MY HEART IN STONE

PART THIRTY:

Franco and Julian helped get Cort into the limo.  He was still too unsteady on his feet

to walk by himself.  Henri suggested they get him back to the hotel and let him rest

for a couple of hours.  They settled him in the middle of the back seat, Rachel on his

right, Henri on his left. Henri unobtrusively kept his fingers on Cort's pulse as they

drove down the steep road toward Hromada.  It was still too fast, just a bit more

erratic than he'd like.

Cort leaned his head back, closing his eyes.  Now that it was over, he felt very tired,

like he'd fought some sort of protracted battle that had gone on for hours.  He literally

ached from the struggle of it.  "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I can't seem to...."  He was

asleep before they were more than a hundred yards from Kamen.  Rachel pulled his

head onto her shoulder, keeping her arm curved around it.

Terry leaned forward.  “Rachel, we’re going to go on to the Angel.  Deidre and I would

like to host a dinner for everyone tonight…that’s you two as well, mates,” Terry nodded

to Julian and Franco.  “We’re not needing to rehearse anything, are we?  Should we

meet at the St. Vitus cathedral?”

“No,” Rachel said, smiling at him and Dee.  “Our chapel is going to be a tree.”

Terry blinked, while Dee smiled back.

“A tree,” repeated the Aussie, but Deidre patted his arm. 

“I think that’s perfectly romantic!”  She exclaimed.  “Is there a specific tree you had in

mind?”

“There’s one in the park, a lime tree.  It has this neat little history and we both just fell

in love with it, so we’ve decided that’s where we want to say our vows.  Nice and simple. 

It's why I said just wear something that you like best….unless you want to go shopping

later,” Rachel grinned, and then it fell a bit.  “Maybe we should wait a day…”

“It’s all right!  You just say the word.”  Terry held his hand up and sat back in his seat. 

The look on his face said everything a man always thinks about women and their plans,

which amused everyone in the limo to no end.

Franco and Julian once again helped a still half-asleep Cort to his room. Henri stood in

the doorway watching Rachel get Cort under the covers.  "I know you'll want to spend

a while with him," he said, his hand on the doorknob.  "I'll be just downstairs in the

lobby.  If you need to go somewhere, stop by and let me know and I'll come up and sit

with him while he sleeps.  I don't think he should be left alone, not just yet."

Rachel came to the door as Henri spoke, feeling a great need to lie down herself, now

that they were safely back at the Mini.  Wordlessly, she hugged Henri, who stood stiffly,

as if he did not quite know what to do.  She didn’t care.  She didn’t have the vocabulary

to convey the sense of gratitude and sprouting love she had for Cort’s friend and…for

all intents and purposes, his new-found father. 

“I am glad you are with us, Henri,” she said at last, when she broke the embrace and

took Henri’s hands.  “You complete something that I can’t describe, but I am glad.  So

very glad.”

"Thank you, Rachel dear.  That means the world to me, that you would say that.  I can't

tell you how glad I am Cort has someone like you to love him."  He smiled at her fondly. 

"Get some rest yourself.  You look nearly as tired as he does.  I'll be fine.  I have some

calls to make.  There's a lot that still needs wrapping up, I'm afraid."

When he left, Rachel turned off the overhead light and pulled the curtains shut.  She

needed dim quiet to settle, wanted to cloak the two of them in a cocoon to regenerate

after all that had happened.  She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a

note her father had left her in response to hers: to call and let him know when they

would be back and that they were planning to return to the Angel around three this

afternoon.  She looked at the clock, amazed that it only read ten past one.  Good.  That

would be enough time for Cort to nap.

After she set the alarm for an hour, she slid off her shoes and stretched out beside him,

propped up on one elbow so she could gaze upon him.  His head was turned toward her,

his bandaged hand resting atop his stomach.  She gently wrapped her fingers around his

wrist, to get his pulse, which was slow and steady now.  Then she let her face fall into the

hollow of his neck, wanting to deepen the sense of encapsulation with his warmth and the

sound of his breath.  Should she tell him when he awoke that she had entertained, for

those few soul-freezing minutes, doing what she could to join him in that blue void…even

if it meant going back down into the warp chamber and surrendering herself to its

processes? 

