Terminus (17 page)

“He said if you didn’t turn over the Hernandez branch—”

“Again with the Hernandez branch!  Eduardo, why am I the last to know about this?”

“Your father told me never to talk to you about it.”

“How long has—” The conversation had just shifted into an entirely different gear.  Lito shot the young man a sharp glance. 

“Okay, Manuel?”

“Señor?”

“Get out.”  As soon as he’d left, Lito turned to Eduardo.  “Tell me.”

“I won’t betray your father.”

“You would betray me, then?”  Lito walked over to the old man and took out his gun.  He didn’t brandish it or point it, just held it.  To threaten him was futile, unless he planned to follow through.  But killing two of his top men in the same week would send the wrong message throughout the organization:  The head grows weak, insecure. 

Eduardo smiled.  “I’m protecting you, Lito.”

“Let
me
decide whether or not I need protection, and from what.”

“That’s not what your father wanted in this case.”

The dance grew more complex.  Of course he could force it out of the old man, but that would alter their relationship.  Now more than ever he needed the support of the founding members, whoever was left of them. 

“My father is dead.  He doesn’t have to bear the burden of running this organization, doesn’t have to deal with the Alfonsos in it.  He never foresaw any of this.”

Eduardo got out of his chair and walked right up to Lito, so close that the smell of cigar breath went straight into his face. 

“He foresaw
all
of this, even how you are reacting now.”

“Don’t make me do this, Eduardo.  You know how my family loves you.”

“And I am always the friend and protector of the Guzmans.  Trust me as your Papi trusted me.”

Lito thought of all the times Papi talked down to him in front of men like Eduardo. 
He’s just a little runt, don’t mind him.  Lito?  Never going to amount to anything.  I wish I had another son, or daughter even—can’t imagine Lito ever taking over for me.

All said in jest, before he even hit puberty, but humiliating just the same.   Lito had laughed along with them every time, but when he was alone he sometimes cried.  Papi would find him and say, “Come on! I was just joking, Lito!”  And he had been, or he’d never have passed the mantel to his son before dying.  But his last words about the organization had been, “Don’t screw this up, Lito.”

He lifted the gun and pressed it against Eduardo’s chest.

“Tell me about the Hernandez branch.  What did it have to do with the Suarez family?”

The old man’s bushy white eyebrows lifted and fell in resignation.  “Has it really come to this, Lito?”

“I’m sorry.  I need to know.”

Eduardo pushed the muzzle of the gun aside, steepled his hands, and looked heavenward. 

“Forgive me,
Señor Guzman.  He insisted, as you said he would.”

“You no longer answer to my father, Eduardo.  You answer to me.”

“Yeah, well...I’m going to hell because you’re making me break my promise to a dead man.”

“You’re going to hell for a thousand other reasons, don’t worry so much about this one.”

“Ha!”  The old man took another puff, sputtered, and slapped Lito’s back.  “Now, that’s...funny.”

“So, the Hernandez branch?”

Eduardo sighed.  “Okay, sit down.  This isn’t going to be easy.”

45

FOR THE ENTIRE DESCENT Hope clung to Nick with all her strength.  Even though the wind passed right through her, she could still hear it.  It made a deafening noise, louder than anything she’d ever heard in her life.

“Are we there yet?” she said.

“No need to shout, I can hear you just fine.”

It was like that awkward moment where you think you need to scream above the noise in order to be heard, and then the noise stops and you’re still hollering at the top of your lungs.  Hope laughed, but when she saw the sandy grounds of what must have been the Mojave Desert getting alarmingly close, she buried her face in his shoulder. 

“Don’t you want to look?” Nick said.

“Tell me when we’re there!”

“We are.”

“What?”  She was wrapped around him like a bear cub clinging to a tree trunk.  But there he stood, his feet firmly planted in sand that stretched all the way until it touched the horizon, into which the sun was sinking.

“Oh.  We’re physical again.”  She thumped his back with her fist. 

