said Star.
“This is getting a little scary,” Zach admitted.
“Yeah. It’s as scary as being in an abandoned house at night,” confessed Yodi.
“It’s not that terrifying,” Zach scoffed.
“Terrifying enough,” Yodi shot back.
After another minute, Kimora decided to break the silence. “Kids,” she said brightly, attempting to relieve the awkwardness of the moment, “um, today, the workers finished installing our brand-new stained-glass window. Now it’s a surprise, but we’ll allow you all a little sneak peek—that is, if you want to go.”
Zach shrugged. “Sure, that sounds cool,” he said, tucking his football into his pack.
“I’m in,” Star said.
“Radical!” all five of Cloudy’s brothers cheered in unison.
“Then let’s be off,” Kimora said, steering them towards the car.
“Be safe, children!” Springtime shouted as they hopped into the vehicle. Carny lingered a little with Meta Knight, though. “Are you gonna come too?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “I will stay behind.”
Carny sighed. She felt very disappointed. “All right,” she said as she trudged to the car and climbed inside. The door slammed shut and Kimora drove off in a cloud of dust and pollen. The knight looked after the car for a while, a slight slump to his usually proud form. Scazzarda cast her worried eyes upon her son and then threw her head back to the bright blue sky, running her fingers through her hair.
* * * * *
When Kimora arrived at the church, Victor was waiting for them. “Hey, fam!” he called cheerily, waving enthusiastically to them. “it’s been some time!”
“Pastor Lambe, it’s only been twenty-four hours,” Cloudy said with a short laugh, leaping out of the car and skidding a little on the smooth pavement, her nails scraping against the granite and gravel as she regained her balance.
Victor grinned. “That’s a long time, right? It’s been about, oh, 1,440 minutes since we last saw one another!”
Cloudy snorted. Zach chuckled as she walked up beside her. “It’s snice to see you again,” he told Victor.
“You as well, Zach,” said Victor, clapping a friendly hand on the boy’s shoulder.
The others climbed out of the car and stood beside Kimora and Carny. “All right!” Kimora said, clapping her hands for attention. “Everyone in single file and follow me! We go forth to see the new window, unrevealed window!”
Kimora led them inside the church. Cloudy sneezed from the dust and wood splinters itching her nose. The sunlight shone through a few empty squares where windows would be placed. And at the front of the church was the new window covered with a large gray cloth. Kimora led them onto the stage and lifted up a corner of the cloth. Cloudy gasped at sight of the window and Star whistled. “Wow,” whispered Zach. “That is beautiful.”
“It was handmade by my mother and sister,” Kimora said. “They had it flown over here from Leupochena.”
“They must be amazing stained-glass window designers, then,” Cloudy said, because I’ve never seen anything of finer, intricate art and style.”
Kimora smiled at the compliment. “I can make stained-glass windows too. Just not large ones like this here. I make smaller ones and sell them. Occasionally I’ll create a crystal flower or a lampshade.”
“You Lambes must be incredibly talented,” said Sharkell. “I have enough trouble making a toilet-paper net! The fact that you can make a lampshade is awesome!”
Kimora blinked at the mention of “toilet-paper net,” but she merely grinned and said, “Actually, my side of the family is known as the Nahads. My husband said his side, the Lambes, was never really talented at art and such.”
“So you two are polar opposites!” Sniper laughed. “Funny, since, you’re married.”
“Opposites attract,” Kimora quoted. She let the cloth drape over the window again. “Noe you must keep this a secret until Easter,” she warned. “I’m only letting you children see it because I trust you to keep a secret. And furthermore—”
From outside came the sound of a truck braking to a stop. The terrible screech made Cloudy wince and fold down her ears. Then the door opened and shut and a course, rough voice yelled out: “VICTOR! Where are you?!”
“Is that Ray Holder?” Waffle asked with a groan.
“None other,” Kimora sighed, suddenly looking like she had come down with a splitting headache. “Well, let’s go see what he wants.” She walked with the children back down the aisle and outside. Ray Holder was leaning against his truck, his arms crossed. He looked steamed.
“Uh-oh,” Sniper whispered in Zach’s ear. “That guy looks angry enough to fry chicken on his head.”
Zach covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Sniper! That’s terrible!”
“Then why are you laughing?” Sniper wondered.
“Because it’s so terrible it’s funny,” replied the boy.
Victor appeared from behind the church ad walked over to Holder. “Hi, Ray,” he said. “I was just checking on the foundation. It appears to be holding up well.” He frowned at Holder’s livid expression. “Is something the matter?”
“Is something the matter?” Holder repeated. “Of course something’s the matter! And I believe you’re the cause of it!”
Victor’s face showed plain confusion as Holder led him to the bed of his truck, where a large bundle wrapped in a black tarp was lying. Holder undid the twine that held the folds of the tarp together and threw back the plastic cloth, and Victor gasped.
“What?” Kimora asked, walking briskly over to her husband and looking down at the bundle. Her eyes widened. “Is that Vanessa?!”