But that was the cruelty of the warp.  It wasn’t like some transporter beam that took

whatever object was caught in its net.  It was very specific.  And Mikol specifically had

wanted Cort for his project.  Its settings would have ignored her and it wouldn’t have

mattered what she did; once Mikol’s warp claimed Cort, that was it.  He would have

been no more, and she would have no way of joining him, ever again.

She shifted, pressing closer to him, shivering with grief and anger and the aftershocks

of horror.  Henri was right: Cort should never go through that again.

“You’re too precious to lose,” she whispered.  She lay still, feeling her own heart slow

to the steady beat of his pulse.  “Too precious…”

It seemed she had just slid into a dream where she waded in a brook where aqua fish

swam when she was startled by the squawk of the alarm.  Sitting up, she looked at the

time, then at Cort.  He was still fast asleep, apparently more wiped out by the morning’s

events than she had guessed.  Then she remembered that Henri said he would be waiting downstairs to take over watching Cort.  She brushed out her hair and straightened her

clothes and bent down to hover over Cort once more, feeling his pulse.  Still steady and

strong, but he was deep into his own dream. 

“I won’t be far, my love,” she told him, even though she knew he wouldn’t hear.  With

a final kiss, she left the room and headed downstairs. 

Henri sat comfortably in a chair, a tea cup nearby, a folded newspaper, staring out the

window with a sad thoughtful look on his face.  Rachel felt her heartstrings tug hard. 

It was going to be so weird not having Henri as part of their lives now.  She made

another mental note to talk to Cort about that later.  Maybe Terry.

“He’s still sleeping,” Rachel informed him when she caught Henri’s attention.  “I hate

 to sneak out on him, but I need to go meet with my father.”

"I'll go right on up, then," Henri replied, actually eager to check on Cort again.  He

looked carefully at Rachel first, though.  "You look more rested, my dear.  I'm glad

to see it."

“Thank you.  I feel recharged.  I only wish…” she turned to look at the stairwell,

re-feeling the setback of the morning.  There would always been that ghost of a threat

now… “Well, I believe I’ll go with my suggestion and hold the wedding off for

one more day.  My Dad hasn’t even had a real chance to talk to Cort and I know

Deidre and Lisa are wondering what I’ve got planned.  Will you let him know I won’t

be long?”

Quietly Henri opened the door to their room.  Cort lay on his back, his lips parted as

he slept.  Slipping into a chair beside the bed, Henri lifted Cort's arm, taking his pulse,

pleased at what he found.  Deep, dreamless sleep.  There was nothing better for Cort

right now.  He was glad the wedding had been put off a day.  By then Cort would be

strong again and better able to enjoy himself.  Yes, that was the best thing.  He smiled

just slightly, acknowledging to himself that it would also push back another day their

departure from Hromada.  He was selfish enough, he knew, to be pleased that there

would, then, be more hours to spend with them.  He tried not to think too much about

what would come after the wedding, though he could not entirely prevent the image of

himself at the glass wall in the airport, watching as the NanoCorp jet lifted off the

runway. His whole world had changed, utterly changed in the last few days.  Not only

were both Mikol and Gerta dead, his work at Kamen completely at an end, but the

young people whom he'd grown to love would be leaving, too.  He thought he'd known

loneliness before, come to terms with it, and in a way he had.  But it was a loneliness

that just came from being alone, nothing more. He knew what was coming would be

different, a sharper, more soul-penetrating aloneness that came from the absolute

absence of ones you loved. 

Well, not yet.  He had a brief reprieve, didn't he? And so he sat quietly, watching Cort

sleep, impressing on his mind heart pictures to get him through the coming days.

