Chapter Twenty-Three

 

By third period on Friday, Vera is ridiculously excited about the variety show, and although Cecille would rather be dancing the song live, she seems okay with Vera’s video. So why haven’t I passed on to sainthood?

There’s only one person I want to ask. I make one last check on Vera in English and Cecille in French class before I fly out of school. Our neighborhood has only one hospital so knowing where to go isn’t hard. The difficult part is knowing which room is Ms. Kitchin’s. I skip the children’s section and the emergency room. After that, it’s mostly random guessing.

“Do you need help?”

It takes me a moment to realize the voice is speaking to me. A dark-skinned woman in a white nurse’s outfit glides right through the half wall that surrounds the nurse’s station on the third floor. The crests of her angel wings peek out over her shoulders. She smiles radiantly, and I have a sudden vision of her singing in a Gospel choir.

“I’m looking for someone. A Guardian.”

“We have many here.” Her eyes sparkle as she tilts her head at me.

As soon as she says it, I realize how many winged souls are guiding patients, nurses, and doctors down the hall. I was so intent on finding Ms. Kitchin—and thereby finding Warren—that I hadn’t even bothered looking at who else was here.

“I’m looking for one named Warren.”

“Perhaps if you tell me who he’s guarding. I’m afraid I’m really better with the patients’ names.”

“Ms. Kitchin. I don’t know her first name.”

“Oh yes, the teacher. Well, I’m afraid I don’t know anything about her having a Guardian.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to her records, she was found in a church in Springville with a terrible gash in her head like she’d had a bad fall.” The nurse shakes her head and gives a quiet cluck. “Terrible concussion, the poor thing. Everyone thought it was just an accident until they found a suicide note in her purse. She’s been pretty out of it ever since. Keeps muttering that she needs to get back to her kids, but her medical records say she never had any.”

I know the medical records won’t show the baby she had on her own, but I decide not to tell the Guardian Nurse that she had abandoned Warren in a church.

“So you haven’t seen a Guardian named Warren around her?”

“No, sorry.”

“Could you tell me where Ms. Kitchin is? Even if I can’t see Warren, I’d like to see how she’s doing.”

“Sure thing, sugar. Down the hall and then left. Room 314.”

The room has two beds in it, but only the far one is occupied. I barely recognize Ms. Kitchin. Her head is bandaged, and she’s not wearing any make-up. An empty chair sits next to the window, and I hope beyond hope that Warren will suddenly appear.

As I wait, I think about what the Guardian Nurse said, that Ms. Kitchin kept talking about getting back to her kids. And I think about what Warren had said about Ms. Kitchin trying to find out what happened to him. Had she found out he died, so she attempted suicide? Is Warren really gone for good because he failed?

Minutes tick by. Nurses come in and out checking on Ms. Kitchin, taking her temperature, reviewing her chart.

At one point, Ms. Kitchin stirs. “Need to get back,” she mutters. “Need to help...kids.”

“Ms. Kitchin,” I rise from my chair. “There are students who need your help. Vera needs you. I’ve been trying to help her, but I don’t know what else to do. You were right about her poem. Everyone loves it, but she needs more. She needs…” And then it’s all so clear, as if the picture’s finally come into focus. “She needs a father who is as desperate to know her and love her as you were desperate to know and love your son Warren. If only Vera’s dad knew what he was missing by not spending time with her.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when I realize what I must do. When I check the clock on the wall, I’m startled by how much time has passed.

I catch up with Vera as she’s walking home. The good news is that the house seems free of shadows. The bad news is that her father is absent again.

Vera makes herself a quick dinner and then watches the video she’s made two more times. Before leaving the house, she writes a note to her dad and leaves it on the kitchen table:

“Dad,

I’m at school for the variety show. If you get this message on time, please come to the high school. I wrote a poem, and one of the drama club members made it into a song. It’s being performed tonight. Show starts at 8:00.

Vera.”

Then she grabs her bag and heads back to school.

Cecille is backstage with the rest of the performers. It’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement before a show. Costumes are donned. Make-up is applied. Lines are run, and dance steps are perfected. My heart aches with the loneliness I feel. All the nervous performers have someone else to confide in. I have no one to tell how much I miss it all.

Before the show begins, Vera peeks out at the audience. I know what she wants to see, but her father isn’t there. I mentally berate myself for not paying more attention to where her dad works. If only he could see this video, maybe he’d know how much his daughter needs him.

Vera sighs and walks backstage. She pulls out her phone and checks for messages.

