The Blue Door - By Christa Kinde Page 0,6
called from one of the alcoves. “Well, sorta.”
Harken joined him and pulled one of the books from the shelf. “Yes, these are stories — life stories.” One entire bookcase was dedicated to biographies and autobiographies, and from what Prissie could see, most of them were of noted Christian thinkers, missionaries, evangelists, and pastors. “I’m also fond of parables,” the old man admitted.
Milo reappeared and placed Harken’s keys onto the counter beside the register, then grabbed a couple of boxes. “Is anywhere in the shed fine?” he asked as Beau hauled a box into his arms as well. The shopkeeper agreed, and Milo and Beau carried them out.
“Now that we have a moment …” Harken gave Prissie a considering look, but he turned to the boy standing just inside the door. “Hello, Koji. You’ve had an eventful day.”
“Yes,” he agreed, glancing shyly at Prissie.
“Why can you see him, Mr. Mercer?”
“Because I’m an angel as well,” he gently revealed.
Prissie shook her head. “But you’ve always been here, and everyone knows you! My dad’s bakery is half a block away, and I remember coming here when I was little!”
“You were fond of books with castles in them,” he said with a smile. “Your father always called you his princess, and I think you believed him.”
“That’s right! You remembered,” she replied, somewhat awed.
“It’s part of my job to pay attention, although Jayce and I have been good friends since he was your age,” Harken said. “It’s been a pleasure to watch his hopes for the future flourish.”
Prissie tried to fathom this new information, but angels simply didn’t fit into her notion of normal. “But this is impossible! How can you be an … an …?”
“An angel,” he finished for her, nodding seriously. “It’s true, Prissie.”
“Why would an angel live in a little place like West Edinton?” she asked skeptically.
“A small town isn’t of greater or lesser importance,” Harken explained. “Milo, Koji, and I all have a part to play in a grander scheme — one that is beyond our ability to understand. In this way, we’re not much different from you.”
“Are you saying that there are lots of people around here who are actually angels?” she demanded nervously.
Harken made a soothing motion with his hand. “No, child. We’re few and far between, and it’s very rare for anyone to see us for what we truly are.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Koji inquired, shifting from foot to foot.
“No, young one,” Harken assured. “This wasn’t your doing.”
Prissie’s discomfort grew, and she searched her mind for what little she knew of angels. “Does that mean that one of you is supposed to be my guardian angel?” she demanded.
“No, neither of us is a Guardian,” the old man answered patiently.
“But … I have a guardian angel?” she persisted.
“Of course you do.”
Glancing around the otherwise empty shop, Prissie asked, “Where?”
Harken smiled softly. “Close.”
“Don’t I get to meet my angel?”
The old man’s smile widened, and he said, “One day, I’m sure you will, but today is not that day.”
“Oh,” she mumbled in disappointment.
Harken placed his hand on his chest and said, “Milo and I are Messengers. We’re go-betweens, directed by God. Koji here is an Observer; he watches, listens, and learns, tracing the hand of God in the lives of mankind.”
She looked between the two of them, wanting to tell them they were crazy, then desperately said, “You don’t look like angels.”
“And what is an angel supposed to look like?”
The sound of footsteps came from the back room, and Prissie’s mouth snapped shut as her brother and the mailman returned. “Sorry it took us so long; I managed to drop a box, and it took a while to pick up everything,” Milo said sheepishly. “Did we take too long?”
He and Harken exchanged a long look, and Prissie saw her chance to escape. She needed a little room to think. “I’ll take one,” she offered.
“Me and Milo can handle these, Priss,” Beau said.
“Milo and I,” she corrected. “I’m here to help, so I’ll help, too.”
Prissie lifted the box, which was really quite heavy for its size, and headed into the back room, which was another warren of shelves. Cartons and stacks of boxes were everywhere, and against the far wall were two doors, one green and one blue. As she stood contemplating her options, Beau nearly bumped into her, his arms manfully weighed down by two boxes. “Which door do we use?” she asked.
Her brother gave her a strange look. “Is that supposed to be some kind of trick question?”
Prissie huffed.