"I wish I could tell you," he said aloud, though keeping his voice soft, "all that you have

done for me, my dear Cort, all the things you have awakened in my heart.  For so many

years, so many, I would watch the fathers in the parks with their sons and I tried to

imagine what it must be like to feel those feelings.  But that was all I could do...try to

imagine. I thought, perhaps, I understood it, that glow in a man's heart when he looks

at his son, but I didn't.  Not really. It's not something you can understand by imagination

alone.  It has to be experienced.  And you, you came, you came literally through time

and space and you brought that, so unexpectedly you brought that, into my life. You

were just there, just being who you are with all that love and goodness and great pain

you had inside you.  And then...then I understood with my heart what it was like for

those fathers looking at their sons.  You opened that world for me.  Only you.  And so

long as I live, I'll never be the same. And, then, today...oh God, Cort, I thought I was

going to lose you in the worst way and I couldn't bear it. I had to stop what was

happening to you even if it killed me, I had to stop it.  And I really thought it would. 

Yes, I really did.  Just before I pulled that lever, I thought I'd never see you again, that

I'd die not even knowing if you'd be all right. But it was worth it.  The chance that it

would would...oh, yes...it was worth everything.  Then, outside the castle, there you were

and you were ok. God, I thought I'd burst apart seeing that you were ok.    And you

called me 'Dad.'  Oh, I know you were just regaining consciousness, that you were

probably still out of it.  I know that. But...still...I heard the word once from your lips,

my Son, and it will last me a life time. Once I was called that."  Tears began to run

down his cheeks as all the long years of yearning welled up through him. "Such a gift,

my Son.  More than I can say."

He'd had his right hand resting atop the quilt as he talked, his eyes on Cort's sleeping

face. A sudden warmth covered his hand and he looked down to see Cort's fingers

curling around it. Cort's head on the pillow turned toward him, his eyes half-opening. 

"Dad," he murmured, closing his eyes again as his lips curved into a small smile and

his fingers tightened their grip. He was still breathing in that deep, slow rhythm of

sleep, but the smile stayed as did the clasp of fingers.  Henri almost stopped breathing

himself, staring at Cort's quiet, peaceful face, his lashes fanned across his cheeks.  Was

he asleep or had he heard? Or had Henri only imagined the word had come again? 

Then, eyes still closed, Cort licked his lips and began to speak.  "My Grandmother,

Henri, she raised me all by herself, was all I ever knew of parenting.  She was...

wonderful.  I thought she was everything, absolutely everything. Then she died.  When

I was 14 she died and a man named John Herod came.  It wasn't until then, until John,

that I realized I knew nothing about the guidance of an older man. But he guided me in

all the wrong ways, taught me how to care only about myself, to take what I wanted. 

Then there was Father Michael who showed me things didn't have to be that way, that...

I...didn't have to be that way.  But I killed him."  His eyes screwed up tightly for a

moment, then relaxed again. "So I tried to make up for it, ran the mission with the school

for the orphan kids, tried to be sort of a father to them, I guess."  Finally he opened his

eyes, seeking Henri's, holding onto them. "But I didn't really know how."  He chuckled

wryly.  "Didn't stop me from trying, though.  Damn, did I try! But I'd never really... had

...a father, you know, so I was inventing it, inventing myself, trying to make it work. Then

John took even that away and I saw clearly for the first time in years how much of it was

all my invention, that I was still the man John had trained me to be."

He blinked back tears.  "It near killed me, Henri, to find that out about myself.  That I

was a fake, that I didn't know how to be a father because I'd never had the chance to be

a son.”  He lifted Henri's hand, laying it over his own heart, keeping it there with his

palm.  "That's what you've given me, Henri.  You've shown me what it's like to be cared

for, watched over by a father.  You've risked everything for me time and again and you

never stop.  That's what you've taught me.  Fathers never stop.  They give their lives and

then they give them again.  You...." but he was too choked up to continue.

