Fool's Journey (30 page)

           
The
form receded just beyond her daughter’s grasp. “Come away from here. Follow me,
Katie. I want you to meet someone.”

           
Deirdre
came along behind, her feet barely touching the ground. Her heart filled at the
sight of her mother, shining with love, looking happier than she had ever known
her to be.

           
“Do
you see the door, Katie?”

           
She
shook her head.

           
“Look
hard, Katie. Try to see it.”

           
Deirdre
turned her concentration toward the empty space. Slowly the door took shape
before her, white with panels and a round brass handle in the middle so shiny
she could not help turning the handle.

           
On
the other side of the door, the landscape continued, but sitting on the grass
was a young girl. Her long auburn braids glistened in the sun and a little
white dog gamboled about, trying to get her attention. Deirdre sat down next to
her.

           
"The
puppy wants to play," she said. "Don't you want to play?"
 

           
The
girl gave no sign she heard. Deirdre reached out and turned the girl's face
toward her. There was nothing there. Not eye, nor nose, nor mouth. Her face was
as empty and smooth as unmodeled clay.

           
"She
was always a child of light," Deirdre's mother spoke from the other side
of the doorway. "I wasn't able to help her. But you can."

Deirdre felt her heart break. "Poor
sweetheart. Let me help you. I will give you anything I have. My eyes, my
mouth, anything."

"But can you forgive me?"

"You’re just a child." Deirdre shook
her head. "There's nothing to forgive." She put her arms around the
girl and kissed her on the forehead. When she did, the light fell away and the
world came spinning back.

           
Manny heard a long sigh and his head
snapped up. Deirdre was looking right at him. His heart caught as he realized
she really could see him. She was there.

           
Instantly, he reached for the call
button, then for Deirdre’s hand.

           
“Deirdre! I thought you were gone.”

           
“We were for a little bit,” she
whispered. “Now we're back.”

XXXVIII.

           
           
Cold weather and a rare snowfall
descended on Seattle. The leaden sky hung low over the city and the wind was
full of ice. Manny helped Deirdre step from the cab in front of her old
apartment and steadied her on the slick sidewalk. She gripped his hand as she
looked up at the windows. Aunt Rosa had been there ahead of time, and gold
light glowed. “It looks good,” she smiled.

           
"It is good," Manny
assured her.

Manny put his
arm around Deirdre’s waist and walked with her up the stairs. Anyone and
anyplace could be reborn. The apartment was to be the first office of Angel
House, the first of many all through the country, located in regular
neighborhoods with the front door always unlocked for those who needed an
angel.
 
Its first Director of Operations
would be Rosa Ruiz.

           
So much had happened since the last
time Deirdre climbed these steps. Her mother was dead now, gone on to a place
of rest and healing, Bess Seymour was dead, too, and she prayed that good soul
had found her peace.
 

There had been
no trial for Eunice, just a short trip to a sanitarium for the criminally
insane. As for Freemont Willard—she’d heard only three people attended his
memorial service at the university. All of them were assistants filling for
higher ups who didn’t care to be there. She was on medical leave now, but in
January she’d return to the university teach one course: The Poetics of Pain
and Gladness.
 
Adam had already
registered.

There was so
much work to be done, but for now, a slow but steady recovery and time to plan
for the future were enough. She leaned against Manny and watched as huge wet
snowflakes fell like pieces of lace, erasing the landscape, making the world
new. Throughout the neighborhood, the laughter of children echoed as they ran
and flung themselves down, making angels in the snow.

Mary Chase
Comstock is the author of several Regency romances. This is her first
contemporary novel. As Mary Chase, she is an educational technology consultant
and has written numerous articles and books on curriculum integration, visual
learning and literacy. She holds a PhD in Literacy and Schooling from the
University of New Hampshire, but only mentions it eight or ten times during a
casual conversation. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her Scottish Terrier,
Irish Wolfhound and Brazilian husband. You can contact her at
[email protected]