The Blue Door (20 page)

“We shortened them,” Beau said with a disapproving look in his mother’s direction.

Tad took this as his cue, folding his hands on the table and fixing Koji with a serious gaze. “I don’t like it to get around, but my full name is Thaddeus,” he revealed. “I’ve been calling myself Tad since the first grade.”

“Indeed,” Koji replied before looking to the next brother. “Neil is short for…?”

“Cornelius,” he replied with a grimace.

“I might have guessed that one,” Koji replied. Gazing into Prissie’s face he asked, “Are you unhappy with your name?”

She shook her head, but admitted, “I do usually introduce myself as Prissie, though.”

“Aquilla and Priscilla were lovely people,” Milo interjected.

Prissie blinked in surprise. It sounded like the Messenger had known them. Was it possible for Milo to be
that
old?

Koji’s dark eyes sparkled with interest as he looked at eight-year-old Zeke. The boy’s unruly mop of blond hair was a testament to his energetic nature. “Zeke must be short for Ezekiel?”

“Nope. Hezekiah,” announced the boy.

“Is that worse?” inquired the young angel curiously.

“
Way
worse.”

Turning to the humiliated teen, Koji asked, “What is Beau short for?” The thirteen-year-old put his hands over his face and mumbled his reply, but the young angel’s ears were sharp. “Your name is Boaz?”

“The kinsman redeemer,” Mrs. Pomeroy said with a dreamy sigh. “I just love his and Ruth’s story!
So
romantic!”

One blue eye peeped out long enough to roll expressively. “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean you should inflict his name on a poor, unsuspecting baby.”

“What is Jude short for?” Koji inquired, looking towards the youngest family member. “Judah?”

Neil leaned forward. “Here’s the thing. When Momma was expecting Jude, we ganged up and issued a formal protest. All of us are stuck with impossible handles, but we thought the new little twerp should be spared the indignity.”

Tad nodded. “We begged our folks to come up with a name that wasn’t embarrassing.”

“Of course, Momma didn’t want to settle on something
easy
like John or Mark,” Neil continued. “She said those were too
boring.
”

“Calling him Jude was a compromise,” Mrs. Pomeroy said as she nibbled her own cookie. “Short, but different enough to be interesting.”

“So we call him Judicious, just to be contrary,” Tad concluded.

Koji smiled at the littlest brother, who was obviously proud of both his name and the story behind it.

Once the conversation moved on, the young Observer nudged Prissie with his elbow and shyly confided, “Koji is my nickname, too.”

“Really? What’s your full name?”

“I cannot tell,” he admitted. “It is a name only known to me and the One who gave it.”

“Only God knows your real name?” she asked, mystified.

The angel searched her face, then nodded once. “It will be the same for you one day.”

Prissie’s brows rose. “Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone already knows my name.”

With a hint of a smile, Koji replied, “You will be given a new one. It is promised.”

“Oh,” she replied blankly. After some thought, she had to admit she was looking forward to finding out what her new name might be.

Later that evening, Prissie stood beside Grandma Nell at the stove, carefully stirring applesauce so it wouldn’t scorch. During harvest time, this was pretty much a daily chore, and the two of them had the routine down pat. The only difference this year was the addition of a new helper. While Grandma Nell ladled hot cinnamon-spiked sauce into gleaming jars, Koji added the lids. When they were done, Prissie’s grandmother tallied up the quarts. “Two more batches should do it, so report for duty again tomorrow night.”

“Isn’t this more than last year?” Prissie ventured as she lugged the big pot over to the sink to wash up.

“We have an extra mouth to feed this year,” Grandma Nell countered, smiling Koji’s way.

Once the kitchen was restored to order, Prissie’s mind turned to homework and the reading she needed to do for the week, but Koji tapped her shoulder. “I am going outside to talk with the others for a while,” he said quietly.

Prissie’s heart sped up. “May I come along?”

The boy’s face brightened. “I would like that.”

Since the evenings were growing chilly, she slipped a sweater over her light dress and followed Koji onto the back porch. Stars were already out, and for several moments, the young angel stared up at them. “They will come to us,” Koji announced.

Prissie often wondered how he knew where his teammates were, what they were doing, and sometimes even what kind of mood they were in. She guessed it was probably the same as her and Grandma making applesauce. He’d learned their routine and knew what to do. Either that, or he’d received a message. It was strange to think that Koji could
hear
God, and even stranger to think that God would pass along a time and place for a meeting.

Tansy offered a soft meow from the seat she’d claimed on the porch swing, and Prissie soon had a lapful of purring barn cat. Koji sat on the steps, his dark eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “What do you see?” she whispered, hoping she would get to visit with Omri again.