Henri put his free hand over his eyes.  "Oh, God, Cort...what am I going to do when

you've gone back to America?"

"I'll tell you what," Cort said, his voice once again firm and steady.  "You're going to

come with me."

"What?"  Henri dropped his hand, staring at Cort.  "What are you saying?"

"I've already talked with Terry about it and he intends to speak with you personally,

too.  But he says you are both wanted and welcome to come to work at NanoCorp."

Henri was speechless.  He'd never thought...   "They would let me?  Someone who

worked for Mikol?"

"Do you have any idea how valuable that fact makes you?"

Henri sat back, rubbing his chin.  "He thinks that?  Terry really thinks that?"

"Yep," Cort smiled.  "Is it something you'd consider?  Would you come to America

with us...with me?"

Henri blew out a long breath.  "There's paperwork, you know.  Legalities.  That sort of

thing."

"Leave that to Terry.  He's got...ways," Cort grinned.  "Already said he could manage

that for you."

Henri's mind was racing.  Just when he'd felt the floor crashing away beneath his feet,

a new structure was taking form.  Could he actually DO it?  My God...why NOT?  "I...

I can think of a thousand technicalities," he chuckled, " but, good Lord, yes...let's see if

it's really possible!"

Cort sat up, gripping Henri's shoulders, then leaning back, announced, "Damn, but I'm

hungry! Are you hungry?"  Then he laughed, a happy, hearty laugh. And Henri joined in.

Glen found Rachel sitting on the floor in front of his hotel room, sipping at a bottle drink

and looking a bit lost in the gaze she focused upon the opposite wall.  He was glad she

showed up, because a part of him had decided to get a bit angry if he got back to the

hotel room and he had not heard from her.  He had argued with this part that it was

because he was still jetlagged, and still unaccustomed to the surroundings, still settling

into an unplanned vacation to a country he would never have thought twice in visiting. 

The scenery of the city had soothed most of his frustrations, as did little Finn’s delight

over the canoes in the river, wherewithal Lisa still entertained her son, herself, and a

young man she had been flirting with all morning.  He had found himself looking at his

watch after a day of walking cobble-stoned streets, taking a tour of Krumlov castle, and

gorging himself on traditional fare, and realizing it was close to the time he had said he

would return.  He waved Lisa close to the shore and told her he was going back and left

them to paddle away.

And now he was looking down at his younger daughter who sat looking back up at him

with a tired smile on her face and wondering what kind of tale she was going to spin

today.  In the quieter moments of the day, he was turning her words from the night before

over in his mind, had kept his thoughts to himself that morning when they all sat at the

breakfast table and he was able to see Cort and Terry closer together and in daylight. 

No, he had not been imagining things after a long flight.  They looked frighteningly

similar, and yet the personalities of the two radiated as two separate men: Cort, a quiet

observer who soaked up every detail around him, a reserved man who seemed to catch

himself from time to time in blatant adoration of Rachel.  That made Glen feel good. 

Terry, however, was a man of brisk business acumen and good-natured charm, albeit

a closed castle himself when more personal remarks were made.  Deidre had made no

bones about her feelings for Terry, that much had been clear from the time the lifted

off back home. 

What Glen was having a hard time deciding, though, was whether or not Rachel was

honest in her explanation of Cort’s arrival into her life and what it was that she did

for this company known as NanoCorp Subsidiaries.  And that disturbed him more than

anything else.

“Good to see you, Angel,” he said, smiling at her as he unlocked his suite door and she

rose to her feet to follow him in.  “I was coming back to see if I could get a hold of you.”

“I know, I know,” Rachel replied, almost on top of his words, breathless, it would seem

from her own anxiety.  She flitted about the room in a cursory investigation of its

appointment: wooden floor, dark wood furniture, prints of Mucha’s four seasons on

the wall, ochre colored curtains, settling at last in one of the dinette chairs at the foot

of the bed.  Glen watched her as he poured himself a glass of ice water and joined her,

sitting in the opposite chair.  She was agitated, as if she had something dreadful to say. 

