Reapers, Inc. - Brigit's Cross (23 page)

“How did you get in here, Miss Yaris?” John
asked sternly as he began to take slow and measured steps toward
the office where she sat. If she was an accidental inhabitant, John
was fully prepared to oust her one way or the other. He saw her
swallow hard. She could sense the ire he was trying so hard to
remain in control of.
Good
, John thought,
maybe I’ll get
some answers
.

“Brigit brought me here. She hired me two
days ago,” Belinda offered cautiously. The answer was a
double-edged sword through John’s comprehension.

“Did she? And where is Brigit now?” John
inquired steadily, never letting the girl’s gaze stray from his own
icy glare.

“She stepped out, sir,” Belinda answered.
Something in the pale man’s eyes warned her to remain with the
facts and only the facts as she could offer them.

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, sir. She only said that she
was stepping out and locking the door. She did ask me to check on
Mr. Flannery in a bit, but I’ve been so caught up in my work that
I’ve forgotten…” Belinda’s words trailed off into nothingness with
a slight wave of John’s hand to silence her.

“Would you happen to know what has befallen
Mr. Flannery?”

“I don’t, sir, I’m sorry,” Belinda
apologized. Frustrated, John broke his gaze with the young woman
and looked at the floor in the deepening struggle to control his
temper.

“What are you working on?” he finally managed
to ask.

“Records, sir. Brigit has been reaping for
two days straight. She instructed me to record the completed
assignments.”

John stepped closer to the desk to observe
the young woman’s handiwork. He noted the correct entries of names
and crossing dates in as fine a penmanship as he had ever seen and
he nodded approvingly. Most Reapers scribbled their records,
whether in haste or laziness, John had never been completely sure.
Brigit, it seemed, had found a proper scribe to keep the firm’s
records. That was one plus in her favor at the moment.

“Very well, Miss Yaris. Carry on,” John
sighed before turning away.

“Yes, sir,” Belinda gulped.

As he exited the small office Brigit had
stationed her in, John was sure he heard a deep sigh of relief
escape the odd looking young woman. After taking a final glimpse at
the stricken Reaper in the hall across from the one he had just
come from, John Blackwick let loose the control over his rage and
stormed the remaining length of the main hall to his own office.
The slamming of the door behind him echoed back down the hall.

As the sound resonated until it was silent
again, Belinda Yaris concluded that she had just encountered the
Grim Reaper himself: Mr. Blackwick.

Brigit entered the café feeling even more
deflated than when she had left Belinda back at the office. She had
hoped to spend a few moments with Maggie, to relax and perhaps vent
everything that had gone on lately at work. Maggie was gone,
though. By the time on the clock in the kitchen, Brigit quickly
realized that Maggie was still at work. It was probably just as
well, she decided as she exited the apartment they had shared
together. Maggie wouldn’t have heard a word she said anyway.

Giuseppe gave her his usual nod before
turning to make her a cup of coffee. Brigit thanked him quietly
when the cup of the steaming brew was slid before her. He had
already added the cream and sugar for her. The aroma of it was
sweet to her phantom sense of smell. She wished for half a second
that Giuseppe was a conversationalist. Yet, in the time since her
first entrance into the Bleecker Street Café, the smiling man
behind the bar had never uttered a word.

Brigit turned her attention to the window.
She knew that she needed to return to work soon -- especially if
she was going to have any kind of argument to present to John when
he returned tomorrow. Perhaps, she thought as she sipped the
coffee, he would be somewhat considerate of the fact that she had
tripled – if not quadrupled – her work load on top of sacrificing
her time with Maggie just to maintain the pace during his absence.
There were so many scenarios to envision, though. Brigit decided it
was probably best if she wasted no more time trying to find the
perfect one to hope for. John would do whatever he would do. Brigit
would simply have to suck it up and face whatever he decided to
mete out in the form of discipline. Her last remaining hope was
that, at the least, he would give her the chance to explain what
had really happened. She had the deepening sense that Seamus
Flannery would tell a story that was far from the truth…

She was emerging from this last thought when
she felt it. It was an odd sensation, she thought as she looked
over her shoulder at the spirits seated in the booths behind her.
The feeling wasn’t coming from them. They seemed to be lost in
their own thoughts and conversations – ignoring completely the fact
that a Reaper was sitting amongst them. Slowly, Brigit scanned the
room for the eyes that she could feel boring into her.

