Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
His dove was on his shoulder again, caressing his cheek with her wing, cooing and humming, her voice so sweet. He raised his eyes from those broken pots and looked into the dim corner at the back.
There I am. I’m alone.
Snowflakes hit his cheeks, and he didn’t know when it had started snowing, but he was shaking from the cold.
He was there, and he was here, both in that dark corner curled into a ball and standing at the door.
There you are. But you’re not alone.
He gasped, his teeth chattering. “I’m not alone now, but I was . . . then. He put me here. He left me in the cold.”
Why did he put you here alone? his guide asked.
To punish me. He walked toward the child, curled up on a burlap sack against the back wall. He stood over him, looking down. He felt his tremors, and his misery. His deep shame. He felt his utter aloneness. To make me suffer.
What does he need?
A blanket. Some food.
Let’s get him some, and then you can tell me more.
Where do I get a blanket or some food? I’m helpless.
You’re no such thing. And you have me. Just ask and I’ll provide.
She was gone for a blink, and by the time Jett went down on his knees next to the small child that was him, his dove was back with a blanket and a warm piece of buttered toast.
He covered the little boy with the warm blanket, and the child’s eyes fluttered open. He stared at Jett, who held the toast to his mouth and coaxed him to eat.
Tell me what he suffers, his dove said. Tell me what he feels.
So Jett told his guide about the frost and the hurt and the loneliness and the hunger. He told her about the door that clattered open to show the staggering man outlined by the moon. He felt hot wax dripping down his cheeks, because he was melting into the earth, dissolving like the candle his grandmother burned in the window of the house where he wasn’t allowed. And yet he wasn’t dissolving, because he felt the child who was him in his arms and the whisper-soft feathers of his dove just under his chin. Back, forth, back, forth. He smelled the cold and the pine and the dirt and the grease, but he also smelled the toasted bread slathered with creamy butter, and he tasted it on his tongue as he fed it to the child in his arms.
You’re protecting him now, do you see that? Do you see how he looks at you? His rescuer. How do you feel about the child in your arms?
Jett looked down at the little boy. He saw the dirty tear tracks on his small face. He knew his pain and his fear. He felt the places in his body where he hurt, even the shameful ones. He knew his hopes, the ones he kept so small because thinking about them caused an agony deeper than his physical aches to rise up inside him so suddenly that he felt strangled by the pain. He knew nothing else to do but to rock the boy. And so he did. Back, forth, back, forth.
What else does he need, other than the blanket and the food? his guide asked.
Crystal tears shimmered on the boy’s dark lashes, and Jett felt a light begin to glow in his heart that was both his and the boy’s. It shocked him. He’d never felt it before, but now he did, and there was no question of what it was. Love. It came alive. It melded and mixed, a shimmering rainbow, the colors bright and sparkling, creating yet other colors that blossomed and burst and beat. Thud, thud, thud. The growing mix of twinkling colors pulsated in the air around him, enveloping him in the warmth, and he felt it, on his skin and in his soul. Love. He needs love.
Well, good, because you’re loving him. He heard the smile in his guide’s voice that wasn’t a voice. Hold him closer. Hold him tight.
And Jett did, until there was only one of them sitting in that cold, dim shed.
Is there any reason to stay here?
His arms lowered. It was only him there, and a ray of sun had found its way through the single grimy window. Jett turned his face toward it and felt its warmth. The space brightened so intensely that Jett had to close his eyes from the glare.
No, there’s nothing here now. I’m ready to go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lennon turned onto Geary and walked with what she hoped looked like purpose toward the few girls who strolled the block waiting for a john to make an offer. It’d been three days since she’d found out that Ambrose Mars, or whatever his name was, was a lying fraud who belonged in prison, and had her gun and badge taken by Internal as they began their investigation. At first, she’d holed up in her apartment in stunned silence, trying to make sense of what had happened. Then she’d gotten angry and broken a few dishes on her tile floor. But when that had failed to satisfy, she’d decided the only way she’d find peace, or justice, was if she went looking for it herself.