The phone! I fly out of the school and back down the streets to Vera’s house. Her dad still isn’t home; the message on the kitchen table is untouched, but that doesn’t matter for my plan. Luckily, I’ve watched Vera log onto her computer enough times that I know all her passwords. I pull up the video and send it to her dad’s phone with a brief message: “Variety Show at school tonight. This is my video and song.”

He might not make it to the show, but I’m not going to let this night pass without him seeing what his daughter has been working on. I say a prayer as I hit send. “Please, God, help this man to see how much his daughter needs him.”

As I head out the door, I pass by a calendar. It stops me cold. How had I not noticed how quickly the last few days had passed? Today’s date is circled on the calendar. It’s November 2, the day Vera plans to take her life.

 

The variety show is well under way by the time I return. Bands play, the drama club performs, the dance team dances, and the singers soar. Vera’s video is scheduled for the end of the show.

Vera and I both peek out at the audience to see if her dad has shown up. The auditorium is almost full, and the people out there whoop and holler for their favorite acts. I recognize a few faces from Vera’s classes or the cafeteria, and my mom sits in a back row by herself. I wonder if she even told Dad about tonight. I continue to scan the crowd for Vera’s dad, but I end up finding my own father on the opposite side of the auditorium far from my mother.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him since my death, and I don’t know how to feel. I’m glad he’s here to support Cecille, but at the same time, I’m angry. He never really supported my dream of a life in the theater. I think part of him was actually happy when DePaul rejected me.

“Keep the door closed, Ms. Lavoy.” Mr. Cardone stands on the steps behind us. “You’re letting the light from the backstage area into the auditorium. We want that dark.”

Vera quickly closes the door. “Sorry.”

“Your video all set to go?”

“I downloaded it on the computer for the stage manager. He said he’d have it all cued and ready to go.”

“Good.” Mr. Cardone heads back to his classroom where the other acts are watching the current performance on closed-circuit TV. I thought Vera might do the same thing, but instead she walks to the stage right wing where Gregory holds his guitar.

“You ready?” she whispers.

Gregory nods. The audience bursts into cheers as the dance team finishes up a routine full of acrobatic lifts and jumps. After a quick bow, they rush off the stage, their cheeks flushed.

Cathy Ringles pauses on her way off stage. “Good luck, Gregory. Too bad the dancing isn’t live. It’s so much more impressive that way.”

If I were still alive, I would have socked her in the nose.

She saunters off, and Gregory turns to Vera with a smile. “Too bad their music was canned. It’s so much more impressive when it’s a live musician.”

Vera giggles as a soft thumping is heard behind us. Cecille is hobbling her way over as the emcee for the show picks up his mic.

“For our next act, we are combining the talents of several student artists. It all began with a poem written by Vera Lavoy. Hugo Vasquez drew several amazing pieces of art based on the poem, and Drama Club President Gregory Hicks turned the poem into a song, which Cecille Dunston danced to. It all comes together in our next act. Singing ‘Colors,’ please welcome Gregory Hicks.”

Gregory strolls out onto the stage, his guitar in one hand and a three-legged stool in another. Behind him a large screen is lowered. The lights lower as Gregory sets the stool behind a mic on stage right.

“This song is for all those times when things don’t go our way, and we feel like the world is disappearing on us.”

In the hush of the theater, Gregory strums his guitar as the video begins behind him. From our angle backstage, we get a slanted view of the picture, but it’s clear how well Vera has blended the footage of Cecille’s dancing with Hugo’s artwork. To make it even more amazing, Vera has edited the footage so that the colors literally disappear from the video. Once Gregory sings about yellow disappearing, no more yellow appears in the video. Once he sings about red going, there’s no more red anywhere. By the time he gets to blue disappearing, we’re watching black and white footage.

“Awesome,” Cecille whispers under her breath.

As Gregory plays the last few chords of the song, the screen goes black and then printed in white appear the words “Waiting for the rainbow after the rain.”

The final chord lingers in the air. The audience is silent. Vera looks like she’s unable to breathe. And then the audience bursts into applause. Gregory bows and steps off the stage, carrying the stool and his guitar with him. He stops by Cecille and Vera in the wings.

“Good job,” Cecille says.

“You too,” he says.

She smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, ya did. You created an awesome dance, and you brought the poem to us.”

“Yeah, but Vera wrote it.”

“True.”

Vera blushes. “Thanks.”

On stage, the emcee introduces the final band of the night. They are a loud rock band that has everyone on their feet before the show ends.

