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“Yeah, but … good grief, Michael!” I practically yell. “With those names … you guys are hiding in plain sight!” They laugh, and I’m hit with the irony of it. What’s more hidden than the obvious truth?

“Makes sense, right?” Gabe asks.

“Uh, yeah, in an Alice-trippin’-through-Wonderland sort of way.” They laugh again, and I’m filled with euphoria.
Mom, are you seeing this?

The wind picks up, tossing leaves and splashing raindrops against us. We all look up as gray clouds roll across the canopy.

“Better start back before it pours,” Mr. Patronus says. “Mrs. Patronus will be worried.” He winks at me, and I push to my feet, slowly this time. Michael takes my hand but I don’t move.

“Are we going back the way we came?” I ask.

Michael frowns and then remembers the daring stunt that got me here. “I don’t recommend it, but I am curious to know how you pulled that one off.” He gives me a chastising look.

I explain privately with heaps of embarrassment about the running and lunging and grabbing part. He laughs and says he didn’t feel a thing. “Well I did!”

“Did it hurt? Were you scared?”

His concern is touching but I whisper, confidentially, “No, actually it was the coolest ride I’ve ever been on.” I smile shyly and Michael rolls his eyes.

“Unbelievable,” he murmurs.

The ambulance is gone but the police have taken over the scene, so Dimitri insists we keep to the woods. Rain wets the soil and foliage, bringing an earthy aroma into my nose and mouth, and I take it with me as I go. I’m feeling better, surreal if not practical. I grab a stick and scratch an X on the back of my hand, an evidentiary rune to support my sanity check for later. If it’s not there come morning, I’ll happily shuffle off to the loony bin in my furry house slippers.

I know the woods will forget me the minute I am gone, never to know I leave here different from when I arrived. I feel the season in me, forever changed, when I wore a younger girl’s clothes. Time sheds its skin and starts anew.

As we traipse along a leafy path heading north, I realize I’m the only one making a racket. I stop and listen for the others but hear nothing.

Raph says, “We’re in spirit form,” and I smile secretly because it explains the nagging fear that I was hallucinating the night I first saw Michael and the grungy guy. Self-Doubt is tripping over himself while Confidence is high-fiving me inside my head.

“So you have no trouble seeing us?” Mr. Patronus asks.

“No, why?”

“Because you’re not supposed to.”

I’m awash with guilt like I’ve done something wrong. “I’m sorry, Mr. Patronus. I’m not doing it on purpose.”

He laughs affectionately. “Of course you’re not. It’s just an anomaly, that’s all. And please call me Dimitri.” He gives me a smile, and I give him one back.

“And Degan?” he inquires. “You can see Degan?”

“The guy on the road that Raph … um, made disappear? Yeah.” Everyone looks for Dimitri’s reaction, which is minimal and controlled, but I know this means something. They don’t explain but continue along, deep in thought.

We trail down a ravine and back up the other side, and the clouds unload on us. It’s cold but the hike is keeping me relatively warm. To my horror, I’m actually wondering how frizzy my hair must look. I tend to resemble a soggy rat, so I sweep my hair to the side and work it into a braid.

My heavy stomping sounds obtrusively human, so I cover it by saying, “Hey, so
no one else knows … about you guys?”

“That’s right,” Raph answers.

“It’s not prudent to make ourselves known,” Gabe explains. “Besides, it’s not approved by The Council.”

“The Council?”

He clears his throat and begins his tutorial. “There is a hierarchy in the guardian world. Guardians such as Michael, Raph, Milvi, and I, and eventually Uriel when he’s ready, serve humans directly. Others, like our parents, serve as Messengers between the guardians and The Council.”

“What does The Council do?”

“They discuss everything—who stays, who goes home.”

“Home?”

He points a finger up. “Home.”

I stop in my tracks. “But I thought guardians
saved
people.”

“That
is
saving them, Sophia. Some people, whose time is up, are escorted home.”

I realize it’s one thing to know guardian angels exist but something altogether different to hear their job description. “So how do you … escort them home?”

“When the soul is ready,” Michael says, “we are the Soulkeepers on their spiritual journey. We take the Spiritual Walk with them. No one goes home alone, you see?”