“I feel very bad to have dropped out on you like that this morning.  I know it was very

rude of me…but there was some vital information I needed to give to Terry…and

considering our conversation last night, I didn’t think you’d have…the stomach for

it…” Rachel blurted.

Glen calmly drank his water.  Oh dear.  It was bad.  Normally, Rachel wove pretty

sentences and drip-dropped information.  Here, she was ready to spill it all out at once. 

“Its okay.  You explained that.  Your boss deserves a report for what’s been going on,

especially since he’s funding this whole shebang.”  Lord, he was dreadfully patient

with her, he mused.  “But you do have a wedding to put together…you do still have

a wedding, don’t you?”

“Oh yes!  Most definitely!  Without a doubt!”  Rachel cried, running her hands through

her hair.  Hmmm.  That’s a new habit, no doubt picked up from Cort.  “I guess I should

break that news first…and then I can explain why,” she said, half to him, half to herself. 

“We had planned on the ceremony tomorrow, but I think we’re going to wait a day

more.  There’s something that…happened this morning that’s caused Cort to need

some…recovery…” Rachel frowned at her own use of that word, but apparently she

could not think of any other way to describe.

Glen was surprised by his own alarm. 

“Was he kidnapped again?”  he asked, in a mixture of anxiety and incredulity.

Rachel opened her mouth, closed it, and worried Glen even more by shedding a couple

of tears.

“I’d have to say…he almost was…yes.  Permanently, too.  It would have been horribly, horribly…permanent.”

Glen stared at her, open mouthed.  He had no idea how to respond.

“The warp, Dad.  Do you remember what I told you about the warp?  And how

NanoCorp has the technology to enter into the medium of a film and retrieve a person

out of that film?  And how Cort was one of those people that I helped retrieve?  That

Terry is one…?”

“Yes, yes, I remember.  Not the actor himself, not a replicant, nor simulation or

facsimile thereof…”

“The person, the character…alive and whole, a living being independent of what

created him,” Rachel nodded, swallowing more water to wet her mouth.  “There

was a competitor, who wanted to retrieve Cort for himself…actually, also the character

of Maximus from ‘Gladiator’…”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute!  Him, too?”  Glen burst.  “Okay, young lady…I’m going

to say this and say this only once…”

“Dad, please believe me…” Rachel whimpered.

“I’ve humored some pretty cockamamie stories from you in my lifetime…”

“This is real, Dad…”

“But this is your life, Rachel.  My life, too.  It was bad enough to see Lisa end up in an

abusive marriage and all the hell we went through to get that loser out of her life.  I’m

not going to be led by the nose into some psychological drama that…

Rachel slumped at those words coming from his mouth.  Glen realized he was attacking

her, but there was something in him that could no longer hold back his deeper doubts. 

“I wish I could show you,” his daughter said, sniffling.

Glen hesitated, trying to reign in his feelings and thoughts, but before he could

reassemble them into something more constructive, there was a knock at the door. 

Pressing his lips together, he got up and answered.

“May I come in?” 

Terrence Thorne stood in the doorway, a laptop computer tucked under one arm, and

the other hand palming a cell-phone.  Rachel leapt to her feet, emitting a small squeak

of “oh, thank goodness!”  Glen stepped back, too astonished to do anything else.  The

broad shoulders of the Australian were set back in an air of confidence as he stepped

in and greeted Rachel with a warm pat on the shoulder.  As Glen closed the door, Terry

was already snapping open the laptop and plugging in the battery, stepping aside so

Glen could see what he was doing while they waited for the computer to warm up.

“Mr. Keirs, I realize that a lot has been asked of you in the last few days.  Indeed, in

the last few weeks.  Trust me when I say, its often my job to make a confusing situation

much more clear, and if you’ll allow me, I think I can dissolve that confusion right now. 