When it’s all over, Cecille drags Vera out to meet our mother. I decide to hang back. It hurts too much to be near her. The pain of missing my old life—the one I so recklessly threw away—is more than I can bear.

Even from this distance, I can tell Vera is a little embarrassed by how much my mother is congratulating her on the video. She’s also a little distracted. She’s trying to look like she’s paying attention to my sister and mother, but she keeps sneaking glances around the auditorium.

My sister follows her gaze, but her eyes stop on our dad. He looks old and sad. He gives a little nod to Cecille.

“Dad’s here,” Cecile says.

Mom’s eyes follow Cecille’s. “I called him this afternoon and told him it would mean a lot to you if he could make it.”

Cecille smiles. “Thanks, Mom. I think I’ll go talk to him.”

I’m happy for Cecille, but Vera looks crushed. Her dad didn’t show.

Watching Cecille head over to our father is too much for Vera. She says goodbye to my mom, grabs her coat and bag from backstage, and heads toward the exit. There’s still a lot of people taking off make-up or putting away instruments. Many of them compliment Vera as she passes, but she pays little attention.

I hear the shadow howling as soon as we approach the door. Tamesis is waiting for Vera outside. My wings unfurl instantly.

“Stay back,” I growl. “She’s worked too hard for tonight. Don’t you dare ruin it for her.” Then I turn and address Vera as she heads down the street. “Be proud of yourself, Vera. You did well tonight. You helped my sister, and everyone loved your song and video. So your dad wasn’t there. So what? Maybe he was working late again. He does have to pay the bills.”

Even as I say it, I don’t believe it. Things only get worse as we approach the house. Storm clouds roll in, and with them comes a multitude of shadows. Tamesis has apparently called on a slew of her deathly friends for help. They encircle us and draw closer to Vera. Tamesis is the only one whose face can be clearly seen. Most of them are just faceless cloaked figures. I beat them back with my wings. I’ve never seen so many shadows attack one person at a time.

A drop falls onto Vera’s cheek. At first, I’m not sure if it’s a tear or rain. A moment later, raindrops begin to mark up the sidewalk. The gray clouds above are unleashing their heavy load. Vera pulls up her hood, but it doesn’t cover her face. Soon raindrops blend with the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Don’t give up, Vera,” I shout over the howl of the wind. The shadows creep closer, forming a tighter circle around us. “No,” I yell at them. Darkened faces form within the shadows. Tamesis’s many reinforcements are quickly feeding off Vera’s despair. I try to see through them to the houses. How much farther do we have to go to get home?

I can barely make out where we are until we pass a red truck in a driveway. I’ve seen it many times before, and I know that means we are only a few houses away from home. But will home do us any good? It’s never protected us from the shadows before.

The wind picks up even more. I feel like we are caught in the vortex of a hurricane. An even darker shadow makes its way through the crowd of skull-faced shadows. This one, however, has a face of flame and eyes that glow electric blue.

“Belphagor!” I spit out his distasteful name.

“You have failed, Nanette.” His fiery breath scorches my face.

“No!”

“Yes. Look at her. Vera has given up. She’s had this date picked out for a while. Tonight will be the night she takes her own life.”

“I won’t let her.”

“You can’t stop her. God gave her free will just like he gave you.” Belphagor flicks out one of his tongues of flame and licks the edge of his lips.

Tamesis moves alongside Belphagor and stretches out a bony hand toward Vera. “Mine,” moans Tamesis.

I move in front and deflect her hand with a flick of my wings.

Tamesis withdraws her hand with a hiss like she’s just been burned. Her face is more fully formed than I’ve ever seen it before. She looks less like a shadowy cloud and more like a teenage girl.

“Tammy.” The name falls from my lips with the sudden recognition. This is Cathy Ringles’s older sister who died in a car crash.

“I am not Tammy anymore!”

“You were Tammy. You died when you car went flying off the bridge during that ice storm. Your family blamed the construction crew that was rebuilding the bridge.” And then I see what’s really been going on. “The construction crew that was headed by Vera’s dad.”

“I am not Tammy,” she shouts again.

“You’re trying to get revenge for your death.”

Belphagor flies between me and Tamesis. “Enough! You’ve failed in your mission, Nanette. It is time to see that the God you’ve placed your trust in has deserted you.”

I shake my head. “No.”

I don’t want to give in to Belphagor, but my hopes sink when we reach the house. Lights are on inside the house. Vera’s dad is definitely home, which means he must have seen Vera’s note and actually chose not to go to the show.