They were trained on her with a determination
she could not have imagined him to have. The sad blue eyes that met
hers seemed to silently beckon her to join him in the booth next to
the front window. As if under a power not of her own, Brigit stood
and crossed the café until she was standing before him. With a wave
of his hand, he invited her to join him.

“What’s on your mind?” Brigit asked, trying
not to sound confused.

The old man with the sad blue eyes merely
stared at her. She noted that the sadness she usually felt when
passing him was currently not present. She wondered what had
changed that he would finally release such an emotion.

“Well?” Brigit pressed before raising her
coffee to take another drink. The silence from the other side
continued. Brigit sat her cup on the table between the, trying to
decide whether to continue to be polite and remain at the table or
to be rude and simply walk away. Finally, she decided it was best
to get going. Obviously, the old man was wasting her time. As she
made to slide out of the booth, the old man caught her arm.

Surprised by the agility of his motion,
Brigit looked at the withered hand on her forearm and then slowly
back at the old man. A gentle smile came to his lips as he stared
deep into her eyes. Though his lips never moved, she could have
sworn she heard his voice clearly.

“
Listen with your mind, girl
…”

At first, it was a clear whisper and it
startled her. It must have shown on her face. A bigger smile began
to emerge on the old man’s lips.

“You didn’t move your mouth,” Brigit said out
loud. The old man nodded in agreement. “I don’t think I
understand.”

“Just hear with your mind.” The instruction
was somewhat louder this time and Brigit felt herself relaxing.
“Can you hear me clearly?”

“Yes.”

Brigit was still confused by it, but she
noticed that she was beginning to hear it all. The conversations
from the booths behind her flowed easily to her ears. She glanced
over her shoulder at the other patrons of the cafe and saw that
their mouths were not moving despite the fact that their attentions
were clearly focused on the other spirit they were engaged with.
Suddenly, even Giuseppe had a voice – all be it – one with a very
heavy Italian accent.

“How did this happen?” Brigit asked,
returning her attention to the old man.

“It is a simple process once you open your
mind to it,” he answered. “My name is Edmund J. Polly.”

“Brigit Malone,” Brigit introduced
herself.

“I know. Mr. Blackwick thinks quite highly of
you. He was so excited the day you came in. I overheard him telling
Mr. Cincotta all about you before you arrived. He was so relieved
to have found someone with the proper qualification to be a
Reaper,” Edmund J. Polly related. Brigit suddenly felt the weight
on her shoulders double.

“His perception may change after tomorrow,”
she sighed.

“Why would you think so?”

“I’ve failed to maintain, Mr. Polly. I was
not aggressive enough in my managing role and as a result, Seamus
Flannery has been hurt. So, essentially, John and I are kind of
back to where we were before we found Seamus and it’s my
fault.”

Edmund shook his head, but Brigit was unsure
whether it was in amusement or agreement that it was a bad place to
be.

“That Mr. Flannery is a hot head. Don’t blame
yourself, Miss Malone. He would have gotten himself into trouble
one day whether you were present or not. The up side to that is
that you were present, eh?”

“I was,” Brigit confirmed. “But I have the
feeling Seamus will tell a very different version of the story than
what really happened,” she admitted.

“Posh!” Edmund waved his old hand in
disregard to his companion’s admitted fear. “So what if he does?
You will simply have to make sure you tell the true version of it,
am I right?”

Brigit nodded. As quickly as the weight on
her shoulders had seemed to double, it suddenly began to feel
lighter.

“May I ask you something, Mr. Polly?” she
asked after a few minutes of listening to the quiet hum of the café
that surrounded them. Edmund J. Polly arched his eyebrows in
patient waiting for her question. “Every day that I have seen you
here, you have looked so sad. Why?”