Oh, is that all?

“And those who don’t go home?”

“Those whose time has not expired are saved.”

I think about all the people I’ve seen Michael save, including me.
And Casey James
.

“I suspected you, too, you know.” I point an accusing finger at Raph. “No CPR!”

Everybody laughs and Raph gives a dramatic bow. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” he jokes, and then shoots Gabe a look.

“But how do you do it? I mean, Casey was obviously choking but Michael seemed to know even before it happened. And tonight, this accident? How did you know?”

“Humans have intuition, right?” Raph says, helping me over a log. “Well, some humans have a stronger intuition than others. They say they’re more ‘open’ to the spirit world. Now, imagine this intuition increased ten times, a hundred times, a thousand, even. That’s us. Only we call our ability Divine Intuition. Where you might question yours, we don’t. We straddle the human world and the spirit world so we know without a doubt who needs help and where we’re needed most.” His handsome face is grinning
with pride. I can tell Raph is enjoying the release of secrets.

“And how can you reach people so fast when they need help?”

“It’s instinctual, a will of the mind, I guess,” Raph muses. “You set your thoughts on a certain destination and at the same time there is an overpowering feeling—all your stored energy—that thrusts you toward it and you just take off.” He shrugs like he is describing a ride at Six Flags.

“It’s like flying through a tunnel of water,” I say, and everyone looks at me with renewed interest. “I mean, that’s what I felt when I …” I look helplessly at Michael, and he laughs at my embarrassment. “Um, so no wings then?”
Spotlight off me, please
.

Raph spreads his muscular arms and says, “You wanna see some wings?”

“That’s enough, Raph,” Dimitri stops him before he can show off. Raph lowers his arms, grinning.

We continue onward while I replay everything that happened tonight. One question morphs into another, and eventually brings me to ask Dimitri, “So, if The Council doesn’t allow you to share this information, why did you tell me? Was it because I sort of forced my way into your business?” I make what I hope is an apologetic smile.

“Well, Sophia, Michael informed me about your suspicions of him, about this second heartbeat you feel when he’s around, about your ability to see him in spirit form, and about what happened in the courthouse this evening.”

A riot of heat burns my cheeks.
Good Lord, he told his family I jumped out a window!

“As a Messenger, it’s my duty to inform The Council of any—shall we say—particularly interesting humans we encounter? I spent several hours with them this evening and they were more than intrigued by your case. As such, we are allowed some leeway where you are concerned.”

I’m not sure what to make of this. I don’t like the idea of some council scrutinizing my personal life. Suspicion and Doubt have been my best friends far too long, and I feel them lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to call them over.

“Of course, we ask that you use discretion when talking to others, Sophia. It would be detrimental to our family, our work, and the good people of Haven Hurst, if we are exposed and forced to return home. You understand.”

Yeah, and I’m not in a hurry to join the social circle of
One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest
either
.

“I am also required to explain about your vision of this evening’s accident, if you don’t mind.”

“Do you know what it means?” I ask hopefully, but Dimitri shakes his head.

We stop at the edge of the woods. Beyond us is a service road and beyond that the town square. They have led me back home.

“But I thought we were going to your house,” I whisper to Michael.

He wraps his warm hands around mine and squeezes. “You’ve been through enough for one night, don’t you think?”

“I’m okay, really.” I stifle a yawn as I feel a light pulling in my chest.

I look at Michael and he whispers, “I would rather stay with you but we can’t … they mustn’t know …”

I nod and pull my hands free. I feel Dimitri watching us, so I raise my voice studiously. “But I have a few more questions, Michael. There are several things I don’t under—”

“I’m sure we can arrange another time,” Michael answers authoritatively. “It’s late and I’m sure you don’t want to worry your dad.”

We’re putting on a convincing show, but at the mention of Dad I start to worry. It’s well past midnight and if he is awake, Dad will be fretting until I’m home.
If only he knew how safe I really am!

I want so much to tell Dad about Michael. I know I can’t but I wonder how in the world I’ll be able to keep this amazing secret all to myself.