But first, let me thank you for your patience, your infinite patience for me, for our

company, and most especially for your daughter.  She’s become a valuable member of

my team at NanoCorp and its no small feat what she was able to accomplish here in

Hromada.”

Glen found himself staring with his mouth open, again, floored by the supreme,

unshakeable competence of the powerhouse Rachel had called “the K&R man.” 

Damn, he’s good!

“She and Cort, as a matter of fact,” Terry added, in the momentary pause.

“What movie are you from?”  Glen blurted.

 Terry and Rachel exchanged glances.

“You jumped off the cliff, too?”  The Aussie asked, eyebrow quirking.

“My fault, entirely,” Rachel replied.

“I had this whole presentation ready for your defense,” Terry complained, smiling

enough to show he was not disturbed by this development.  “Well,” he said, turning

back to Glen.  “To answer your question, I was retrieved from ‘Proof of Life.’  I’d

like to save the details of that for later, if you don’t mind.  We’ll get sidetracked if

I try to explain.  But since Rachel has broached the subject, I believe I still may

help things along.  Please, have a seat.”

“I told him about warping,” Rachel put in, watching as Terry starting typing in

commands. 

“She said…” Glen stammered, thoroughly discombobulated now.  “She said that you

were characters from movies.  You and Cort.  If I hadn’t seen the two of you together

last night and this morning…” he trailed off as the screen of the laptop flickered open

to a live-cam view of an empty control room.

“Mmm-hmm,” Terry sounded, now flipping open the cell-phone and punching a

pre-set dial.  The three listened to the dial tone.  Glen caught Rachel’s eye.  His

daughter gave him a pleading look far different than the ones he was used to.

“Yes, Charlie?”  Terry asked, phone to ear now.  “You near the control room?  Good…

I need you to do something for me…”  They heard a responding voice chatter loudly

on the other end.  “No, not calling to check on Sid…although an update will be nice,

but I’ll ask for that in a minute.  Ah, good, you’re there…”

Glen and Rachel turned their attention to the screen and saw a youngish man with

scruffily cut hair and goatee sauntering into view and waving at the camera. 

“Yes, turn on the two-way,” Terry commanded and Charlie flipped a button.

“Harrooo,” Charlie said. 

“Hi!”  Rachel said in return, waving.

“Rachel!  Where the hell are you?”  Charlie exclaimed. 

“No time for visitation, Chuck,” Terry said in clipped tones, typing up more buttons,

making the mouse scurry over the table top with short motions.  “Now,” said he,

straightening some, “put in the film, ‘Verdant Fields Test B’ and wait for further

 instructions.”

“Uum…do I need to go in?”  Charlie asked.

Terry paused a minute, glancing at Glen, who sat in total fascination now.

“No, not at this moment.  I think we’ll be okay.  But pay close attention.  In case we

have trouble.  Now, play the movie.”

Now the laptop screen showed two windows, that of Charlie standing at the controls,

and the second of a wide spacious verdant field, filled with grasses and dragonflies

flitting about, and butterflies courting the flowers.  And, in the middle of the field sat

a table.  Behind the table, a golden haired girl played with a ball.

“That,” Terry said, pointing to the field screen, “is a film we made to train our retrievers,

to introduce them to the concepts of the warp.  Its not as good as going into the warp

itself in convincing them, but it’s a kind of middle step we take to get them open to the

idea.  That little girl,” he added, pointing to her as she took a stick and playacted a

swordfight, “has been told to expect anything that comes up to her.  This is her character,

her role, and she is there to wait upon whatever comes her way in order to prove that

the warp does work.”

Glen swallowed.  This was definitely more substantial than anything Rachel could

make up.

Terry turned to Glen with a look of curiosity.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a pocket watch on you, would you?”

Glen shook his head.  He held up his wristwatch, but Terry had already changed his

mind.

“Do you have something more personal?”  He asked.  “Not anything Rachel gave you,

but something you have that would show up nowhere else.”