“I see you’ve grown quite attached.  But would you mind climbing down now?”

Hope unwound herself and set her feet on the ground.  It was real all right, but her sense of reality had changed somehow. 

“Now do you believe?” he said, giving her a dangerous smile.

“Not sure.  This could all be a dream, or a near-death hallucination.”  He had to be one or the other—or exactly what he said he was. Whatever the case, she wanted to experience more.

“What will it take, O ye of little faith?”

“I don’t know.”  Deep down, she believed.  But she wanted more to ground her in this reality.  Her head felt light and her legs felt like they were made of linguine.  She shut her eyes and sat down in the warm sand.

“Hope?” Nick came close.  Without even touching her, she could feel his presence, his warmth.

“I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.”

His placed his fingertips on her forehead. 

“Eyes shut, please.”

“Why?”

“I’m taking you somewhere.”  He took her hand and helped her to her feet.

“Where?”

“Think of something really significant in your life.  Try to remember how it looked, what it sounded like, how it felt, the smell...everything.”

When she opened her eyes, they were standing side by side.  But she was now watching a younger version of herself sitting in a glider in that little apartment in Pacific Beach, singing a lullaby to the two-month-old baby in her arms. 

“What
is
this, Nick?  It’s so real, but it happened years ago.”

“It’s from your mind.  The thoughts you open to me are like a thread from a piece of cloth I can pull—I’m drawing on your thoughts and memories and weaving a perceptual construct for you.  Angels do this to help mortals see beyond their comprehension in a metaphorical way.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“How so?”

“What if the thread is attached to something really dark and frightening?  What if you kept pulling on that thread until the whole mind unravels?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed.  “Why in heaven’s name would I do that?”

“I’m just saying.”

And then, in the utter nothingness, she heard it.

That doorbell.  Her heart sank. 

“Oh, Nick—I don’t want to see this.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know why I chose this memory.”  She turned away.  “Make it stop.”

“Are you certain?”

The fear in her muffled cry was enough.  Nick was just about to end the construct when she grasped his hand.

“No, wait.  Let it go on.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”  She sounded like a terrified child.

The construct-Hope heard the doorbell, stood up with baby Chloe fast asleep in her arms, and walked over to the door. 

Hope didn’t need to listen to what the two marines had to say—she could never forget the day she learned that her husband of two years and father of their beautiful baby had been killed in Fallujah when his jeep went over an IED. 

She watched her younger self take the news, the papers, the medal.  The younger Hope Matheson saw the marines out, then sat quietly again in the glider with Chloe. But it didn’t feel the way it had then, not at all.

This memory she’d avoided for so long should have torn her apart, but something unexpected happened.  In the midst of reliving it, she felt the emotional and spiritual equivalent of a warm, powerful embrace.  Though not in her ears, she heard a distinct, paternal voice.  It wasn’t Nick’s, she was certain of that.  It was filled with love and strength, saying, // I AM THERE //

Don’t you mean, you were there?

// I
AM
THERE //

The construct faded.

They were now standing inside a white void. 

Nick, who seemed not to have heard the voice, looked concerned. 

“I said significant.  I’m sorry, Hope—I should have asked you to think of a happy memory.  Are you all right?”

“Yes, surprisingly.”  The memory was still there but not the devastation and despair that had always gone with it.  “How about this one?”

This time when she opened her eyes they were standing with a crowd of people in the pews of San Loreno’s, the church where she and her second husband had been married.

The happy couple stood before the guests outside the church and posed for photos as a storm of confetti and rice flew their way.  Four-year-old Chloe stood between her mother and new stepfather, Damien Suarez. 

“That’s better,” Nick said.  “But wait, that man—”

“He was caught in the same crossfire as Chloe.”

“I remember now.  Forgive me, but you don’t seem sad over his loss.”

