Fallen (35 page)
In the distance, a wolf howled
,
and I smiled to myself.
“What?” Eran asked, noticing.
“Oh, it’s just so…perfect.”
“Yes, I think so.” He
sighed,
seeming to savor
the air here.
“
Is this where you’ve always lived in the afterlife
?” I was intrigued, never having been able to ask others how they came to create their own existence here
.
“I built it bit by bit. Like most others b
uild theirs
. You know…” h
e said,
resolutely.
“Actually
,
I don’t.”
He paused on the dirt path, openly studying me.
His
eyes widened slightly and r
ealization spread across his face.
“O
f course you don’t. You couldn’t, could you?
” He
fumbled,
and I could see he
understood
something for the first time. “
Without knowing where you died last you wouldn’t
be able to find your past lives or your permanent residence here.
Am I right?”
I nodded. “
B
eing able to
just
visit has its disadvantages…I’m here on passport.”
He seemed to contemplate this as we stepped
onto
the porch.
Stew
was simmering
inside
,
and it smelled delicious
.
I was slightly
surprised
when my stomach growled, which had never happened here. Eran had really gone to great lengths to make his
piece of the afterlife
as real as possible.
“I never considered that
…
that
you would be…limited here,” he said
,
thoughtfully.
“
More than you think. I can’t fly like others and how we got here just now…passing between realms by stepping through…I can’t do that either.”
“Huh,” he muttered
. “I never knew that.” He said this in a way that made it sound like he’d known me as a messenger for a very long time.
“You know…that stew smells great
,
”
I said, hinting.
He
took the bait and replied with a grin,
“
And I’d say it’s just about ready
.”
He opened the door and ushered me in.
Inside, the cabin was rustic
and
relaxed. It was a single room with just a table
and
some chairs, a worn leather co
uch,
and
a wall entirely covered with cluttered
book shelves
. The
kitchen
,
with dated, worn appliances
,
was immediately
to the right from where we walked in. A fire
was burning
in the hearth, where a small iron pot hung over the flames
containing
the bubbling stew.
Annie and Charlie
leapt up
on the couch, curling
themselves
into
balls
,
and immediately began
to snore. Eran filled two bowls with stew and placed them on the table before taking a seat.
“Oh…it’
s comfortable,” I said
,
as I sat down in the only other chair.
Eran smiled to himself. “
We old things are well worn
.”
I
picked up my spoon, noticing it was already warm
to the touch, so it
wouldn’t chill the stew
. Hesitantly, I asked
, “How old are you exactly?”
“Centuries,” he replied simply, as if this were commonplace.
“You’re kidding,” I said, astounded.
“Why
? D
o I strike you as immature?” he teased.
“At times,” I replied
,
flatly.
He glanced up surprised
,
until he saw I was grinning playfully
back
at him.
“Actually, you…have a certain kind of awareness about you that…sort of demonstrates your age.”
“Is that so?” His eyebrows raised in interest.
“Yes. It seems like you
know what is around every corner and you’re not concerned
,
because you’ve handled it before. It seems as if you
are…infallible.”
He paused
, holding
his spoon
,
and snicker
ed
lightly. “That is certainly not the case.”
“It’s not?
You mean, you’re vulnerable? But how could that be?
”
I teased.
Eran’s reply was more serious.
“We all are, Magdalene
, each
of us in our own way.”
I
mulled this over as we ate,
realizing the truth behind his statement. Less than a minute had passed when I
noticed that my stew was almost gone. It was so
delicious
;
I
had almost
devoured
it.
After finishing
off the last
of it
, I
settled back into the chair.
Glancing around and enjoying the feeling of being with Eran in this particular place, I thought to ask,
“What do your guest
s
think…of this place?”
He
shook his head languidly at me
. “Guests?
Oh,
I don’t have guests here. This is my private paradise.”
“But you brought me,” I stated, watching him though he
’d dropped his head
to avoid eye contact.
“Yes, yes, I did.”
I couldn’t ignore the b
utterflies
that
flitted
in
my stomach
at
this
acknowledgement
. “So why me?
Why did you bring me?
”
He didn’t answer immediately, taking another spoonful of stew. “You…
you
asked about where I live,” he said
faintly.
With a deeper, more
evocative
tone, he added,
“And I get a sense that you miss the feeling of home sometimes.”
My breath caught in my throat at
the obvious sense of awareness he had about me.
He knew me better than I thought.
“
Home wasn’t something I could comprehend
for a long time. But, I’m getting a sense of it now
,” I replied.
“With your roommates,” he added.
“Yes, definitely. They make our house a home. But, I feel at home here too.”
“You do?” he
asked
,
enthusiastically
.
“Yes.”
Not bothering to hide his grin, he
cleared his throat and set down his spoon, clanging it loudly against the rim of his bowl.
H
e’d finished his dinner
and was now leaning back, folding
his hands across his
abdomen
, watching me.
I felt
transparent
with his blatant
attention and had the urge to keep the conversation going as a diversion. H
e’d let me see his piece of paradise
and
it
now
made me
question
mine.
“Eran
…
you
were there when I died last, right
?
I
believe
that’s what you said.
W
hen I was just a baby
…
you thought I saw you before I passed on.
”
He
noticeably
cringed at the memory and I
instantly
f
elt
bad
about bringing it up. I reminded myself there
was an important reason
behind why
I was asking
but it didn’t help much
. When he nodded, I continued even though he wouldn’t look up from his
empty bowl
.
“Well…if you were there
,
when I died
,
you must know
where
I died.”
He nodded again, still avoiding my eyes.
“Will you tell me where
it happened
?
So I can find out who I was?”
His
head
finally rose
,
and a
sharp
pain
pierced
my heart when I saw his
expression
was
blanketed with regret
.
“Please don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.
“It’s the thought that I couldn’t stop it…couldn’t prevent you from feeling the pain…” his voice traile
d off, shaking his head, clear
contempt
for himself etching his beautiful face.