A touch of the sadness quickly returned to
wrap itself around Edmund J. Polly. Brigit immediately felt sorry
for asking the question.

“I’m waiting for the love of my life,” Edmund
sighed. He turned to gaze out the window as a pair of mortals
strolled by arm in arm. They were young and so obviously in love.
The ripples of their energies combined and created an enormous
bubble that threatened to permeate the glass of the ghost café they
had just passed.

“You see, we were to meet here the night of
the fire. It was so sudden – like a grenade going off. We all tried
to run as soon as we smelled the smoke; but the roof collapsed so
quickly. There were originally ten of us that were caught in the
collapse. Some have already crossed over, you see; but not me. Nor
Giuseppe. He’s too proud to leave the café in someone else’s care.
He says he’ll be content to stay here for eternity. Something about
it being a good business,” Edmund shook his head again. This time,
Brigit could see the amusement flowing with his thoughts.

“How long will you wait for her?” Brigit
asked. Edmund J. Polly leveled his gaze on her.

"For true love, I’ll wait forever. Surely,
you of all people would understand that concept, Miss Malone.”
Brigit nodded in silent agreement under his knowing gaze. Surely he
would have overheard her conversations with John regarding
Maggie.

“What was her name?” She finally asked.

“Liliana Margarita de la Huerta. She was so
beautiful,” Edmund sighed. “We were going to elope that night so
many years ago. It was our plan to use the money my father had
given me for college to board a ship and sail for Spain. Liliana
had family there, you see. We had the intention to seek out their
assistance in starting our lives together there.”

“Why elope? Why not stay here and build your
lives?” Brigit asked. “You were in love. Surely no one would have
denied your happiness,” she pointed out. The old man only shook his
head.

“My father would have. It would not have been
proper for someone of my social status to marry Liliana. She was
our housekeeper, you see? My father was a very prominent business
man with many social and political ties. It would have been a
scandal if our romance had ever been discovered. You still seem
confused, Miss Malone,” Edmund J. Polly pointed out as Brigit
suddenly realized he was telling the tale of a young man.

Her confusion arose from the visual sight
that was sitting across from her. Edmund J. Polly, as Brigit saw
him, was a man that appeared to be well into his seventies or early
eighties at the time of his death – not a young man of maybe
twenty.

“Well, I apologize for saying so, but; you’re
old. You’re telling me a story of young love,” Brigit finally
admitted. A slight smile touched the old man’s face once more.

“I was young,” he confirmed. “The vision of
me that you see now is the soul that was within the body that
perished that night in the fire. I’m sure you have come to realize
by now that not everything is as it appears on this side of
living,” he chuckled.

“I suppose I should have thought of that,”
Brigit sighed.

“There is still much for you to learn, Miss
Malone; but in due time you will possess a wisdom of this world
that will rival Mr. Blackwick. You are a quick study. You must
simply remember to keep an open mind.”

A comfortable silence fell between them, as
if they were long time friends. Edmund J. Polly had become that,
Brigit thought. He had listened to her and reassured her as an
understanding and caring friend would have and that amount of
kindness meant the world to her at the moment. He had been a young
man with an old soul and he had taught her the simple truth of the
lesson behind having an opened mind. One could hear so much more if
they just allowed themselves to hear with more than their ears. One
could say so much without ever opening their mouth. This was what
she had learned from the old man with the sad blue eyes.

After awhile, Birgit returned to her thoughts
of work and the idea that she should get back to it as soon as
possible. When she said as much to her new friend, she found a
small measure of reassurance in his blue eyes as he reached across
the table and gently patted her hand.

“Have faith, Miss Malone. Mr. Blackwick is a
sensible fellow. Just be sure to be completely honest with him. All
will go well for you,” Edmund J. Polly predicted.

“Thank you, Mr. Polly,” Brigit said, forcing
a slight smile to her face. Considering the fact that Edmund J.
Polly had been sitting in this very same booth on the day that John
Blackwick had first entered the café himself, she guessed he would
know better than she about her mentor’s character.