Chapter 33

I’ll Have an X, a Scapegoat, and a Secret Boyfriend for Dessert

A light rap against the bedroom door makes me cringe. It could’ve been a bass drum being attacked by a sadistic octopus.

“Sophia?” Dad whispers, and I stuff the pillow in my ears, moaning. My brain is ten sizes too big for my head, like I have the world’s gnarliest hangover, only I’ve never had a hangover before, but if I did, this one would do nicely.

“You okay?” he asks with an edge to his voice. I take a minute to consider. The memory of Norah offering me a funky drink that could account for my present condition is swiftly bypassed as the latter part of the night floods back to me. I bolt upright.

“Dad!” I yell and scare the scowl off his face.

“Good Lord, what is it?” He steps into the room, obviously concerned.

My heart is in my throat as I stare wide-eyed at him. And then I look down at my hand to verify my memory. There on my pale skin is a faint, scratchy X.
It wasn’t a dream!
I fill up with an overwhelming urge to tell Dad. I want him to know about everything that happened last night, what Michael is, and how I came to find out. I know this secret would ease Dad’s suffering and help him find peace in knowing we’re not alone in all this.

But I can’t break my promise to Michael and his entire family, so I fight the urge and search for something benign to fill the silence. I’m caught between fact and fiction with nothing to say, a codfish with its mouth hanging open.

“I … uh.” My wheels spin in place. “What time is it?” This is innocuous and irrelevant; I don’t care what time it is.

“You missed services, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dad answers, eyeing the faded X like a suspicious bartender. “I tried to wake you earlier but you felt feverish, and you were mumbling gibberish. Thought maybe you needed to sleep it off.” This is Dad’s way of accusing me of getting drunk. His face twists with his usual look of disappointment, and I wait for him to ask what I was up to last night but he doesn’t. “I have repairs to make at the church; last night’s storm tore off some shingles. It’s still
sprinkling so it can’t wait. I’ll be there most of the day. There’s money on the table for lunch, but if you need anything …” Dad’s voice trails off and a disturbing question fills in the rest: What did I ever needed from him but money?

More, much more. I need Dad to know what happened. I need to tell him about Michael. But mostly I need Dad to understand that we’re going to be okay. For the first time in a long time, I know everything is going to be okay
.

*  *  *

A fantasy, an illusion, a mystical reality split from my own, these are the disjointed ramblings knocking around my brain as I shower and change into fresh clothes. It’s funny how the light of day waters insecurities and grows doubt.

I need to see Michael.

My phone has seven unread texts, all from Bailey, all marked urgent. I skip to the last entry that reads:
haul your ass to the Shoppe, el pronto!

*  *  *

Never has there been such a glorious rainy day, so full of succulent, natural aromas: sweet grass, rich soil, wet wood. Okay, so I’m slightly euphoric about last night. My hangover of sorts has dissipated and there is a bounce in my step and a dopey grin on my face. Knowing Michael’s secret is like keeping sunshine in my pocket.

The town is drippy and crowded with volunteers donning raincoats and umbrellas. Dismantling the Harvest Festival is well under way. The McCarthy twins are decked out in full-body slickers and galoshes as they walk their ducks in the rain. They look like two Teletubbies wrapped in yellow cellophane. They catch my eye and nod ceremoniously. It is the only acknowledgment of last night’s audacious display of idiocy that I will receive.

The Soda Shoppe is teeming with kids and noise, and a food fight looks inevitable. French fries and Brian Setzer’s “Rock This Town” whizz around my head as I negotiate my way to a booth by the window and plop down next to Rachel and across from Bailey.

“Well, well, look what the catnip dragged in,” Bailey muses. I shrug and cop a sip of her float.

“Missed you in church,” Rachel says.

“Yeah, I overslept.” She gives me a look so I say, “What?”

Rachel toys with her hair, a telltale sign that something is on her mind. Bailey and I stare at each other—a nonversation that says we’re dying to talk privately about last night—while Rachel awkwardly recites the town council’s concerns about my dad’s lackluster sermon. Apparently, his deflated enthusiasm and sullen appearance was not what they bargained for.

“So, is your dad ill or something?” Rachel asks.