The Blue Door - By Christa Kinde Page 0,37

regretted sharing such a precious memory. Preferring to let Koji do the talking, she asked, “Are angels attracted to this spot?”

Pulling up his legs so he could rest his chin on his knees, Koji said, “It is very pleasant, but unless an angel is a Caretaker, places do not matter so much. We are drawn to lasting things rather than passing things.”

She looked at the town hall. Its gray stone came from a nearby quarry, and its bell tower was a local landmark. Up until the Presbyterian church was built on the opposite end of Main Street, it had been the tallest structure in the area. “This is the oldest building in town; it’s lasted more than a hundred and fifty years.”

“No,” he replied dismissively. “The things of this world will not last. We are more interested in that which endures — promises, relationships, but mostly souls. If an angel met you in this place, it was because they wanted to talk to you.”

That was a very nice thought, and Prissie was pleased. Wanting to extend a favor, she offered, “Is there anything you want to look at in town.”

“I would like to taste things,” Koji replied, sounding embarrassed about the admission. “I have seen many kinds of food, but until now, I was unable to eat them.”

Prissie thought back over the last few evenings. She’d noticed the would-be exchange student eating with careful concentration, but at the time, she thought he’d been worried about his table manners. It had never occurred to her that Koji was tasting foods for the first time. Then an idea struck her. “Does that mean that the first food you ever ate …?”

“Your pie,” he proudly filled in. “I shall never forget how it tasted.”

She gave him a hard look, but Koji wasn’t teasing. For better or for worse, her clumsy pie had been immortalized because it held a place in the memory of a boy who would live forever. Prissie wasn’t sure if she should feel humbled or humiliated. “Come on, let’s go,” she sighed. “The corner store has groceries.”

Prissie knew their market forward and backward because it wasn’t very big, and she’d been shopping there since she was small enough to ride on the bottom rack of their tiny carts. However, shopping there with Koji proved to be a fascinating experience. Seeing things through his eyes made her look at them a little differently.

Koji might have known all about the history of her hometown, but apparently, grocery stores had never been a priority in the lessons he received from his mentor. Once inside, the young angel craned his neck like a tourist, trying to take in everything at once.

With a glance around to make sure no one was staring at his odd behavior, Prissie herded Koji toward the produce section. “What looks good?”

“I am not sure.”

Together, they walked up and down the aisles, and to Prissie’s amazement, he was familiar with all the fruits and vegetables — at least by name. He could also name all the fish laid out on ice in the meat department’s glass-fronted case. “Have you seen these before?” she asked, pointing to a row of speckled trout.

“No,” he admitted.

“Then, how do you know this stuff?” she demanded.

“I am not sure; I just know,” he replied with a shrug.

Prissie turned down one of the central aisles, and Koji slowed to a stop in front of neat rows of soup cans. Dark eyes flickered from label to label, engrossed in the different varieties. “Oh, those,” she remarked scornfully. “Grandma would probably make any kind you want if we ask her, and it’ll taste much better.”

“You do not approve of … chicken and stars?” he asked wistfully.

With a long-suffering sigh, Prissie took on the role of resident expert and tour guide. “We live on a farm, and Momma and Grandma put stuff up, so we hardly ever buy canned food.”

“Harken keeps canned food in his kitchen, though it is mostly for show,” Koji mused aloud. “What would you suggest?”

Prissie wandered up and down, dismissing nearly everything she saw. It didn’t seem right to feed an angel stuff like canned ravioli or cellophane-wrapped sponge cakes. She’d been raised on real food, and prepackaged foodstuffs made her cringe. Finally, she grumbled, “I suggest we wait until we get to Dad’s bakery. But until then, let’s grab something to drink and one snack each — my treat.”

“Thank you!” he murmured appreciatively.

They circled the store again while Koji carefully considered all of his options,