“Oh, Damien was charming and Chloe just loved him to pieces, and I was desperate for someone to help us out.  But then he started gambling—at least I learned he’d been gambling—two months into the marriage.  Behind my back he was selling my things, even some things of Brandon’s I’d kept.  When I confronted him about it, he...Anyway, the day he and Chloe were killed, he said he was taking her to school.  But after I found out they were caught in the crossfire of a drug-related crime, I wondered how far his lies went.” 

She watched little Chloe in a flower girl’s dress smiling, waving to the people waving at her. 

“Guess we’ll never know, will we?” she said softly.  And all at once, like a flash flood, the memories of loss, abuse, all the things that had driven her to end her life swept over her.  She held onto Nick’s arms for support.

“Please, can we end this construct now?”

“Say no more.”

Back into the white void.

Where, to her surprise, the same voice spoke to her soul.  Now it came in a still, small whisper.

“I am there, Hope.   Your past, your future, I am there.”

A little more gradually this time, the pain attached to the memories of Chloe’s death eased.  Slow as it was, Hope sensed that this too was being lifted from her.  She would be stronger than before, with a chance to overcome her past and enjoy her future—something that until now she never thought she’d see.

It helped her to focus on Nick’s deep blue eyes.  The face of an angel. 

“Did you hear it, Nick?”

“What?”

“That voice.”  She shut her eyes trying to remember its pitch, its timbre.  “It kept saying, ‘I am there.’  And when it said that, the terrible pain from my worst memories seemed to ease, as if I’d awoken from a nightmare. ” 

“Ah, yes.”

“It wasn’t you…Was it?”

“No, it was probably Him.”  Nick pointed upwards.  “He’s been known to reach through time and by His mere presence, change everything for humans.  For the better, of course.  You only need to be open to it, as you obviously are.”

“Yes, but you led me here, helped me find...I don’t know what else to call it but healing.  It’s like I’ve been set free from a prison I didn’t know existed.” She hugged him tight.  “How can I ever thank you?”

“No need,” he said, lifting her chin to look into her eyes.  “I just want you to know one thing, Hope.  I’m breaking all kinds of angel laws, but I’m going to say it anyway.”

She fixed her gaze on him.  It seemed like the sun was rising behind him, illuminating his head, his shoulders, with golden light. 

“From the day I first saw you,” he said, “I sensed a connection.  Angels and mortals aren’t permitted to share this connection, yet there it was.  I had no idea I’d see you again so soon.  And under such...different circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

 “You know, meeting you at the point of despair.”

“And saving me!  Opening my eyes to a whole new perspective.”   She took his hands.  “You’re everything a guardian angel should be.”

“I’m not a guardian.”  His expression sobered.  “Sometimes I wonder how much of an angel I really am.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve got a past.”

“We’ve all got one.”

“Mine’s longer.” 

She shot him a look.  Remembering something that painful and still making wisecracks? 

“Would it help to talk about it?” 
Oh, sure. I’m counseling an angel.

“I’ve never shared it with anyone,” Nick said, “and I don’t think talking about it will help much, right now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I just—”

“But perhaps I can show you.”

46

FOR OVER A CENTURY, NICK had kept his past to himself.  He’d done his best to sweep that blip in history under the rug, though it was highly improbable that no one in the Angel Forces knew.

Now, having jeopardized everything to save the woman he’d been assigned to destroy, he felt the need to be known, understood.  Perhaps absolved.

“Show me?” Hope’s face was alight with curiosity.

“Haven’t you wondered why I revealed myself to you the way I did?”

She shook her head.  “I’m still trying to get my head around what you are.”

“When I first saw you, back in the hospital where Chloe died, I looked into your eyes.  You reminded me of a person I fell in love with and lost, tragically.  And Chloe reminded me of someone just as dear to me.”

“Can angels fall in love?”

“They can. And with humans, too, although that’s strictly forbidden.”  The laws, those blasted laws.  As he re-opened the wounds of the past, they returned to him. 

An angel shall not become emotionally involved with a mortal.

An angel shall not become physically involved with a mortal.

An angel shall not marry or sire offspring with a mortal.

An angel shall not heal a mortal except by proper authorization...