“See?” Belphagor taunts. “There is Vera’s father, sitting inside watching television. He doesn’t care for his daughter. He’s ignored the message you sent him. Just like God is ignoring you.”

“No.” I shake my head. I’m face to face with Belphagor. His blue eyes burn hotter than his flaming skin. They pierce my soul, but I refuse to back down. “You can’t have me.”

I fly to Tamesis whose skeletal face is inches from Vera’s. I push her back.

“And you can’t have her.” I curve my wings protectively around Vera.

Tamesis opens her mouth to let out a frustrated scream, and I see the worms and maggots making their way in and out the open sockets of her skull. I leave her and fly around the circle of demon shadows that entrap Vera.

“None of you can have her!”

In protest, the shadows rise up, row after row, until they form an ever-widening tower above us. As one, they spin in formation. They are a hurricane howling around Vera, who stands as if frozen in the eye of the storm. Can she sense the shadows around her?

I fly up in a spiral inside the shadow hurricane. “You can’t have either of us. We don’t belong to you. Do you hear me?”

As I fly past, inching my way up the hurricane, I see the death and decay in what little remains of their souls. The primordial ooze drips from their jaws as the parasites worm their way through the peaks and valleys of their skulls.

“Do you understand?” I scream over their moaning and chanting. “I will not let you take her.”

In reply, the shadows wail as they spin a vortex around us. The sound of hundreds of angry shadows is unlike anything I’ve heard before. Part howling wind, party agonizing cry, their piercing wails fill my senses. The noise they make is pure anger and agony with the volume cranked to the limit.

Belphagor and Tamesis are mixed up in the swirl of shadows. I can only tell where Belphagor is when his bright blue eyes whizz past me.

“WE. DO NOT. BELONG. TO. YOU!” I look up, behind the top row of shadows that spin around us. In the center above our heads is a patch of blue sky. How is it possible? A bit of blue sky on a stormy night?

I’m hit with a memory of my first training session with Warren. God is like the sun—even on the stormy days when we cannot see Him, He still shines on the other side of the clouds.

The shadows swirl around me so fast, I must beat my wings furiously to keep from being swept up with them.

“We do not belong to the darkness. We belong to the light!” I lift my hand up and stretch toward the patch of blue sky. No sooner do I reach up, than a shaft of blinding light pours from the sky into the eye of the storm. The shadows recoil, screaming in agony. The light bursts like an exploding sun. I struggle to remain airborne, but my wings fail, and I’m knocked to the ground before I know it.

The wind dies.

The rain stops.

The shadows have all fled.

Vera stands on the walk leading up to her front door. The storm is over, but she’s soaked, her mousy brown ponytail dripping down her back. She seems frozen, as if terrified to move forward. Does she have any idea of the battle I’ve just fought for her?

I fly before her, standing between her and the front door. “Vera, you’ve got to do what I didn’t. You’ve got to ask for help. Talk with your dad. He must be hurting after your mother’s death, too. Just ask for your father’s help, Vera. It’s not too late.”

Vera takes in a deep breath, and the words fall out of her mouth, not more than whisper. “Please, God.”

She steps right through me and opens the front door.

“You’re home,” her father says as soon as she walks in. He’s sitting on the recliner in the living room. “Come in here.”

Vera walks in and sits down on the couch opposite him. Her eyes are cast down, and her hands are clasped on top of her knees.

“How’d it go tonight?”

“You saw my note?”

“Yeah.”

Vera plays with her fingers. “Why didn’t you come?”

“Who said I didn’t?”

Vera looks up. “I looked around. You weren’t there.”

“Not in the audience.”

“I don’t understand.”

Mr. Lavoy grins. The expression looks odd on his face. I’ve only seen him grumpy. He actually looks happy. How can that be when his daughter is in so much agony? “Principal Rainer and I were classmates at good old Worthington High. Used to work the spotlights together for all the shows. When he saw me tonight, he brought me upstairs to brag about all the new equipment they got.” Mr. Lavoy whistles. “Man, that’s some fancy technology you kids got now.”

“You were up in the lighting booth?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you stick around after the show?”

His smile fades. “Had to leave right after your video.”

“You hated it that much?”

“No.” Frown lines appear on his face. “No, I didn’t hate it. I had to leave because I realized how much I’ve messed up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Honey, you’re not the only one who’s lost all the color in her world since your mother died.”

Vera’s lip quivers.

Her dad looks her straight in the eye. “I should’ve been there for you. We should have been there for each other.”

The last thing I see is Vera standing up and reaching out her arms for her father.

And then my whole world goes white.