“Jedrick is coming!”

“Is that good or bad?” she asked nervously. Koji didn’t have time to answer before there was a silent explosion of green light just beyond the garden. Though she’d only seen the phenomenon a few times before, Prissie vividly remembered the beautiful shifting patterns of light and color that made up an angel’s wings.

“He is here,” Koji announced unnecessarily.

A towering, armor-clad figure strode up the walk, and as he drew nearer, a second angel slipped out of the shadows just beyond the hydrangeas lining the porch. Prissie tried not to stare and failed miserably. Angelic warriors were huge, fantastical, and actually kind of scary, so it was hard to look away, especially once she realized that even without the porch light on, she could see them quite well. It was as if they brought their own light with them into the darkness. Could this be an angel’s halo?

Rich green fell from Jedrick’s shoulders, flowing almost like a cloak or cape as he strode forward on booted feet. “Are you well, Priscilla Pomeroy?” inquired the stern-faced warrior. Jedrick was a Protector, and he was the captain of the team of angels that Milo, Koji, and the rest belonged to. His light brown hair was cropped close around his head except for one long braid, which hung over his left shoulder; the jeweled pommel of the sword strapped to his back was visible over his right.

His inquiry was hard to answer. It felt like a trick question. Up until a few moments ago, Prissie had been just fine, but Jedrick’s arrival brought back unsettling memories and made her wonder if there were invisible enemies prowling around in the dark. She hugged her cat close and shrugged.

Just behind him stood Tamaes, a Guardian whose long, brown hair only partially covered the jagged scar that marred his otherwise handsome face. He stepped forward. “Do not be afraid, little one,” he said gently. “Jedrick is
not
here because of danger nearby.”

Jedrick looked sharply at his companion, then his expression altered subtly. Though his face lost none of its fierce quality, the Protector’s green eyes softened somewhat. “On the contrary, it is a quiet night.”

Prissie glanced at Tamaes. It was irksome that he had known exactly what was on her mind, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. Tamaes was her guardian angel. Since the moment her life began, he’d been watching over her. It made sense that he would understand how she felt. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but was too bashful to get it out. Instead, Tamaes gazed at her with undisguised fondness, and she was the one who glanced away.

Koji nudged closer on the porch swing and touched the back of her hand. When she met his earnest gaze, he said, “Prissie, I would not lead you into danger.”

“There
are
things to be afraid of, though,” she countered in a soft voice.

Jedrick solemnly shook his head and declared, “Fear not, for I am with you.”

“Indeed,” Koji said.

A war was being waged, and there were enemies so terrible, she’d been told to be grateful they were hidden from her eyes. However, here and now, she was as safe as she could be. If only things could stay this way. “So why
are
you here?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“I am often here,” Jedrick replied, looking amused. “My responsibilities keep me close.”

“What are those?” she asked.

The captain folded his muscular arms and cocked his head to one side. “I protect those in my Flight, and we each have our role to fill. Some stand guard over that which is ours to keep. Some seek that which has been lost. Some can only watch and wait.”

Prissie glanced at Koji, whose pensive face was once more turned towards the sky. “That which has been lost? Do you mean Ephron?” she asked carefully. Ephron was Koji’s predecessor, an apprentice Observer who’d been taken by the enemy.

“I do,” Jedrick confirmed. “Koji, I need to ask you to tell me more about your dream.”

“He was somewhere close. Somewhere dark,” the boy replied.

This was nothing new, but his captain nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

“He was hurt. Frightened …” Koji’s voice trembled. “And he said he would keep your trust no matter what else was taken.”

Jedrick exchanged a long look with Tamaes before saying, “They
are
questioning him. It is as Abner feared.”

Tamaes winced. “It is my fault,” he murmured.

“Do not think it,” Jedrick said. “None of us can take the blame for those who chose to fall.”

“What do they mean?” Prissie whispered to Koji.

He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “Ephron came to visit Tamaes on the day he was taken. The enemy captured him
here
, in your family’s orchard.”

CHRISTA KINDE
Head in the clouds. Feet on the ground. Heart in the story. Christa Kinde is a cheerful homebody whose imagination takes her to new places with every passing day. Making her home between misty mornings and brimming bookshelves in Southern California, she keeps her lively family close and her trusty laptop closer. Christa has been writing for more than a decade, producing numerous workbooks and study guides for Max Lucado, John MacArthur, and
Women of Faith
. This is her first novel. ChristaKinde.com

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The Blue Door
Copyright © 2012 by Christa Kinde

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