8:11 a.m. EST
Three inches of snow lay on the ground, still falling lightly with no sign of letting up. Ahead, Otto sniffed the ground and then turned, as if urging Tommy on. The bloodhound could be walked without a leash and obeyed voice commands unless, Quinn had warned, he got the scent of something, and then he was off. Tommy trusted that the stone wall and the deer fence surrounding his property would be enough to contain Otto’s olfactory investigations.
Tommy needed to walk. To be away from the others for a while—even from Dani—and be alone with his thoughts. He needed to try to understand why George and Julian were gone. He knew that God had a plan for everyone, but that did little to lessen the blow—it still hurt to lose someone you loved, and Tommy had come to love and admire both men.
It reminded him of how short and uncertain life could be, and how important it was to tell the ones you loved how you truly felt about them. Which made him think of Dani again, and the question he’d decided to ask her.
Otto barked.
Tommy looked up. The dog was standing at the top of the rock where Tommy had stood the night before with the Helios 9000 spotlight. Otto’s nose was straight up in the air, his tail stiff and straight as well.
“I know what you smell,” Tommy said, taking his GPhone from his pocket. “There’s a wolf sanctuary about a mile from here. I think they have about fifty of ’em. You want to go join ’em, Otto? Huh, boy?”
Tommy petted the dog and scratched him behind his floppy ears, then turned on his phone. He tapped on his contact list and then on the name Sid Gunderson. His father, Arnie, was in Texas, visiting with his brother—Tommy’s Uncle Sid. The call went to voice mail, which struck Tommy as odd because Uncle Sid was in a wheelchair from arthritis in his knees and hips and rarely went anywhere.
Tommy left his number and a request for a call back.
He dialed the number for Lucius Mills’s cell phone, thinking his father’s caregiver might be able to tell him what was going on. Arnie was suffering from Lewy body dementia, cognitively similar to Alzheimer’s but more of a roller coaster ride, with intermittent periods of lucidity and progressive symptoms that included Parkinsonisms. Lucius picked up on the fourth ring.
“I was just about to call you, Tommy,” Lucius said. “We’re at the hospital.”
“Is my uncle all right?”
“Not your uncle, Tommy. It’s your dad. I’m sorry. He had a seizure last night. They did a CAT scan and said he has cortico-basal degeneration.”
“How—”
“He’s stable now, but I think it’s time to move him to the next level. I’m happy to do what I can for him, T, but they say he’s going to need attention 24/7. Sorry to tell it to you like this, man, over the phone. I know it’s rough.”
It took Tommy a moment for the news to sink in. It was news he’d been expecting, but not this soon. And not right now.
“It’ll be okay, Luc,” Tommy said. “I’ve already got a room reserved for him at High Ridge Manor. Do you think he’s okay to fly?”
“I think he’d be okay on a plane,” the caregiver said. “He’s been sleeping a lot. I’ll sit with him.”
“I appreciate it,” Tommy said. “Can I talk to him? Is he right there?”
“He’s right here, but I’m not sure, man. You can try. They gave him some medicine. Made him a little loopy. Hang on . . .”
Tommy heard a rustling sound, and then he heard Lucius Mills say, from a few feet away, “Go ahead.”
Tommy cleared his throat. “Arnie? Dad? How are you feeling? It’s Tommy calling. It’s your son, Tommy . . .”
He waited for a response.
He tried again.
“Dad? Can you hear me? Listen, don’t try to say anything, but this is Tommy. I’m going to bring you home, okay? You’re going to be home for Christmas. Okay? So that’s good news. And I have more good news for you—do you remember that I told you I’ve been working with Dani Harris? Remember Dani Harris? The girl I almost dated in high school when she was homecoming queen, except we both freaked out? The really smart one?”
Again he waited for a response. His father said nothing.
“She’s my soul mate, Papa. I’m crazy in love with her. And I’ve decided . . . she’s the girl I want to marry. And I wanted you to be the first to know,” he said. “I’m just waiting for the right moment to ask because I want to do it up right. So I’ll keep you posted. So that’s good news too, right? It’s all good. All good news. I can’t wait to see you, Papa.”
When the call ended, his false cheer ended with it, and for a moment he broke down and let a single tear fall, wondering if he’d ever get through to his father again. Otto came to his side and licked his hand. Tommy gave the dog a pat on the head to thank him.
By the time he got back to the house he was on a more level keel.
Dani met him on the steps and kissed him.
“I saw you through the window,” she said. “Thought you might need some support. I called Julian’s home number in Oxford to tell them the news, but it went straight to voice mail, so I told them to call us. You’re thinking about them, aren’t you?”
“I was,” Tommy said. “There’s just—there’s no limit to what those . . . We keep thinking like human beings. We have a conscience. They don’t think like that. To them, we’re just bugs. Something to flick away because we accidentally landed on their french fries. I feel like to defeat them, we have to think like them, and I don’t want to do that.”
“It doesn’t mean we have to be like them,” Dani said. “You’re right. We’re at war.”
“I just wish I knew how to be smarter,” Tommy said. He looked up, and his expression changed. “Maybe we should ask them?”
He pointed to a pair of figures standing in the falling snow beneath the willow tree beside his pond. One was a biker who went by the name of Charlie, clad in black railroad boots, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. The other was an old Native American called Ben; he wore jeans, suede cowboy boots, and a plaid flannel shirt beneath his coat, and his hair descended from either side of his black cowboy hat in two black braids.
They hadn’t been there a few seconds earlier when Tommy had glanced in that direction, but that wasn’t surprising. Despite appearances, neither Charlie nor Ben was human—they were angels who’d assumed these forms because their heavenly guises were too beautiful to look at. Charlie and Ben had guided Tommy and Dani throughout this ordeal. Tommy knew they were there to help them now.
“Why are you troubled?” Ben said, reaching down to pet Otto. “Julian and George are with us.”
“I know,” Tommy said. “I just wish I’d had a chance to say good-bye.”
“You said good-bye,” Charlie reminded him.
“I know, but not the way I wanted to. I thought I was going to see them again.”
“Maybe you should treat everyone as if you’ll never see them again,” Ben advised. “There’s a country song about that that I like very much. I can’t remember the name of it.”
“‘Live Like You Were Dyin’,’” Tommy said. “Tim McGraw.”
“That’s the one,” Ben said. “I like Tim McGraw.”
“What’s not to like?” Tommy said.
“You couldn’t save them?” Dani asked, holding her coat closed at the throat to keep out the cold. “George and Julian? I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Ben said. “We’ll be there when you need us, but our purpose is to glorify God and do his work. His plans and yours are not always the same.” Dani turned to Tommy.
“I know it’s not enough to tell yourself they’d lived long, productive lives,” she said. “I feel lucky for the time we had with them. Just think about what you had. Not what you don’t have.”
Tommy supposed those were the same things she’d told herself when she lost her parents. They’d flown to Africa to visit her there, where she’d worked with Doctors Without Borders helping rehabilitate child soldiers back into mainstream society, but they’d perished when their plane went down in the jungle. He held his arms out to her and hugged her, buried his face in her hair, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the angels were gone.
“They keep doing that,” she said, staring at the empty space they’d occupied. “They’re not much for good-byes, I guess.”
“We’ll see them again,” Tommy said.
“When we need them,” Dani said. “Why does it feel like we always need them?”
“That’s what being human feels like,” Tommy replied. “Speaking of which . . . I have to call my travel agent.”
“Well, there’s a non sequitur. Your travel agent?”
“Yes. I have to fly my dad home. I’ll tell you all about it inside.”
They joined hands and turned toward the house.