“Puppies! How many? What do they look like?”
Relieved, I let her babble excited questions at me as the morning slipped into afternoon.
By eight o’clock the need for sleep overpowered us both. We’d spent most of the afternoon sociably reading on the back porch, having dragged out a couple of bohemian floor cushions that had seen better days. The fresh air had helped us stay awake until it was officially dinnertime, but after a light soup-and-sandwich meal, we’d both agreed it was time for the day to end.
I tucked her into bed, folding the edge of the white sheet over her lightweight cotton blanket. I was the cold-natured one who huddled under my comforter year-round, but Eileen was always hot at night.
“Comfy, sweetie?”
“Yep.”
“Hug?”
She let me lean over for a goodnight hug, and I snuck in a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Ick,” she complained.
“Love you, sweetheart. Sweet dreams.”
“Love you, too.” Her tone was grudging, but she gave my hand one more squeeze as I pulled away.
Smiling a last goodnight, I left her door slightly ajar. Methodically, I locked up, turned off the lights in the living room, and completed my nighttime bathroom ritual as quickly as possible, brushing my teeth half-heartedly and forgoing floss. I didn’t even bother brushing my hair—it would be a tangled mess in the morning, anyway. No one to impress when you slept alone.
Once in my room, I wriggled into an oversized t-shirt as I crawled onto my mattress, pulling the bedding back and rolling myself into place all in one motion. I could be coordinated when necessary, and right now, sleep was very, very necessary. Instantly, my muscles turned to jelly and the deep push of sleep pressed over my body.
Are you kidding me? I’d left my bedside lamp on.
I wasted a few seconds fantasizing about thought-controlled switches before I found the energy to stretch and click it off. Sure enough, even though I flopped onto my pillow right as the room turned black, I’d lost that near-sleep bliss. I rolled onto my side and stared at the luminous rectangle of the closest window. Outside, a scruffy pine tree danced in the night breeze and the spidery shadows of its needles interwove to form lacy patterns behind the roman shade. There was more light than I’d expected to see. The moon must be nearly full.
I yawned. So why had it been so dark in here this morning? Darkest before dawn, or something like that . . . I pulled my spare pillow into the curve of my body and hugged it, wondering if Cara was awake and worrying. How many times a day must she remind herself that things always seemed at their worst before they got better? Did the night frighten her? Bring out her fears and twist them into grim imaginings?
I’d read more than a healthy share of dark mythologies in my own search for answers, and if her pregnancy had led her in the same direction, I felt even sorrier for her. Demons, incubi, alien abductions . . . Jesus, what if she really believes she’s carrying the Antichrist? I hoped Adam was keeping her grounded. There had to be a reason that was . . . beautiful. A reason that was inspiring and uplifting. A story and a child that would represent something altruistic and . . . divine?
Well, I wasn’t sure how God would figure into all of this. Not that I believed he wouldn’t fit into all this, just that I wasn’t sure how. My idea of God was a benevolent source of everything, so far removed from Its creations that we were left to our own devices. With some built-in guidance, of course. Instincts, intellect, and the desire to search for truths gave us the tools to create order from chaos and sort right from wrong. And, personally, I believed that God had crafted this universe with an energetic system of checks and balances that kept the collective from teetering too far in one direction or the other—but that left a heck of a lot of room for screw-ups and terror.
Queue the newsreels from last year.
A pinprick flicker of blue appeared over the window, and my eyes followed its path as it zigged and zagged, finally moving to hover over me. I rolled onto my back and considered it.
“Am I on the right track, little guy?” I whispered. “You know I’m only human, right? I’m making this up as I go.” The angel dipped a bit closer and resumed hovering about four feet above my stomach. “I don’t even know why I call you angels . . . but you don’t seem to mind, do you?”
Another dip and a sideways swish.
I yawned again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been meaning to tell y’all to learn Morse code or something.”
The brilliant speck couldn’t—or wouldn’t—oblige, but as it lingered over me, I felt comforted. My eyes grew heavy again, watching it float in the dimness, and my body eventually sank into a dreamless sleep.
On Sunday, Eileen and I awoke with the sun, both refreshed from having crashed so early the night before. Of course the immediate topic of conversation was going over to Adam and Cara’s to see the puppies.
“What time can we go?”
I rolled my eyes. “At eleven, just like I told you yesterday.”
“I bet they are so cute! What’re their names? Maybe Adam will let me name one! I bet Cara would . . . ” Eileen happily prattled on and on about the puppies, but I tuned her out. I mean, really, what mother doesn’t once in a while? So with a cheerful smile on my face, and an occasional nod, I was free to delve back into the thoughts I was too tired for yesterday.
Could there be a connection between Sal and Cara? She’d definitely acted odd around him. Or if not, was there a significance in Sal and I both meeting Cara at the same time? I wondered if the dark energies I’d seen had always surrounded her, or if