Glen’s mind raced.  He didn’t own much jewelry and personal items were usually kept

in a sock drawer at home.  But there was something he always carried from his

deceased wife…

“A prayer medallion,” he said, fishing in his pocket.  He held it up.  “I don’t know too

many people who have something like this.  It’s personal,” he added, and as he stepped

back, he realized that the moment felt incredibly like something out of a magic show,

where Terry was Doug Henning and Rachel his beautiful assistant.  But it was too late;

Terry had the medallion and was stepping back, fishing in his own pocket for an item

of his own.  He came to stand beside Glen and aimed a small device he had pulled from

his pocket.

“Step back, luv,” Terry told Rachel and she scooted to another corner of the room. 

Holding out his arm, Terry pointed the small device, seemingly to an obscure point on

the windows of the room and pushed a button.  Instantly, in the space between him and

the windows, an oval vertical wall appeared, watery and turquoise, not quite transparent,

and pulsing with an energy that Glen had experienced only once before: in the bowels

of an ocean liner, but much quieter. 

“This, my friend,” Terry said, turning to him, “is our warp field.  Through it, we can pass

into a film and become part of that film.  And back through it, we can transport, or

retrieve, as we like to say, persons of choice.  If you will allow me, I will take your

medallion and throw it into the warp field.  It should then appear, here,” he continued,

stepping over to the laptop and pointing to the table.  “The little girl will pick it up and

read whatever is on it, describe it, hold it up for examination.  I have to confess to you,

though, I am not terribly sure I can send it back.”

Glen realized he was sucking in his lower lip, chewing on it, a sudden flame of belief

 firing up inside.  That force field was real!  He looked down at the prayer medallion

in his hand.  Candace, so long ago…had pressed it into his palm, when they had one

of their darker moments in her illness, when a light shone in her face that meant she

had accepted the outcome of her cancer, and was beginning to say goodbye.  He had

held onto that in his darker moments afterwards.  With a pang, he realized he had come

to rely on it less and less in the last few years, since Stacia came into his life.  But he

didn’t need the medallion to remember how much he loved her anymore…did he? 

His thumb rubbed the surface, a figure of an angel carved into the pewter.  He could

still feel the type of the quote on the other side.  He looked up and saw a more

substantial angel waiting for his answer, feeling suddenly as if he had not given enough

of his love.  She had been hard to understand at times, wildly idealistic at others, but

steady.  And she was the one who remained in life, needed to know he would still love

her. 

He handed the medallion over to Terry. 

“Try it,” he said, voice hoarse.  “I’d like to see what happens.  For giggle’s sake,” he

added, glancing at Rachel.  He was rewarded with a high-beam smile.

“Thanks, mate,” Terry replied.  He held it up for all to see; then, as if he were in a game

of coin-toss, sent the coin into the thrumming force field with an underhand flip. 

With a zip, the field popped out of existence and in the next two seconds a little girl’s

cheer went up.  The three stepped up to the laptop to watch the golden-haired child

toss aside her stick and pounce upon the table…where a round shiny object sat.  She

laughed and picked it up, talked to it in her little girl’s voice.

“Pretty!  So pretty!  It’s an angel!”  She cried, and held it up so that it flashed in the

sun.

“Now, read it, little one,” Terry muttered.  Glen glanced sharply over at the man to

see if he were talking into his phone.  To his surprise, the phone had been flipped off,

and Charlie still sat at the controls, grinning down at a screen of his own.  “Hold it up

and read it,” Terry urged.

It took a few minutes, but Glen could not have been any more flabbergasted than when

the child held it up and the camera seemed to zoom to a close-up of her hand.  She

showed the side of the coin with the angel and then, flipped it over where they could

see the writing.

“Love,” came the little girl’s voice, in strong clear tones.  Glen could even see the notch

that had been made so long ago…when he had thrown it in his grief, “not reason, is

stronger than death.”

ON TO PART 31

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

BACK TO PART 29

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