Holder nodded angrily, his eyes flashing fire and brimstone. “Shot dead by a bullet,” he said simply, but his tone was enough to communicate what he was thinking.
Carny stared at Holder in astonishment and defense of her father. “You don’t believe Daddy did it!”
“Yeah,” Holder growled. “The day he went out hunting was the same day she was found dead. She wandered out of her paddock and ran away into the woods. Found her only last night. I figured it was you who committed this evil deed, Victor!”
Victor shook his head, his voice trembling a little as he answered, “I swear I didn’t shoot nay of your stock, Ray. I only shot squirrels and rabbits.”
“A likely story,” Holder sneered, digging into his pocket and bringing forth a small, dark-brown bullet. “The vet found this in Vanessa’s body.”
Cloudy squinted and studied it. It was a Cup-and-Core bullet, designed for shooting deer and other small animals. She walked over to Holder, lifted her head, and snuffed it carefully. After smelling it, her eyes became serious. “Pastor Lambe,” she said slowly and monotonously, “do you have your gun anywhere around?”
“It’s in the trunk of Kimora’s car,” he answered.
“Go get it, please,” the child requested.
Confused but willing, he went to the rear of the car and was back in a few seconds. He held out the rifle to Cloudy and she sniffed it. Her tail dropped and her ears wilted slightly. “Pastor Lambe,” she said gravely, “this is your bullet.”
Victor started. Kimora’s hand flew to her mouth. Carny looked at Victor in shock. “Daddy!” she cried out. “You killed Vanessa?!”
“N-No! I—I didn’t kill her! I swear! That’s just not possible!” Victor insisted. His eyes clouded with thought and he murmured, “Or—Or maybe I did. . .and didn’t realize it. . .”
“So!” Holder cried triumphantly. “You did kill my mare! That makes you liable!”
“If I did, I promise from the bottom of my heart it wasn’t on purpose!” Victor said. “Ray, you’ve got to believe me!”
“You’re just angry because I ranted against your dumb old church,” Ray accused, pointing a finger in Victor’s face. “And you decided to get even by killing my mare!”
“No!” Victor cried. “I would never do something that cruel!”
Holder paid no attention. A cunning smile snaked across his lips. “You have no proof you didn’t hit my mare on purpose,” he said coldly. “And there were no witnesses. Therefore, I could send you to jail if I wanted!”
Cloudy’s blood ran cold. Jail?! She couldn’t imagine Victor being confined to a cell! And if he were arrested, what would become of Kimora and Carny? How would they support themselves without Victor?
“No, oh, no!” Carny begged, clasping her hands. “Please don’t send Daddy to jail! Please!”
Holder smirked and rubbed his chin. “We-ell, maybe I could work out a deal with your old man.”
“What sort of deal?” asked Victor.
Holder folded his arms over his chest. “Since Vanessa was prized—worth about $60,000, I’d say—you, and you alone, must pay me that exact amount at the end of two weeks, starting today!”
“Two weeks?!” Cloudy exclaimed. “Have you lost it? They don’t have that kind of money! Most of what they did have went to building this church!”
Holder glared at her. “It’s either that or jail for him,” he sneered. “It’s his choice.”
Cloudy sighed in irritation and backed off, looking to Victor to see what his response would be. He seemed to be in deep distress. Kimora rested her hand on his shoulder, Carny beside her, her pretty eyes wide in anxiety. Holder waited, tapping his foot impatiently.
Finally, Victor heaved a sigh and looked Holder right in the eye. “I will have the money ready at the end of two weeks,” he said quietly.
“Done,” Holder said, turning on his heel and jumping back into his truck. The truck sped off with a roar and a cloud of dust. Cloudy sneezed and covered her nose with her paw.
Sniper stared after the retreating truck in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually agreed to pay that guy, Pastor Lambe,” he said at last.
“I killed his mare, so now I have to pay the price,” Victor said. He turned and walked over to the church, resting his hand against the wall and bowing his head. Cloudy knew he was praying. She wanted to pray too but something inside her wouldn’t permit her to do it.
And she had no idea why.
The beautiful sunset’s golden-tipped sky
The moonlit-bathed eagle soaring by
The burned-out stars that now are gone
All will sing of the wings of dawn.
The sweet-faced children playing alone
The rich-robed king on his golden throne
The silky doe with her wobbly-legged fawn
All of them sing of the wings of dawn.
The puppies wrestling and wriggling around
The scorpions and animals who live in the ground
The rustling leaves, the grassy lawn
All will proclaim of the wings of dawn.
If I could go back and witness any historical event, which one would I pick?
Definitely the birth of Christ. I would have loved to see Mary’s face when the angel appeared to her. I would have wanted to dance with the angels in the fields where the shepherds cowered in fear. I would have wanted to witness the wise men giving the frankincense, gold, and myrrh.
It was the most amazing night ever.
And I would want to be part of it by going back and visiting that event.
You must be logged in to post a comment.